You Can Be Your Hero, Baby

A short post today, but I wanted to be sure to get this down as one "for the books."

As part of Sweetie's homework yesterday, she was assigned to write a letter to one of her heroes, and within the letter she had to use at least 3 spelling words.

She came whining to me that this assignment was "impossible!" "Why?" I asked. "This'll be easy. Just pick someone you look up to. Who do you most admire?"

I was thinking Daddy would be at the top of this list. Maybe even Nana. I didn't honestly see that I would be a contender at all.

And I was right - about me, anyway. But oh so wrong as well. Who did Sweetie answer as the person she thinks is the best, coolest, awesomest of them all?

Herself.

Yep. In response to my question, she merely pointed (assuredly) to herself.

That's my girl!

"Okay, great! You can write a letter to yourself. That'll be fine with your teacher."

Sweetie thought no. No, it wouldn't.

But in the end, she ended up writing a letter to Super (Sweetie) - her favorite playtime superhero to imagine herself as. I actually haven't "seen" or heard word from Super Sweetie in quite awhile. But in this instance, she was the best option for Sweetie to write to, other than herself. :)

It's come up a few times before, actually, that I'll be teasing Sweetie, asking her who she loves most in the world (trying to get her to say me, expecting she'll say Daddy or maybe he and I both the same). But without fail, she always answers by pointing to herself. "I love ME the most of all!" she answers proudly and loudly.

Gotta love a girl who knows herself so well and loves herself so deeply. She's my confident, self-assured superstar. And as I look down into her shining, bright face, I look up to her in so many ways.

You don't think you can write a letter to yourself as your own hero, Sweetie. But I can write to my hero. In fact, it's what I've been doing here for years now and will continue to do for as long as I can.

She Knows What She Likes

A bit more than a month past Christmas, and... she's back to playing her "usual" games.

No, I'm not talking about Sweetie not minding her behavior anymore, no longer concerned about getting on Santa's "Good" list. I have to say, she's a pretty good kid most of the time anyway, Santa or no.

I'm talking about actual games, here. Or fun time activities, anyway.

Back to spending several hours at a time - if we let her  - playing with the Legos she's always had and with the fridge magnets she calls her "friends." In fact, she's just rediscovered a Lego set she got last Easter, I think, and has been building "contraptions" almost nonstop with the plans included there.

She hasn't touched her DS in at least a couple weeks. Probably more. And even when she did play, it was only very sporadically.

Likewise with the animation program installed for her on our computer at Christmas time. And the make-it-yourself marble run I thought she'd go completely gaga over. Eh. All fun things, sure. She has fun when encouraged to use them. But, yah. Eh. She knows Legos. She loves crafts. She gets lost in her self-created magnet world very easily. These are the things she knows. These are the things she enjoys the most.

I'm not complaining. I'm glad she seems to need such few things to make her happy. She is not the type of kid who constantly nags for bigger and funner and more STUFF! Give her some quiet time, some paper, scissors and tape, and she is good to go for the rest of the afternoon. Yeah, her art table looks atrocious. Hardly one square inch of free space to be found. But it's all good to her. She can easily find what she needs to create what she wants. And will come up with the elaborate story, to boot, to go along with the teeny tiny Secret Martian Kitty Ninja Superhero she just cut out of the paper scraps she's collected in a snowman gift bag.

She says she doesn't like to read - never has. Why, I asked. She loves for Daddy and I to read to her. She loves hearing stories. And she's a great reader, reading at at least a grade level or 2 above where she "should" be. So why not like to read? "Because," she says. She'd much rather be doing something, than sitting down motionless except for flipping pages. Hmmm. Yes, I understand that. Even though she's not what I'd call an "active" kid - not into sports or even typically wishing to play outside - she does like to be active by building, creating and imagining. Reading just doesn't cut it.

Yeah, it's a bit maddening to see all these Christmas gifts - given by us and other family members as well - just sitting by the wayside. But, like I said, I'm pretty okay with having a kid who knows what she likes and can independently entertain herself for hours doing what she loves with minimal needs. Happy for her to be engaged in creative pursuits that exercise her brain.

And, like the Lego set she's just brought out a few days ago, I'm sure she'll come back to these newer toys again someday, and be thrilled to have something different to play with for awhile.

Everything Will Be Okay In The End...

... If it's not okay, it's not the end. (author unknown)

As 2011 comes to an end, I look to this quote to help me realize a brighter future.

2011 has been a tough year for us. Tougher than the usual tough. Hubby's subcontracting job was slow to produce jobs for him and his dad. I quit one job in order to gain more hours (more "mom friendly" hours, that is) elsewhere - but now those hours aren't producing themselves either. And Sweetie continues to struggle with the aftermath of her treatment for Lyme Disease this past summer.

And I am realizing that I've been living with adrenal fatigue. Shocker, huh? I'm not stressed at all! My life is beautiful and calm and perfect in every way. Ommmmm....

HA!

But...

A new year is upon us and, with that, a new outlook of greatness for all!

Hubby and his dad are currently busy again with their subcontracting job, as well as side projects. We have no current reason to suspect anything but continued regularity and new jobs by the brimful...

Hubby is also newly installed as one of the latest artisans at Mountainside Gallery and Gifts. He's selling his beautiful wine bottle stoppers and pens, all lovingly handcrafted out of exotic and beautiful woods. He's so talented! Some sales have already been made and we expect more great things to come from this!

Now that the holiday season is on its way out, I suspect that students and parents alike will get back to the grindstone and start enrolling for tutoring sessions again. Gotta ace those ACTS and SATS! Soon I will be up to my eyeballs in students in need, I just know it!

(And, I have to say, whereas the lack of income from not tutoring has been trying, I have otherwise enjoyed having my late afternoons and evenings even more free to spend time with my family.)

As we struggled with finances, I simultaneously feel so incredibly blessed to have the family and friends that we do. Friends who have bartered with us and donated to us. Family who has helped us out in all sorts of wonderful ways. Yes, we didn't have the financial income this year that we continue to hope for. But yet, in some ways, I still feel like one of the richest women in the world...

Sweetie is back to a strict probiotic regimen, accompanied by immune boosting supplements and a mindfulness about the amount of gluten and processed foods that enter her body. Her most recent bout of stomach upset she experienced just yesterday morning produced only one episode of vomiting, as opposed to a half a day or more of ickiness during her previous 2 episodes since the beginning of November. So, all things considered, I think things are improving for her as well. Still - keeping track/watching the pattern, considering future steps needed to help her along. Her attitude of optimism remains as unflappable as ever!

And I am taking better care of myself as well. Regular vitamins and adrenal support supplements. A better diet. More rest when I can get it. Hubby is my number one supporter, making sure I'm eating more fruits and veggies every day and cooking as many vitamin and mineral rich yummy dinners as ever to keep me on track to getting my system back into shape. I am thankful that my ears have been open enough to hear about adrenal fatigue from trusted, knowledgeable sources and that I was able to recognize the symptoms in myself when I did. I am open to the course of treatment I'm on being the right one for me or, if not, being able to likewise recognize this and move on to a different course of action or even the possibility of a different diagnosis.

I will be healthier in the coming year, and beyond...

Sweetie will be healthier in the coming year, and beyond...

We will have enough financial income to pay for the necessities of life as well as just a few fun additions...

We recognize that only we can make effective changes... changes don't just happen upon us...

Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.

This Christmas

A week ago we took you to the mall. It was our annual pilgrimage, your yearly visit with Old St. Nick for your birthday. It was Monday evening - the day before your 9th birthday -and, even with it being only days away from Christmas, the mall really wasn't so badly crowded as it could have been.

We waited in line and I took out the comb and hair clip I'd slipped in my pocket before leaving home - something I'd forgotten in years past, making it necessary for Daddy to run off to the drug store to purchase emergency hair-taming apparatus. But this year I was prepared, reaching up - UP! - further than ever before, to tease the snarls out of your tresses and clip a thick strand away from your pretty face.

I wonder if we'll be visiting the Old Man next year or if, by 10 years old, you will find our tradition silly. I wonder, if we do go next December, will I be able to reach to style your hair at all.

And now, we've just had Christmas. It was a pretty great day, I must admit. Starting with Daddy and I being awakened before 6:30 a.m. by your singing to yourself in your room. You weren't supposed to wake us up until 7:00 a.m. - and that's precisely when you came in. You crawled into our bed, settled between us (as much as She-Who-Cannot-Stop-Moving-Ever can settle, that is) and that's how we all stayed for another good half hour or so, playing a rousing edition of Christmas cattails (pick a theme and say a word. Whatever that word ends in, the next person has to say a word that begins with that same letter.)

Eventually we made our way downstairs, starting with stockings, then breakfast of homemade cinnamon buns, and then finally the opening of presents, starting at close to 9:00 a.m. As much as I sometimes regret that you won't have siblings to grow up with, I do believe that Christmas morning with just the 3 of us is pretty much ideal. You aren't egged on by nor egging on a brother or sister, seeing who can be the most excited, the most hyped up, the most hysterically crazed about getting to and opening presents as soon as humanly possible. No. We three take our time, enjoy the morning, and appreciate the gifts (both material and not) before us. Love it!

This year I'd say you were the most laid back I'd seen you on Christmas morning. I thought there were at least a few gifts you'd go absolutely wild over, and I was excited for you to unwrap them. Instead, you were calmly, honestly, politely pleased and grateful. Not the big rush of pure joy I was expecting from you, but still pretty great in the end.

And now, you and I have some time off together. You had a fun day today, moving from new activity to new activity. I love the games we tend to get you/you tend to be given! Building and crafting toys and activities that can be done again and again and again, with you only being limited by your own imagination. An imagination, it seems to me, which is pretty darn limitless. This year seemed to be the year of the Choose Your Own Adventure Book. You've gotten 5 traditional versions of this style of book this birthday and Christmas combined, and one more super cool (if I do say so myself!) graphic comic book version called Meanwhile. You'd never seen CYOA books before, but have quickly developed a great love for them, and I am excited for you that you're happy to dive into these adventurous new worlds of your own making.

Yes, this Christmas may have been a financial challenge for us - as it usually is, actually - but we pulled it off pretty well, I'd say. I love how you appreciate the little gifts as much as the bigs one - sometimes more! I love that you can be given a gift handmade with love and be more thrilled with it than the more expensive and store-purchased popular game of the hour. This year's gift of the season for you? A hand-knit "dead fish hat," made by your Auntie. So awesome! You have learned well, I know, that it's the thought behind a gift that counts the most. And you are genuinely appreciative, always.

Merry Christmas, Sweetie. And Happy 9th birthday too! Your last single digit year. Next Christmas may be a whole different situation. You may be too big - literally and figuratively - to submit yourself to the true meaning of the season. But for now - this Christmas, and all the Christmases we've been honored enough to have you as a part of our lives - have been completely and utterly as magical, mystical and marvelous as any Christmas ought to be.

You like to say that Daddy is Awesome, I'm The Best, and you're always Great. I say you are all three wrapped up into one and that, without you, I can't even imagine how life would be at all.

"Mom" Sense? Or Overly Sensitive?

She'd been sick for weeks. Maybe a month or more. Coldy. Stuffy. And then? A cough. Not too terrible during the day, but enough to keep her, and us, up at night. Finally I kept her home one day, just to see if some rest would help shake it. And it kind of did - the cough eased up a bit soon thereafter. But the congestion was still there. She blamed it on "fall allergies." I paid little attention to her position on the matter, though. Until finally Hubby and I informed her - "You know? People really rarely get fall allergies. This isn't allergies. You have a cold."

Fine. A simple cold. She's a trooper and never complains. She was well enough to continue going to school. Even seeming to get better! Until last Monday. Well, she seemed better. So much so that, to be honest, I wasn't even thinking of her as sick any longer. But then, just as school was wrapping up for the day I got the call. The school nurse, informing me that Sweetie had just vomited all over herself. She needed to be picked up and, beyond that, to stay out of school until she was vomit free for 24 hours.

That evening, she was not well. I hoped it was a fluke. Thought it may actually have been! She was holding down sips of flat soda for a good couple of hours until... yeah, not so much. The rest of the evening was much the same. No, this wasn't a fluke. Obviously, she really was sick. Not to mention the nurse said this was, in fact, "going around."

But the next day - her required day out of school - she was fine. Feeling hungry, cautiously eating and drinking bland foods. Success! Good spirits, feeling better, all was A-okay. Back to school the next day and okay ever since.

But... her eyes. She just looks, you know, sickly. Dark circles shadow eyes. She's... quiet. Not that she's really ever been a rowdy kid when we're here at home. She can and does often play inside quietly and contentedly on her own - crafting or drawing or pretending. But now she's just, I don't know... tired acting and looking. Getting as much sleep as she ever has. But... she's just not herself. And, yes, we did change back the clocks - was it last weekend? Heck! I've been overly tired this week too! But, I don't know. She's not had difficulty adjusting to time changes before. And the circles... it's not just been this week. I've noticed them before. Often, actually. This past late spring and summer, for instance. And then she was, in fact, ill. Contracting and then fighting Lyme Disease. She was treated. She responded well. She seemed almost instantly better! All is well in the end, where this is concerned.

...Or is it? Has the disease actually been kicked from her system? Can we even tell? I've read about and been told of the relatively common false negatives that occur from testing, especially from a person who's been recently treated for the disease. And I also know that, even when successfully treated, certain symptoms can crop up and stick with you for several months after finishing antibiotics. So maybe that's just it. She's good, but just still feeling the effects of this crazy disease... even though she has successfully rid it from her system.

Or... maybe it's still with her. Maybe it will always be with her. Maybe she will feel worse and worser still. Lyme Disease affects so many people in almost just as many different ways. One person suffers from headaches. Another has terrible mood swings. Yet another deals with great fatigue and body aches and pains. Who knows - if this is what it is - what her specific issues may be long term.

Or... maybe she's just struggling with this ongoing congestion bug. I do, after all, know of other kids who have had this apparent cold for many, many weeks straight through. It very well could be a particularly nasty cold strain that just won't let go.

Still... I'm keeping my eye on her. Tonight she complained of feeling "hungry" as I put her to bed, even though she reasoned out that she couldn't possibly be hungry since she'd just had a good dinner. I gave her a drink of water and told her to cuddle up with her "Love Bug" bear - a stuffed animal she only cuddles with when not feeling well. Love Bug has worked wonders in the past to make her feel much better. Here's hoping tonight is no different.

I'm paying attention. I'm watching. If she continues to be sick, if she actually falls obviously ill again, I will be calling the doctor. She will be tested again. We will get to the bottom of what's going on.

She has never been a "sick kid". She's had one ear infection ever. She's a trooper. She doesn't complain. And when she is sick, she gets over it fast.

This time? It's just not fast enough for my liking...

Teaching That Which We Cannot Do

You know that saying that goes, in part and paraphrased, "Those who can't do, teach."? Well, Hubby and I seem to be living examples of this.

We went to Sweetie's parent/teacher conference the other day. I had previously met her teacher at the parents open house the first week of school and I knew right then and there that I loved this woman. A long-time educator. Very dedicated! Very passionate! So enthusiastic! Years and years of exploring and adding to and adjusting her teaching philosophy. Just a really great teacher.

And now? She has increased my love for her by demonstrating how well she has watched, thought about, and now teaches and manages our Sweetie.

She has also pegged Sweetie probably better than anyone has ever been able to verbalize it before by stating:

"I don't think I have ever met anyone as comfortable in their own skin" as Sweetie is.

Wow. Yes. Exactly.

Sweetie is happy to play with the girls or the boys or by herself. She gets along with all her classmates and they all seem to like her. But the truth is, she'd prefer to spend recesses and free time playing on her own, making up plays or songs in her head and then acting them out.

If someone does think Sweetie's doing something a bit weird... eh. Sweetie doesn't care. Probably doesn't even recognize that someone else thinks her actions are odd. Sweetie knows she's having fun and that's all that matters to her.

We were at the Big Orange Box store this weekend, collecting parts and pieces for Sweetie's Halloween costume this year (a robot). One of the things we picked up was a small, plastic, blue pail that we'll spray paint silver. This will become her robot helmet. Well, Sweetie was wearing this blue pail on her head all throughout the store. Kids stared. Grownups smiled. One little girl asked her why she had a bucket on her head, to which Sweetie replied that it's going to be part of her robot costume (duh!). The girl looked at me and, with a smile, said, "She's silly." Did any of this embarrass Sweetie one little bit? Heck no! She was having fun! On her own! Not because others were paying attention to her. Hardly! No, she was plain old having fun, practicing her robot voice and Halloween look.

And speaking of Halloween costumes... who else but Sweetie would ever chose to be, and then revel in the act of being a stick of butter? Wouldn't kids think that was weird? How did she ever think of being something so odd? We may never know the answers to these questions, but I can tell you that little Miss Sweetie was nothing but pleased with herself - and her Daddy for making the costume - that particular year.

But. There is a downside to Sweetie's very internal, self confident nature. And that is that Sweetie lives on Sweetie time. Which is to say, since day one of Kindergarten, Sweetie has been a very competently skilled child - yes, but a very slow to action child. She'll get things done, for sure. She'll just get things done on her own time, thank you very much.

This has always been Sweetie's issue and continues to be her issue. But, at least for now, her teacher - after much thought - has decided that she won't make this be a real problem for Sweetie academically. Her teacher said she's thought about this a lot - whether or not she should truly get on Sweetie's case more to pick up the pace in her school work. But in the end, at least for now, she told us, "(Sweetie) isn't bothered by it (her own slow work speed), so I've decided I'm not going to be bothered by it."

She assured us that Sweetie is not "goofing off", day dreaming, or otherwise being distracted or trying to get out of doing school work. She's happily doing the work she's given. She's just a very careful, very slow "doer". And Lord help us if there is any creative aspect to the work that needs to be done! Any drawing or coloring of pictures, for instance. Such a project as that is doomed to take Sweetie twice again as long to complete. 

Hubby has always tried to impress upon Sweetie - knowing her typical slower pace - that we don't care how long it takes her to do something, as long as she's getting things right.

Well. We are having to change our tune a bit now.

Yes, it does matter how long it takes to get something done. I've explained to Sweetie, for instance, that she could write the most beautiful, detailed, creative story ever - a story that deserves the top grade! - but if that story's not ready to hand in until the day after the teacher says it's due... well, then. Your teacher has every right to give you the worst grade possible for your work.

Timing counts. Deadlines mean something. Now means now.

Getting back to Sweetie's comfortableness within her own skin... this means, too, that Sweetie is not affected by outside motivation. Her teacher has a coupon-based classroom in which students can earn and lose coupons based on things such as behavior and turning assignments in on time. But, see... Sweetie seems not all that interested in the coupons and what they can do for her (earn her prizes such as homework passes and snacks, among other things.) Such treats are nice, sure, but not nice enough to light a fire under her to get things done quicker.

Hubby and I see this as each year's birthday for her and Christmas rolls around. Sweetie rarely ever wants anything specific. She's not a very materialistic kid. I've had to gently guide her toward asking for whatever it is I know already she's going to be getting for Christmas. Last year, for instance, I felt she needed a sticker book because she has so many loose stickers around the house that she's collected from doctor's appointments and such and I thought it would be great for her to have a place to keep them all. And so, "a sticker book" became the thing she told people she really wanted from Santa last year.

(BTW - she got this sticker book and has not ONCE even opened it. Ever.)

Still. Comfortable within her own skin. Not shy. A careful worker. An interested student. A top student with her skills. A well-liked kid. Self motivated. Non-materialistic.

None - absolutely none of that - sounds bad to me at all.

And still, I wonder, how on Earth did we get a kid like this!

Hubby and I are both shy, quiet people - always have been, and still are. I am certainly not as self confident or comfortable with myself as I should or could be, and neither, I think, is he. He was a distracted, day dreaming student. I was a decent student who did enough to get by, but never interested enough to surpass. And we are both, sadly, way more materialistic than we should be. My materialistic nature, though, has settled down within the last several years, I admit. I'd be much happier with a gift of a fun experience than a physical gift these days, for instance. But Hubby, I think, still tends toward the material gifts. He surely knows the wonder and awesomeness that can exist in gifts of experience, but he also needs/wants new boots, new tools, new clothes, etc., etc., etc...

So how is it that he and I have so successfully taught the importance of confidence, hard work, and true gifts to our growing little girl?

And here I repeat my opening thoughts... Those who can't do, teach.

Our actual lessons remain a mystery to me still. But I see this above statement as absolutely the truth.

We were not/are not this way, my child. Therefore you will be.

I am motivated everyday to continue raising Sweetie just the way we have been, whether with purposeful lessons or happy "accidental" lessons "taught" on a daily basis, simply by seeing her flourish and grow and mature into the amazing little girl she continues to be.

We cannot do, but we are teaching well. Obviously.

Adventures in Things I Cannot Do

And this weekend? I think we (okay, they) are trying their hand at roller skating.

Skiing, though. I've done that! Neither of them has ever hit the slopes before.

I take pretty good pictures, though. 

"Abled" Parent

If you haven't already figured it out by now, I am a thinker. So much so, at times, that it is to my detriment. I worry. I consider all the possibilities. I wonder how or what others think of the same situation from their viewpoint. I think. Therefore, I am.

And so, with that - you guessed it - I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. A lot of soul searching. No, it doesn't exactly help much that one of the places I work is an interfaith spiritual theology school where I have recently been doing a fair amount of reading and editing of coursework text. Learning, as I read, how to be truer to myself. How to be authentic. How to live my purpose. Be bold. Be brave.

And I keep coming back to the same thing. Over and over again. It haunts me.

I have to write.

The specific thing that continues to run through my mind is the remembrance of a visit I once had, back nearly half my lifetime ago, to a fortune teller. A friend and I went - my friend writing down all the predictions this seer saw for my future.  And there, among them, was that I would be published. Twice over, in fact. One would be a sort an autobiography of sorts (uhhh, hello! Can anyone say "blog"?) And the other would be more of a fiction, she thought.

Now, I don't care what you're particular views on fortune tellers are. You may or may not take any stock in them whatsoever. That's fine. Heck, I don't even know exactly what my opinion of them are. But, I suppose, if tested, I'd have to say, "Why not? Why can't there be those among us who can see more deeply than others? Can see more clearly what laid before us and what's in store ahead? We all have our special talents."

And anyway, there were some other things she said that day that absolutely did make specific sense from my past or, as I lived and saw, came true in that day's near future.

For one thing - my meeting Hubby was predicted. And I did. At the time she said I would. He looked as she said he would. She had him pegged.

But, yeah... she predicted I'd be a published author. And here I sit, edging in closer and closer to 40 years on this earth, without having done a thing about making this happen.

But then again, I always have really felt that this was sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy. See, I was told I was going to be a published author, so obviously it's going to happen. Somehow or another. And to actually get a move on to making this legitimately happen is to just put into motion what I was told by someone I'd do anyway. That's cheating. It's just supposed to happen "organically," isn't it?

At any rate, my current step has been to look around and see what kinds of books are out there for disabled women raising healthy children. Ask me to search for these books 9 or 10 years ago and I'd come up empty-handed for sure. But today? I'm pleased to say that there are a fair - not great, but fair - number of books and other published resources for disabled parents to turn to. That is progress, and I'm happy to see these few sources out there for parents, or potential parents, to turn to for answers and advice (not to mention, happy to be among the sources they turn to with any questions and concerns regarding pregnancy and raising children.)

However... I'm still unclear what my particular bent would be in writing my own book on the topic of parenting when you're a disabled parent.

I'm not a fiction writer. Let me tell the truth, please. Let me tell you my story. I can do that and I can do that well. But to fabricate a story, with characters and an interesting plot and storyline? Uh uh. Can't do it. Don't make me.

And... you know? This whole "being a disabled woman raising a happy and healthy child" thing? It's going okay. And not, honestly, very affected by my disability. Not that I can see on a daily basis, anyway. In fact, as far as being a disabled parent goes, I sometimes feel rather like an imposter of sorts.

I mean... yes, I wear leg braces and walk with the aid of a walking stick. But that's me anyway. My braces and walking stick have no effect on how I am raising my daughter.

And other than my braces and stick - which I need in my life, child or not - I don't require any other "aids" to help me properly care for my child on a daily basis. In fact, the only parenting "aid" I can think of ever having was one of those kiddie "leashes" (Ugh. Hate that term!) for when Sweetie was a toddler and I didn't want her to wander or run off from me when we were out in public. And, of course - primarily when she was quite a bit younger - I needed more help physically from nearby family and friends. People who could lift her up and/or carry her when I couldn't. But now? I'm good. She's good. We're all good. And not terribly "disabled" from doing what we want to get done, physically speaking.

So, with that... my current story with Sweetie is, I feel, pretty much just like any other mom's story of raising a child. Sure, I have my thoughts on what having a disabled mom is doing for Sweetie's personal strength, character, and self-confidence. Because Sweetie does put up with a lot because of who I am (aaannnnddd... here we go with a complete 360 from the paragraph above...). She understands that I cannot walk far distances - at least not without my back brace on. She helps me get chores done around the house that perhaps other girls her age don't do because particular things are difficult for me to accomplish easily (i.e. deliver clothes piles and other things to our upstairs, carry large loads of laundry to be folded, etc.) And I think she knows that I endure chronic back pain and occasional leg weakness - not that I ever really outwardly complain about these things (what's the point? I'm still gonna hurt.) She pulls me up when I fall down, she slows down when I remind her I'm slower than she is, and she helps me without complaint when I ask for assistance through trickier (walking related) situations.

Just a couple weekends ago we were visiting friends at their beautiful new summer cottage, complete with a fabulous lake view and small dock to rest on. But to get back up to their cottage from the dock meant trekking up a somewhat steep (for me), tree-root-littered hill. Two or three times during our stay I asked Sweetie if she would please help me up this hill... which meant her stopping her fun playtime with new friends swimming in the lake so she could steady/pull her old, sore, heavy (for her, at least) mother up the incline. And she did it, no complaints (well, a tiny bit of complaint, but hardly mentionable.) And then, at the end of the evening when the car was all packed up and Hubby realized we were all set to go, except for Mom still needing help to get up the hill and to the car, I'm told Sweetie happily jumped at the chance to assist. "I'll go get her!" she said. And she did. She's a big help.

I realize that all of my "things" that I do live with, and that make me who I am, have got to have an effect on Sweetie, for better or for worse. And, in a lot of ways, I dare say my being who I am - as tough as it can sometimes be for me, for her, for our family - has played/is playing a large part in (if I do say so myself) the strong, creative, fair, kind, GREAT person Sweetie is today and continues to grow into existence.

So, yes. I have a story to tell. I've been telling it hear for about 5 years now. But in so many ways, it is nothing remarkable at all. Just like countless numbers of other parenting stories out there. I'm a mom. My husband and I are raising our daughter. We think - no, we know - she is amazing. We have our ups and downs but life, in general, is pretty good. End of story.

But... I have a book inside me. I know I do. It haunts me. To write it would be to display my authentic self. What I'm supposed to do - to help myself and to help others. If only just by way of entertainment. It only needs just to get out and on it's way.

Let's get a move on...