My sweet, sweet Josie gave the following speech for her 6th grade graduation. Had you told me two and 1/2 years ago that she would ever, EVER get up in front of her entire class and do this, I would've smacked you for being a smart ass.
She's fought demons the likes of one's I dealt with when I was 15...and there she was at the age of 10 barely hanging on!
I can't tell you how proud I am of my baby girl!
The speech:
Sixth grade was probably the best grade of my life. My teacher made a big impact on my life. Mrs. Reinhold is a kind, flexible, amazing, awesome teacher. I could go on and on about her but she is a very great teacher, and I think everyone in my class feels this way. I would like to thank Mrs. Reinhold for everything like ice cream, all day parties, movies, food/drinks, rhymes and songs, and really fun things. We also did some work!
Mrs. Reinhold has always been there for me saying “Smile!” and just making me happy. She is the best teacher I have ever had. Mrs. Reinhold is an amazing teacher and is super loveable.
I would also like to thank Mrs. Rolf and Mrs. Salvatorelli for helping me along the way. All of the Eisenhower teachers have made a difference in my life, even if I’ve never had them in class.
Mrs. Sack has been there for me throughout the years I have attended Eisenhower. Mrs. Sack is a great counselor. She plans so many events for Eisenhower students just to have fun. Mrs. Sack is a very hard worker, who does her job so everyone can have a great day. And if you’re having a bad day, she’s really good to talk to. She is very kind and beautiful.
Mrs. Black is hard working too. She takes care of all the kids and cares for each one of us. Mrs. Black is very sweet and kind.
Mrs. S you have taught band so well. We really appreciate it. Rattle Snakes, Great Gate of Kevin, and Eagle Summit were all good, but we couldn’t have learned them without you. Thank you to all the specials teachers for teaching us about paints, basketball, books, and building roller coasters.
I have made many great friends here at Eisenhower. We have shared so much together. Good days and bad days, inside jokes and parents being deployed. It was very tough to move here and my first year in this school was hard, but the teachers and the students here have made it very special.
I learned the song “There’s No Place Like Ike” three years ago. Next time you sing it, really listen to the words:
But no matter where our paths may lead,
or if we’ll meet again.
We will always think of Kansas
and our Eisenhower friends.
This year I learned about a man named Nick Vujicic. He was born with no arms or legs. He doesn’t see what he does not have but just looks forward to the things he does have in life. He says: “It is a lie to think you are not good enough and it is a lie to think you are not worth anything.” Nick’s motto is: “No arms, no legs, no worries!” His sayings and jokes helped me through 6th grade. I hope his attitude will help you throughout your life too!
Congratulations 6th graders and have a great summer!
Thank you.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Angels in the infield
This is just another one of the many "feel good" stories that I've seen going around email and Facebook now that technology allows us to share EVERYTHING!
I know I brag on Sawyer, probably too much, but every good experience for him is the equivalent to every great experience other kids have. Knowing that things are harder for him, makes any success that much sweeter.
I was reminded again yesterday of the fact that there are good people out there who do good things just because. Even the act I'm going to tell you about was not a big deal and the person probably has no idea that I would even consider writing it down, but it was huge. For Sawyer and for me...and that is what counts!
T-ball has been a great experience for Sawyer this spring. It's shown Charlie and I (& Sawyer too, I think) how much he has grown and progressed this year. In the fall, Sawyer played soccer. It was the first "team sport" he had every played and he was excited. After all the times he's been dragged to watch his siblings play a sport, he was ready to do it himself.
The first few practices were tough. He doesn't like to try something unless he's seen other people do it a few times. There's a good bit of anxiety going on with him too, so he's very self conscious. Tantrums occur.
For example:
He has to go first in a drill = tantrum
He has to go last in a drill = tantrum
He's not sure what he's supposed to be doing = tantrum
He doesn't feel like he's doing something correctly = tantrum
Someone is too close to him = tantrum
Someone else bumps into him = tantrum
Someone else is breathing = you get the idea.
He also likes to show displeasure by falling to the ground. He does this in school too. One minute he'll be sitting there writing, and the next he is the Tower of Pisa, and finally, he's sprawled out on the floor. Let's just say he spent the better part of the soccer season spread eagle on the field. Sometimes facing the sky, sometimes the grass.
Because we know Sawyer and because he does need the extra help, Charlie and I go to every practice and every game. So much so, that Charlie ended up being a sort of assistant soccer coach so that he could be right there on the field with Sauce.
The behaviors draw attention, I won't lie. Sadly, I was running in 20 different directions during soccer season, so I would bring him to practice and then wait for Charlie to arrive strait from work so I could start taxiing the other 4 kids to where they needed to go. I did not have the chance to get to know the parents and so they had no idea what was up with Sawyer.
I could see it when we he cried and whenever Sawyer fell over. The silent wondering of "What is up with that kid?" Of course, giving lots of attention to these behaviors only exacerbates them and so we try, as parents, to make light of them. Charlie can be much tougher than me and so Sawyer actually responds to him better. But again, can you imagine watching a game of 5 & 6 year olds and when one falls over crying his dad runs by and says "Get up Sawyer, you're missing the game." and then continues to run down the field. It took everything I had not to go on the field, pick him up and cuddle him, but that's not what he needed.
Winter arrived and with it, basketball season. The falling down improved a bit. I'm sure it had something to do with the gym floor being much harder than the grass on the field, but whatever works! He is tiny. So it's hard for him to throw the ball up to the basket. There were tantrums there too, but they were less than soccer. Both times we were blessed with wonderful coaches that worked amazingly well with him...and with us. They both happened to be women, which I was happy about. Mom's just have that nurturing thing built in.
Spring brought T-ball season. It was what Sawyer had REALLY been waiting for all year. Baseball is his sport, but please don't refer to it as baseball because it's T-ball and Autism brings with it, the whole literal language piece that only seems to affect Sawyer, however, only occasionally. Therefore, I forget that it matters...and catch hell for it when I do!
One of the characteristics of Autism is "rules." To say that Sawyer is big on rules is like saying that middle school boys slightly enjoy potty humor. Let's face it, it's what they live for! Because he loves rules and because he loves baseball, he can tell you just about every rule in the sport. He is well beyond the knowledge most boys his age have of the regulations. Actually, he's beyond many boys twice his age. T-ball has been going well. The temper tantrums have been fewer and further between and the moments of spread eagle are almost completely gone.
The challenge of taking a child who understands the sport and then having him play in a "learning league" is that the new rules don't always make sense!
For example:
There is no empire (or umpire if you don't live in a world where everything relates to Star Wars). The coaches are on the field calling the outs, etc.
Each inning allows the entire team to go through the batting lineup. Everyone bats. Here was the first major problem for Sawyer. The first game, he was playing second base. He made 3 outs in a row on his own and began to run to the side. The coach had to call him back on the field and explain that they give everyone a chance to bat. This blew his mind! "Why?" "Because then everyone gets to bat." "That's not the rules." "Well, we let everyone have a turn at batting." "Why?" And so it went.
Another major difference is that each player gets 5 (usually more) trys to hit the ball. Seeing that is it stationary on a tee, you would think this could not be an issue. Well, it is. "He missed 3 times, he's out." "We're letting him keep trying." "Why? He's out." "Everyone's learning." "But 3 strikes is an out." And so that went.
The final straw was when, after the first few games, it became apparent that the kids who batted last were getting screwed. They could have a perfectly good hit, get to first or second and then the inning was called and they were "out by default." They never got to finish running the bases. It did stink for my friend's son who continually got onto base and then had to walk off the field by no fault of his own. The coaches decided that they would switch up batting orders during the game so the same kid was not always last. Also, they would let the last kid just keep running the bases even if he was tagged out. So they could just run for the fun of it. I thought this was a great solution.
The only time we had a problem with this rule was a few weeks ago when Sawyer was playing 3rd base. The bases were loaded and the batter hit strait to Sauce who tagged 3rd base and thought the play was over. But then, the kids kept running. When he realized the next kid was running toward 3rd, he tagged the base again, but no one stopped. I could see the frustration and confusion in his face. When the batter came towards 3rd, Sawyer again stomped on the base and then tagged the runner before he got to 3rd. When the runner didn't stop and was headed home, Sawyer took off towards home plate, got there before the runner and with his foot on the plate tagged him again! I'd call that a quadruple play! Sawyer would just call that "not fair."
So, here we were yesterday, the 2nd to last game and Sawyer has been doing really well. I cringed when I heard he was last in the lineup, but I thought maybe it would be a good thing, he'd get all the way around the bases. That's got to be good, right? Ummm, no! So, he gets up to bat and hits a line drive between the first and second basemen. He has no problem getting to first in plenty of time, but then, everyone is telling him to run. He's watching as the right fielder is running toward the baseline. I could see him wondering why they wanted him to run and how it didn't make sense to him. But the first base coach is yelling "Run, Sawyer, Run!" And so there he is, forced to run strait at the kid who is holding the ball and ready to tag him. Was there really any good way for this to end? Apparently not!
Sawyer runs, immediately gets tagged and starts to lose it. People are yelling at him to keep running but that makes no sense to him. In fact, nothing makes sense at this point. So he runs toward 2nd, but instead runs strait out to center field screaming. He pulls off his batting helmet and throws it about 10 feet and then goes down for the count! It was so funny and sad and hilarious and heartbreaking all at the same time. Poor little guy! My heart ached for him as I watched the coach run out to center field and pick him up and carry him to the dugout. It was all I could do to not run out, but it's better for the coach to do it so I held myself back.
When he was off the field I dried his tears and he said "Why did they want me to get out?" He couldn't wrap his head around running the bases for fun. My sweet boy!
And now: the conclusion of the story and why my faith in humanity is restored and re-energized every time someone is good to my little Sauce.
The batting order only changes after TWO at bats, so Sawyer had to go last again. Before he went up, I did my best to try to explain to him the idea of continuing to run even if he gets out. He was annoyed at this, but seemed to get it. I didn't even film his at bat because I was so worried about what would happen. I wish now I did.
He hit the ball, again into the outfield between 1st and 2nd. He got to 1st with plenty of time while the kids dropped the ball a few times and finally sent it to third base. It was over thrown and Sawyer ran on to 2nd. The 3rd basemen got control of it and threw it home. At this point all the other runners had gotten home safely. Sawyer kept running like he was told to but as he rounded 3rd it was like the world stopped as everyone realized what was going to happen. He was headed to home and the catcher was standing in front of the plate with the ball. No way! Getting out at home was only gonna make it worse. I held my breath as I watched Sawyer realize what was gonna happen. He started to run back to 3rd, but everyone was telling him to keep running home.
All of a sudden the other team's coach went up to the catcher and said "Throw it to second base, hurry!" The catcher being clueless did just that. Sawyer then had a clear path and made it safely home. Parents from both teams cheered and I thought I was going to cry. It was amazing. The grin on Sawyer's face was priceless!
I am thankful that God has blessed us with another wonderful coach this season. Sawyer was so excited to have a "man coach." He is just as patient as the other coaches we had this year and we were lucky to have him. The icing on the cake was that the other teams coach showed the compassion and quick thinking that he did.
God Bless that coach for doing such a small thing to make such a big impact on a kid. I have no idea if he knew that Sawyer has Autism or not. He was just helping a kid feel successful and it made all the difference in the world!
NOTE: I have come to realize in the last few years that I am one of those parents who is in the stands feeling the whole game in my stomach. I am competitive and I want my kids to win, but am always well within the good sportsmanship realm. I just care a lot! Additionally, I am not a fan of giving everyone a trophy - it's part of what's wrong with kids today. This whole sense of entitlement thing. I too felt Sawyer's frustration with not really "following the rules," but I continue to tell myself that this is a learning league and the real rules will apply soon enough.
I guess I just want to be very clear that if Sawyer was not the last batter and was tagged out in a "regular play" that would be fine with me. I just have trouble sending a kid into the line of fire so to speak. Especially a kid that "gets it" the way he does. Yesterday I was lucky enough to see someone else treat my boy well and for that I am thankful!
I know I brag on Sawyer, probably too much, but every good experience for him is the equivalent to every great experience other kids have. Knowing that things are harder for him, makes any success that much sweeter.
I was reminded again yesterday of the fact that there are good people out there who do good things just because. Even the act I'm going to tell you about was not a big deal and the person probably has no idea that I would even consider writing it down, but it was huge. For Sawyer and for me...and that is what counts!
T-ball has been a great experience for Sawyer this spring. It's shown Charlie and I (& Sawyer too, I think) how much he has grown and progressed this year. In the fall, Sawyer played soccer. It was the first "team sport" he had every played and he was excited. After all the times he's been dragged to watch his siblings play a sport, he was ready to do it himself.
The first few practices were tough. He doesn't like to try something unless he's seen other people do it a few times. There's a good bit of anxiety going on with him too, so he's very self conscious. Tantrums occur.
For example:
He has to go first in a drill = tantrum
He has to go last in a drill = tantrum
He's not sure what he's supposed to be doing = tantrum
He doesn't feel like he's doing something correctly = tantrum
Someone is too close to him = tantrum
Someone else bumps into him = tantrum
Someone else is breathing = you get the idea.
He also likes to show displeasure by falling to the ground. He does this in school too. One minute he'll be sitting there writing, and the next he is the Tower of Pisa, and finally, he's sprawled out on the floor. Let's just say he spent the better part of the soccer season spread eagle on the field. Sometimes facing the sky, sometimes the grass.
Because we know Sawyer and because he does need the extra help, Charlie and I go to every practice and every game. So much so, that Charlie ended up being a sort of assistant soccer coach so that he could be right there on the field with Sauce.
The behaviors draw attention, I won't lie. Sadly, I was running in 20 different directions during soccer season, so I would bring him to practice and then wait for Charlie to arrive strait from work so I could start taxiing the other 4 kids to where they needed to go. I did not have the chance to get to know the parents and so they had no idea what was up with Sawyer.
I could see it when we he cried and whenever Sawyer fell over. The silent wondering of "What is up with that kid?" Of course, giving lots of attention to these behaviors only exacerbates them and so we try, as parents, to make light of them. Charlie can be much tougher than me and so Sawyer actually responds to him better. But again, can you imagine watching a game of 5 & 6 year olds and when one falls over crying his dad runs by and says "Get up Sawyer, you're missing the game." and then continues to run down the field. It took everything I had not to go on the field, pick him up and cuddle him, but that's not what he needed.
Winter arrived and with it, basketball season. The falling down improved a bit. I'm sure it had something to do with the gym floor being much harder than the grass on the field, but whatever works! He is tiny. So it's hard for him to throw the ball up to the basket. There were tantrums there too, but they were less than soccer. Both times we were blessed with wonderful coaches that worked amazingly well with him...and with us. They both happened to be women, which I was happy about. Mom's just have that nurturing thing built in.
Spring brought T-ball season. It was what Sawyer had REALLY been waiting for all year. Baseball is his sport, but please don't refer to it as baseball because it's T-ball and Autism brings with it, the whole literal language piece that only seems to affect Sawyer, however, only occasionally. Therefore, I forget that it matters...and catch hell for it when I do!
One of the characteristics of Autism is "rules." To say that Sawyer is big on rules is like saying that middle school boys slightly enjoy potty humor. Let's face it, it's what they live for! Because he loves rules and because he loves baseball, he can tell you just about every rule in the sport. He is well beyond the knowledge most boys his age have of the regulations. Actually, he's beyond many boys twice his age. T-ball has been going well. The temper tantrums have been fewer and further between and the moments of spread eagle are almost completely gone.
The challenge of taking a child who understands the sport and then having him play in a "learning league" is that the new rules don't always make sense!
For example:
There is no empire (or umpire if you don't live in a world where everything relates to Star Wars). The coaches are on the field calling the outs, etc.
Each inning allows the entire team to go through the batting lineup. Everyone bats. Here was the first major problem for Sawyer. The first game, he was playing second base. He made 3 outs in a row on his own and began to run to the side. The coach had to call him back on the field and explain that they give everyone a chance to bat. This blew his mind! "Why?" "Because then everyone gets to bat." "That's not the rules." "Well, we let everyone have a turn at batting." "Why?" And so it went.
Another major difference is that each player gets 5 (usually more) trys to hit the ball. Seeing that is it stationary on a tee, you would think this could not be an issue. Well, it is. "He missed 3 times, he's out." "We're letting him keep trying." "Why? He's out." "Everyone's learning." "But 3 strikes is an out." And so that went.
The final straw was when, after the first few games, it became apparent that the kids who batted last were getting screwed. They could have a perfectly good hit, get to first or second and then the inning was called and they were "out by default." They never got to finish running the bases. It did stink for my friend's son who continually got onto base and then had to walk off the field by no fault of his own. The coaches decided that they would switch up batting orders during the game so the same kid was not always last. Also, they would let the last kid just keep running the bases even if he was tagged out. So they could just run for the fun of it. I thought this was a great solution.
The only time we had a problem with this rule was a few weeks ago when Sawyer was playing 3rd base. The bases were loaded and the batter hit strait to Sauce who tagged 3rd base and thought the play was over. But then, the kids kept running. When he realized the next kid was running toward 3rd, he tagged the base again, but no one stopped. I could see the frustration and confusion in his face. When the batter came towards 3rd, Sawyer again stomped on the base and then tagged the runner before he got to 3rd. When the runner didn't stop and was headed home, Sawyer took off towards home plate, got there before the runner and with his foot on the plate tagged him again! I'd call that a quadruple play! Sawyer would just call that "not fair."
So, here we were yesterday, the 2nd to last game and Sawyer has been doing really well. I cringed when I heard he was last in the lineup, but I thought maybe it would be a good thing, he'd get all the way around the bases. That's got to be good, right? Ummm, no! So, he gets up to bat and hits a line drive between the first and second basemen. He has no problem getting to first in plenty of time, but then, everyone is telling him to run. He's watching as the right fielder is running toward the baseline. I could see him wondering why they wanted him to run and how it didn't make sense to him. But the first base coach is yelling "Run, Sawyer, Run!" And so there he is, forced to run strait at the kid who is holding the ball and ready to tag him. Was there really any good way for this to end? Apparently not!
Sawyer runs, immediately gets tagged and starts to lose it. People are yelling at him to keep running but that makes no sense to him. In fact, nothing makes sense at this point. So he runs toward 2nd, but instead runs strait out to center field screaming. He pulls off his batting helmet and throws it about 10 feet and then goes down for the count! It was so funny and sad and hilarious and heartbreaking all at the same time. Poor little guy! My heart ached for him as I watched the coach run out to center field and pick him up and carry him to the dugout. It was all I could do to not run out, but it's better for the coach to do it so I held myself back.
When he was off the field I dried his tears and he said "Why did they want me to get out?" He couldn't wrap his head around running the bases for fun. My sweet boy!
And now: the conclusion of the story and why my faith in humanity is restored and re-energized every time someone is good to my little Sauce.
The batting order only changes after TWO at bats, so Sawyer had to go last again. Before he went up, I did my best to try to explain to him the idea of continuing to run even if he gets out. He was annoyed at this, but seemed to get it. I didn't even film his at bat because I was so worried about what would happen. I wish now I did.
He hit the ball, again into the outfield between 1st and 2nd. He got to 1st with plenty of time while the kids dropped the ball a few times and finally sent it to third base. It was over thrown and Sawyer ran on to 2nd. The 3rd basemen got control of it and threw it home. At this point all the other runners had gotten home safely. Sawyer kept running like he was told to but as he rounded 3rd it was like the world stopped as everyone realized what was going to happen. He was headed to home and the catcher was standing in front of the plate with the ball. No way! Getting out at home was only gonna make it worse. I held my breath as I watched Sawyer realize what was gonna happen. He started to run back to 3rd, but everyone was telling him to keep running home.
All of a sudden the other team's coach went up to the catcher and said "Throw it to second base, hurry!" The catcher being clueless did just that. Sawyer then had a clear path and made it safely home. Parents from both teams cheered and I thought I was going to cry. It was amazing. The grin on Sawyer's face was priceless!
I am thankful that God has blessed us with another wonderful coach this season. Sawyer was so excited to have a "man coach." He is just as patient as the other coaches we had this year and we were lucky to have him. The icing on the cake was that the other teams coach showed the compassion and quick thinking that he did.
God Bless that coach for doing such a small thing to make such a big impact on a kid. I have no idea if he knew that Sawyer has Autism or not. He was just helping a kid feel successful and it made all the difference in the world!
NOTE: I have come to realize in the last few years that I am one of those parents who is in the stands feeling the whole game in my stomach. I am competitive and I want my kids to win, but am always well within the good sportsmanship realm. I just care a lot! Additionally, I am not a fan of giving everyone a trophy - it's part of what's wrong with kids today. This whole sense of entitlement thing. I too felt Sawyer's frustration with not really "following the rules," but I continue to tell myself that this is a learning league and the real rules will apply soon enough.
I guess I just want to be very clear that if Sawyer was not the last batter and was tagged out in a "regular play" that would be fine with me. I just have trouble sending a kid into the line of fire so to speak. Especially a kid that "gets it" the way he does. Yesterday I was lucky enough to see someone else treat my boy well and for that I am thankful!
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Mother’s Day 2012
Several years ago when Charlie was gone for Mother’s Day I wrote 10 tips for the kids. My thought process was that since they could not get me a gift without their father’s help, I would give them ideas of things to do or NOT do which would make me happy. The list was chock full of helpful hints to keep the girls and I all out of therapy. (I believe I posted it here in May 2010 if you'd like to read the original)
It was a valiant attempt, but seeing as the girls were 5, 4, and 2; they couldn’t read and therefore did not follow them. I guess I shoulda thought of that and read it to them instead of taping 481 copies randomly around the house.
It really doesn’t seem like it was that long ago, but it was. I didn’t even have the boys! (Why didn’t anyone tell me to stop while I was ahead?) The kids are now 13, 12, 10, 7, & 5 and I’ve been thinking that a new set of tips is in order. Now that they can all read, maybe they will heed these a bit more. Certainly that would shorten the length of needed therapy for all of us and save some money in the long run! I tried to used the topics that apply to all the kids, but a few belong more to the girls (who are currently enveloped in hormones riddled with ADHD) and a few lean toward the boys (two clouds of dirt that are either moving rapidly on a collision course toward each other or are asleep).
Authors Note: Due to the length of the article, I have bolded the main idea of any point that is longer than 4 lines, so feel free to skip through and just get the highlights. Also, I usually go over a post for two or three days before publishing. Since I wrote this last night, I didn't have that luxury. Just sayin'.
1. You are growing and your music taste has begun to develop. You have moved beyond The Wiggles and Barney and it does make me a bit sad. However, as I have a plethora of genre interests, we will most likely be able to amicably share the radio while in the car. (NOTE: This does not pertain to your father) Despite my enjoyment of current pop music, there will be times I come across a station that plays the songs of my formative years. I’ll give you a clue: Embrace the 80’s and our relationship can only be one of peace and harmony! Please know that Brother’s love of Michael Jackson has surpassed all my hopes and dreams. Subsequently, he’s gotten big points, ones the rest of you will never be able to attain unless you do one of the following: become a rockin’ female drummer (to the likes of Mary Stuart Masterson in Some Kind of Wonderful) or prove that you are somehow a reincarnation of Madonna or Molly Ringwald (who are both still alive by the way, so don’t bet on it)!
2. Rolling your eyes is annoying. And obnoxious. And very bratty. Apparently there is a class every tween is invited to attend in order to perfect this move and you’ve all passed with flying colors! I would like to inform you, though, that one of these times your eyes are going to get stuck in that position and you will be forced to look upward 24/7. Not only will this give you a permanent headache and reduce your field of vision, it will also make people think you may be having a seizure in which case they will hold you down and try to shove objects into your mouth to ensure you don’t swallow your tongue. Such episodes will be very inconvenient when you are at social functions involving the opposite sex. (Think: The Prom) This will also nullify any thoughts you may have of cheating off your neighbors’ paper unless you can do a perfect handstand on your chair…not likely.
3. Leaving Legos, trains, Matchbox cars or any other type of non-malleable toy on the floor of your bedroom and then calling me in there at 2 AM to get you a drink of water will never count as a gift certificate for a foot massage. NEVER!
4. Let’s just get this one over with now, YOU ARE NOT FAT! Should your eating and exercise habits lead you to a place that begins to become unhealthy, I will tell you, I swear! And I will not let you out of the house in something that is unflattering and/or will cause you to be mocked! You have to trust me on this and not The Mean Girls. This is a whole chapter that we will get into in a year or so, but for now, let’s save the money spent on hospital co-pays, laxatives, and vomit cleaner and go shopping instead! This tip is a two-fer: CUTTING YOURSELF IS NOT COOL! Again, trust me on this. It has lost any shock value and cannot even be qualified as “a call for help” if “everyone’s doing it!” You’ll have scars that years from now the cameras will zoom in on while you are raising your hand in the courtroom to defend yourself. Also, the same girls who are saying you’re fat will feel free to tell any cute guy at school that you’re a cutter which will completely freak him out, resulting in his decision to ask out one of said Mean Girls instead of you. There’s also the whole flesh-eating bacterial infection possibility that should give you cause to hesitate and spend your money on gum and make up rather than straight razors!
5. As we briefly touched on acceptable fashion in # 4, I’ll go on to discuss another clothing issue that grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. (Before you ask, chalkboards are those things that teachers used to write on before they had smart boards) Shoes are not an optional accessory when one is wearing socks! I am completely unaware how this became so normal to all of you. I enjoy wearing socks in the house, it keeps my feet warm. When I go outside, pay attention, this part is key; I TAKE OFF THE SOCKS OR PUT ON SHOES! It’s really quite simple. That way, I am barefoot and unprotected, yet relatively normal OR shoed, protected, and not looking like TRAILER TRASH! The money I spend on bleaching and/or replacing your socks could have sent Sawyer to college. (Your greedy, selfish brother and sisters are truly sorry Sauce!) As long as we’re on the subject, turning your socks right side out before you put them in the hamper will earn you points…big Michael Jackson-type points!
6. I make dinner, most of the time, when I am required to by the fact that your father is not deployed. I do not enjoy it, and frankly, put as little effort into it as possible. So turning your nose up at what is on the table doesn’t bother me in the least. Eat it, don’t eat it, whatever. But here’s the deal: What I make is what’s for dinner. You want something else? Knock yourself out! Remember though, you are now providing your own dining choice and therefore are in charge of any alternate utensils, dishes, beverages needed. I am not a waitress – anyone who ate at the Brick, NJ Pizza Hut in the summer of 1987 will assure you of that. I will not get up to get you a bowl for cereal, or the spoon you forgot, or put a hot dog in the microwave. I am ready to eat and am most likely hungry and cranky as it usually takes 15-20 minutes for everyone to bother moseying on over to the table after I’ve yelled “Dinner!” about 27 times. You have my word that as soon as your father deploys again we’ll go back to a diet of nuggets, mac-n-cheese, cereal, and, on special occasions, breakfast for dinner!
7. As long as we’re talking about eating dinner, I suppose I should say something about manners. Ugly things, manners. Such a point of contention around here. Bottom line: You know you’re basics and you all do a fair job of using them. “Pleases” and “Thank Yous” are heard with minimal prompting. There isn’t much SEE-food at the table. Holding in bursts of bodily gases could use a bit of work, but honestly, I think you’re fine. The problem is, when other people are around, you need to step it up a notch. It matters to your Dad and so you should make an effort. Am I going to send you to hoity toity finishing school? No, because then you would annoy me and I’d be forced to get rid of you. But do us all a favor and play the game when people are around who care. You know who they are and you know the rules; you’ve been corrected on anything I didn’t bother to learn. Company does not live with us, nor do they stay forever- regardless of how it feels. Suck it up! Sit up straight, elbows off the table, and all that crap. You can go back to hovering over your morning cereal bowl soon enough.
8. Chores are a part of life. The sooner you accept that and just do them, the easier life will be. What is being asked of you is not that much, really. You say the word and I am happy to pull up videos on the computer of children walking miles to fetch and carry water back to their home for the day. I guarantee there are kids in a 50 mile radius of this house who have to get up early to do farm chores. Milk the cows, feed the chickens, muck the stalls. You guys wouldn’t last one week in a house like that. Then there are the kids who don’t go to school because they have to go to work, like a job, something lovely like cleaning bathrooms or selling their bodies; you know, easy stuff. There’s a video I saw not too long ago where a Dad shot a hole through his daughter’s computer because she was complaining on Facebook about having too many chores to do. I have his phone number on speed dial and there is a shrine to him on the third floor. (Of course you wouldn’t know that because you are all too scared to go up there) But we’ve moved beyond Super Nanny kids, Jo is no longer my first line of defense!
9. YOU ARE NOT FAT! And CUTTING DOES NOT MAKE YOU COOL! Sorry, but it’s worth repeating. That reminds me, I’m waiting on new mirrors for your rooms and bathrooms. They are at the engravers!
10. I’ve saved this for last because I feel a bit guilty about the whole thing. I know that because Santa puts presents under the tree and the Tooth Fairy puts money under your pillow when she isn’t sick or too tired to fly that night, you believe in all kinds of magical creatures. I’ve performed the duties long enough and I have to come clean for all of your sakes. It’s not so much that I have lied, it’s that I never explained the whole truth. Your BobBob would call it a “lie of omission” as he learned that from his 7th grade nun-teacher. He’s big on the whole “lie of omission” thing if you’ve got some time. But I digress…or at least I stall. Here’s the truth, the sad, pathetic, painful truth: There are no Bathroom Gnomes. That’s right……I know it hurts, but we’ll get through this together. You see, at midnight, the toilet rolls don’t automatically re-wrap themselves into a full roll. Where do you think you get those cardboard things to make school projects from? Also, the soap dispenser doesn’t stay full at all times like the loaves and fishes. I know this will blow your mind, but there aren’t tiny men with an intricate pulley system lifting the towels off the floor and folding them nicely on the rack! They really don’t ride around on the Scrubbing Bubbles that you see on TV. There is no such thing as a Scrubbing Bubbles Rodeo! I’ve heard you speculate from time to time and just never stepped in to clarify. It gets worse too. The Gnomes also do not clean your underwear before I wash it. I can only assume that’s what you think! Certainly, any normal child would be embarrassed enough to start wiping their bum if they knew their mother was forced to deal with washing it out! Again, the money I spend on bleach….we could go to Disney World!
So there you have it, my wishes for Mother's Day that, if followed, would make my life a happier one!
I pray that Mother's everywhere are given the day off and are showered with love!
It was a valiant attempt, but seeing as the girls were 5, 4, and 2; they couldn’t read and therefore did not follow them. I guess I shoulda thought of that and read it to them instead of taping 481 copies randomly around the house.
It really doesn’t seem like it was that long ago, but it was. I didn’t even have the boys! (Why didn’t anyone tell me to stop while I was ahead?) The kids are now 13, 12, 10, 7, & 5 and I’ve been thinking that a new set of tips is in order. Now that they can all read, maybe they will heed these a bit more. Certainly that would shorten the length of needed therapy for all of us and save some money in the long run! I tried to used the topics that apply to all the kids, but a few belong more to the girls (who are currently enveloped in hormones riddled with ADHD) and a few lean toward the boys (two clouds of dirt that are either moving rapidly on a collision course toward each other or are asleep).
Authors Note: Due to the length of the article, I have bolded the main idea of any point that is longer than 4 lines, so feel free to skip through and just get the highlights. Also, I usually go over a post for two or three days before publishing. Since I wrote this last night, I didn't have that luxury. Just sayin'.
1. You are growing and your music taste has begun to develop. You have moved beyond The Wiggles and Barney and it does make me a bit sad. However, as I have a plethora of genre interests, we will most likely be able to amicably share the radio while in the car. (NOTE: This does not pertain to your father) Despite my enjoyment of current pop music, there will be times I come across a station that plays the songs of my formative years. I’ll give you a clue: Embrace the 80’s and our relationship can only be one of peace and harmony! Please know that Brother’s love of Michael Jackson has surpassed all my hopes and dreams. Subsequently, he’s gotten big points, ones the rest of you will never be able to attain unless you do one of the following: become a rockin’ female drummer (to the likes of Mary Stuart Masterson in Some Kind of Wonderful) or prove that you are somehow a reincarnation of Madonna or Molly Ringwald (who are both still alive by the way, so don’t bet on it)!
2. Rolling your eyes is annoying. And obnoxious. And very bratty. Apparently there is a class every tween is invited to attend in order to perfect this move and you’ve all passed with flying colors! I would like to inform you, though, that one of these times your eyes are going to get stuck in that position and you will be forced to look upward 24/7. Not only will this give you a permanent headache and reduce your field of vision, it will also make people think you may be having a seizure in which case they will hold you down and try to shove objects into your mouth to ensure you don’t swallow your tongue. Such episodes will be very inconvenient when you are at social functions involving the opposite sex. (Think: The Prom) This will also nullify any thoughts you may have of cheating off your neighbors’ paper unless you can do a perfect handstand on your chair…not likely.
3. Leaving Legos, trains, Matchbox cars or any other type of non-malleable toy on the floor of your bedroom and then calling me in there at 2 AM to get you a drink of water will never count as a gift certificate for a foot massage. NEVER!
4. Let’s just get this one over with now, YOU ARE NOT FAT! Should your eating and exercise habits lead you to a place that begins to become unhealthy, I will tell you, I swear! And I will not let you out of the house in something that is unflattering and/or will cause you to be mocked! You have to trust me on this and not The Mean Girls. This is a whole chapter that we will get into in a year or so, but for now, let’s save the money spent on hospital co-pays, laxatives, and vomit cleaner and go shopping instead! This tip is a two-fer: CUTTING YOURSELF IS NOT COOL! Again, trust me on this. It has lost any shock value and cannot even be qualified as “a call for help” if “everyone’s doing it!” You’ll have scars that years from now the cameras will zoom in on while you are raising your hand in the courtroom to defend yourself. Also, the same girls who are saying you’re fat will feel free to tell any cute guy at school that you’re a cutter which will completely freak him out, resulting in his decision to ask out one of said Mean Girls instead of you. There’s also the whole flesh-eating bacterial infection possibility that should give you cause to hesitate and spend your money on gum and make up rather than straight razors!
5. As we briefly touched on acceptable fashion in # 4, I’ll go on to discuss another clothing issue that grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. (Before you ask, chalkboards are those things that teachers used to write on before they had smart boards) Shoes are not an optional accessory when one is wearing socks! I am completely unaware how this became so normal to all of you. I enjoy wearing socks in the house, it keeps my feet warm. When I go outside, pay attention, this part is key; I TAKE OFF THE SOCKS OR PUT ON SHOES! It’s really quite simple. That way, I am barefoot and unprotected, yet relatively normal OR shoed, protected, and not looking like TRAILER TRASH! The money I spend on bleaching and/or replacing your socks could have sent Sawyer to college. (Your greedy, selfish brother and sisters are truly sorry Sauce!) As long as we’re on the subject, turning your socks right side out before you put them in the hamper will earn you points…big Michael Jackson-type points!
6. I make dinner, most of the time, when I am required to by the fact that your father is not deployed. I do not enjoy it, and frankly, put as little effort into it as possible. So turning your nose up at what is on the table doesn’t bother me in the least. Eat it, don’t eat it, whatever. But here’s the deal: What I make is what’s for dinner. You want something else? Knock yourself out! Remember though, you are now providing your own dining choice and therefore are in charge of any alternate utensils, dishes, beverages needed. I am not a waitress – anyone who ate at the Brick, NJ Pizza Hut in the summer of 1987 will assure you of that. I will not get up to get you a bowl for cereal, or the spoon you forgot, or put a hot dog in the microwave. I am ready to eat and am most likely hungry and cranky as it usually takes 15-20 minutes for everyone to bother moseying on over to the table after I’ve yelled “Dinner!” about 27 times. You have my word that as soon as your father deploys again we’ll go back to a diet of nuggets, mac-n-cheese, cereal, and, on special occasions, breakfast for dinner!
7. As long as we’re talking about eating dinner, I suppose I should say something about manners. Ugly things, manners. Such a point of contention around here. Bottom line: You know you’re basics and you all do a fair job of using them. “Pleases” and “Thank Yous” are heard with minimal prompting. There isn’t much SEE-food at the table. Holding in bursts of bodily gases could use a bit of work, but honestly, I think you’re fine. The problem is, when other people are around, you need to step it up a notch. It matters to your Dad and so you should make an effort. Am I going to send you to hoity toity finishing school? No, because then you would annoy me and I’d be forced to get rid of you. But do us all a favor and play the game when people are around who care. You know who they are and you know the rules; you’ve been corrected on anything I didn’t bother to learn. Company does not live with us, nor do they stay forever- regardless of how it feels. Suck it up! Sit up straight, elbows off the table, and all that crap. You can go back to hovering over your morning cereal bowl soon enough.
8. Chores are a part of life. The sooner you accept that and just do them, the easier life will be. What is being asked of you is not that much, really. You say the word and I am happy to pull up videos on the computer of children walking miles to fetch and carry water back to their home for the day. I guarantee there are kids in a 50 mile radius of this house who have to get up early to do farm chores. Milk the cows, feed the chickens, muck the stalls. You guys wouldn’t last one week in a house like that. Then there are the kids who don’t go to school because they have to go to work, like a job, something lovely like cleaning bathrooms or selling their bodies; you know, easy stuff. There’s a video I saw not too long ago where a Dad shot a hole through his daughter’s computer because she was complaining on Facebook about having too many chores to do. I have his phone number on speed dial and there is a shrine to him on the third floor. (Of course you wouldn’t know that because you are all too scared to go up there) But we’ve moved beyond Super Nanny kids, Jo is no longer my first line of defense!
9. YOU ARE NOT FAT! And CUTTING DOES NOT MAKE YOU COOL! Sorry, but it’s worth repeating. That reminds me, I’m waiting on new mirrors for your rooms and bathrooms. They are at the engravers!
10. I’ve saved this for last because I feel a bit guilty about the whole thing. I know that because Santa puts presents under the tree and the Tooth Fairy puts money under your pillow when she isn’t sick or too tired to fly that night, you believe in all kinds of magical creatures. I’ve performed the duties long enough and I have to come clean for all of your sakes. It’s not so much that I have lied, it’s that I never explained the whole truth. Your BobBob would call it a “lie of omission” as he learned that from his 7th grade nun-teacher. He’s big on the whole “lie of omission” thing if you’ve got some time. But I digress…or at least I stall. Here’s the truth, the sad, pathetic, painful truth: There are no Bathroom Gnomes. That’s right……I know it hurts, but we’ll get through this together. You see, at midnight, the toilet rolls don’t automatically re-wrap themselves into a full roll. Where do you think you get those cardboard things to make school projects from? Also, the soap dispenser doesn’t stay full at all times like the loaves and fishes. I know this will blow your mind, but there aren’t tiny men with an intricate pulley system lifting the towels off the floor and folding them nicely on the rack! They really don’t ride around on the Scrubbing Bubbles that you see on TV. There is no such thing as a Scrubbing Bubbles Rodeo! I’ve heard you speculate from time to time and just never stepped in to clarify. It gets worse too. The Gnomes also do not clean your underwear before I wash it. I can only assume that’s what you think! Certainly, any normal child would be embarrassed enough to start wiping their bum if they knew their mother was forced to deal with washing it out! Again, the money I spend on bleach….we could go to Disney World!
So there you have it, my wishes for Mother's Day that, if followed, would make my life a happier one!
I pray that Mother's everywhere are given the day off and are showered with love!
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Sawyer made the DoD EFMP Newsletter
I got a phone call from the EFMP Director on Post that there was a writer who needed to interview a parent of an autistic child for National Autism Awareness Month. I agreed and did a phone interview.
The result is below. I couldn't be more pleased with her descriptions of Sawyer and what a blessing he is to us!
It took forever to figure out how to take a jpg file and get it on here so I scanned in the hard copy, but then it was hard to read so I copied the text at the bottom. It won't let me do paragraph breaks, but if your interested, I think you can get through it! Thanks for reading!
April 2012
Department of the Army Exceptional Family Member Program
~ April: National Autism Awareness Month ~
Five‐year‐old Sawyer has ‘big plans’
Sawyer Carlton is a pint‐size happy little tike with big plans: To grow up on
pepperoni pizza and chicken strips and to become a professional ball player; he
wants to become a professional golfer, too (but that’s in his spare time). Ideally,
whichever jersey he wears will feature his favorite color: Green.
For now, the 5 year old is content with learning how to play tag and other social playground games. It’s a complex world out there for a mind that is so literal; there are few hard‐and‐fast rules. If only there were rules.…
Sawyer is a lot like other boys his age, only he also happens to be diagnosed with autism. April is National Autism Awareness Month. Many Exceptional Family Member Programs(EFMPs) have special activities planned to raise awareness. For instance, EFMP Manager Jennifer Buford held an information booth at the Post Exchange at Fort Leavenworth during World Autism Awareness Day (April 2); this is in addition to her regular parent support group activities and a bowling event for children with special needs. A similar display is planned on April 28 during the CYSS Family Fun Fair at Fort
Meade, said EFMP Manager Caraline Someck. Linda Moseley was newly assigned to her EFMP
installation this past month(Presidio of Monterey). Her goal was to bring military
and civilian parents together on April 12 for a speaker to talk about services and treatment options for children with autism. EFMP Manager Terry Rogalla (Fort McCoy) noted that an article is planned for his installation newspaper, and the Child Development Center staff wore blue as part of Light It Up Blue Day (April 2) to raise awareness, as well.
April is just another month like all the others for Sawyer and his Family, which includes four older siblings. Autism is a lifelong journey.
Mary Carlton still remembers the day when doctors finally had answers. Her son was 14 months old when she and her husband, LTC Charles Carlton, started asking questions. Sawyer was 3 years old when the answers came. By then, Charles Carlton was on deployment. “That was one of the hardest things for me,” she recalled. “I had to explain to him on Skype what was going on and what we have to do next.”
There was a period of denial at first. Then came the second and third opinions, plus more tests. “Eventually, we had lots and lots of data, and then it became: ‘So, now what?’” The parents looked around and found themselves amazed at what all was available for services. They put one foot in front of the other and moved forward.
Mary Carlton swears by early intervention. “We’ve learned a lot. With a diagnosis, they helped us understand there was a reason for the things he did and the behaviors
he had,” she explained. “Behaviors we used to think were simply spoiling or defiance now make sense. It's like suddenly you open your eyes and think, ‘How did I not see
this before?’ It's not under his control. It's not his fault.”
One thing the Carltons have learned is to adhere closely to a schedule. Change can be a catalyst for an outburst. “It’s okay to alter plans, if we let him know what’s going
on. He may not like it, but he’s okay – as long as he knows in advance.”
“We’ve been blessed to have really great services at such an early age – particularly ABA therapy. That’s just been amazing. I can't say enough about it.”
Getting involved in the parent support group has helped tremendously, too, Carlton said. You learn so much from other parents, ideas you never would have thought of
otherwise. “Just to hear you're not the only one matters in some small way, sometimes.”
She also blogs about her experiences and has a support group on Facebook. A parent of an older child with Asperger’s serves as her mentor. “That helps bring perspective when things are more challenging.“
Counting the Blessings
One of the benefits of having a child with special needs is that the couple’s other four children are more accepting of children with exceptional needs. “A lot of kids shy
away from anyone who's a little different,” Carlton noted. “My children just see them as typical kids, so they go right up and invite them to join in.”
The Carltons also have connected with people they never would have known if not for autism: “I see no shame in acknowledging autism,” Carlton stated. “It's all around us.” People come up in the commissary with questions about autism. “It gives me a wonderful
opportunity to advocate to others.”
Sentimental Moments
Mary Carlton paused to reflect a moment. “Some people view autism as a sort of ‘death sentence,’ but it’s not that way at all,” she continued. “Sure, you want to change
things, but Sawyer is more than this label. He's a sweet little boy in his own way. He always has been. If anything, this has made us love him even more.” How?
She described one instance when she helped him prepare for a school event. He was in a character costume and was required to jump over a figure of a moon: “He kept jumping over that moon, practicing over and over, so I scrambled for a camera and started to
record.” The scene was so cute that she couldn’t help but gush: “Oh Sawyer, I love you so much.” Just like that, Sawyer responded that he loved her, too.
“He says it so rarely – and I captured it on tape! It’s priceless,” she enthused, with a catch in her voice. “It made me so happy — it still does. I can’t help but cry.”
My other children say that all the time, and I adore them, too, she said. “It’s just that it’s so rare with him that it still chokes me up. Moments like that are priceless.”
Things are in a good place for the Carltons right now. They’re doing well. “Every time my parents come they're amazed. They say each time that he's like a whole new kid.”
Carlton said she’s optimistic about her son’s future: “I truly do see him having a future in sports, I have no doubt.” She also sees him in college someday. “I hope he finds something he's passionate about. And I hope he finds someone and gets married, has kids, the whole nine yards. We'll see. It depends on if he keeps growing and expanding his horizons,” she shared.
One thing is certain: Sawyer’s entire Family will cheer him on.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Speak!
One of the well known facts about military families is that we move...a lot! We are currently in our 10th house in 15 years of marriage. There is so much that goes into moving that is a pain, but one of the aspects civilian people may not think about is that every time you move you not only have a new house with new windows that your old curtains don't fit in, but you have new people. It's more than neighbors and potential friends.
New teachers, new doctors, new dentists, new eye doctors, and new therapists. This is quite a few unknowns to deal with, but there is one more. One so capable of making your life a living hell that it must be addressed on it's own.
It is...the new hair stylist! Ohhh, it hurts just to see it in writing! I grew up in the small/mid-size town of Carlisle, PA. There was a beauty salon right outside the front gate of post.
The Hair Loft, owned by Cathy Meals, was the only place I ever remember getting my hair cut as a child. Cathy was the coolest lady. Her daughter, Natalie, was only a year younger than me, but Cathy was younger than my mom and very hip! Hair, makeup, clothes: she always looked great and was up on all the trends. The first cut I remember specifically wanting was a "Dorthy Hamill" and she did it right! (I even made my mom buy me some "Short & Sassy" shampoo that Dorthy was touting at the time)
My parents retired and remained in Carlisle, giving me the option to get my hair cut at what was now called Tangles whenever I am home. Natalie bought the business from her mother and is now the owner of a place that made anyone's Steel Magnolia salon dreams come true. It is always great to go back and see Natalie. Another friend from high school, Jeff, also works there and is my regular stylist. More times than not, I run into several other people I know while I was there. It is a great place to catch up with all things that were Carlisle.
As soon as I confirmed the date for my wedding, my next call was to Natalie to block out that morning for my own and my bridesmaids hair. She also did my nails the day before when I couldn't find my engagement ring - hmmm, another blog worthy story.
I still go there every summer and bring my daughters there too. My point is this, your hair salon is a part of your "hometown" so when you have to move every couple years, you aren't gonna get that feeling. I understand that, but I still have standards.
I believe that as soon as someone has mastered all the hair techniques, such as cutting, coloring, parting, etc, they need a final course. It could be called, "How to Conversate 101."
It may not be very obvious, but I don't get out much. Even with all the kids in school this year, it is a MAJOR deal to go get my hair done. There are plenty of other things I could and should be doing (laundry, dishes, groceries, etc) than spending money on my head. I can hear you now; "But you have to take care of you," "You need to treat yourself" BLAH, BLAH, BLAH! I get it, I do.
Sadly, after 5 kids and feeling very overwhelmed, my hair is one of the last priorities. When I have somewhere to go, I get it done and it's fine. It's just not something that is on the calendar every 4-6 weeks like they keep telling me. Honestly, I'm lucky if I get back within 6 months.
Last week I had a ball to attend. The kids kept calling it a Prom, but no, it was the Special Operations Ball. I was excited because we had not gone to a ball in years and it is fun to get dressed up once every few years!
I had found someone to do my hair in Leavenworth. I really liked her and the salon. I got to know about her life, her family and she got to know about mine. There was some banter in the shop and occasionally I would look over and see a friend in a chair across the room. I went to this person for two and 1/2 years. We had a good thing going. And then she was gone...
Remember back in middle school when you were "going" with someone and they wanted to break up so they sent a friend to tell you? It felt like she broke up with me. Did she quit, get fired, what? No phone call, no note, no forwarding salon. Ouch!
Here I am, finishing my 3rd year in the same house, a rarity, and I have to find someone else to do my hair? (insert long wail of desperation)
Back to the ball, I am optionless. A stylist is someone with whom you have a relationship built on trust and confidence that you won't be walking around town looking like a fool! To go into this blindly just stinks! I need my hair done and I have no clue who to call. I go back through some advertisements from when we first arrived and I find a coupon (yeah, I'm cheap) for a different salon downtown. I had brought Tali there several months ago and thought they did a decent job. Unfortunately, the girl who cut Tali's hair is not working that day so I go with "Cuteness." (It's not my intention to dime anyone out here- just pontificating)
I walked in to find Cuteness standing there expectantly. "Mary?" She really was cute and I loved her hair which I think is a fair commentary on how they'll do yours. As it turned out, I loved how she did my hair. She did great with the color as I'm not organized enough to have my last person write the formula down. Who knew I would need it?
My first issue was time. It took 3 hours for her to cut, highlight and style my hair. Three hours in the life of Mary Carlton is a loooong time. That being said, if I felt that it really should've taken three hours I'd be okay. But when you are watching someone sloooowly separate out a piece of hair, then reeeeach over for the foil and laaaay the hair on it and then paint several very sloooow precisely placed strokes of color on your hair, before foooolding the foil over and roooolling it up, it can be incredibly nerve wracking. It took all my restraint not to jump up and say "Toss the bowl over here sister, I'll help you out! Slip, slap, next section!"
But there is no way to be snarky to someone who holds the fate of your hair in their hands! Seriously, you want to tick off someone who is standing over you surrounded by scissors and hot curling irons? It could get ugly quickly and that's just not a chance I'm willing to take!
The real issue, however, the big one, the reason I felt compelled to write was this: There were no words! None! Nada! Zero! Zilch! Do I need to go on? Honestly, it could've taken 5 hours and I wouldn't be complaining if there was enjoyment involved...or a conversation of any type! Berate me for not knowing the formula, make fun of my clothes, just speak!!!
Like I said, she was cute and the shop was adorable. Alas, it was empty and the foil echoed painfully. There was only one other person in the salon, but there was no chatting. The other woman did have two older customers during my appointment. They talked a bit and I said a prayer of thanks that I hadn't suddenly gone deaf. I had to stick my nose in their conversation a few times just to make sure I wasn't mute either.
I tried to talk to Cuteness and this is how it went:
"Did you grow up in Leavenworth?"
"Yes"
"So you've lived here all your life."
"Well, we moved to Lancing." (the next town over)
"Were you a military brat?"
"No. My Dad owns the something(a car place) downtown."
I have no idea what the place is, but I pick up on the car aspect.
"Did your Dad put you in the TV commercials when you were little?"
"He doesn't do commercials."
"Oh, I was just thinking about how many times you see local low budget commercials for car places and the owner puts his kids or grand kids in them. They aren't always the best choice either. I think it's funny, but it drives my Dad crazy for some reason."
"No, he doesn't do commercials."
I try a different tactic:
"Did you watch the Oscars?" (I was holding an "Oscar Preview" People magazine)
"No"
"Oh, well I DVR'd and have watched parts of it."
"Mmmmm"
"There were some pretty dresses, but lots of beige on pasty white women. I don't get that."
"Sometimes I watch to see the hair."
"It probably gives you good ideas, huh?"
"Yes"
"Do you get a lot of girls coming in for Prom?"
"Yes"
"Oooh, I like her hair! I wonder what time they get up in the morning to be ready by 3 or 4 in the afternoon. I'll be lucky to have 15 minutes alone to dress and do my makeup tonight without the kids needing something or fighting."
"Mmmmm Hmmmm"
I bring out the big guns. When people find out I have 5 kids that's usually good for several questions ie: "Do you know what causes that?" "Are you Mormon?" "Do you home school?" All of these are very original and clever...NOT!
"There's 5 of them. It gets kinda crazy."
"I'm sure."
Wow, I got nothin'!
This is where I admit, I don't have the gift of conversation that my husband does. He can talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime and get a dialog going that usually ends up in an invitation for us to visit the cab drivers country and stay with his relatives. You may think I'm kidding, but I'm not.
I'm not always comfortable talking to people I don't know. I don't feel the need to strike up conversations where ever I am. I prefer to be in my element, but when put in a situation where it's my only option, I'm willing to give it my best! I guess I could have sat and contemplated the state of the world or sang songs in my head, (there was not even a radio or TV on). What I really wanted to do, and did a few times was fall asleep. But dozing is not good when someone is trying to cut your hair evenly. So, maybe I'm not a great (or even adequate) conversationalist, but I'm also not willing to shoulder the entire responsibility for the lack of discussion.
A hair dresser should be the type of person who is an extrovert or who at least can begin and maintain a dialog of give and take. Communication is a bonus when you need to understand what your customer wants. Additionally, going to the beauty salon is a social event of sorts, a situation that calls for noise. I'm happiest in a busy shop with lots of friendly abusive comments going back and forth. And gossip, I'm big on the gossip!
Sadly, while I was getting wound tighter and tighter watching the clock tick, Cuteness didn't seem to mind the silence. Maybe, she's new and was concentrating really hard. Maybe she had a lot on her mind. Regardless of the reason, I don't know if I'll go back. She did give me a Coke when I arrived and took the coupon although it was expired, so she gets points for that. I suppose should consider the fact that I read two magazines cover to cover (which never happens) a bonus, but I'd rather just talk.
I'll be in Carlisle for about a month this summer. Hey Natalie & Jeff, book me when the shop is at it's loudest, please! There's no place like home!
New teachers, new doctors, new dentists, new eye doctors, and new therapists. This is quite a few unknowns to deal with, but there is one more. One so capable of making your life a living hell that it must be addressed on it's own.
It is...the new hair stylist! Ohhh, it hurts just to see it in writing! I grew up in the small/mid-size town of Carlisle, PA. There was a beauty salon right outside the front gate of post.
The Hair Loft, owned by Cathy Meals, was the only place I ever remember getting my hair cut as a child. Cathy was the coolest lady. Her daughter, Natalie, was only a year younger than me, but Cathy was younger than my mom and very hip! Hair, makeup, clothes: she always looked great and was up on all the trends. The first cut I remember specifically wanting was a "Dorthy Hamill" and she did it right! (I even made my mom buy me some "Short & Sassy" shampoo that Dorthy was touting at the time)
My parents retired and remained in Carlisle, giving me the option to get my hair cut at what was now called Tangles whenever I am home. Natalie bought the business from her mother and is now the owner of a place that made anyone's Steel Magnolia salon dreams come true. It is always great to go back and see Natalie. Another friend from high school, Jeff, also works there and is my regular stylist. More times than not, I run into several other people I know while I was there. It is a great place to catch up with all things that were Carlisle.
As soon as I confirmed the date for my wedding, my next call was to Natalie to block out that morning for my own and my bridesmaids hair. She also did my nails the day before when I couldn't find my engagement ring - hmmm, another blog worthy story.
I still go there every summer and bring my daughters there too. My point is this, your hair salon is a part of your "hometown" so when you have to move every couple years, you aren't gonna get that feeling. I understand that, but I still have standards.
I believe that as soon as someone has mastered all the hair techniques, such as cutting, coloring, parting, etc, they need a final course. It could be called, "How to Conversate 101."
It may not be very obvious, but I don't get out much. Even with all the kids in school this year, it is a MAJOR deal to go get my hair done. There are plenty of other things I could and should be doing (laundry, dishes, groceries, etc) than spending money on my head. I can hear you now; "But you have to take care of you," "You need to treat yourself" BLAH, BLAH, BLAH! I get it, I do.
Sadly, after 5 kids and feeling very overwhelmed, my hair is one of the last priorities. When I have somewhere to go, I get it done and it's fine. It's just not something that is on the calendar every 4-6 weeks like they keep telling me. Honestly, I'm lucky if I get back within 6 months.
Last week I had a ball to attend. The kids kept calling it a Prom, but no, it was the Special Operations Ball. I was excited because we had not gone to a ball in years and it is fun to get dressed up once every few years!
I had found someone to do my hair in Leavenworth. I really liked her and the salon. I got to know about her life, her family and she got to know about mine. There was some banter in the shop and occasionally I would look over and see a friend in a chair across the room. I went to this person for two and 1/2 years. We had a good thing going. And then she was gone...
Remember back in middle school when you were "going" with someone and they wanted to break up so they sent a friend to tell you? It felt like she broke up with me. Did she quit, get fired, what? No phone call, no note, no forwarding salon. Ouch!
Here I am, finishing my 3rd year in the same house, a rarity, and I have to find someone else to do my hair? (insert long wail of desperation)
Back to the ball, I am optionless. A stylist is someone with whom you have a relationship built on trust and confidence that you won't be walking around town looking like a fool! To go into this blindly just stinks! I need my hair done and I have no clue who to call. I go back through some advertisements from when we first arrived and I find a coupon (yeah, I'm cheap) for a different salon downtown. I had brought Tali there several months ago and thought they did a decent job. Unfortunately, the girl who cut Tali's hair is not working that day so I go with "Cuteness." (It's not my intention to dime anyone out here- just pontificating)
I walked in to find Cuteness standing there expectantly. "Mary?" She really was cute and I loved her hair which I think is a fair commentary on how they'll do yours. As it turned out, I loved how she did my hair. She did great with the color as I'm not organized enough to have my last person write the formula down. Who knew I would need it?
My first issue was time. It took 3 hours for her to cut, highlight and style my hair. Three hours in the life of Mary Carlton is a loooong time. That being said, if I felt that it really should've taken three hours I'd be okay. But when you are watching someone sloooowly separate out a piece of hair, then reeeeach over for the foil and laaaay the hair on it and then paint several very sloooow precisely placed strokes of color on your hair, before foooolding the foil over and roooolling it up, it can be incredibly nerve wracking. It took all my restraint not to jump up and say "Toss the bowl over here sister, I'll help you out! Slip, slap, next section!"
But there is no way to be snarky to someone who holds the fate of your hair in their hands! Seriously, you want to tick off someone who is standing over you surrounded by scissors and hot curling irons? It could get ugly quickly and that's just not a chance I'm willing to take!
The real issue, however, the big one, the reason I felt compelled to write was this: There were no words! None! Nada! Zero! Zilch! Do I need to go on? Honestly, it could've taken 5 hours and I wouldn't be complaining if there was enjoyment involved...or a conversation of any type! Berate me for not knowing the formula, make fun of my clothes, just speak!!!
Like I said, she was cute and the shop was adorable. Alas, it was empty and the foil echoed painfully. There was only one other person in the salon, but there was no chatting. The other woman did have two older customers during my appointment. They talked a bit and I said a prayer of thanks that I hadn't suddenly gone deaf. I had to stick my nose in their conversation a few times just to make sure I wasn't mute either.
I tried to talk to Cuteness and this is how it went:
"Did you grow up in Leavenworth?"
"Yes"
"So you've lived here all your life."
"Well, we moved to Lancing." (the next town over)
"Were you a military brat?"
"No. My Dad owns the something(a car place) downtown."
I have no idea what the place is, but I pick up on the car aspect.
"Did your Dad put you in the TV commercials when you were little?"
"He doesn't do commercials."
"Oh, I was just thinking about how many times you see local low budget commercials for car places and the owner puts his kids or grand kids in them. They aren't always the best choice either. I think it's funny, but it drives my Dad crazy for some reason."
"No, he doesn't do commercials."
I try a different tactic:
"Did you watch the Oscars?" (I was holding an "Oscar Preview" People magazine)
"No"
"Oh, well I DVR'd and have watched parts of it."
"Mmmmm"
"There were some pretty dresses, but lots of beige on pasty white women. I don't get that."
"Sometimes I watch to see the hair."
"It probably gives you good ideas, huh?"
"Yes"
"Do you get a lot of girls coming in for Prom?"
"Yes"
"Oooh, I like her hair! I wonder what time they get up in the morning to be ready by 3 or 4 in the afternoon. I'll be lucky to have 15 minutes alone to dress and do my makeup tonight without the kids needing something or fighting."
"Mmmmm Hmmmm"
I bring out the big guns. When people find out I have 5 kids that's usually good for several questions ie: "Do you know what causes that?" "Are you Mormon?" "Do you home school?" All of these are very original and clever...NOT!
"There's 5 of them. It gets kinda crazy."
"I'm sure."
Wow, I got nothin'!
This is where I admit, I don't have the gift of conversation that my husband does. He can talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime and get a dialog going that usually ends up in an invitation for us to visit the cab drivers country and stay with his relatives. You may think I'm kidding, but I'm not.
I'm not always comfortable talking to people I don't know. I don't feel the need to strike up conversations where ever I am. I prefer to be in my element, but when put in a situation where it's my only option, I'm willing to give it my best! I guess I could have sat and contemplated the state of the world or sang songs in my head, (there was not even a radio or TV on). What I really wanted to do, and did a few times was fall asleep. But dozing is not good when someone is trying to cut your hair evenly. So, maybe I'm not a great (or even adequate) conversationalist, but I'm also not willing to shoulder the entire responsibility for the lack of discussion.
A hair dresser should be the type of person who is an extrovert or who at least can begin and maintain a dialog of give and take. Communication is a bonus when you need to understand what your customer wants. Additionally, going to the beauty salon is a social event of sorts, a situation that calls for noise. I'm happiest in a busy shop with lots of friendly abusive comments going back and forth. And gossip, I'm big on the gossip!
Sadly, while I was getting wound tighter and tighter watching the clock tick, Cuteness didn't seem to mind the silence. Maybe, she's new and was concentrating really hard. Maybe she had a lot on her mind. Regardless of the reason, I don't know if I'll go back. She did give me a Coke when I arrived and took the coupon although it was expired, so she gets points for that. I suppose should consider the fact that I read two magazines cover to cover (which never happens) a bonus, but I'd rather just talk.
I'll be in Carlisle for about a month this summer. Hey Natalie & Jeff, book me when the shop is at it's loudest, please! There's no place like home!
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
My Daddy loves me very much. He always makes me laugh.
The title of this post is the first two lines from a song my Father wrote for his kids. The "Hunting Dog" song is one that was written before I was born and continues to be sung at all major family events. One of my brothers even sang it for a school talent show in the late 60s. It has certainly passed the test of time.
And the words themselves still ring true. I think I can honestly say that no one I know has made me laugh as much as my Dad. Seeing as he and my Mom are the people I've known the longest...it may make sense, but somehow I don't think everyone has the blessing of such a comical parent. It's not that he's comedy material, although occasionally "Steve Martin-esk" comes to mind. Many of his laughs are gotten at his expense, but I think he plans it that way. He likes to come off as clueless, but I think he grabs at the possibility of making someone else laugh and works it!
So the latest in his travels had he and my Mother flying to Florida last week. My sister, Kathi, has a place at The Villlllllages: America's Friendliest Hometown! (Sorry, I can't get myself to just name the place without singing the song) Regardless, this has been such a wonderful blessing that my sister has this place and that she gets them to use it. Sometimes this is by brute force, but it must be done.
The day before they left I talked to them and had the typical pre-departure conversation with my Mother who hadn't started packing, felt guilty they were going, already wanted to change the tickets to return home earlier, etc.
I actually remembered that Monday that they were flying down from Pennsylvania despite my pension for forgetting everyone else's plans in the attempt to keep my own life strait. I had taken my girls out shopping and even mentioned at about 2pm, "Nana and BobBob should be in Florida by now!" We all grimaced with jealousy as it was cold and raining in KS!
Shortly after, I'm in Claire's with a set of ears who just got pierced (not mine) and I got a call from my Dad. "We're still in Harrisburg. The plane broke down and they had to get another part." I start to do the math and realize they must have been at the airport for hours by now. My parents are relatively healthy and still kicking pretty hard, but I still hate to see them put out like that. I think the airline gave them $10 to eat...whoo hoo! Big spenders!
Also, I hate to fly so had I been told the airport had to replace a part on my plane...I would've just gone home taking it as a sign. But, they spent the day in the very exciting Harrisburg International Airport. We are not talking O'Hare folks, I think Hburg has a couple newspaper machines and a little kiosk that sells bad coffee and stale donuts. Okay, maybe it's not that bad, but you get the picture.
They sit and read and get lunch and read and get dinner and make a few phone calls. Eventually, they get on the plane about 8 hours later than scheduled.
During this time, my sister who has already been at The Villllllages, for a few days is in the midst of transporting her husband and kids to different locations. I know she had to make at least one airport run to Orlando that day and it's a couple hours from the condo. The original plan was to put her husband on a plane in Orlando and bring her daughter to one of the Disney parks until my parents plane came in.
From what I understand, she was already at Disney when my parents called to tell her they had to wait. There was discussion of getting on an earlier plane and several other possible scenarios of their arrival. Therefore, the phone calls were back and forth...and forth and back.
When my parents finally got on the newly repaired aircraft, they tried to call and let my sister know. She was out of reach. Space Mountain, perhaps? My Father kept trying to call and was getting frustrated. He had quickly befriended the man sitting next to him (surprise). At some point, this gentleman offered to send my sister a text to let her know they were on their way.
"Mary, you should've seen this guy. He was kind of old and it took him forever to type the text!" says my 82 year old father who has never sent a text in his life!
During this discussion of "the text" my father said, "Did you know that you're supposed to turn off your cell phone when the airline takes off and lands? When did that start? I've never heard of such a thing." I told him they always say that and probably he never heard it if the female attendant was cute! I still don't even know if he got that info, from the old man next to him or the schpeal they gave before take off. I'm thinking the guy in seat B.
The flight itself was thankfully uneventful. As they taxi to the gate, Dad was still anxious to actually talk to Kathi. He is busy calling repeatedly and finally gets through. Because the airplane is loud, people are starting to move around, and he can't hear very well, he turns on the speaker.
NOTE: I rarely talk to my parents on the phone (land line or cell) when they do not have the speaker on. My Mother's hearing has been failing (don't get me started on the stupid doctors who can't get her hearing aids right) and they put it on speaker so my Dad can repeat stuff if my Mom misses it.
The speaker is on. He has a full conversation with my sister re: getting her husband on his plane, time in Disney with her daughter, their adventures in trying to get on a flight, the fact that they have landed, the price of tea in China, the workings of the kitchen sink, the beatings of a dead horse, and, no doubt, the reinvention of the wheel. The grace in this is that I know Kathi is not one for chit chat on the phone. Had it been me he was calling, I am sure there would've been additional details regarding children's bowel movements discussed.
As the plane stops at the gate and people start standing up and gathering their carry ons, someone turns around and says "I hope things work out with you meeting your daughter!" Someone else from the other side of the plane nods in agreement. My Dad cluelessly says, "You could hear me talking to my daughter?" Most people in front of him looked back and nodded. So he turns around and looks behind him. He says to the people in the next row with his classic face of innocence, "Could you hear my phone call?" As far as three rows back, there are smiles and nods.
My Mother, who was one row back and didn't hear a thing, is on the other side of the plane wondering why my Father is attracting attention from so many people. (Not that this is unheard of, but still...)
And as they disembark from the plane and walk towards baggage claim, they are met with smiles and well wishers from fellow passengers. "I hope Kathi gets here soon." "Enjoy your vacation!" "Sorry you've had such a rough day." "Tell Kathi we said Hi!"
It's been a week and I still cannot think about this scenario without laughing out loud! I love you DAD!!!
And the words themselves still ring true. I think I can honestly say that no one I know has made me laugh as much as my Dad. Seeing as he and my Mom are the people I've known the longest...it may make sense, but somehow I don't think everyone has the blessing of such a comical parent. It's not that he's comedy material, although occasionally "Steve Martin-esk" comes to mind. Many of his laughs are gotten at his expense, but I think he plans it that way. He likes to come off as clueless, but I think he grabs at the possibility of making someone else laugh and works it!
So the latest in his travels had he and my Mother flying to Florida last week. My sister, Kathi, has a place at The Villlllllages: America's Friendliest Hometown! (Sorry, I can't get myself to just name the place without singing the song) Regardless, this has been such a wonderful blessing that my sister has this place and that she gets them to use it. Sometimes this is by brute force, but it must be done.
The day before they left I talked to them and had the typical pre-departure conversation with my Mother who hadn't started packing, felt guilty they were going, already wanted to change the tickets to return home earlier, etc.
I actually remembered that Monday that they were flying down from Pennsylvania despite my pension for forgetting everyone else's plans in the attempt to keep my own life strait. I had taken my girls out shopping and even mentioned at about 2pm, "Nana and BobBob should be in Florida by now!" We all grimaced with jealousy as it was cold and raining in KS!
Shortly after, I'm in Claire's with a set of ears who just got pierced (not mine) and I got a call from my Dad. "We're still in Harrisburg. The plane broke down and they had to get another part." I start to do the math and realize they must have been at the airport for hours by now. My parents are relatively healthy and still kicking pretty hard, but I still hate to see them put out like that. I think the airline gave them $10 to eat...whoo hoo! Big spenders!
Also, I hate to fly so had I been told the airport had to replace a part on my plane...I would've just gone home taking it as a sign. But, they spent the day in the very exciting Harrisburg International Airport. We are not talking O'Hare folks, I think Hburg has a couple newspaper machines and a little kiosk that sells bad coffee and stale donuts. Okay, maybe it's not that bad, but you get the picture.
They sit and read and get lunch and read and get dinner and make a few phone calls. Eventually, they get on the plane about 8 hours later than scheduled.
During this time, my sister who has already been at The Villllllages, for a few days is in the midst of transporting her husband and kids to different locations. I know she had to make at least one airport run to Orlando that day and it's a couple hours from the condo. The original plan was to put her husband on a plane in Orlando and bring her daughter to one of the Disney parks until my parents plane came in.
From what I understand, she was already at Disney when my parents called to tell her they had to wait. There was discussion of getting on an earlier plane and several other possible scenarios of their arrival. Therefore, the phone calls were back and forth...and forth and back.
When my parents finally got on the newly repaired aircraft, they tried to call and let my sister know. She was out of reach. Space Mountain, perhaps? My Father kept trying to call and was getting frustrated. He had quickly befriended the man sitting next to him (surprise). At some point, this gentleman offered to send my sister a text to let her know they were on their way.
"Mary, you should've seen this guy. He was kind of old and it took him forever to type the text!" says my 82 year old father who has never sent a text in his life!
During this discussion of "the text" my father said, "Did you know that you're supposed to turn off your cell phone when the airline takes off and lands? When did that start? I've never heard of such a thing." I told him they always say that and probably he never heard it if the female attendant was cute! I still don't even know if he got that info, from the old man next to him or the schpeal they gave before take off. I'm thinking the guy in seat B.
The flight itself was thankfully uneventful. As they taxi to the gate, Dad was still anxious to actually talk to Kathi. He is busy calling repeatedly and finally gets through. Because the airplane is loud, people are starting to move around, and he can't hear very well, he turns on the speaker.
NOTE: I rarely talk to my parents on the phone (land line or cell) when they do not have the speaker on. My Mother's hearing has been failing (don't get me started on the stupid doctors who can't get her hearing aids right) and they put it on speaker so my Dad can repeat stuff if my Mom misses it.
The speaker is on. He has a full conversation with my sister re: getting her husband on his plane, time in Disney with her daughter, their adventures in trying to get on a flight, the fact that they have landed, the price of tea in China, the workings of the kitchen sink, the beatings of a dead horse, and, no doubt, the reinvention of the wheel. The grace in this is that I know Kathi is not one for chit chat on the phone. Had it been me he was calling, I am sure there would've been additional details regarding children's bowel movements discussed.
As the plane stops at the gate and people start standing up and gathering their carry ons, someone turns around and says "I hope things work out with you meeting your daughter!" Someone else from the other side of the plane nods in agreement. My Dad cluelessly says, "You could hear me talking to my daughter?" Most people in front of him looked back and nodded. So he turns around and looks behind him. He says to the people in the next row with his classic face of innocence, "Could you hear my phone call?" As far as three rows back, there are smiles and nods.
My Mother, who was one row back and didn't hear a thing, is on the other side of the plane wondering why my Father is attracting attention from so many people. (Not that this is unheard of, but still...)
And as they disembark from the plane and walk towards baggage claim, they are met with smiles and well wishers from fellow passengers. "I hope Kathi gets here soon." "Enjoy your vacation!" "Sorry you've had such a rough day." "Tell Kathi we said Hi!"
It's been a week and I still cannot think about this scenario without laughing out loud! I love you DAD!!!
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Marty Who?
Here we are again. Fat Tuesday/Mardi Gras. The night you need to figure out what you are going to do for Lent. Because, really, who decides weeks out in advance? (If you do, please go back and read my first post which discussed the type of people who shouldn't be reading this blog.)
Is Lent early this year? Does it change? I think it does because Easter can seem late or early and Lent has to be 40 days right? I dunno, it just seems to have snuck up on me once again.
In my ever increasing effort to raise my children in a Catholic home I wanted to discuss Lent. However, because we were eating late and I was more concerned with the logistics of getting the most amount of family members to church tomorrow with the least amount of disruption of school and evening activities, I had forgotten to bring up the subject of Lent itself.
Thankfully, God has placed a Saint-in-Training right in my family. Josie said "Let's go around the table and say what we're gonna do for Lent." Great, even more proof that this child has a Fast Pass to Heaven!
Why we started with Brother, I have no idea. It was certainly not a good choice. I can't remember what I said to start things off. Obviously, nothing explanatory.
Brother's response was "Well, somebody can get me some new sneakers because mine are getting old."
Tali: "It's Lent, not Christmas!"
Lyra: "Don't you know anything?"
Me: "Okay, maybe I didn't explain it well enough. Lent is the time before Easter when we think about how much Jesus suffered before he died. You want to give up something that would be hard so you could remember how hard it was for Jesus to do what he did to save us."
Lyra: "Yeah, like when he was in the desert." (Impressive! Maybe she does stay awake during CCD)
We try to get back to Brother. I ask him, "What do you do a lot that would be hard to give up?"
He tilts his head in deep thought and says "I'll give up wearing jeans!" This comment brings upon a new round of insults from his sisters.
We decide to skip him and go to Tali. "I'm going to give up sweets." Charlie says "Wow, Tali." She shrugs, "Well, I'm gonna try not to eat them." (I give her about 2 days before she decides that anything less than 10 pieces a day is keeping her end of the bargain.)
Brother jumps back in, "I'm gonna give up gum."
"Oh my gosh!" (Said with dripping sarcasm and disdain)
"You don't even chew gum!"
"You don't like gum!"
"Well, than I can give it up for the rest of my life!"
Dad decides to join the conversation: “Giving up something you like to do would be a good idea. How about giving up X-Box?”
I was concerned the girls were gonna get whiplash with such enthusiastic head nodding. (Sadly, the Wii broke shortly after Christmas and I don’t have the money to replace it yet.) Brother is the only one who plays with the second hand Xbox he and Charlie found at a garage sale. He has two games football and something else, but he only plays football and it drives the girls crazy and it’s too hard for Sawyer so he doesn’t play it either. Hmmmm, I wouldn’t mind not hearing the “tweet” of the whistles for awhile.
Brother, overly anxious to please his Dad immediately agreed. The girls all rolled their eyes and I know they were thinking the same thing I was. He will get up and go directly into the playroom and start playing at about 6:15 in the morning. He has earned his place as my lost cause.
Lyra volunteered that she was going to stop biting her nails. I really hope she can. I would love nothing more than for her to have some semblance of fingernails left. Even if it means buying a case of Bacitracin as she will surely put longer nails to good use on her siblings faces, backs, and arms.
Dad says “Okay, I am going to give up bacon, lose some weight and not drink beer.”
Lyra murmurs “That will be suffering!”
“Suffering for us!” I mutter.
(Earlier, he had told Lyra he wasn’t going to drink during Lent. Her eyes were wide
with concern and she said “Not even water?” He said “No, I mean drink alcohol.” She said “Good, cuz I was gonna say I think you can like die if you don’t drink anything, like not even water.”)
Sawyer, who has just begun to sit with us during dinner and has even been known to take a few bites of what we are eating lately, said “Chocolate Milk!”
I said “You need more milk, Sauce?” And he said “No, I will give it up.”
The girls were really impressed for a minute. We all were. Then Lyra or Josie said “What about school? You drink chocolate milk everyday at lunch.”
(One of the lunch ladies told me today that sometimes that’s all he has for lunch)
I’m trying to figure out how to say that he can’t give it up when he did so well picking something. He said “I can give it up at home!” I thought it was brilliant!
Josie said she is going to try really hard not to have to put her name on the board at school. I laughed and said “No, really, what are you gonna do?” She said, “I’m gonna do my homework every night so that I don’t have to write my name on the board.” This is news to me. Apparently, she’s forgotten or not done her homework four times in the last several weeks. Things have been crazy lately and she’s got something every day after school except Friday. I thought that was fair, because she also said she wants to really work hard to do her eye therapy homework every night too. It’s been really hard to fit that in and I need her to take some responsibility with it. Besides, Josie is well on her way to Sainthood so every 40 days is like Lent to her.
So then, they all look at me. Yikes! I told them I was going to do a few things. First, I was going to try to give up soda...
I suddenly worried that the ax man was behind me with the way their jaws dropped, their eyes bulged, and they all seemed to cringe. Then I finished my statement. I will give up soda on days of fasting, so Ash Wednesday and on Fridays.
I thought Josie might burst into tears from sheer relief. But don’t think for a second I missed the smirk on Lyra’s face or Tali’s raised eyebrows. They don’t think I can do it. Sadly, I’m not sure I can, but I’m gonna try really really hard.
I also told them that I was going to work around the house to get things organized. I’d like to do about ½ hour in the basement or somewhere else in the clutter each day. I told them that this would be an offering to Jesus and to Daddy since Daddy has a hard time with messiness!
I figure Jesus would want me to be a good wife right?!?
I just saw an article on 40 bags in 40 days and that was exactly the type of thing I was thinking. I hadn’t put it in those terms, but I thought it spelled it out wonderfully.
So who knows what Lent will bring. Lenten promises seem to work out better than New Year’s Resolutions as there is the Light (pun intended) at the end of the tunnel!
Plus, as I was saying good night to the kids, Josie said, “Mom, I also want to read two pages of my new Bible every night.”
It warmed my heart as I smiled at her and thought to myself, "Whose child is this and where the heck are her parents?"
Is Lent early this year? Does it change? I think it does because Easter can seem late or early and Lent has to be 40 days right? I dunno, it just seems to have snuck up on me once again.
In my ever increasing effort to raise my children in a Catholic home I wanted to discuss Lent. However, because we were eating late and I was more concerned with the logistics of getting the most amount of family members to church tomorrow with the least amount of disruption of school and evening activities, I had forgotten to bring up the subject of Lent itself.
Thankfully, God has placed a Saint-in-Training right in my family. Josie said "Let's go around the table and say what we're gonna do for Lent." Great, even more proof that this child has a Fast Pass to Heaven!
Why we started with Brother, I have no idea. It was certainly not a good choice. I can't remember what I said to start things off. Obviously, nothing explanatory.
Brother's response was "Well, somebody can get me some new sneakers because mine are getting old."
Tali: "It's Lent, not Christmas!"
Lyra: "Don't you know anything?"
Me: "Okay, maybe I didn't explain it well enough. Lent is the time before Easter when we think about how much Jesus suffered before he died. You want to give up something that would be hard so you could remember how hard it was for Jesus to do what he did to save us."
Lyra: "Yeah, like when he was in the desert." (Impressive! Maybe she does stay awake during CCD)
We try to get back to Brother. I ask him, "What do you do a lot that would be hard to give up?"
He tilts his head in deep thought and says "I'll give up wearing jeans!" This comment brings upon a new round of insults from his sisters.
We decide to skip him and go to Tali. "I'm going to give up sweets." Charlie says "Wow, Tali." She shrugs, "Well, I'm gonna try not to eat them." (I give her about 2 days before she decides that anything less than 10 pieces a day is keeping her end of the bargain.)
Brother jumps back in, "I'm gonna give up gum."
"Oh my gosh!" (Said with dripping sarcasm and disdain)
"You don't even chew gum!"
"You don't like gum!"
"Well, than I can give it up for the rest of my life!"
Dad decides to join the conversation: “Giving up something you like to do would be a good idea. How about giving up X-Box?”
I was concerned the girls were gonna get whiplash with such enthusiastic head nodding. (Sadly, the Wii broke shortly after Christmas and I don’t have the money to replace it yet.) Brother is the only one who plays with the second hand Xbox he and Charlie found at a garage sale. He has two games football and something else, but he only plays football and it drives the girls crazy and it’s too hard for Sawyer so he doesn’t play it either. Hmmmm, I wouldn’t mind not hearing the “tweet” of the whistles for awhile.
Brother, overly anxious to please his Dad immediately agreed. The girls all rolled their eyes and I know they were thinking the same thing I was. He will get up and go directly into the playroom and start playing at about 6:15 in the morning. He has earned his place as my lost cause.
Lyra volunteered that she was going to stop biting her nails. I really hope she can. I would love nothing more than for her to have some semblance of fingernails left. Even if it means buying a case of Bacitracin as she will surely put longer nails to good use on her siblings faces, backs, and arms.
Dad says “Okay, I am going to give up bacon, lose some weight and not drink beer.”
Lyra murmurs “That will be suffering!”
“Suffering for us!” I mutter.
(Earlier, he had told Lyra he wasn’t going to drink during Lent. Her eyes were wide
with concern and she said “Not even water?” He said “No, I mean drink alcohol.” She said “Good, cuz I was gonna say I think you can like die if you don’t drink anything, like not even water.”)
Sawyer, who has just begun to sit with us during dinner and has even been known to take a few bites of what we are eating lately, said “Chocolate Milk!”
I said “You need more milk, Sauce?” And he said “No, I will give it up.”
The girls were really impressed for a minute. We all were. Then Lyra or Josie said “What about school? You drink chocolate milk everyday at lunch.”
(One of the lunch ladies told me today that sometimes that’s all he has for lunch)
I’m trying to figure out how to say that he can’t give it up when he did so well picking something. He said “I can give it up at home!” I thought it was brilliant!
Josie said she is going to try really hard not to have to put her name on the board at school. I laughed and said “No, really, what are you gonna do?” She said, “I’m gonna do my homework every night so that I don’t have to write my name on the board.” This is news to me. Apparently, she’s forgotten or not done her homework four times in the last several weeks. Things have been crazy lately and she’s got something every day after school except Friday. I thought that was fair, because she also said she wants to really work hard to do her eye therapy homework every night too. It’s been really hard to fit that in and I need her to take some responsibility with it. Besides, Josie is well on her way to Sainthood so every 40 days is like Lent to her.
So then, they all look at me. Yikes! I told them I was going to do a few things. First, I was going to try to give up soda...
I suddenly worried that the ax man was behind me with the way their jaws dropped, their eyes bulged, and they all seemed to cringe. Then I finished my statement. I will give up soda on days of fasting, so Ash Wednesday and on Fridays.
I thought Josie might burst into tears from sheer relief. But don’t think for a second I missed the smirk on Lyra’s face or Tali’s raised eyebrows. They don’t think I can do it. Sadly, I’m not sure I can, but I’m gonna try really really hard.
I also told them that I was going to work around the house to get things organized. I’d like to do about ½ hour in the basement or somewhere else in the clutter each day. I told them that this would be an offering to Jesus and to Daddy since Daddy has a hard time with messiness!
I figure Jesus would want me to be a good wife right?!?
I just saw an article on 40 bags in 40 days and that was exactly the type of thing I was thinking. I hadn’t put it in those terms, but I thought it spelled it out wonderfully.
So who knows what Lent will bring. Lenten promises seem to work out better than New Year’s Resolutions as there is the Light (pun intended) at the end of the tunnel!
Plus, as I was saying good night to the kids, Josie said, “Mom, I also want to read two pages of my new Bible every night.”
It warmed my heart as I smiled at her and thought to myself, "Whose child is this and where the heck are her parents?"
Monday, February 6, 2012
Thank you Dr. ___, for your expert opinion!
Sawyer has Autism. I am trying to get away from saying "Sawyer is Autistic" because I was reading a book recently that discouraged it. In
Not long ago, the word Autistic conjured up images of a child rocking in the corner banging his head against the wall. I watched Rain Man recently and realized that when that movie came out, most people knew next to nothing about Autism. Even the characters in the movie had little to no knowledge on the subject. I'm not talking about the actors, just the characters they portrayed. For example, when Charlie brings Raymond to the doctor, it's as if the nurse has no idea about Special Needs patients. Anyway, saying that Sawyer has Autism, has ASD, or is "on the spectrum" seem to be gentler and more descriptive ways to convey in a matter of fact manner, one aspect of my child.
I realize that Autism seems to be the "diagnosis of the day" and that due to a recent expansion of the latest DSM, more and more children seem to land on the spectrum. So he's got lots of company. It doesn't mean the doctors are over-diagnosing. It also doesn't mean that they aren't. I don't know, I'm not a doctor!!!
When Sawyer was about 14 months old, he was given the diagnosis of Developmental Delay. When he was three, I took him to an outreach clinic at Ft. Leavenworth done by KU Med, where he received the Autism diagnosis.
This of course happened while Charlie was deployed and Josie was having what I have come to call a child size nervous breakdown. (A story for another day) I was actually making an appointment at the clinic for her, when it was suggested I bring Sawyer along. I was completely unprepared for receiving a new diagnosis for Sawyer.
But, as an Army wife, you do what you have to do...Suck it up and move on! (I saw that on a bumper sticker once. It blows that "toughest job in the Army" sticker away don'tcha think?)
Anyway, I was given the diagnosis and after the initial shock, I started trying to process what it all meant and what I'd need to be doing to help my child. (You should know that Sawyer is very high functioning and has made amazing progress since we started our journey four years ago) I had to tell Charlie while on Skype, which was difficult. He asked that I bring Sawyer back to KU Med for further testing and confirmation of the diagnosis. I did and they did.
Ironically enough, it was right at this time that Sawyer was being discharged from the Special Ed preschool program because he was "too advanced." When I went to the school with the diagnosis from the head of Developmental Pediatrics at KU MED, his teacher did not believe it. Not only did she not believe it, she was so adamantly opposed to the diagnosis that she refused to sign any paper saying that Sawyer had ASD. I respected the teacher, but did not agree with her on this issue.
It was beyond confusing to have two major conflicting events happen simultaneously. The Docs at KU had "prescribed" an increase of therapies while the school was telling me "it would be a disservice to Sawyer to have him remain in Special Ed."
I ended up allowing them to discharge him from the program, a decision I'll question from time to time, but what's done is done. He had a miserable time in mainstream Preschool until all the paperwork made it through the Army system and we got an ABA therapist in place. What a world of difference a bit of support makes! The preschool we used was not the right one for him, but I was so overwhelmed at the time (did I mention I have 4 other kids and my husband was deployed) we chose the most convenient school. Again, a decision I'll question, but he survived, we all did, and we all learned from it.
March will bring the two year "anniversary" of Sawyers ASD diagnosis and he has made great strides. I am very matter of fact about the diagnosis itself. That's just who I am. I suffer from depression and am medicated for it. Big deal. It's amazing how many people are on anti-depressants when they feel comfortable sharing. Each person makes their own decision about discussing it or not. Either way is what is right for them. Like I said, I'm just very open about it. I also tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. It's a part of who I am and I don't see any shame in it.
My point is, that I don't have a problem telling people Sawyer has ASD. Maybe that is because he is so high functioning. Sometimes I feel like people need to know because he doesn't look any different from the other kids, but he struggles with things that they don't. Am I a bit protective? Sure. No one wants to see their child be "that weird kid." Do I tell people to explain his behavior? Yes. Do I tell people to EXCUSE unacceptable behavior? NO!
What I can't take, though, is people telling me that I am wrong. For example, we are at a party. There are lots of people, lots of kids, lots of chaos. For a child with ASD this is sensory overload to the max! Whether he knows most of the people there or not, he is sure to cling to me for a bit. Enter, good intentioned fellow party goer, "Oh, Sawyer give your Mom a break, come see me." His grip gets tighter. I smile "It's okay. We're fine." At that point, I do not feel the need to get into a long discussion about Autism. But, if an hour into the party, that person or another, continually questions Sawyer on why he's not hanging out with the kids, why he doesn't leave my side, why he doesn't want anything to eat. I may say, "Sawyer has Autism and big crowds can be uncomfortable for him."
STOP THE WORLD -
Note to anyone who would not be considered an expert in the field of Autism: This is NOT, I repeat NOT the time to say "Oh no he doesn't. I don't see that at all." Really? Because I had no idea you had received a PHD in Pediatric Development since I last saw you.
Here is a list of other things NOT to say:
Those Doctors don't know what they're talking about! (Because you do?)
But he looks so normal! (Ummm, thanks?)
There is no way your child is Autistic! (Trained physicians and I beg to differ)
But he's so high functioning. He's not Autistic, he has Aspergers. (No, I assure you, the diagnosis is Autism)
Please! He's gonna grow out of whatever it is he's doing! (Maybe someday Sawyer will lose his diagnosis. I hear that it could happen. But I promise this is not a childhood phase)
Oh, they say every kid is Autistic these days! (No, not really)
I've read about Autism and Sawyer certainly doesn't have it! (Again, PhD when/where?)
He's fine! (Yes, he is fine. He just also happens to have ASD)
I'm not dumb. I know that 99.9% of people who say things off the above list are trying to be nice. Maybe they feel like by disagreeing with the diagnosis I will feel better about my son. Guess what? I feel great about my son! He's a wonderful kid. He's going to be a great athlete and he's incredibly smart.
I hope it goes without saying that the snarky comments above remain in my brain and do not generally travel out through my mouth. I used to open a discussion and try to explain Sawyer and why he has the diagnosis he does, but it got me nowhere but frustrated. Now I simply smile, raise my eyebrows, and try to smooth my face into a pleasant, content listener. Meanwhile, I have "checked out"(Sawyer has taught me some tricks) and am planning tonights dinner.
There are better responses though.
Things that don't make me bristle:
Really? I would've never guessed. (Thanks, he's been making lots of progress)
Wow, I didn't realize. (Good, that what he works so hard for)
When was he diagnosed? How did you know? (I love questions! I am happy to answer any and all that you have)
I guess what I'm trying to say is that so many times we say things without thinking about how they sound. I'm guilty of it too I'm sure. But I try to make a practice of not disagreeing with the diagnosis of a medical expert.
Just sayin'!
Ten Things Every Child with Autism Wishes you Knewit says "I am first and foremost a child. I have autism. I am not primarily 'autistic.'" (Ellen Notbohm) I tend to agree.
Not long ago, the word Autistic conjured up images of a child rocking in the corner banging his head against the wall. I watched Rain Man recently and realized that when that movie came out, most people knew next to nothing about Autism. Even the characters in the movie had little to no knowledge on the subject. I'm not talking about the actors, just the characters they portrayed. For example, when Charlie brings Raymond to the doctor, it's as if the nurse has no idea about Special Needs patients. Anyway, saying that Sawyer has Autism, has ASD, or is "on the spectrum" seem to be gentler and more descriptive ways to convey in a matter of fact manner, one aspect of my child.
I realize that Autism seems to be the "diagnosis of the day" and that due to a recent expansion of the latest DSM, more and more children seem to land on the spectrum. So he's got lots of company. It doesn't mean the doctors are over-diagnosing. It also doesn't mean that they aren't. I don't know, I'm not a doctor!!!
When Sawyer was about 14 months old, he was given the diagnosis of Developmental Delay. When he was three, I took him to an outreach clinic at Ft. Leavenworth done by KU Med, where he received the Autism diagnosis.
This of course happened while Charlie was deployed and Josie was having what I have come to call a child size nervous breakdown. (A story for another day) I was actually making an appointment at the clinic for her, when it was suggested I bring Sawyer along. I was completely unprepared for receiving a new diagnosis for Sawyer.
But, as an Army wife, you do what you have to do...Suck it up and move on! (I saw that on a bumper sticker once. It blows that "toughest job in the Army" sticker away don'tcha think?)
Anyway, I was given the diagnosis and after the initial shock, I started trying to process what it all meant and what I'd need to be doing to help my child. (You should know that Sawyer is very high functioning and has made amazing progress since we started our journey four years ago) I had to tell Charlie while on Skype, which was difficult. He asked that I bring Sawyer back to KU Med for further testing and confirmation of the diagnosis. I did and they did.
Ironically enough, it was right at this time that Sawyer was being discharged from the Special Ed preschool program because he was "too advanced." When I went to the school with the diagnosis from the head of Developmental Pediatrics at KU MED, his teacher did not believe it. Not only did she not believe it, she was so adamantly opposed to the diagnosis that she refused to sign any paper saying that Sawyer had ASD. I respected the teacher, but did not agree with her on this issue.
It was beyond confusing to have two major conflicting events happen simultaneously. The Docs at KU had "prescribed" an increase of therapies while the school was telling me "it would be a disservice to Sawyer to have him remain in Special Ed."
I ended up allowing them to discharge him from the program, a decision I'll question from time to time, but what's done is done. He had a miserable time in mainstream Preschool until all the paperwork made it through the Army system and we got an ABA therapist in place. What a world of difference a bit of support makes! The preschool we used was not the right one for him, but I was so overwhelmed at the time (did I mention I have 4 other kids and my husband was deployed) we chose the most convenient school. Again, a decision I'll question, but he survived, we all did, and we all learned from it.
March will bring the two year "anniversary" of Sawyers ASD diagnosis and he has made great strides. I am very matter of fact about the diagnosis itself. That's just who I am. I suffer from depression and am medicated for it. Big deal. It's amazing how many people are on anti-depressants when they feel comfortable sharing. Each person makes their own decision about discussing it or not. Either way is what is right for them. Like I said, I'm just very open about it. I also tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. It's a part of who I am and I don't see any shame in it.
My point is, that I don't have a problem telling people Sawyer has ASD. Maybe that is because he is so high functioning. Sometimes I feel like people need to know because he doesn't look any different from the other kids, but he struggles with things that they don't. Am I a bit protective? Sure. No one wants to see their child be "that weird kid." Do I tell people to explain his behavior? Yes. Do I tell people to EXCUSE unacceptable behavior? NO!
What I can't take, though, is people telling me that I am wrong. For example, we are at a party. There are lots of people, lots of kids, lots of chaos. For a child with ASD this is sensory overload to the max! Whether he knows most of the people there or not, he is sure to cling to me for a bit. Enter, good intentioned fellow party goer, "Oh, Sawyer give your Mom a break, come see me." His grip gets tighter. I smile "It's okay. We're fine." At that point, I do not feel the need to get into a long discussion about Autism. But, if an hour into the party, that person or another, continually questions Sawyer on why he's not hanging out with the kids, why he doesn't leave my side, why he doesn't want anything to eat. I may say, "Sawyer has Autism and big crowds can be uncomfortable for him."
STOP THE WORLD -
Note to anyone who would not be considered an expert in the field of Autism: This is NOT, I repeat NOT the time to say "Oh no he doesn't. I don't see that at all." Really? Because I had no idea you had received a PHD in Pediatric Development since I last saw you.
Here is a list of other things NOT to say:
Those Doctors don't know what they're talking about! (Because you do?)
But he looks so normal! (Ummm, thanks?)
There is no way your child is Autistic! (Trained physicians and I beg to differ)
But he's so high functioning. He's not Autistic, he has Aspergers. (No, I assure you, the diagnosis is Autism)
Please! He's gonna grow out of whatever it is he's doing! (Maybe someday Sawyer will lose his diagnosis. I hear that it could happen. But I promise this is not a childhood phase)
Oh, they say every kid is Autistic these days! (No, not really)
I've read about Autism and Sawyer certainly doesn't have it! (Again, PhD when/where?)
He's fine! (Yes, he is fine. He just also happens to have ASD)
I'm not dumb. I know that 99.9% of people who say things off the above list are trying to be nice. Maybe they feel like by disagreeing with the diagnosis I will feel better about my son. Guess what? I feel great about my son! He's a wonderful kid. He's going to be a great athlete and he's incredibly smart.
I hope it goes without saying that the snarky comments above remain in my brain and do not generally travel out through my mouth. I used to open a discussion and try to explain Sawyer and why he has the diagnosis he does, but it got me nowhere but frustrated. Now I simply smile, raise my eyebrows, and try to smooth my face into a pleasant, content listener. Meanwhile, I have "checked out"(Sawyer has taught me some tricks) and am planning tonights dinner.
There are better responses though.
Things that don't make me bristle:
Really? I would've never guessed. (Thanks, he's been making lots of progress)
Wow, I didn't realize. (Good, that what he works so hard for)
When was he diagnosed? How did you know? (I love questions! I am happy to answer any and all that you have)
I guess what I'm trying to say is that so many times we say things without thinking about how they sound. I'm guilty of it too I'm sure. But I try to make a practice of not disagreeing with the diagnosis of a medical expert.
Just sayin'!
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