Last weekend we created t-shirts for our upcoming Mudderellaevent next week. Yes, I did arts and crafts. I wanted to order them online, I was convinced this would be “fun”. At least no one was injured. Then came the puff paint. I shuddered. As I was instructed on the power of puff paint the fumes got to us and we wrote: PUFF POWER.
Abby told us the puff would give us what we needed to get through the obstacle course. Which led to the question: if you could have a superpower what would it be? Continue reading →
I just finished reading a book about WW2 (Escape from Davao). A quote from the book resonated in me as it applies to everything: Natural and man-made disasters, the horrors of the news, the treatment of our elderly, 9/11, Ferguson, police being killed, domestic violence, the drug war and (insert horrendous thing here). I honestly think words from 1944 are still true. Until it becomes personal,until we understand that WE must feel we cannot win.
“We’ve got to have the nature of this war drilled into us Day after day before we sense the whole horror of it, the demands of it, the danger if it….This War has not yet become personal with us…But if we hear the truth day by day … We’ll silence the babble, sober the feather-minded and fight like hell” (Palmer Hoyt page 332)
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you…
That tomorrow is the “big” day. Bridget starts kindergarten. I would tell you that I spoke with both her SPED teacher and her kindergarten teacher. Both women are kind, generous with their time and willing to collaborate with me to make Bridget as safe as possible. I’m still scared as hell. I’m also hopeful that my friend, Dana, is right and in 3 months I will be telling you I was worried for no valid reason. Continue reading →
We have all been there. You go to Back to School night and see the PTA table and quickly run past. Do not make eye contact you say to yourself. You don’t have time. You are not one of “them”. Those stay at home moms who cannot just let their kid go to school and be independent. You maybe go to one or two events a year. You may feel guilty enough to pay the $10 membership fee. You want to support the kids so you write the check grateful you got out easy.
A fellow blogger, Jamie, did a recent post entitled “if we were having coffee”, what would she say to the person across the table. I thought it was a great idea, but I don’t drink coffee. Thus the change in title.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you about the hectic weekend we had moving my parents moving from Virginia to our home. That we left at 3am on Friday for Logan airport, flew down and packed up her house. That we left VA at noon on Saturday and everyone in the free world was on Route 95 so it took us until 4am to get home. That it was only possible to do her move because we have a great village of supporters who took care of the girls, the bunnies and the Bailey. How much I appreciate the gift of friendship and families. How glad I am that both our parents will be in close location of their granddaughters and the positive changes happening in their lives.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you how I seem to be on a World War II reading binge. In the past month I have read The Nightingale, Unbroken, The Heart of a Soldier, I Lived a Thousand Years: Growing Up in the Holocaust and am just beginning Escape from Davao. I would ask if you had any recommendations for maybe a lighter read.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you how excited I was to be leaving in a few days to go camping with our friends. Our annual retreat where there is no WI/FI or cell service. The one week a year where we completely unplug from the world. How we were looking forward to floating down the river, campfires and community meals. That I would be using this time to hopefully break the Facebook obsession that is taking too much time away from actually living life.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you how I am currently failing in my running goals but that I hope to get back up to speed and dedication soon.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you how I feel the summer is slipping by faster than I can breathe. That while we have traveled and taken vacations it seems like September is coming faster than expected.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell how nervous I am about all I have taken on recently. That I am worried I am doing too much, yet not enough. I would ask you where you thought I could extradite myself from or how to manage my commitments better.
If we were having a glass of wine I would tell you about how David has been working too much and we recently had a conversation based on the Zac Brown song, Free. How that someday we want that life. The one where it is just him and I in a van traveling the country. How before marriage, “real” jobs and family we would put the tent and dog in the car destination unknown. That we want to get back to that feeling of just being us, no qualifiers. That I miss that connection of my husband and yet am thankful that after all these years we still wake up and want to be there for the other.
If we were having a glass of wine I would ask how your week was and what was new with you.
It finally happened. Bridget was invited over for her first ever official play date. A girl she went to school with last year had moved onto kindergarten without Bridget. Although “A” made new friends in kindergarten she never forgot her first “best friend” Bridget. She invited us to birthday parties and other events.
This would be the first time I would be just dropping off Bridget and going to work. In full disclosure, the mom is a trusted ESP who knows Bridget inside and out. I probably would not have been comfortable otherwise. Nervous, though, when I heard other neighborhood girls might be over to play.
Will they understand Bridget? I wondered. What if her friend is embarrassed or doesn’t want to play with her when her friends arrive? I worried.
For nothing. While I was at work worried that Bridget would not be accepted this happened:
She also played tea party, play dough (a substance banned from my house), painted and played. Bridget spun on the gymnastics bar and tried to do a cartwheel. She had snack and watched Sofia with the girls. She played Legos and colored. Bridget played for hours with children her actual, not developmental, age and older then her. It wasn’t noticed by any of the children that she was different than them.
My heart got three sizes too large as the text updates came in.
To “repay” our friend we had them over for dinner the following night. I watched as “A” interacted with Bridget. How she slowed down for her without realizing or explained how to play with the Barbie. I thought this is how it will be for Bridget. All her hard work, the therapies, the schooling will enable her to forge friendships. The typical peers will accept her for who she is and she will be included in their lives. Not because they have to, because they like Bridget.
Then “A” called Bridget a weirdo.
Here’s the thing though, Bridget was acting silly. “A” wasn’t being mean at all. She was laughing and treating Bridget just like she would any of her other friends. She called her on her silly behavior. When her mom (horrified) went to explain that “weirdo” wasn’t a nice word, “A” replied: it’s my best friend Bridget. I would never hurt her, she was just being silly and we were laughing. I felt bad, honestly. I had overheard the exchange and knew “A” didn’t mean any harm. She was just laughing with her friend. Yet thankful that my friend had overheard as well and used the moment to make sure that harmful words would not used to describe my child.
Sometimes a word is just a word but it serves as a learning moment for a little girl who just repeated a term she used in school.
One word she will now defend her best friend Bridget against.
Remember when we used to count down the last month of school? I swear at one point in my life I looked forward to the end of school more than I did Christmas morning. Except there was no advent calendar filled with chocolate. Summer has taken on a different meaning.
Don’t worry I’m not going to bore you with the hardships of trying to entertain children, find childcare coverage and honest fear of the phrase, “I’m bored”. Continue reading →
The conversation started innocently. I was at a friend’s cookout. A mutual friend and I began conversing about CCD (Catholic education). Bridget is of the age to begin CCD and learn the rites of passage in the faith. There are just a few small problems with that: 1. While she is of “age” she is not of “grade” (most children begin at 1st grade) 2. Learning (enough said) and 3. while most kids do not understand what sin is they do know right from wrong.
Do I wait for Bridget to become “aware” or enter first grade or do I enter her now (at the age she should)? Do I push her through the system because that is what Catholics do, go through the rites or do I say screw it and just let those rites pass her by. Somehow the conversation turned to my unspoken deeper issue with God.
The woman innocently said to me, God only gives special children to special parents. Unknowingly opening a wound I had held in secret. She was trying to be nice, trying to comfort and she (probably) truly believes those words. As a mom living with a special needs child this was my response: Continue reading →
(Un)Diagnosed and still okay 