About a month ago, chez Sweetie & Me made a bold move - we cancelled our cable! Mind you, we only had the very really basic cable anyway, but still. No more. Nothing. Gone.
Like I said, this was a bold move, and a big family decision.
Our reason for doing this was two-fold. We wanted to save money and cut out excessive TV watching. We, who always seem to have the TV on, if for no other reason than for background noise. Why did we need the TV on all the time? We didn't, plain and simple. There are much better things to do. Cutting our cable ties would be a great thing.
Of course, we didn't want to go too crazy and drop all TV watching completely! We still wanted access to shows we liked. This way we could watch what we wanted, when we wanted, and not live our lives according to the TV schedule.
After much debating and free trial periods, we settled on Hulu Plus. For a minimal monthly fee, it gives us day-after access to almost all the shows we love and wish to continue watching. We've had it for the month now and it really is perfect for us!
One thing it doesn't have is most, if not all, CBS shows. No more "murder shows," as Hubby and I call them. No more CSI, The Mentalist and - the new, promising-looking one that we never even got to see before the cable went bye-bye - Elementary. Ah, but no fear... if we really want to see those, we can get them at cbs.com. It just may take a week or so before they're available. That's fine.
Now, as I was saying, we were such a TV watching household! The TV was on more than it was off. Reality shows in particular were great! The Voice, American Idol, Dancing With the Stars, So You Think You Can Dance. I loved 'em all! And when they were on, we all enjoyed seeing the performances or listening to the auditions.
Okay, okay. Maybe not all of us. Certainly Hubby wouldn't choose on his own to watch any of those. But if I had them on, no one complained. Yes, I chose the shows... and, in fact, I was the person who mindlessly watched TV much more than Sweetie or Hubby ever did. But when it was on in the evenings, even my choice of show, we all at least seemed to enjoy watching the various "reality" competitions. How was I going to live without all this?!
Never fear! Turns out that without cable and with Hulu Plus, I still have access to several of these reality shows. Dancing With the Stars, for instance. Every Tuesday morning before work, I have enough time to tune in to what took place the night before. And so, that first Tuesday morning, there I was, home alone, clicking into Hulu to queue up some Dancing! And with Sweetie and Hubby not there - they who never did really care - I was free to indulge my "junk" watching as much as I liked.
Aaaannnnddd... eh. Whatever.
That first time, yeah, I think I kept the episode on. But I was doing other things, not really watching. I think it even took me a couple days to get through the whole thing. But the next week? I tried again. Nope. It wasn't working for me. I turned it off way before finishing. I've tried once more, but that third time didn't even last 5 minutes and has been the charm to tell me, no. Amy, you really, really don't need to watch this stupid stuff. Let it go. Just let it go.
And the other reality stuff that I so faithfully watched before? The Voice, for instance. I've never even tried to watch it with Hulu. Even So You Think You Can Dance - I LOVE that show! And watched the whole season faithfully when we had cable. Only the finale was left when our cable went bye bye. And, lucky me!, Hulu has access to that finale, no problem. I put it in our queue... I still haven't watched it. Don't really care, it turns out. I happened to find out who won anyway. So no need to watch the whole program, right? Right.
Huh. Turns out we really were watching just for the sake of watching. Turns out all these contestants we thought we cared about and whom we were really rooting for, we really didn't care about at all. Or I didn't care about. Yes, me. Hubby and Ella didn't care. I cared. But, obviously, it turns out, I didn't.
Not to say there's not any "junk" I've taken a renewed interest in through Hulu. I'm back to catching up with Project Runway - a show we haven't had access to for at least a couple years now. And my real secret love that no one else in the house wants to watch - America's Next Top Model. But, lucky me, I have time everyday when I can indulge in these types of shows without bothering anyone.
And so, has canceling cable and introducing Hulu done anything to accomplish what we originally intended? Well, on the outside, maybe not. Canceling cable brought our internet cost up, and then there's the cost of Hulu. So we're only saving a few dollars there each month, not the bigger chunk of change we were at first envisioning. And the TV watching... yeah, it's still there. I'd say, in fact, that we still actively watch just as much as we ever did.
But that inactive watching... that having the TV on just for the sake of having the TV on stuff... the white noise effect of just having the TV on... That is gone for sure. Now, we really only do have the TV on when we purposefully wish to sit down and watch something. We watch with intention now. We make family decisions. We watch for a reason.
Sure, the reason may be silly every now and then. Obviously we're not watching only the most educational and informative shows of them all. But we do do that as well. Nova Science Now, for instance, is a great family favorite! And Sweetie loves to watch BizKids, a show that teaches kids about the importances of money and responsible spending/saving. And I've got several documentaries lined up to watch in our queue over at our Netflix instant streaming account.
Bottom line is, what we watch now we are choosing to watch, for whatever reason that is.
All in all, it's a very good thing.
Now, as someone who grew up with the TV always on as "company" - if only I could get used to the deafening silence when the TV is now off.
Alone with my thoughts. It's a dangerous thing.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Tales of a Fourth Grade Something
So, here we are. A month into the new school year.
Fourth grade! Arguably the best of the school years, as both Hubby and I remember it. The year that solidly starts you off on remembering everything from here on out. You know what I mean? As an adult, I can remember, spottily, various events, adventures and randomness that took place prior to my 4th grade year. But I can pretty well remember life as I know it moving forward from 4th grade up to present. Hubby agrees. Fourth grade is where it's at and from whence it all began.
As for our particular fourth grader in question, Sweetie is loving every minute of it. She was excited to go back to school and sorely disappointed when, just 3 days into it, she was told there's no school on Labor Day Monday. "What do you mean, there's no school?!" Oh, did she want to go so badly. To have a day "taken" from her so soon was heartbreaking.
The day before school started, she and I went to the Open House to visit her new classroom and teacher. As she found her name placed at one of the places in the clusters of desks, she wondered aloud who the kid sitting next to her was. It was a new name. A new kid! She was intrigued to find out the next day what the face of this new name would look like.
After school that first day, of course I had to ask. "So, is A____ nice?" Yes, he was nice and funny. A big hit! Then, upon some further reflection, she proudly declared that "I think I made a new friend today." Why? Because "We turned things into chocolate and then ate them." Okaaayyy. So that's how it rolls in 4th grade. Sounds good to me.
After about a week or so into school, Sweetie came home with an Origami Yoda. Cool! Did you make that? No, A____ made it for me.
Ah, yes. Friendship. True, unadulterated friendship is what, here, have we.
Sweetie has always been her own person. In years past either playing on her own at recesses or joining in on whatever game looks good to her, not caring which particular kids are involved. But this year, now that she has the same recess as the 5th grade, she's almost always playing with her 5th grade friend from the Boys & Girls Club. And A____ as well on occasion.
And her supposed BFF of 5 years running? I can honestly say that I have never heard Sweetie say she's played with her at all. That right there is strictly an "in name only" relationship. Sure, they like each other, have fun when they are together, and invite each other to birthday parties and other special gatherings. But beyond that, yeah, not so much. Weird, but true.
And yet, Sweetie told me somewhat recently that she thinks, if she had to choose, she'd say she's probably one of the more popular kids at school. Oh yeah? Why do you say that? "Because no one is mean to me or doesn't seem to like me." Oh. Cool. You are a very likable kid, I can vouch for that.
So, yeah. I've heard Sweetie's tales of her solo-playing recesses. Even though she hasn't seemed adversely affected by it, I've felt bad for my poor daughter who no one wants to play with. Or maybe she's not outgoing enough to ask kids to play with her. Either way, what a pity that she spends her free play time roaming around on her own, making up elaborate games and skits in her head that no one will help her see to reality.
I remember my own childhood and know I absolutely had a true and honest best friend from the start of first grade. We played together always, slept over at each other's houses, and even talked for hours on the phone at our young age. Hubby too had a definable "best friend" in his early elementary school days. So why hasn't Sweetie solidified that kind of relationship for herself yet? And not just in name only? Obviously she's socially inept and a loner, right?
No. Definitely, not. She's not a loner. She just choses to play a particular way. If others want to join in, great. But, more likely (until this year), others will not. But that's okay with Sweetie. After all, she's the only one who can see the full vision in her imagination of how her elaborate ideas would come to pass, anyway. Obviously, she's not bothered by this. In fact, she has preferred this solo playing simply because she alone knows what she wants out of it.
But have the kids ever picked on her? No! Sweetie is a rockstar! An edgy kind of kid with a confident, quirky attitude and an unusual way of playing. She knows she's having fun, other kids or not! - and she's always "great." You don't pick on that! If anything, Sweetie is someone to be admired or even, dare I say, envied.
And now? She finally has recess with her good friend in 5th grade. A kid who totally "gets" her. A kid who can see into her elaborate imagination just as vividly as she can, add to it, and help bring an even more amazing scenario into the world. And the new kid, A____, well seems to be a kindred spirit as well.
I've written about this before, but she continues to amaze me every year.
One thing's for sure. Either alone or banded together with the few like-minded cohorts who enter her world, Sweetie sure is something!
Fourth grade! Arguably the best of the school years, as both Hubby and I remember it. The year that solidly starts you off on remembering everything from here on out. You know what I mean? As an adult, I can remember, spottily, various events, adventures and randomness that took place prior to my 4th grade year. But I can pretty well remember life as I know it moving forward from 4th grade up to present. Hubby agrees. Fourth grade is where it's at and from whence it all began.
As for our particular fourth grader in question, Sweetie is loving every minute of it. She was excited to go back to school and sorely disappointed when, just 3 days into it, she was told there's no school on Labor Day Monday. "What do you mean, there's no school?!" Oh, did she want to go so badly. To have a day "taken" from her so soon was heartbreaking.
The day before school started, she and I went to the Open House to visit her new classroom and teacher. As she found her name placed at one of the places in the clusters of desks, she wondered aloud who the kid sitting next to her was. It was a new name. A new kid! She was intrigued to find out the next day what the face of this new name would look like.
After school that first day, of course I had to ask. "So, is A____ nice?" Yes, he was nice and funny. A big hit! Then, upon some further reflection, she proudly declared that "I think I made a new friend today." Why? Because "We turned things into chocolate and then ate them." Okaaayyy. So that's how it rolls in 4th grade. Sounds good to me.
After about a week or so into school, Sweetie came home with an Origami Yoda. Cool! Did you make that? No, A____ made it for me.
Ah, yes. Friendship. True, unadulterated friendship is what, here, have we.
Sweetie has always been her own person. In years past either playing on her own at recesses or joining in on whatever game looks good to her, not caring which particular kids are involved. But this year, now that she has the same recess as the 5th grade, she's almost always playing with her 5th grade friend from the Boys & Girls Club. And A____ as well on occasion.
And her supposed BFF of 5 years running? I can honestly say that I have never heard Sweetie say she's played with her at all. That right there is strictly an "in name only" relationship. Sure, they like each other, have fun when they are together, and invite each other to birthday parties and other special gatherings. But beyond that, yeah, not so much. Weird, but true.
And yet, Sweetie told me somewhat recently that she thinks, if she had to choose, she'd say she's probably one of the more popular kids at school. Oh yeah? Why do you say that? "Because no one is mean to me or doesn't seem to like me." Oh. Cool. You are a very likable kid, I can vouch for that.
So, yeah. I've heard Sweetie's tales of her solo-playing recesses. Even though she hasn't seemed adversely affected by it, I've felt bad for my poor daughter who no one wants to play with. Or maybe she's not outgoing enough to ask kids to play with her. Either way, what a pity that she spends her free play time roaming around on her own, making up elaborate games and skits in her head that no one will help her see to reality.
I remember my own childhood and know I absolutely had a true and honest best friend from the start of first grade. We played together always, slept over at each other's houses, and even talked for hours on the phone at our young age. Hubby too had a definable "best friend" in his early elementary school days. So why hasn't Sweetie solidified that kind of relationship for herself yet? And not just in name only? Obviously she's socially inept and a loner, right?
No. Definitely, not. She's not a loner. She just choses to play a particular way. If others want to join in, great. But, more likely (until this year), others will not. But that's okay with Sweetie. After all, she's the only one who can see the full vision in her imagination of how her elaborate ideas would come to pass, anyway. Obviously, she's not bothered by this. In fact, she has preferred this solo playing simply because she alone knows what she wants out of it.
But have the kids ever picked on her? No! Sweetie is a rockstar! An edgy kind of kid with a confident, quirky attitude and an unusual way of playing. She knows she's having fun, other kids or not! - and she's always "great." You don't pick on that! If anything, Sweetie is someone to be admired or even, dare I say, envied.
And now? She finally has recess with her good friend in 5th grade. A kid who totally "gets" her. A kid who can see into her elaborate imagination just as vividly as she can, add to it, and help bring an even more amazing scenario into the world. And the new kid, A____, well seems to be a kindred spirit as well.
I've written about this before, but she continues to amaze me every year.
One thing's for sure. Either alone or banded together with the few like-minded cohorts who enter her world, Sweetie sure is something!
Friday, August 31, 2012
I'll Take "'80's to the Rescue" for $1000, Alex
Answer: These two 1980's icons have teamed up to both entertain and improve the speech patterns of one 9 and a half year old Miss Sweetie.
Question: What is the Sony Walkman and Bill Cosby?
Correct!
Last week we gifted Sweetie with Hubby's old Sony Walkman, along with his large collection of Bill Cosby comedy tapes. Happy back-to-school-and-congratulations-on-being-cast-in-"Oliver!" present! (Sweetie recently tried out and was cast as an orphan in a local production of "Oliver!" We are all very excited.)
But we have an ulterior motive, as well.
So far Sweetie has enjoyed listening to 1 whole tape all the way through and has listened and laughed happily. Hubby and I are hoping that, with the help of Mr. Cosby's superb story-telling examples, our Sweetie's own story-telling capabilities will improve.
Now don't get me wrong. Sweetie's speaking issues are pretty mild. It's just that, by listening to other kids about her age speak as well, we can hear that Sweetie just has a bit of trouble finding the right words and telling a cohesive story a lot of the time.
She's not stuttering. But she will start her sentence, realize that (in her mind) she's forgotten (to her) a key word, and will start her whole sentence over from the start so the word can be included. And this may take a few attempts before she's satisfied she's correctly said whatever it is as she intended and she moves on to her next thought. Where the same issue may or may not present itself. Either this, or she stops, searches for the word she's wanting to use, but can't find it and gets frustrated and gives up in tears, saying she doesn't know how to say whatever it is she's trying to say. She is also likely to get lost in her own head when, for example, relaying to us what her dream was last night. I admit, it was near agony for me to listen to her tell me a (what should have been) simple portion of said dream the other day - which should have taken all of 1-2 minutes - over the course of a 10 minute car ride. And she still hadn't finished! Because she kept stopping in her narrative, wherein I'd have to ask if that was all. "No, there's more," she'd say, "I just was remembering how funny it was for a minute." And then she'd go on. With stops and starts along the way.
Will child protection services people come get me if I admit that the sound of my own daughter's voice can sometimes drive me crazy? Arrrrgghhh!
We try to let her work out her stories on her own. We try not to "fill in the blanks" for her as she tells a story so the narrative can keep moving forward. We know her mind is racing faster than her mouth can get the words out. We know she has a lot to say (Lord, does she have a lot to say!). But it can be difficult to both watch her struggle and listen to her try to, slowly, find her way sometimes.
Yes, it could be just a "thing" that lots of kids go through. Even most kids! And it's not like I expect her to be a fabulous orator, either. But, like I said, it seems to me that most kids around Sweetie's age by this point are pretty well able to tell a smooth, flowing story when they speak on anything from in-class discussions to at-home silliness and everything in between. A late bloomer? Yes, I think so.
As for Sweetie's vocabulary - well! She has always done well there, regularly choosing words you'd most likely not hear the typical same-aged child using. She can be a regular little grown up, in fact, in her contributions to our family discussions and the words she easily chooses to express her opinions. She's a great speller and is more than a couple grade levels ahead of where she "should" be in reading and spelling. So we know she has the words to use - she just has difficulty in getting even the most simple words out sometimes.
I have to say, I'm pretty sure I know where Sweetie "gets" it from. I often find myself searching for words, and/or accidentally using the (completely) wrong word many times when I'm trying to verbally express something. It's so frustrating for me as the one making the "mistakes." I know Sweetie feels at least a bit of frustration, maybe even shame, for what she's dealing with as well. One day, completely out of the blue (but after a little "issue" as she was trying to tell me something), and letting her know that I was absolutely not picking on her - I just was curious to know why it was she always stopped and started many of her sentences over again when she missed only 1 word in what she's trying to say. She instantly had tears in her eyes when she answered, "I don't know. I just see that I'm making a mistake and I want to say it right, so I start over." So, yeah. She knows she does this. Like mother like daughter. Frustrating all around.
And so, yes... we have turned to Mr. Cosby and his fantastic comedic story telling skills. Wondering if/hoping that Sweetie will take a cue from him and "naturally" improve her speaking patterns. We hunted down Hubby's old Walkman so she'd have something portable and private she could use to listen to these ancient relics called "tapes." And look forward to seeing her enjoy herself along the way.
If nothing else, there is that. Bill Cosby is funny, funny dude. At the very least, she'll get a few laughs out of all this. Ain't nothin' wrong with that.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Dreams Don't Work Unless You Do
The blank page. The writer’s worst nightmare.
>A story needs to start somewhere. But where? How? What are you going to say? Why do you want to say anything? What is going on?
It’s all up to you. No rules. Just...go!
But what does the writer do? Well, when I’m the writer, I... do the laundry. Work on my counted cross-stitch. Do the dishes. Watch some T.V. Take a nap. Play a game. Read a book. And eventually... maybe look around the internet and Facebook for inspirational quotes. Something that will get me on my way! Something that pushes me to just... go!
But MY BOOK. That... that is so... BIG! So undefined. So much. Too much to take in, to wrap my brain around. Yeah, I say I want to write a book. But to actually do it?! Hmmph. That’s a whole different subject entirely.
And so... maybe I sit down and write a blog post. Yeah! That’s what I’ll do! I’ve got 2 blogs to my name and finding post topics to write about for either is easy. Current life events, one not necessarily connected to the other. No long back story to lay down for the reader. No “hook” to drag ‘em in and keep them reading other posts. It’s just 1 post. The reader can read it and move on. Or explore previous post! Or not. I really don’t care. It’s a free world, after all. Creating my blog was free. I write when I wish. There’s no “due date” for it to be done. I’m not expecting a grand financial reward for “finishing” it. It just is. Blog writing is easy.
But then, what’s that? What did I hear? There’s that niggling voice again. That deep, determined, confident voice that tells me that I am meant to write a book. I made that claim years ago. I have an unusual and important topic to write about. I have a dream. Now I have to just do the work.
You know? I am a softie for all those inspirational sayings going around the internet. Everyday I log into my Facebook account and take in all the awe-inspiring images and artistically displayed “You Can Do It!” expressions that fill up my Wall. The one about trying again and again until you succeed. The one about never giving up. The one about believing in yourself. The one that encourages you to do your best and be your best. The one that says you can’t fail unless you try. You can do it! Yes! Yes, I can! I am awesome! I am deserving! Let’s get going and do this thing!
And then? Well, and then I just sit back down on the couch and watch So You Think You Can Dance. Or America Idol. Or American Ninja Warrior. Or whatever it is that’s the latest and greatest T.V. reality series in which people are living the dream and reaching for the stars. They can do it! Go, them!
Oh, but what’s that, you say? Wasn’t I supposed to be doing something for myself? Wasn’t I supposed to be getting my own dream underway on it’s own path to completion?
Oooohhh!... Completion. That’s the problem! I am much too intimidated by that word. Completion. I have a whole book to write! What, it’s going to be at least a couple hundred pages or so, right? That’s a lot! I can’t do all that. I cannot see myself at the end of that road. It’s a loooonnnnnggg road. I don’t even want to get started on that journey.
But what is it that Anne Lamott of Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, said? To paraphrase, she compared writing to driving on a dark road at night with dim headlights. You can only see the road ahead of you as much as your headlights allow. You cannot see your whole journey laid out ahead of you. But you get there, all the same. Just keep following the road for as much as you can see at a time and, sure enough, you’ll arrive at your destination safe and sound. Such as it is with writing. You don’t have to see the end in sight. All you need is the little bit ahead of you dimly light by your headlights. Keep on moving forward, and you will get to your destination - your writing destination - safe and sound.
(Hmmm! Now all I want to do is stop writing here and go pick up my Bird by Bird copy again. That’ll surely get me writing again!)
No. No, it won’t. I mean, sure, just like all the other positive affirmations and inspirational quotes, reading her book would help add to my “can do” attitude. But as long as I’m reading, I’m not writing. All I’ve got to do is write. One little dimly light section of the road at a time. Just write.
So, I started a Kickstarter project. A project for my book, where others can choose to help me fund the actual creation of it. A project that, as I started settling in the details of it, my 9 1/2 year old daughter asked me (in a very Isabella from Phineas and Ferb kind of way), “Watcha doin’?” When I told her, and she asked what my project is, I said, “Writing a book.” - “What’s your book going to be about?” - “You. You and me.” - “It is?! Awe. That’s so sweet.”
And from then on, Sweetie has been excited for me. So interested in this book I’m writing. And that’s just it. I told her I’m writing a book. She believes me. Why not? She has no reason not to. She already knows I like to write and that I write 2 different blogs about her. Why wouldn’t I write a book?! And even so, even if she had her doubts that I could actually do it... I don’t lie to her. She knows that I do not do that. It’s not even a thought in her mind that I’m ever anything but 100% honest with her. And so... she knows I am writing a book.
And so... I am writing a book.
I try to live my life as a great example for my daughter. Or at least reading and feeling and believing all those wonderful inspirational quotes makes me feel like I’m doing it! I’m teaching my daughter that she can be and do and try and believe and succeed at whatever it is she puts her mind to! And she does believe this. As her third grade teacher said, Sweetie is a kid who is as comfortable in her own skin as you can get for her age. She knows exactly who she is. She doesn’t pander to the popular kids. She knows what she likes to do, and does it - whether she can find a friend to do it with or not. She is a great kid who always says she’s great! And completely means it. So, I guess Hubby and I are doing something right. Despite our best efforts - she is a shining example of all the wonderful life lessons I hope to instill in her.
But I can be doing more. Sure, I tell her the lessons. But I am not living them. That is the problem. All those inspirational quotes. I love them! I feel them! But am I really living them? I know how upset I get when I see others posting those quotes, claiming their strong belief in these quotes, and then... completely leading their lives in the entirely opposite direction. They are blatant non-followers of the words they claim to follow! How can they post such words when they do not live by them? Blasphemes, all of them!
As have I been. I post and proclaim and believe and share all of them. And then, I sit on my butt. Telling Sweetie to believe and try and do and create, but not doing it myself.
That is about to stop.
I am on this earth to do something other than sit around watch TV. Something more than creating counted cross-stitch pieces. More than writing my blog.
I said I’m going to write a book. I am going to write a book.
I am writing a book.
One dimly lit section at a time.
Go!
>A story needs to start somewhere. But where? How? What are you going to say? Why do you want to say anything? What is going on?
It’s all up to you. No rules. Just...go!
But what does the writer do? Well, when I’m the writer, I... do the laundry. Work on my counted cross-stitch. Do the dishes. Watch some T.V. Take a nap. Play a game. Read a book. And eventually... maybe look around the internet and Facebook for inspirational quotes. Something that will get me on my way! Something that pushes me to just... go!
But MY BOOK. That... that is so... BIG! So undefined. So much. Too much to take in, to wrap my brain around. Yeah, I say I want to write a book. But to actually do it?! Hmmph. That’s a whole different subject entirely.
And so... maybe I sit down and write a blog post. Yeah! That’s what I’ll do! I’ve got 2 blogs to my name and finding post topics to write about for either is easy. Current life events, one not necessarily connected to the other. No long back story to lay down for the reader. No “hook” to drag ‘em in and keep them reading other posts. It’s just 1 post. The reader can read it and move on. Or explore previous post! Or not. I really don’t care. It’s a free world, after all. Creating my blog was free. I write when I wish. There’s no “due date” for it to be done. I’m not expecting a grand financial reward for “finishing” it. It just is. Blog writing is easy.
But then, what’s that? What did I hear? There’s that niggling voice again. That deep, determined, confident voice that tells me that I am meant to write a book. I made that claim years ago. I have an unusual and important topic to write about. I have a dream. Now I have to just do the work.
You know? I am a softie for all those inspirational sayings going around the internet. Everyday I log into my Facebook account and take in all the awe-inspiring images and artistically displayed “You Can Do It!” expressions that fill up my Wall. The one about trying again and again until you succeed. The one about never giving up. The one about believing in yourself. The one that encourages you to do your best and be your best. The one that says you can’t fail unless you try. You can do it! Yes! Yes, I can! I am awesome! I am deserving! Let’s get going and do this thing!
And then? Well, and then I just sit back down on the couch and watch So You Think You Can Dance. Or America Idol. Or American Ninja Warrior. Or whatever it is that’s the latest and greatest T.V. reality series in which people are living the dream and reaching for the stars. They can do it! Go, them!
Oh, but what’s that, you say? Wasn’t I supposed to be doing something for myself? Wasn’t I supposed to be getting my own dream underway on it’s own path to completion?
Oooohhh!... Completion. That’s the problem! I am much too intimidated by that word. Completion. I have a whole book to write! What, it’s going to be at least a couple hundred pages or so, right? That’s a lot! I can’t do all that. I cannot see myself at the end of that road. It’s a loooonnnnnggg road. I don’t even want to get started on that journey.
But what is it that Anne Lamott of Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, said? To paraphrase, she compared writing to driving on a dark road at night with dim headlights. You can only see the road ahead of you as much as your headlights allow. You cannot see your whole journey laid out ahead of you. But you get there, all the same. Just keep following the road for as much as you can see at a time and, sure enough, you’ll arrive at your destination safe and sound. Such as it is with writing. You don’t have to see the end in sight. All you need is the little bit ahead of you dimly light by your headlights. Keep on moving forward, and you will get to your destination - your writing destination - safe and sound.
(Hmmm! Now all I want to do is stop writing here and go pick up my Bird by Bird copy again. That’ll surely get me writing again!)
No. No, it won’t. I mean, sure, just like all the other positive affirmations and inspirational quotes, reading her book would help add to my “can do” attitude. But as long as I’m reading, I’m not writing. All I’ve got to do is write. One little dimly light section of the road at a time. Just write.
So, I started a Kickstarter project. A project for my book, where others can choose to help me fund the actual creation of it. A project that, as I started settling in the details of it, my 9 1/2 year old daughter asked me (in a very Isabella from Phineas and Ferb kind of way), “Watcha doin’?” When I told her, and she asked what my project is, I said, “Writing a book.” - “What’s your book going to be about?” - “You. You and me.” - “It is?! Awe. That’s so sweet.”
And from then on, Sweetie has been excited for me. So interested in this book I’m writing. And that’s just it. I told her I’m writing a book. She believes me. Why not? She has no reason not to. She already knows I like to write and that I write 2 different blogs about her. Why wouldn’t I write a book?! And even so, even if she had her doubts that I could actually do it... I don’t lie to her. She knows that I do not do that. It’s not even a thought in her mind that I’m ever anything but 100% honest with her. And so... she knows I am writing a book.
And so... I am writing a book.
I try to live my life as a great example for my daughter. Or at least reading and feeling and believing all those wonderful inspirational quotes makes me feel like I’m doing it! I’m teaching my daughter that she can be and do and try and believe and succeed at whatever it is she puts her mind to! And she does believe this. As her third grade teacher said, Sweetie is a kid who is as comfortable in her own skin as you can get for her age. She knows exactly who she is. She doesn’t pander to the popular kids. She knows what she likes to do, and does it - whether she can find a friend to do it with or not. She is a great kid who always says she’s great! And completely means it. So, I guess Hubby and I are doing something right. Despite our best efforts - she is a shining example of all the wonderful life lessons I hope to instill in her.
But I can be doing more. Sure, I tell her the lessons. But I am not living them. That is the problem. All those inspirational quotes. I love them! I feel them! But am I really living them? I know how upset I get when I see others posting those quotes, claiming their strong belief in these quotes, and then... completely leading their lives in the entirely opposite direction. They are blatant non-followers of the words they claim to follow! How can they post such words when they do not live by them? Blasphemes, all of them!
As have I been. I post and proclaim and believe and share all of them. And then, I sit on my butt. Telling Sweetie to believe and try and do and create, but not doing it myself.
That is about to stop.
I am on this earth to do something other than sit around watch TV. Something more than creating counted cross-stitch pieces. More than writing my blog.
I said I’m going to write a book. I am going to write a book.
I am writing a book.
One dimly lit section at a time.
Go!
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Crippled Is as Crippled Does
True. We just moved into a new house. A house where we can have 1-floor living. For my benefit. We have the second floor. I just don't have to go up there, except for when I want to.
(We also moved for Sweetie's benefit. Bigger bedroom plus an extra play room. Yay! Many other reasons, too. But these were the biggies.)
Also true that, now, given the choice, I will almost certainly take the elevator upstairs instead of walk up one or more flights when I visit various doctors and office building. I could walk it. I just choose not to. And that's okay.
But, no. I do not need one of those sit-in-a-mechanical-seat-and-slowly-ride-up-the-stairs contraptions. Heck, no! I will not use it, Sam I am!
This point comes up because one of the places I work is seriously considering moving locations. To a second-floor space. Up 1 flight of stairs, 18 steps up (as Sweetie counted when we visited yesterday evening.) My boss asked me to come check the space out, primarily because she was concerned for me about the stairs. No problem, I told her before seeing the place. I can do stairs, no problem.
So, Hubby and I and Sweetie, along with a couple other important people my boss wanted to see the space, headed out yesterday evening to check things out. Yup. Them there are stairs. You weren't lyin'! And... like I said. No problem. I can do stairs. I just don't choose to, if I have the choice.
During our time there yesterday, and in talking with the realtor, the idea of installing one of those mechanical ride-on chairs on the stairs was brought up. You know, for other members of our community (I work for a small alternative spiritual school/interfaith church) who may be elderly or impaired and not easily able to/wanting to climb the stairs. Sure, the realtor said. We can at least bring the idea up to the landlord to see if they would be okay with our adding this on.
So that was that, and the space was big and great and just right. I gave it my stamp of approval, as did the other people in attendance. Then my boss asked me directly:
So, Amy. You said you like the space. You approve. But what about the stairs?
They're fine! No problem. I'll have no trouble getting up them.
And what about the idea of adding on the mechanical chair?
(Oh! They're thinking that would be a big help for me! I didn't even consider myself as part of that equation.)
Oh. I wouldn't use that. I definitely wouldn't use it. In fact, if it was there, it would be in my way. So if you'd only get it for me, don't worry about it.
You wouldn't use it?
No. I would not. I mean, unless something happened to make me severely crippled. Then, of course. But otherwise, no.
With that, all of a sudden, Sweetie pops into my personal space, demanding to know, "What does crippled mean?!" (Apparently, she asked me politely a moment before, but I didn't hear. So she got in my face about it.)
When I finally was able to attend to Sweetie's question, I gave her my quick, not-really-correct-but-it-did-in-a-pinch definition of crippled - it's when you're really, really hurt or not able to walk at all. Much worse me.
So anyway, after that, my boss and the others kind of agreed, quickly - "Well, then. It's always something that can be added on later if you want." I kind of think that my very certain, very quick and definite answer to the chair question took them all by surprise. They probably didn't know what to do with themselves at that point.
And Sweetie's question kind of took me by surprise. I mean, she has me for a mother and she doesn't know what the word "crippled" means? How can that be?
I'll tell you how that can be. Because I do not define myself as crippled. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Sure, I am limited with how much physical activity I can do. I know my limits and I accommodate. But I definitely am not crippled.
And I don't mean that I take that word as a negative connotation of what I am - physically disabled. I know, logically, that I am physically disabled or, if you prefer, crippled. But it's just that I don't look at myself that way. I don't treat myself that way. I don't have family or friends that treat me that way. I'm just me. I'm just Amy. I'm just Mom. I do what I'm able to physically do - just like any other person out there does for themselves. I don't focus on what I can't do. I just know what those things are and live my life accordingly. I ask for help when I need it. But, all in all, I look at what I am physically able to do - not the opposite.
Back to that mechanical chair - no, I most certainly would not use it. In fact, I would take offense at having to use it. I'd be embarrassed to use it. Choosing to ride the elevator up a flight or more of stairs is one thing. The elevator is there for all to use, and hundreds of people in all sorts of physical conditions use them every day. But the mechanical chair on the stairs - no. That is meant for someone who cannot, in any other way, comfortably get up the stairs. I can. I am able. No problem. I will climb the stairs. Let me at 'em!
Crippled is as crippled does. You're as crippled as you make yourself be. This is true for anyone. I do not act crippled. I do what I am able to do. Just like we all do. This is what Sweetie knows of me. This is what everyone who knows me knows about me.
And I will climb the stairs!
(We also moved for Sweetie's benefit. Bigger bedroom plus an extra play room. Yay! Many other reasons, too. But these were the biggies.)
Also true that, now, given the choice, I will almost certainly take the elevator upstairs instead of walk up one or more flights when I visit various doctors and office building. I could walk it. I just choose not to. And that's okay.
But, no. I do not need one of those sit-in-a-mechanical-seat-and-slowly-ride-up-the-stairs contraptions. Heck, no! I will not use it, Sam I am!
This point comes up because one of the places I work is seriously considering moving locations. To a second-floor space. Up 1 flight of stairs, 18 steps up (as Sweetie counted when we visited yesterday evening.) My boss asked me to come check the space out, primarily because she was concerned for me about the stairs. No problem, I told her before seeing the place. I can do stairs, no problem.
So, Hubby and I and Sweetie, along with a couple other important people my boss wanted to see the space, headed out yesterday evening to check things out. Yup. Them there are stairs. You weren't lyin'! And... like I said. No problem. I can do stairs. I just don't choose to, if I have the choice.
During our time there yesterday, and in talking with the realtor, the idea of installing one of those mechanical ride-on chairs on the stairs was brought up. You know, for other members of our community (I work for a small alternative spiritual school/interfaith church) who may be elderly or impaired and not easily able to/wanting to climb the stairs. Sure, the realtor said. We can at least bring the idea up to the landlord to see if they would be okay with our adding this on.
So that was that, and the space was big and great and just right. I gave it my stamp of approval, as did the other people in attendance. Then my boss asked me directly:
So, Amy. You said you like the space. You approve. But what about the stairs?
They're fine! No problem. I'll have no trouble getting up them.
And what about the idea of adding on the mechanical chair?
(Oh! They're thinking that would be a big help for me! I didn't even consider myself as part of that equation.)
Oh. I wouldn't use that. I definitely wouldn't use it. In fact, if it was there, it would be in my way. So if you'd only get it for me, don't worry about it.
You wouldn't use it?
No. I would not. I mean, unless something happened to make me severely crippled. Then, of course. But otherwise, no.
With that, all of a sudden, Sweetie pops into my personal space, demanding to know, "What does crippled mean?!" (Apparently, she asked me politely a moment before, but I didn't hear. So she got in my face about it.)
When I finally was able to attend to Sweetie's question, I gave her my quick, not-really-correct-but-it-did-in-a-pinch definition of crippled - it's when you're really, really hurt or not able to walk at all. Much worse me.
So anyway, after that, my boss and the others kind of agreed, quickly - "Well, then. It's always something that can be added on later if you want." I kind of think that my very certain, very quick and definite answer to the chair question took them all by surprise. They probably didn't know what to do with themselves at that point.
And Sweetie's question kind of took me by surprise. I mean, she has me for a mother and she doesn't know what the word "crippled" means? How can that be?
I'll tell you how that can be. Because I do not define myself as crippled. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Sure, I am limited with how much physical activity I can do. I know my limits and I accommodate. But I definitely am not crippled.
And I don't mean that I take that word as a negative connotation of what I am - physically disabled. I know, logically, that I am physically disabled or, if you prefer, crippled. But it's just that I don't look at myself that way. I don't treat myself that way. I don't have family or friends that treat me that way. I'm just me. I'm just Amy. I'm just Mom. I do what I'm able to physically do - just like any other person out there does for themselves. I don't focus on what I can't do. I just know what those things are and live my life accordingly. I ask for help when I need it. But, all in all, I look at what I am physically able to do - not the opposite.
Back to that mechanical chair - no, I most certainly would not use it. In fact, I would take offense at having to use it. I'd be embarrassed to use it. Choosing to ride the elevator up a flight or more of stairs is one thing. The elevator is there for all to use, and hundreds of people in all sorts of physical conditions use them every day. But the mechanical chair on the stairs - no. That is meant for someone who cannot, in any other way, comfortably get up the stairs. I can. I am able. No problem. I will climb the stairs. Let me at 'em!
Crippled is as crippled does. You're as crippled as you make yourself be. This is true for anyone. I do not act crippled. I do what I am able to do. Just like we all do. This is what Sweetie knows of me. This is what everyone who knows me knows about me.
And I will climb the stairs!
Thursday, July 19, 2012
I've Got Skillz - Mommy Skillz
If I look back over my years as a working woman, I find a lot of safety in those numbers.
During college I worked at the local newspaper during one summer. I also worked for years and years, starting in high school, at our local Barnes & Noble. After graduating college, I continued working at Barnes & Noble, and went back to the newspaper, this time full time and for many, many years (about 11 or 12).
I also began my love for tutoring during my senior year in high school. I have tutored on and off ever since.
After my downsize from the newspaper (they're not so much the "thing" anymore, if you didn't already know), I struggled to find employment, tutored where I could, and finally landed a good job with a great boss. Just she and I. Mostly just me. Managing her office. I'm still there and I still love this job, and my boss. It's a good fit for me.
But this job is only part time. I need more income than that. So I've continually stopped and started, struggled and glided into positions to fit my schedule and bring in more cash. I've written, I've receptioned, I've shipped & handled, I've office managed, and I've call centered. None of them, I have to admit, have been the best job ever. But I got the jobs, learned some new skills, met good people, saw how me and given job did & didn't fit, and finally left one way or another - some my call, some not so much.
And all along the way, all I really want to do with my life is be a mom. I know that job. I am great at that job! Please, just let me be a mom.
Yeah, well, that's great and all. But being a mom doesn't bring in the money.
Through all my varying work opportunities over the last several years, I have learned that I am pretty darn good at customer service. Huh?! Who knew? Shy, quiet ol' me. Me, who would way rather email friends and family than use the phone. But give me the phone and a desk and I can interact fantastically with the general public. I am friendly, warm and sympathetic. Tell me your troubles - I'll find a way to help you out.
And so, with that, I am heading back to work - in addition to my regular small office managing job - at the call center. No, it's by no means a glamourous job. I'll be making cold calls to hospital patients who are late paying their bills. But it's a good job that I am familiar with, I know I can do it well, and I really do get a great feeling being able to help those who are struggling find a way to pay down their bills through payment plans, financial aid, or just a friendly reminder to send out the check.
Plus, this job is a "leave it at the office" job if ever there was one. I go in, read the scripts, do the calls, and leave. No stress. Easy repetition. My kind of job. In fact, when I worked so many years at the newspaper, one of the reasons I loved my job there so much was the repetition of it. Sure, it was an important function of the paper (getting the classified section organized and printed), and it could be high level stress from time to time. But the basic operation of the work was the same everyday. I do well in positions like this. It's where I feel most comfortable.
And, the best part of all, is I'll have more time to do what I really want to do - be a mom. Sure, I'll be working most evenings until 8pm. But I'll always be home for bedtime. I'll have a couple daytimes a week off, good for scheduling doctors appointments, and if snow delays or cancellations of school happen this winter, I'll have morning hours to get Sweetie either settled elsewhere or choose to work from home for my office job. So happy that my boss there is very accommodating to my having both flexible work hours and location.
Oh - and another good thing... the call center offers full medical and dental benefits! WOOHOO!!! For 16 hours work a week, I can now, FINALLY, have good benefits. For myself, anyway. And boy do I need them! Oh, the doctors appointments I would schedule if only I had the benefits! Well now I can. And I'll have the flexibility of schedule to go to them. Yippee!
So, yes, you could definitely say that I like to play it safe in many areas of my life. I keep returning to places I'm familiar with, not one to make grand leaps of faith into entirely new opportunities. But you could also say that I know where my skills lie. I may not be CEO material. I'm probably not even a good candidate to manage the neighborhood Dunkin Donuts. But I do know how to interact with people. And I do know how to be a fantastic mom.
I choose to choose work opportunities that let me focus my energies and skills where they truly belong, where they really fit the best.
I choose to be Sweetie's mom.
During college I worked at the local newspaper during one summer. I also worked for years and years, starting in high school, at our local Barnes & Noble. After graduating college, I continued working at Barnes & Noble, and went back to the newspaper, this time full time and for many, many years (about 11 or 12).
I also began my love for tutoring during my senior year in high school. I have tutored on and off ever since.
After my downsize from the newspaper (they're not so much the "thing" anymore, if you didn't already know), I struggled to find employment, tutored where I could, and finally landed a good job with a great boss. Just she and I. Mostly just me. Managing her office. I'm still there and I still love this job, and my boss. It's a good fit for me.
But this job is only part time. I need more income than that. So I've continually stopped and started, struggled and glided into positions to fit my schedule and bring in more cash. I've written, I've receptioned, I've shipped & handled, I've office managed, and I've call centered. None of them, I have to admit, have been the best job ever. But I got the jobs, learned some new skills, met good people, saw how me and given job did & didn't fit, and finally left one way or another - some my call, some not so much.
And all along the way, all I really want to do with my life is be a mom. I know that job. I am great at that job! Please, just let me be a mom.
Yeah, well, that's great and all. But being a mom doesn't bring in the money.
Through all my varying work opportunities over the last several years, I have learned that I am pretty darn good at customer service. Huh?! Who knew? Shy, quiet ol' me. Me, who would way rather email friends and family than use the phone. But give me the phone and a desk and I can interact fantastically with the general public. I am friendly, warm and sympathetic. Tell me your troubles - I'll find a way to help you out.
And so, with that, I am heading back to work - in addition to my regular small office managing job - at the call center. No, it's by no means a glamourous job. I'll be making cold calls to hospital patients who are late paying their bills. But it's a good job that I am familiar with, I know I can do it well, and I really do get a great feeling being able to help those who are struggling find a way to pay down their bills through payment plans, financial aid, or just a friendly reminder to send out the check.
Plus, this job is a "leave it at the office" job if ever there was one. I go in, read the scripts, do the calls, and leave. No stress. Easy repetition. My kind of job. In fact, when I worked so many years at the newspaper, one of the reasons I loved my job there so much was the repetition of it. Sure, it was an important function of the paper (getting the classified section organized and printed), and it could be high level stress from time to time. But the basic operation of the work was the same everyday. I do well in positions like this. It's where I feel most comfortable.
And, the best part of all, is I'll have more time to do what I really want to do - be a mom. Sure, I'll be working most evenings until 8pm. But I'll always be home for bedtime. I'll have a couple daytimes a week off, good for scheduling doctors appointments, and if snow delays or cancellations of school happen this winter, I'll have morning hours to get Sweetie either settled elsewhere or choose to work from home for my office job. So happy that my boss there is very accommodating to my having both flexible work hours and location.
Oh - and another good thing... the call center offers full medical and dental benefits! WOOHOO!!! For 16 hours work a week, I can now, FINALLY, have good benefits. For myself, anyway. And boy do I need them! Oh, the doctors appointments I would schedule if only I had the benefits! Well now I can. And I'll have the flexibility of schedule to go to them. Yippee!
So, yes, you could definitely say that I like to play it safe in many areas of my life. I keep returning to places I'm familiar with, not one to make grand leaps of faith into entirely new opportunities. But you could also say that I know where my skills lie. I may not be CEO material. I'm probably not even a good candidate to manage the neighborhood Dunkin Donuts. But I do know how to interact with people. And I do know how to be a fantastic mom.
I choose to choose work opportunities that let me focus my energies and skills where they truly belong, where they really fit the best.
I choose to be Sweetie's mom.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Mom Rules
Something that I have mentioned here, oh, every once in awhile, is how proud I am of Sweetie. :) How proud of her Hubby and I both are! She is truly an amazing little girl who, for the most part, is a kind, respectful, and polite person with a heart as big as her imagination and an ever-increasing curiosity.
Does she ever do anything wrong? Ooh, boy! Ha! Does she ever! Of course she does - she's a kid! A kid learning her way in the world, testing her boundaries and trying to gain every bit of independence she can. And with all that testing, learning and gaining comes, at times, disobedience, attitude, and just plain rottenness. She is not immune from it, oh no.
I would have to say, though, that her biggest "issue" - and Hubby would agree - is her inability to listen and/or her "selective" memory. We tell her several times to do something, yet she claims we never told her. She remembers very well when we happened to mention, on a whim, that we may go to such and such fun place at some point, sometime. But does she remember the very pointed direction we gave her to follow as one of her weekly chores? Heck, no.
But, well, that's a kid for you. I'll take this "off" behavior over lying, stealing, back talking, sneaking, and outright defiance any day, thank you very much.
Furthermore, as I know I've mentioned here a few times, one of the things I am most proud of Sweetie for - most impressed with - is her remarkable ability to recognize that, when we are upset with her about something, we are merely upset with her behavior, not her directly. Sweetie's ability to separate these two aspects and to understand, completely, that we always and forever, unconditionally, love her, but do not always love what she does - and the bad choices she makes is what gets her into trouble sometimes - well, it's just really mind-blowing to me that she "gets" this so well at her age. She's always "gotten" this. Make no mistake.
As a parent - as her parent - I am amazed every time she does something so wrong that Hubby or I get so mad at her - raising our voices, sending her to her room, probably dissolving her into tears - yet, moments later, after she's calmed down, allowed to leave her room, and go back to behaving like a reasonable person again, she'll come up to me on the couch and snuggle in, or tell her Daddy this funny joke she just made up, or ask us if we all can play a game together. She understands - perhaps more readily than we do - that the anger is over, the punishment done, and we can all get back to a happy household as we know and love it.
All this to say that, yesterday, Sweetie's rotten behavior almost paralyzed me. Her outright defiance of my directions left me - I admit it - feeling practically helpless. Meaning, if she truly was going to NOT do as a say (at a friend's house, without Hubby there), how in the world was I going to make her comply?
I can't pick her up. If Hubby were there, well - if it came to that (and I think it just about did), he'd have just picked her up and taken her to the car (situation: I was picking her up from a sleepover and, after staying awhile so I could visit with my friend (Sweetie's friend's mom), I told Sweetie it was time to go. Well, she was not having it. First, she ran in their house and hid. Then, she told me that she was NOT leaving. That she WAS staying for another night. You get the idea.)
And I wasn't about to ask my friend to hoist her up and out of their house. No sense turning Sweetie's friend's mom into a bad guy. No, this was Sweetie and my battle to duke out for ourselves.
So. I definitely had a moment or two of "what do I do now?"
She would not come with me. She would not go say goodbye to her friend (who was obliviously still playing in the backyard.) She was in tears. She had made up her mind what was going to happen. I could leave, and she would be staying. In fact, she tried to insist that I told her it was a 2-night sleep over, which I quickly made sure she knew I never said. "Well, you said it was a sleepover - you didn't say how many nights at all!" True, that. But you got one night, little girl, and that's the end of that.
As my friend checked on her kids in the yard, Sweetie and I glared at each other - me trying not to show her my deep-set concern that, yeah, she really could play it so it was darn near impossible for me to get her in the car as I needed. Sweetie's not dumb. She knows what I can and cannot do, physically. But she also knows that I'm in charge - whether she likes it or not. When it comes down to it, I and her Daddy tell her how it's going to be, and that's that.
And, when it comes down to it, she does as she's told, every time. In the end, she knows she's got no other choice.
(I also realized how highly exhausted she was after staying up late the night before, thus greatly contributing to her bad attitude.)
So, knowing how well even an upset Sweetie, ultimately, can follow the rules, even when she really, really dislikes them, I set in with my feet grounded and my voice raised.
(Sweetie!) We are going now! You are coming with me! Go tell your friend goodbye, thank Mrs. Friend, and get your shoes on. Now!
And... she did.
Phew.
We said our quick goodbyes (Sweetie even giving her friend's mom a hug of thanks) and we left.
Of course, we didn't talk much on the long trip home. Except for when Sweetie realized about 3 or 4 things she thought she left behind and so we had to go back to get them. "Nope, Mrs. Friend packed it all up for you while you were busy being angry." or "That's okay. I'm seeing Mrs. Friend tomorrow and I'll just have her bring it to me then."
Sweetie started to return to herself as we got closer to home. But, sure enough, as we parked the car and made our way into the house, something else twisted her attitude and she was angry and in tears again. She was sent to her room to rest, as she was clearly exhausted (which Sweetie most certainly denied!).
In the end, we spent most of the rest of the afternoon in separate rooms. But when she was ready, after she lost herself in a Calvin and Hobbes comic book for a couple hours, you guessed it. All was right with the world again. We had a pleasant evening together and she slept well, and long, all night.
Today has been back to our regularly scheduled Sweetie - bright and happy and silly as ever.
All in all, I have to say, I really do love the relationship I have with my daughter. Because she's so confident in herself, because she's so curious and bright and not afraid to try and ask and do. We have a great, open relationship where she can ask me, and Hubby, whatever she wishes. And we do not, usually, blindly demand she follows rules without question. We try to remember to explain our reasoning as much as we can, and she is allowed to question us so that she better understands our rulings.
We three do have a fantastically fun, friendly, adventurous time together. We laugh, play, hang out, explore, learn and love together. But, we are not Sweetie's friends. I am not my daughter's friend. I am her mother. Sweetie doesn't need me to be her friend. No parent should be their child's friend, I feel. They can find those very easily on their own at school and/or church or what have you.
What children need are parents. Someone who will love them unconditionally, who will fight to the death for them, and who will teach them right from wrong. Someone who, like a friend, will get down on the floor and play with their children, and who will listen to their kid's deepest secrets and fears, triumphs and joys - if the kid wants to share, that is.
But someone, in the end, who will tell the child when it's time to go home - and the child knows there's no use fighting back. Mom has spoken.
And I wasn't about to ask my friend to hoist her up and out of their house. No sense turning Sweetie's friend's mom into a bad guy. No, this was Sweetie and my battle to duke out for ourselves.
So. I definitely had a moment or two of "what do I do now?"
She would not come with me. She would not go say goodbye to her friend (who was obliviously still playing in the backyard.) She was in tears. She had made up her mind what was going to happen. I could leave, and she would be staying. In fact, she tried to insist that I told her it was a 2-night sleep over, which I quickly made sure she knew I never said. "Well, you said it was a sleepover - you didn't say how many nights at all!" True, that. But you got one night, little girl, and that's the end of that.
As my friend checked on her kids in the yard, Sweetie and I glared at each other - me trying not to show her my deep-set concern that, yeah, she really could play it so it was darn near impossible for me to get her in the car as I needed. Sweetie's not dumb. She knows what I can and cannot do, physically. But she also knows that I'm in charge - whether she likes it or not. When it comes down to it, I and her Daddy tell her how it's going to be, and that's that.
And, when it comes down to it, she does as she's told, every time. In the end, she knows she's got no other choice.
(I also realized how highly exhausted she was after staying up late the night before, thus greatly contributing to her bad attitude.)
So, knowing how well even an upset Sweetie, ultimately, can follow the rules, even when she really, really dislikes them, I set in with my feet grounded and my voice raised.
(Sweetie!) We are going now! You are coming with me! Go tell your friend goodbye, thank Mrs. Friend, and get your shoes on. Now!
And... she did.
Phew.
We said our quick goodbyes (Sweetie even giving her friend's mom a hug of thanks) and we left.
Of course, we didn't talk much on the long trip home. Except for when Sweetie realized about 3 or 4 things she thought she left behind and so we had to go back to get them. "Nope, Mrs. Friend packed it all up for you while you were busy being angry." or "That's okay. I'm seeing Mrs. Friend tomorrow and I'll just have her bring it to me then."
Sweetie started to return to herself as we got closer to home. But, sure enough, as we parked the car and made our way into the house, something else twisted her attitude and she was angry and in tears again. She was sent to her room to rest, as she was clearly exhausted (which Sweetie most certainly denied!).
In the end, we spent most of the rest of the afternoon in separate rooms. But when she was ready, after she lost herself in a Calvin and Hobbes comic book for a couple hours, you guessed it. All was right with the world again. We had a pleasant evening together and she slept well, and long, all night.
Today has been back to our regularly scheduled Sweetie - bright and happy and silly as ever.
All in all, I have to say, I really do love the relationship I have with my daughter. Because she's so confident in herself, because she's so curious and bright and not afraid to try and ask and do. We have a great, open relationship where she can ask me, and Hubby, whatever she wishes. And we do not, usually, blindly demand she follows rules without question. We try to remember to explain our reasoning as much as we can, and she is allowed to question us so that she better understands our rulings.
We three do have a fantastically fun, friendly, adventurous time together. We laugh, play, hang out, explore, learn and love together. But, we are not Sweetie's friends. I am not my daughter's friend. I am her mother. Sweetie doesn't need me to be her friend. No parent should be their child's friend, I feel. They can find those very easily on their own at school and/or church or what have you.
What children need are parents. Someone who will love them unconditionally, who will fight to the death for them, and who will teach them right from wrong. Someone who, like a friend, will get down on the floor and play with their children, and who will listen to their kid's deepest secrets and fears, triumphs and joys - if the kid wants to share, that is.
But someone, in the end, who will tell the child when it's time to go home - and the child knows there's no use fighting back. Mom has spoken.
Monday, June 11, 2012
SBLMD
Over at my other blog, I often discuss the importance of having, and our happiness with Sweetie's own Lyme literate doctor (LLMD).
Well, I personally wish that I could find a primary care doctor for myself who was spina bifida literate!
Now, as a person, I'm really happy with my current primary care doctor. He's a good guy. But I don't believe he has a terribly extensive grasp on what it means to deal with a patient with spina bifida. Nor do any of his colleagues, I think.
And I don't even go to the doctor terribly often. But when I do, I'd really appreciate it if the medical professional I am dealing with had a better understanding of what I go through, or how I manage my life on a daily basis as a person with spina bifida.
Over the past decade plus I've been:
* sent to the hospital for possible meningitis, when in fact I just had mono.
* told over the phone that there appears to be no reason I need a have a handicapped placard for my car
* had multiple UTI's, usually in groupings (many in a row, then a long clear patch of time, then many in a row, etc....). The nurses and doctors always being extra careful with me about how I will provide a urine sample for them (answer: give me the dang cup and tell me where the bathroom is. No biggie. Geesh!)
Currently I'm in a "frequent UTI" phase. (Sorry if this is TMI about my UTIs). I'm on the same antibiotics I've been prescribed for the same thing within the last few months. It's always worked before. But now? Not so much. I'm not feeling like the infection is being resolved this time.
Hmmm.... You think maybe I may have become resistant to the same antibiotic over and over? That's what I think. I also think a quick call into the doctor to report this, and ask for a switch to a different antibiotic should be all that needs to happen. But, no. It's not that simple. Of course, it can't be that simple. They want me to come into the office again, for an exam. Because the antibiotic they gave me should be able to tackle the bacteria, they say. And it's not. So they need me to come in. Ugh!
I don't know. It just seems to me that a doctor more knowledgeable about spina bifida - and the frequency with which SB patients can and do get UTIs - would be more reasonable about trusting what the SB patient is feeling and agree to just switch the medicine. Simple as that. I swear that's happened for me before in my life. Just give me the right medicine! Really, it's not that far fetched to see how I may now be resistant to this antibiotic I've had over and over again in recent months.
And anyway, I do think, little by little, I am feeling better. Saturday was not good. Sunday, a bit better. Today, better still. And I'm just about half way through my prescribed meds. Maybe it's just taking a bit more time this time around. I don't know.
At any rate... we'll see in the morning how I feel. I really don't want to go in for this exam, nor do I want to rack up my medical bill anymore than it already is (can anyone say Most Awful Insurance Coverage Ever?!) But, on the other hand, it may be good to go in, and get this dealt with appropriately. Ask some questions, get some complaints off my chest. Figure out, in the grander scheme of things, what may be going on.
I'm just saying... it sure would be nice if the doctors I deal with most often had a better, more rounded understanding of the birth defect I live with everyday.
Well, I personally wish that I could find a primary care doctor for myself who was spina bifida literate!
Now, as a person, I'm really happy with my current primary care doctor. He's a good guy. But I don't believe he has a terribly extensive grasp on what it means to deal with a patient with spina bifida. Nor do any of his colleagues, I think.
And I don't even go to the doctor terribly often. But when I do, I'd really appreciate it if the medical professional I am dealing with had a better understanding of what I go through, or how I manage my life on a daily basis as a person with spina bifida.
Over the past decade plus I've been:
* sent to the hospital for possible meningitis, when in fact I just had mono.
* told over the phone that there appears to be no reason I need a have a handicapped placard for my car
* had multiple UTI's, usually in groupings (many in a row, then a long clear patch of time, then many in a row, etc....). The nurses and doctors always being extra careful with me about how I will provide a urine sample for them (answer: give me the dang cup and tell me where the bathroom is. No biggie. Geesh!)
Currently I'm in a "frequent UTI" phase. (Sorry if this is TMI about my UTIs). I'm on the same antibiotics I've been prescribed for the same thing within the last few months. It's always worked before. But now? Not so much. I'm not feeling like the infection is being resolved this time.
Hmmm.... You think maybe I may have become resistant to the same antibiotic over and over? That's what I think. I also think a quick call into the doctor to report this, and ask for a switch to a different antibiotic should be all that needs to happen. But, no. It's not that simple. Of course, it can't be that simple. They want me to come into the office again, for an exam. Because the antibiotic they gave me should be able to tackle the bacteria, they say. And it's not. So they need me to come in. Ugh!
I don't know. It just seems to me that a doctor more knowledgeable about spina bifida - and the frequency with which SB patients can and do get UTIs - would be more reasonable about trusting what the SB patient is feeling and agree to just switch the medicine. Simple as that. I swear that's happened for me before in my life. Just give me the right medicine! Really, it's not that far fetched to see how I may now be resistant to this antibiotic I've had over and over again in recent months.
And anyway, I do think, little by little, I am feeling better. Saturday was not good. Sunday, a bit better. Today, better still. And I'm just about half way through my prescribed meds. Maybe it's just taking a bit more time this time around. I don't know.
At any rate... we'll see in the morning how I feel. I really don't want to go in for this exam, nor do I want to rack up my medical bill anymore than it already is (can anyone say Most Awful Insurance Coverage Ever?!) But, on the other hand, it may be good to go in, and get this dealt with appropriately. Ask some questions, get some complaints off my chest. Figure out, in the grander scheme of things, what may be going on.
I'm just saying... it sure would be nice if the doctors I deal with most often had a better, more rounded understanding of the birth defect I live with everyday.
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