I am proud to announce that I've ridden my bike 136.6 miles in the last two months.
Awesome!
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Hope & Patience
Yesterday I was praying for patience. Really, I was begging God to give more patience. I thought "I don't have enough patience" and then a thought struck me "You have patience. You don't have hope."
That thought made me stop and think.
It's easier to be patient when you have hope that things will change. It's easier to be patient when you know it's a matter of time before things get better. It's when you're hopeless that patience is more difficult. When you don't feel like things will ever get better, when you can't see a bright line of light on the dark horizon.
My prayer changed to "Please give me hope. Help me to feel the lightness of hope in my heart again."
This morning on KSL.com, I found this article: "Hope for the Hopeless" Good article, good timing.
My favorite quote from the article: Hopelessness breeds depression. Hope cultivates happiness. Which will you choose?
That thought made me stop and think.
It's easier to be patient when you have hope that things will change. It's easier to be patient when you know it's a matter of time before things get better. It's when you're hopeless that patience is more difficult. When you don't feel like things will ever get better, when you can't see a bright line of light on the dark horizon.
My prayer changed to "Please give me hope. Help me to feel the lightness of hope in my heart again."
This morning on KSL.com, I found this article: "Hope for the Hopeless" Good article, good timing.
My favorite quote from the article: Hopelessness breeds depression. Hope cultivates happiness. Which will you choose?
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
the One Missing Piece
Years ago while my hubby was finishing up his master's thesis, we house sat for two of his professors while they traveled South Asia. For two months, my hubby, my 1 year old daughter, and I stayed in a restored antique house filled with treasures from all over the world. Oh, and two neurotic dogs, but that's a different story.
Not long after moving in, we heard scuffling and bird chirps from the attic. My hubby pulled the attic stairs down and went up, flashlight in hand. He saw 6 baby birds, 1 dead, spread out throughout the attic. There was no sign of a momma or poppa bird and there was no way we could rescue them because of the layout of the attic floor. 5 baby birds alone upstairs, slowly dying. It was a horrifying thought.
We fired off a quick email to the professors but had no idea how long it would be before they responded since they weren't often in areas with internet. The next day the hubby went off to school and I was left alone in a house that seemed to suddenly echo with the noises of what I thought were dying baby birds. The sounds tormented me through the day. At one point, I even crawled up into the attic thinking I could save them myself. Once up there, I realized how impossible the situation was. I sadly folded the attic stairs back up. At another point, I even called Animal Control to see if they could help; nope, their officers were not allowed to climb stairs.
By the time my hubby returned that evening, I felt fairly frantic about living in a house with baby birds dying and feeling totally helpless. There wasn't a thing I could do about it, and so I just started praying with the ability to let it go. That only helped so far. I felt vaguely calm about the whole experience.
The next day while outside with my daughter, I noticed a bird on the eaves of the roof. Maybe it was the momma bird. Maybe she was trying to get back into her babies. I felt my heart lighten a bit. Later that day I saw two birds on the roof. Maybe it was the momma and the poppa bird. Maybe the babies weren't dying after all! I could feel myself breathing again.
Two days after discovering the birds, we got a brief email back from the professors: Yes, we get Starlings in our attic every year. They are annoying, but don't cause any damage.
Oh. My mind raced back through the last few days-- the agony, the frustration, the sadness. It all would have been different if I had had a single piece of knowledge, the knowledge that there were always birds in the attic. I thought back to those baby birds and realized they weren't baby birds desperately trying to find away to survive. Those were baby birds having fun in the attic when their parents were away. Yes, one had died, but most likely there was something wrong with to begin with.
I felt somewhat sheepish over my drama and sadness for the birds, but realized that sometimes we think we know best about a situation when we don't really have all the necessary information.
Fast forward many years. My next neighbor is a sweet lady from South Asia. For years and years, I'd see her walking with her American husband up and down the parkway near our house. Every day, she was always walking behind him; never at his side, never in front, always behind. My American woman instincts kicked up and I thought "how sad. how oppressive. how unliberated she is!" I felt bad that she was forced to always walk behind her husband.
Last year, her husband unexpectedly passed away. Through serving her, I have grown to know her and love her as one of my family. Through being with her, I heard her say over and over again how afraid of the sun she is and how she hates to be out in it and how her husband was so concerned about her health that he insisted she walk with him each day and how he always walked in front so that she could walk in his shadow and be shielded from the sun.
oh.
One piece of information turned her from an oppressed wife into a highly loved and valued woman. I felt tears sting my eyes. I often think of that and how wrong I was. All because I was missing some information.
We all are missing information. That's part of human life. We can't possibly know everything there is to know about everyone. If we can acknowledge this, we will be so much better off.
Be kind. Be generous. Give people the benefit of the doubt. Chances are that somewhere is a piece of information that will change everything you think and feel about them and cause you to say "oh."
Not long after moving in, we heard scuffling and bird chirps from the attic. My hubby pulled the attic stairs down and went up, flashlight in hand. He saw 6 baby birds, 1 dead, spread out throughout the attic. There was no sign of a momma or poppa bird and there was no way we could rescue them because of the layout of the attic floor. 5 baby birds alone upstairs, slowly dying. It was a horrifying thought.
We fired off a quick email to the professors but had no idea how long it would be before they responded since they weren't often in areas with internet. The next day the hubby went off to school and I was left alone in a house that seemed to suddenly echo with the noises of what I thought were dying baby birds. The sounds tormented me through the day. At one point, I even crawled up into the attic thinking I could save them myself. Once up there, I realized how impossible the situation was. I sadly folded the attic stairs back up. At another point, I even called Animal Control to see if they could help; nope, their officers were not allowed to climb stairs.
By the time my hubby returned that evening, I felt fairly frantic about living in a house with baby birds dying and feeling totally helpless. There wasn't a thing I could do about it, and so I just started praying with the ability to let it go. That only helped so far. I felt vaguely calm about the whole experience.
The next day while outside with my daughter, I noticed a bird on the eaves of the roof. Maybe it was the momma bird. Maybe she was trying to get back into her babies. I felt my heart lighten a bit. Later that day I saw two birds on the roof. Maybe it was the momma and the poppa bird. Maybe the babies weren't dying after all! I could feel myself breathing again.
Two days after discovering the birds, we got a brief email back from the professors: Yes, we get Starlings in our attic every year. They are annoying, but don't cause any damage.
Oh. My mind raced back through the last few days-- the agony, the frustration, the sadness. It all would have been different if I had had a single piece of knowledge, the knowledge that there were always birds in the attic. I thought back to those baby birds and realized they weren't baby birds desperately trying to find away to survive. Those were baby birds having fun in the attic when their parents were away. Yes, one had died, but most likely there was something wrong with to begin with.
I felt somewhat sheepish over my drama and sadness for the birds, but realized that sometimes we think we know best about a situation when we don't really have all the necessary information.
Fast forward many years. My next neighbor is a sweet lady from South Asia. For years and years, I'd see her walking with her American husband up and down the parkway near our house. Every day, she was always walking behind him; never at his side, never in front, always behind. My American woman instincts kicked up and I thought "how sad. how oppressive. how unliberated she is!" I felt bad that she was forced to always walk behind her husband.
Last year, her husband unexpectedly passed away. Through serving her, I have grown to know her and love her as one of my family. Through being with her, I heard her say over and over again how afraid of the sun she is and how she hates to be out in it and how her husband was so concerned about her health that he insisted she walk with him each day and how he always walked in front so that she could walk in his shadow and be shielded from the sun.
oh.
One piece of information turned her from an oppressed wife into a highly loved and valued woman. I felt tears sting my eyes. I often think of that and how wrong I was. All because I was missing some information.
We all are missing information. That's part of human life. We can't possibly know everything there is to know about everyone. If we can acknowledge this, we will be so much better off.
Be kind. Be generous. Give people the benefit of the doubt. Chances are that somewhere is a piece of information that will change everything you think and feel about them and cause you to say "oh."
Monday, August 22, 2011
Back to School
I sent my two older kids to school today. I cried. It's a tradition for me to cry. My daughter knew that so she opted have her dad walk her to class. I walked my son to class and tried to impart some last minute wisdom to him (please, please, please remember to go to the bathroom! kids will be sooooo mean to you if you wet your pants). It was so hard to watch him walk through the front doors. I cried as I walked back to my car with my little 3 year old buddy.
My buddy and I came home and made a cake so we can have a yummy treat tonight to celebrate the first day of school. My buddy is now playing in the living room and I'm working on my computer.
My own school classes start this week. I have three online classes: Nutrition, Human Development, and Chemistry. Plus, I have an in-class Chem lab that I go to every Monday night. I have no idea what to expect so I'm not nervous yet. I don't expect that it will be too bad. School is easy for me. Chemistry has always made me nervous, but I think I'm brave enough now to tackle it and kicks its elemental behind (hee, hee).
I think the hardest transition will be for the 3 year old who suddenly doesn't have his big sister to entertain him. He starts preschool in 2 weeks and then he will be able to have his own interaction and learning.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Fresh Courage
Yesterday was a hard day for me. Educational, informative, necessary, but very hard. Yesterday we got the results back from some serious neurological testing we had done our middle son. The results were both good and bad, both liberating and damning.
The whole way to the appointment with my hubby, I could feel myself tense and anxious. As the doctor started going over results with us, I felt a great need to burst into tears. I fought back that feeling for awhile until the doctor said something that I thought was an appropriate tear jerker and I let the tears go. It felt like a tea pot releasing steam. We went through the results of her testing and the 15 page detailed report she had compiled and talked about what some of the next steps are.
After an hour, feeling overwhelmed and unsure of the path ahead, my hubby and I left. I made it out of the building before I gave myself permission to completely break down. I quietly sobbed all the way home. I couldn't talk. I couldn't respond to questions well. I couldn't see straight. At first I thought I'd try to pull myself together and then I stopped. I let all my emotions out. I had to let go of the pain, the grief, the sorrow, the sadness, the anger, the hopelessness, the feelings of being out of control, the overwhelming sense of inadequacy. I let it all out. (freaked out the hubby a bit too, I think).
My son had a really crappy early life. His birth mom used drugs & alcohol at the beginning of her pregnancy and throughout his first 2 years of life. He was kidnapped by his parents and taken out of state. He was then ripped from his parents side by police officers and sent on a plane with a stranger back to a shelter where he knew no one-- all at the age of 2. The risk factors for this kid are astronomical. We have fetal alcohol syndrome, drug abuse effects, an attachment disorder, trauma, inadequate nutrition and care, inappropriate encouragement for development... the list goes on. The results of all these risk factors are just as many and discouraging: no working memory, poor motor control, underdeveloped social skills, attention problems, defiance, anger and aggression....
My son is a hard kid.
He's a good kid. He's a sweet and loving kid. He's a cute kid with beautiful blue eyes.
But he is hard.
He's been hard on me because I'm the mother. I've been hard on myself because our relationship is so difficult. He's been a hard sibling for his sister and brother to adjust to.
He has forced and allowed our family to grow and develop in ways we never expected.
And now we have a new twist in the journey. A new path unfurls ahead of us.
Our son has a profound learning disability. He has a non-verbal learning disability; basically, the right side of his brain never developed appropriately. He also has a profound mood disorder. Add the attachment disorder and trauma on top of this.
So what does this mean? I don't know yet. The doctor recommended almost a dozen books for us to read. I bought most of them on Amazon yesterday. I am about to become an expert on non-verbal learning disorder and bipolar disorder in children-- specifically in 8 year old boys-- specifically my boy. I'm also learning about IEPs and how to work with the school to get my son the help he needs. He's been a good kid so far but the biggest marker of NVLD is that the older the kid gets, the worse they do in school. I noticed that last year in 2nd grade. The gap between my son and his peers is growing ever wider. That gap worried me and that was the final impetus for having him tested.
The words of a church song keep running through my mind: "Gird up your loins, fresh courage take."
Yesterday was my day to fall apart. Today is my day to regroup, put on my armor, take up my sword, and get ready to go through whatever it takes to give my son every chance he needs to be successful in his life. I will fight till the end for this kid to succeed or I will die trying. Yesterday was the acknowledgement and release of all the grief for what could have been with him. Today is the day to take what we got and make the very best of it.
There was one tender mercy yesterday too that I want to share. Through a strange "coincidence," the doctor we saw recently added another patient who is "eerily" similar in temperament, age, background, and trauma to my son. She was immediately taken at how close these two kids are. There was one major exception. By this same age, her other patient has had over 6 inpatient psychiatric hospitalizations. My son has had none. She was kind enough to credit our son's success to our parenting.
I think this was my Father in Heaven's way of showing me that even though I feel woefully inadequate to raise this boy and can point out the myriad of ways I feel I am failing as his mom, I am doing better than I think I am. This sentiment was later confirmed by our counselor who agreed that the reason our son is functional at all is because of my hubby and I. What a tender mercy for my battered, insecure mother soul. I needed to hear that. I need to remind myself of that.
Today's tears are past. Fresh courage is being gathered. All is well. All is well.
The whole way to the appointment with my hubby, I could feel myself tense and anxious. As the doctor started going over results with us, I felt a great need to burst into tears. I fought back that feeling for awhile until the doctor said something that I thought was an appropriate tear jerker and I let the tears go. It felt like a tea pot releasing steam. We went through the results of her testing and the 15 page detailed report she had compiled and talked about what some of the next steps are.
After an hour, feeling overwhelmed and unsure of the path ahead, my hubby and I left. I made it out of the building before I gave myself permission to completely break down. I quietly sobbed all the way home. I couldn't talk. I couldn't respond to questions well. I couldn't see straight. At first I thought I'd try to pull myself together and then I stopped. I let all my emotions out. I had to let go of the pain, the grief, the sorrow, the sadness, the anger, the hopelessness, the feelings of being out of control, the overwhelming sense of inadequacy. I let it all out. (freaked out the hubby a bit too, I think).
My son had a really crappy early life. His birth mom used drugs & alcohol at the beginning of her pregnancy and throughout his first 2 years of life. He was kidnapped by his parents and taken out of state. He was then ripped from his parents side by police officers and sent on a plane with a stranger back to a shelter where he knew no one-- all at the age of 2. The risk factors for this kid are astronomical. We have fetal alcohol syndrome, drug abuse effects, an attachment disorder, trauma, inadequate nutrition and care, inappropriate encouragement for development... the list goes on. The results of all these risk factors are just as many and discouraging: no working memory, poor motor control, underdeveloped social skills, attention problems, defiance, anger and aggression....
My son is a hard kid.
He's a good kid. He's a sweet and loving kid. He's a cute kid with beautiful blue eyes.
But he is hard.
He's been hard on me because I'm the mother. I've been hard on myself because our relationship is so difficult. He's been a hard sibling for his sister and brother to adjust to.
He has forced and allowed our family to grow and develop in ways we never expected.
And now we have a new twist in the journey. A new path unfurls ahead of us.
Our son has a profound learning disability. He has a non-verbal learning disability; basically, the right side of his brain never developed appropriately. He also has a profound mood disorder. Add the attachment disorder and trauma on top of this.
So what does this mean? I don't know yet. The doctor recommended almost a dozen books for us to read. I bought most of them on Amazon yesterday. I am about to become an expert on non-verbal learning disorder and bipolar disorder in children-- specifically in 8 year old boys-- specifically my boy. I'm also learning about IEPs and how to work with the school to get my son the help he needs. He's been a good kid so far but the biggest marker of NVLD is that the older the kid gets, the worse they do in school. I noticed that last year in 2nd grade. The gap between my son and his peers is growing ever wider. That gap worried me and that was the final impetus for having him tested.
The words of a church song keep running through my mind: "Gird up your loins, fresh courage take."
Yesterday was my day to fall apart. Today is my day to regroup, put on my armor, take up my sword, and get ready to go through whatever it takes to give my son every chance he needs to be successful in his life. I will fight till the end for this kid to succeed or I will die trying. Yesterday was the acknowledgement and release of all the grief for what could have been with him. Today is the day to take what we got and make the very best of it.
There was one tender mercy yesterday too that I want to share. Through a strange "coincidence," the doctor we saw recently added another patient who is "eerily" similar in temperament, age, background, and trauma to my son. She was immediately taken at how close these two kids are. There was one major exception. By this same age, her other patient has had over 6 inpatient psychiatric hospitalizations. My son has had none. She was kind enough to credit our son's success to our parenting.
I think this was my Father in Heaven's way of showing me that even though I feel woefully inadequate to raise this boy and can point out the myriad of ways I feel I am failing as his mom, I am doing better than I think I am. This sentiment was later confirmed by our counselor who agreed that the reason our son is functional at all is because of my hubby and I. What a tender mercy for my battered, insecure mother soul. I needed to hear that. I need to remind myself of that.
Today's tears are past. Fresh courage is being gathered. All is well. All is well.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Store Embarrassment
When my kids were littler, they did a great (and frequent) job of embarrassing me at the store. Usually it involved throwing themselves down on the floor and screaming "I Want It!" over and over again. Those were the moments I couldn't get out of the store and away from people's glances fast enough.
As my kids have gotten older, the embarrassing episodes started to decline. Phew! Fewer tantrums, fewer screaming chants, fewer awkward moments.
Today, though, I realized those episodes are starting to come back. BUT! this time *I* am the one embarrassing them! (cue evil laughter! bwa-ha-ha-ha!) It's fantastic payback. Today in Costco I walked up to two store employees (only realizing later that one was the asst. manager).
"You, sir!" I said "I see you have the scanning gun of power. I need your help." My daughter started to slink backwards. The two employees and I then had a humorous discussion of why Costco switched all the aisles around as soon as I left town and did it have anything to do with the fact that I had been seeing other Costcos while I was out of town or did they let a woman decide to rearrange like when I rearrange my living room furniture? The three of us had a great laugh together.
My daughter? Not so much. As we walked away, she said "It's not all about you, Mom."
I laughed. "Of course it is. Duh!"
Oh the sweet, sweet taste of revenge.... it's a beautiful thing.
As my kids have gotten older, the embarrassing episodes started to decline. Phew! Fewer tantrums, fewer screaming chants, fewer awkward moments.
Today, though, I realized those episodes are starting to come back. BUT! this time *I* am the one embarrassing them! (cue evil laughter! bwa-ha-ha-ha!) It's fantastic payback. Today in Costco I walked up to two store employees (only realizing later that one was the asst. manager).
"You, sir!" I said "I see you have the scanning gun of power. I need your help." My daughter started to slink backwards. The two employees and I then had a humorous discussion of why Costco switched all the aisles around as soon as I left town and did it have anything to do with the fact that I had been seeing other Costcos while I was out of town or did they let a woman decide to rearrange like when I rearrange my living room furniture? The three of us had a great laugh together.
My daughter? Not so much. As we walked away, she said "It's not all about you, Mom."
I laughed. "Of course it is. Duh!"
Oh the sweet, sweet taste of revenge.... it's a beautiful thing.
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
You can never see this commercial too many times-- when you're the parent!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The Love of the Beach
I love the beach. I'm not a beach bum. I wouldn't live on the beach if I lived on the coast, but I find that a yearly beach vacation is good for my soul. And for my kiddos. We all love the beach. The sounds, the smell, the feel of the sand, the breeze, the birds, the waves.... aaaahhhhhh!
Monday, August 8, 2011
DS Fun sparks Random Musings Post
My parents have a DS-- it's one of the things they own that I wish I had one just like it. That and their front loading washer and their panini griddle thingie and the iPad and the clean house & floors-- but I digress. I'm not coveting them, mind you, but I would be happy to have one just like them. Except I want a red front loading washer and it would be cool if the DS were pink. But anyways, back to my story--
My parents have a DS and it's proved to be useful at entertaining my kiddos on my LA trip. On our way back from San Diego yesterday, it saved the trip since my selection of a DVD on the international space station was a total bust. I heard my kids and their cousins squealing in the back seat and I wondered when Mario Brothers got that funny...
Last night my daughter showed me the picture taking, picture distorting feature on the DS. She showed me all the pics they had taken and then "altered." Well, I had to try it out on myself. I took some pics of me and then tweaked them-- wide eyes, jumbo cheeks, triple nostrils. Within a few minutes I was squealing harder than the girls were. I laughed so hard my stomach muscles started cramping. It was hilarious! I gotta get me one of those things! I wish I could figure out how to get the pics off the DS and onto, say, my Facebook profile pic. That would be awesome!!
Anyways, it was a great moment of total ridiculousness and laughter with my daughter and nieces. And I loved it. I'm enjoying my kids more as they get older. I have friends who are great baby moms, but that's not me. I love babies, but I love bigger kids that you can chat with and play with and hang out with. Not that I ever intend to be just another "friend." Not a chance. This mom wears her motherhood fiercely and proudly-- like a mama bear. But it sure is nice to know that in a few minutes, when they are tired, the two oldest of my temporary tribe of 5 will put themselves to bed. Phew!
Speaking of my temp tribe. We decided to tell people around here that they were all mine: 13, 11, 8, 8, and 3. We certainly have gotten looks in this land of 1.34 average children per household! ;o) But at the end of the day, I'm so glad that they aren't all mine! I can handle 3 most of the time. 5? I'd probably eat a couple.... that's my recessive hamster momma genes coming out.
:oD
My parents have a DS and it's proved to be useful at entertaining my kiddos on my LA trip. On our way back from San Diego yesterday, it saved the trip since my selection of a DVD on the international space station was a total bust. I heard my kids and their cousins squealing in the back seat and I wondered when Mario Brothers got that funny...
Last night my daughter showed me the picture taking, picture distorting feature on the DS. She showed me all the pics they had taken and then "altered." Well, I had to try it out on myself. I took some pics of me and then tweaked them-- wide eyes, jumbo cheeks, triple nostrils. Within a few minutes I was squealing harder than the girls were. I laughed so hard my stomach muscles started cramping. It was hilarious! I gotta get me one of those things! I wish I could figure out how to get the pics off the DS and onto, say, my Facebook profile pic. That would be awesome!!
Anyways, it was a great moment of total ridiculousness and laughter with my daughter and nieces. And I loved it. I'm enjoying my kids more as they get older. I have friends who are great baby moms, but that's not me. I love babies, but I love bigger kids that you can chat with and play with and hang out with. Not that I ever intend to be just another "friend." Not a chance. This mom wears her motherhood fiercely and proudly-- like a mama bear. But it sure is nice to know that in a few minutes, when they are tired, the two oldest of my temporary tribe of 5 will put themselves to bed. Phew!
Speaking of my temp tribe. We decided to tell people around here that they were all mine: 13, 11, 8, 8, and 3. We certainly have gotten looks in this land of 1.34 average children per household! ;o) But at the end of the day, I'm so glad that they aren't all mine! I can handle 3 most of the time. 5? I'd probably eat a couple.... that's my recessive hamster momma genes coming out.
:oD
Thursday, August 4, 2011
You can go home again!
And then you find how much better your life is!
In LA with my kids for a week or so, staying with my parents. Drove my kids by my old high school (yeah, they were about as impressed as you are with this picture!). It still looks pretty much like a prison. I had vague memories of the time I spent/wasted/endured/enjoyed there. I remembered my friends crying when it was our final day of our final year-- they were sad their lives were over. Yep, I thought that was lame then too.
Isn't it wonderful that high school ends? That people grow up and that life gets better? What's crazy to me is that my 20 year reunion is only a handful of years away. No way! I can't be *that* old! Will I go? Hmmm, we'll have to see. :o)
 |
| Good (?) old Moorpark High... I still even remember the lame alma mater song! |
In LA with my kids for a week or so, staying with my parents. Drove my kids by my old high school (yeah, they were about as impressed as you are with this picture!). It still looks pretty much like a prison. I had vague memories of the time I spent/wasted/endured/enjoyed there. I remembered my friends crying when it was our final day of our final year-- they were sad their lives were over. Yep, I thought that was lame then too.
Isn't it wonderful that high school ends? That people grow up and that life gets better? What's crazy to me is that my 20 year reunion is only a handful of years away. No way! I can't be *that* old! Will I go? Hmmm, we'll have to see. :o)
Monday, August 1, 2011
My New Motto
"Surviving the end of summer one
Otter*Pop at a time!"
Last night I had two otter pops at once-- one green, one blue. I took turns eating them. This will definitely be the "Summer of the Otter Pops." Almost through my second box... though I didn't eat ALL of the first box myself.... really.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg)
