My girls go to a very academically challenging school. They are really big into tests. My youngest, Hilary, is in her second year at this school. She works so very hard to be successful. She is diligent to study for tests.
Recently Hilary has been complaining that she has a hard time seeing the board at school. Seeing as how everyone else in the family wears glasses, we figured it was about time to get her an eye exam.
The eye doctor was surprised that she was having a hard time seeing the board. He said she could get glasses, but didn't really need them. We went ahead and got them. I was still surprised, though, when she came home complaining that she still was having trouble reading the board.
I took her back to have her eyes re-checked. I took 2 of my daughters on the same day, and they took them to 2 different rooms. Somehow, I didn't end up going in with Hilary. Afterwards, she brought me her new presription for glasses. Apparently, when it was time for her to take the "eye test," she automatically wanted to do well. Her solution was to squint until she could make out the letters. Unfortunately, it did not accurately give a picture of her struggle in seeing the board at school.
Thankfully, the second "eye exam" she did not try so hard to be successful and see perfectly. She admitted her inadquacies in being able to make out what letters she could see. Imagine her amazement when she received her glasses with the new prescription. She could hardly get over how "sharp" things looked. Don't you wish all kids tried so hard on tests and exams???
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
FALL
As I see and hear the sights and sounds of Autumn, I remembered something I wrote a while back. After yesterday's snow and my posting, this will sound contradictory.
I have never been fond of Fall. I supposed it was from growing up in Phoenix where there aren't any seasons. But I don't think so. We have seasons in our lives, and for me change is hard sometimes. I like to be comfortable. I love the warm, carefree summers. I love the new life of Spring. I love wearing turtlenecks and sweaters in the winter snow, but I am not fond of the change that Fall brings.
As I see the leaves turning beautiful, brilliant colors
Everything looks so alive
But what is really happening is
They are dying.
The nights too cold to sustain them.
Shortened days and not enough sunlight
To maintain their green color.
So although beautiful,
Death is at their doorstep.
The bright red, gold, yellow, and orange
Are not symbols of life,
But of change.
Soon they will be nothing
Dry, dead cracklings beneath our feet.
Crushed and gone, totally lifeless.
The time has come to prune, to go deeper
To strenthen the roots to stand strong through the storms of winter.
(Coming from Arizona, this was all so new to me.)
The season of Winter is coming
Summer is over.
Where is the harvest? I must have missed it.
Where is the harvest? I can't see the harvest when I'm not in the fields.
Have I missed the harvest season
With nothing stored up for winter?
Fall is gathering time before EVERYTHING is dead.
I haven't much time left. Fall is upon me, and I didn't even see the signs.
Why plant and water if I won't prune and harvest?
Utter foolishness. And there is no harvest if you did not plant in the spring.
I have never been fond of Fall. I supposed it was from growing up in Phoenix where there aren't any seasons. But I don't think so. We have seasons in our lives, and for me change is hard sometimes. I like to be comfortable. I love the warm, carefree summers. I love the new life of Spring. I love wearing turtlenecks and sweaters in the winter snow, but I am not fond of the change that Fall brings.
As I see the leaves turning beautiful, brilliant colors
Everything looks so alive
But what is really happening is
They are dying.
The nights too cold to sustain them.
Shortened days and not enough sunlight
To maintain their green color.
So although beautiful,
Death is at their doorstep.
The bright red, gold, yellow, and orange
Are not symbols of life,
But of change.
Soon they will be nothing
Dry, dead cracklings beneath our feet.
Crushed and gone, totally lifeless.
The time has come to prune, to go deeper
To strenthen the roots to stand strong through the storms of winter.
(Coming from Arizona, this was all so new to me.)
The season of Winter is coming
Summer is over.
Where is the harvest? I must have missed it.
Where is the harvest? I can't see the harvest when I'm not in the fields.
Have I missed the harvest season
With nothing stored up for winter?
Fall is gathering time before EVERYTHING is dead.
I haven't much time left. Fall is upon me, and I didn't even see the signs.
Why plant and water if I won't prune and harvest?
Utter foolishness. And there is no harvest if you did not plant in the spring.
Monday, October 10, 2005
On Saturday, Michael and I went for an 8 mile bike ride. It was nice, but a little hot on the ride back. It's a good thing we turned back when we did, as it was uphill home and 82 degrees.
This morning we woke up to snow. That is what I love about Colorado. I love change. Variety is the spice of life, right? So Saturday we were enjoying the Indian Summer biking in the beautiful outdoors. The leaves were in an array of golden, red, yellow and other autumn colors.
Today I have a pot of soup on the stove, fresh bread baking in the oven, and the fireplace aflame. Outside the temperature is a brisk 34 degrees, with snow steadily falling. What could be better than this?
This morning we woke up to snow. That is what I love about Colorado. I love change. Variety is the spice of life, right? So Saturday we were enjoying the Indian Summer biking in the beautiful outdoors. The leaves were in an array of golden, red, yellow and other autumn colors.
Today I have a pot of soup on the stove, fresh bread baking in the oven, and the fireplace aflame. Outside the temperature is a brisk 34 degrees, with snow steadily falling. What could be better than this?
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Humbled
I had 2 packages to mail. It was a quarter to 5 and I knew I had better get going. One was to my son at college, the other to my neice who is in the hospital. I wanted these out today. So off I went.
While driving through the neighborhood, I saw a firetruck returning to the station. Shortly afterwards, I noticed flashing lights behind me. Gosh, I better get to the side of the road so this officer can get by me. I quickly pulled over next to the fire station.
Imagine my surprise, as I glanced in my rearview mirror, and saw the officer had pulled up right behind me. Was I getting pulled over??? Oh my goodness! I have been driving for 27+ years and have never gotten a ticket. It's amazing how your mind races in just a few short moments. I have been telling my teenage kids about how I've never gotten a ticket, bragging I suppose. Hmmm...pride goes before a fall. The next thought was, gosh, maybe if I am nice and smile he will be merciful to me. I look in the mirror again, he isn't out of his vehicle yet.
Maybe he just happened to be in a hurry to get to the fire station. Maybe I'm not really being pulled over. How long should I wait before driving off? Oh wait, the door is opening. It's a female officer...I'm sunk! (What kind of attitude is that????)
I pull out my driver's license and unroll my window. The officer asks me if I know why I'm being pulled over. "Uhhh...no, I really don't."
"Well, you didn't make a complete stop at that stop sign back there."
Gosh, how many times have I told my kids how important it is to make complete stops at the stop signs. We have 3 of them in a row to get out of our neighborhood. I don't know how often I see cars blow right through them, hardly slowing down. I am always careful to completely stop.
"I am usually more careful, and honestly, I was in a hurry to get to the post office."
"Can I see your registration?"
I opened the glove box and grabbed the first piece of paper and handed it over.
"This is your proof of insurance, try the other one."
Fumbling again, I pull the other sheet out.
"I'll try to make this quick for you," and she began walking back to her vehicle with my license and registration.
I hang my head in shame as cars are passing. These are my neighbors. How many of them know me and are going to ask me about it later? How embarrassing to be one street away from your home and be facing the humiliation of breaking the law.
The officer hands me my paperwork and her business card. "I'll just give you a warning, but make sure you make a complete stop next time."
I drove away humbled and thankful.
While driving through the neighborhood, I saw a firetruck returning to the station. Shortly afterwards, I noticed flashing lights behind me. Gosh, I better get to the side of the road so this officer can get by me. I quickly pulled over next to the fire station.
Imagine my surprise, as I glanced in my rearview mirror, and saw the officer had pulled up right behind me. Was I getting pulled over??? Oh my goodness! I have been driving for 27+ years and have never gotten a ticket. It's amazing how your mind races in just a few short moments. I have been telling my teenage kids about how I've never gotten a ticket, bragging I suppose. Hmmm...pride goes before a fall. The next thought was, gosh, maybe if I am nice and smile he will be merciful to me. I look in the mirror again, he isn't out of his vehicle yet.
Maybe he just happened to be in a hurry to get to the fire station. Maybe I'm not really being pulled over. How long should I wait before driving off? Oh wait, the door is opening. It's a female officer...I'm sunk! (What kind of attitude is that????)
I pull out my driver's license and unroll my window. The officer asks me if I know why I'm being pulled over. "Uhhh...no, I really don't."
"Well, you didn't make a complete stop at that stop sign back there."
Gosh, how many times have I told my kids how important it is to make complete stops at the stop signs. We have 3 of them in a row to get out of our neighborhood. I don't know how often I see cars blow right through them, hardly slowing down. I am always careful to completely stop.
"I am usually more careful, and honestly, I was in a hurry to get to the post office."
"Can I see your registration?"
I opened the glove box and grabbed the first piece of paper and handed it over.
"This is your proof of insurance, try the other one."
Fumbling again, I pull the other sheet out.
"I'll try to make this quick for you," and she began walking back to her vehicle with my license and registration.
I hang my head in shame as cars are passing. These are my neighbors. How many of them know me and are going to ask me about it later? How embarrassing to be one street away from your home and be facing the humiliation of breaking the law.
The officer hands me my paperwork and her business card. "I'll just give you a warning, but make sure you make a complete stop next time."
I drove away humbled and thankful.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Technology
Isn't technology something to watch? Last night before going to bed, I decided to check my email. I also logged onto AIM to see who was online. (For those who are not sure what aim is-is there anyone who isn't? It stands for AOL instant messenger. It allows you to chat online.) I laughed when I saw my son, who is away at college, his sister, who just moved with my grandson an hour away, and my 18 year old daughter. She was just downstairs, but I couldn't resist IM'ing them to comment that over half our family was online. If truth be told, the youngest 2 siblings would have been online also, but because they have to get up early, they were in bed. Michael, my husband was also online, but for some reason, he doesn't like "talking" via instant message.
I was pretty proud of myself for having 3 chat boxes open at one time, and being able to carry on 3 different conversations. For those that don't know, I do not multi-task well. Then my oldest invited us all to a chatroom where we proceeded to carry on our conversations together.
Wow! It was just like sitting around the dinner table, well, almost. Chatter back and forth, humor bordering on sarcasm, confusion as to what these two are talking about, inquiries as to why everyone new but me (from the younger of the 3), and just back-and-forth bantering. My oldest was sharing pics of Ethan, via her cell phone camera. He had her portable phone tucked in his pants, pretending it was his pocket cell phone. But he didn't have pockets in his pajamas.
I finally told them I really needed to go to bed, expressed how much fun it had been, but how I felt a bit bad that the whole family hadn't been there. El replies that her youngest sister is there, just a silent partner listening. Grrrr....I thought she was in bed. Oh well. I miss having my two oldest living here and the whole family together every night. But, when dinnertime rolls around tomorrow, I only have to call downstairs to 3 cell phones to tell them dinner is ready. Or maybe I will just get online and message them all at once as a means of ringing the dinner bell. The dinner bell...now that brings up an array of memories of times when communication wasn't so high tech. I'll save those for another day.
I was pretty proud of myself for having 3 chat boxes open at one time, and being able to carry on 3 different conversations. For those that don't know, I do not multi-task well. Then my oldest invited us all to a chatroom where we proceeded to carry on our conversations together.
Wow! It was just like sitting around the dinner table, well, almost. Chatter back and forth, humor bordering on sarcasm, confusion as to what these two are talking about, inquiries as to why everyone new but me (from the younger of the 3), and just back-and-forth bantering. My oldest was sharing pics of Ethan, via her cell phone camera. He had her portable phone tucked in his pants, pretending it was his pocket cell phone. But he didn't have pockets in his pajamas.
I finally told them I really needed to go to bed, expressed how much fun it had been, but how I felt a bit bad that the whole family hadn't been there. El replies that her youngest sister is there, just a silent partner listening. Grrrr....I thought she was in bed. Oh well. I miss having my two oldest living here and the whole family together every night. But, when dinnertime rolls around tomorrow, I only have to call downstairs to 3 cell phones to tell them dinner is ready. Or maybe I will just get online and message them all at once as a means of ringing the dinner bell. The dinner bell...now that brings up an array of memories of times when communication wasn't so high tech. I'll save those for another day.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
One of those mornings
Do you ever have one of those mornings where you know right away things aren't going the way you planned? Last night I nearly got in bed before realizing I hadn't laid out the lunches, nor set the coffee maker. Now if I was to get up and the coffee wasn't made, that alone could start the morning off awry. As tired as I was, I was diligent and cut up the brownies and wrapped them individually. I filled baggies with pretzels, made chicken salad, and filled the water bottles and put them in the freezer. Oh, and set the coffee maker. Whew! I was ready for the morning, especially since HH asked me to french braid her hair in the morning.
It was still dark when I walked out to the kitchen this morning. The coffee smelled wonderful, but when I looked, I saw why it was so fragrant. There was coffee everywhere. The pretzels and brownies were floating in brown, speckled liquid. The lunch boxes were soaking in a mocha color. Coffee grounds not only covered the countertop, but were on the stove. Hmmm...in my flurry to get everything together the night before, I must have forgotten to put a filter in the coffee maker. This fancy coffee maker that grinds the coffee fresh each morning, then drips it into the insulated carafe does not like it when you forget the filter. And to let you know, spews coffee and grounds out of every crack and crevice to protest.
It was still dark when I walked out to the kitchen this morning. The coffee smelled wonderful, but when I looked, I saw why it was so fragrant. There was coffee everywhere. The pretzels and brownies were floating in brown, speckled liquid. The lunch boxes were soaking in a mocha color. Coffee grounds not only covered the countertop, but were on the stove. Hmmm...in my flurry to get everything together the night before, I must have forgotten to put a filter in the coffee maker. This fancy coffee maker that grinds the coffee fresh each morning, then drips it into the insulated carafe does not like it when you forget the filter. And to let you know, spews coffee and grounds out of every crack and crevice to protest.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Homecoming
Sb just left for the Homecoming dance. She looked beautiful as always. Here are some pictures:
This is HH, Sb, and El
This is HH, Sb, and El
Thursday, September 15, 2005
UPDATE
Ben's mother phoned tonight. She sounded very stressed and concerned. I think because she does not want her son dating, at least not yet. Sb doesn't see this as a date, and neither do I. Afterall, neither one of them has their drivers license, so his parents will have to drive them.
I think I was able to alleviate some of the mother's stress by telling her Sb only wanted to go as friends. We talked for a bit. She asked if I had other children, had we done this before, etc. She told me she had one other son and he only went to dances his junior and senior year. There was a lot of sighing as we spoke, but by the end I think we both felt better. This will be interesting to meet the parents on Saturday.
I think I was able to alleviate some of the mother's stress by telling her Sb only wanted to go as friends. We talked for a bit. She asked if I had other children, had we done this before, etc. She told me she had one other son and he only went to dances his junior and senior year. There was a lot of sighing as we spoke, but by the end I think we both felt better. This will be interesting to meet the parents on Saturday.
Unchosen
Sb came home from school today with a new twist to the homecoming dance she is going to. Ben told her that when he informed his parents that he had asked her to the dance, they told him they didn't want him going. What? How can they say that after he already HAS asked?
I told her that was ok, that she could go back to her original plan and go with her girlfriends. She said he went ahead and bought her ticket and gave it to her. So what does this mean? Did he feel guilty, so bought her the ticket so she could still go, or is he going behind his parents back and going anyway? Of course Sb didn't have any answers.
Honestly, I felt like he should honor his parents request, and Sb could live with that too. It would not be the end of the world for her. Sigh. That was short-lived enthusiasm.
I told her that was ok, that she could go back to her original plan and go with her girlfriends. She said he went ahead and bought her ticket and gave it to her. So what does this mean? Did he feel guilty, so bought her the ticket so she could still go, or is he going behind his parents back and going anyway? Of course Sb didn't have any answers.
Honestly, I felt like he should honor his parents request, and Sb could live with that too. It would not be the end of the world for her. Sigh. That was short-lived enthusiasm.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Chosen
"Mom, I have a story to tell you." I am used to hearing this phrase from one of my daughters. They have gotten to where they just look for something to happen during their day so they will have a story to tell. Once everyone is sitting at the table, whoever is the lucky one to have had some sort of encounter or story to tell has the attention of every member present. Apparently, they all love being center stage in this house.
All eyes were fixed on the storyteller, while forkfuls of food passed their lips. The tale began. "After stage crew, I was waiting outside for Liz. Ben comes up and starts talking. He tells me he has a question to ask. He then says, 'would you mind going to homecoming with me?' I told him I would." (Okay, not everyone has honed their story-telling skills.)
"Why didn't you tell him you WOULD mind," I joked. "It's a good thing we bought you a dress yesterday," I added.
"So is he good-looking?" Sb's younger sister asks her. That is the all-important litmus test in her mind.
"Well, he's my friend. He's in the play. He's a nerd." Sb says this, all the while with a twinkle in her eye and a slight grin as if she's trying hard not to smile.
"Well if he's a nerd, then he's good-looking, just like me." Everyone laughs. That's such a dad thing. Yeah, he's a good-looking nerd.
Sb had planned to go to homecoming with some girlfriends. She isn't much into boys, although she does notice them once-in-awhile. I thought it would be nice to have a new dress to wear, new shoes too. But I think there is also something about being chosen. Something happens inside when a young man goes out of his way to ask you if you would mind accompanying him to an event. An event that you have a new dress, new shoes, earrings and necklace to match, hair done up nice-something a bit magical about it when you've been chosen too. She's looking forward to the dance, planning everything out,even if it is only a few days away.
All eyes were fixed on the storyteller, while forkfuls of food passed their lips. The tale began. "After stage crew, I was waiting outside for Liz. Ben comes up and starts talking. He tells me he has a question to ask. He then says, 'would you mind going to homecoming with me?' I told him I would." (Okay, not everyone has honed their story-telling skills.)
"Why didn't you tell him you WOULD mind," I joked. "It's a good thing we bought you a dress yesterday," I added.
"So is he good-looking?" Sb's younger sister asks her. That is the all-important litmus test in her mind.
"Well, he's my friend. He's in the play. He's a nerd." Sb says this, all the while with a twinkle in her eye and a slight grin as if she's trying hard not to smile.
"Well if he's a nerd, then he's good-looking, just like me." Everyone laughs. That's such a dad thing. Yeah, he's a good-looking nerd.
Sb had planned to go to homecoming with some girlfriends. She isn't much into boys, although she does notice them once-in-awhile. I thought it would be nice to have a new dress to wear, new shoes too. But I think there is also something about being chosen. Something happens inside when a young man goes out of his way to ask you if you would mind accompanying him to an event. An event that you have a new dress, new shoes, earrings and necklace to match, hair done up nice-something a bit magical about it when you've been chosen too. She's looking forward to the dance, planning everything out,even if it is only a few days away.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Rough Day
After an emotional day yesterday, a friend sent me this story. I felt I needed to post it here. Ethan is our Holland.
Welcome to Holland
Emily Perl Kingsley
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a
disability- to try to help people who have not shared this unique experience
to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...
When you're going to have a baby it's like planning a fabulous vacation
trip--to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful
plans. The Coliseum, Michelangelo's David, the gondolas of Venice. You may
learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack
your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The
stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?!" you say. What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for
Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to
Italy." But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland
and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven't taken you
to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower paced that Italy, less flashy
than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your
breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills,
Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy going to and from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say. "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
The pain of that will never ever, ever go away because the loss of that
dream is a very significant loss.
But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to
Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely
things about Holland.
Welcome to Holland
Emily Perl Kingsley
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a
disability- to try to help people who have not shared this unique experience
to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...
When you're going to have a baby it's like planning a fabulous vacation
trip--to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful
plans. The Coliseum, Michelangelo's David, the gondolas of Venice. You may
learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack
your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The
stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?!" you say. What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for
Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to
Italy." But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland
and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven't taken you
to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower paced that Italy, less flashy
than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your
breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills,
Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy going to and from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say. "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
The pain of that will never ever, ever go away because the loss of that
dream is a very significant loss.
But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to
Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely
things about Holland.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
A Lot of Changes
The beginning of a new school year nearly always throws me in a tizzy. It was especially difficult this year. You would think being a grandma shouldn't have the same affect on you as the little ones start school.
I got my girls started in school. Boy, does getting them to the bus at 6:40a.m. seem early. It will be worse later on, though, when it is still dark. I think I make lunches half-asleep. I wonder what exactly I pack in those lunches???
Thursday through Monday I had Ethan. The first 2 days were extremely difficult, as he had a stiff neck and was not a happy camper. By Saturday, he was back to his old self. Somehow I managed to remember his medicine every morning and every night. I got him to take a nap (and yes, even with gas prices so high, I took him for a little drive to help enhance his ability to fall asleep.) And I got him in bed at nearly the same time every night. By Tuesday morning, I was starting to feel awfully attached to this little boy. But Tuesday, was his first day at "school."
At 3, Ethan started preschool for kids with special needs. He gets 3 hours a day, 4 days a week. We have been pretty excited, as he will have therapists there helping him each day. He can't help but make a lot of progress, right? His first day went great. His teacher said he was much higher functioning than they anticpated. The second day went well also.
But me? Today, I have been a basket case. I started crying for no reason. I was sad that I hadn't been able to be there for his first day. Sad I didn't get to meet his new teacher who will be so much a new part of his life right now. So this afternoon, I called to hear how his third day went. I needed to know things were still going great.
I wish that is what my daughter had been able to tell me. Unfortunately, he was not having a good day. He woke up very unhappy and destructive. She realized she forgot to give him his meds. last night. From there it went from bad to worse. And his teacher said after school, that he did not have a good day. He was pinching some of the other kids.
Hmmm...this is tough, I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it through a year of Ethan being so far away and not being able to do anything about it.
I got my girls started in school. Boy, does getting them to the bus at 6:40a.m. seem early. It will be worse later on, though, when it is still dark. I think I make lunches half-asleep. I wonder what exactly I pack in those lunches???
Thursday through Monday I had Ethan. The first 2 days were extremely difficult, as he had a stiff neck and was not a happy camper. By Saturday, he was back to his old self. Somehow I managed to remember his medicine every morning and every night. I got him to take a nap (and yes, even with gas prices so high, I took him for a little drive to help enhance his ability to fall asleep.) And I got him in bed at nearly the same time every night. By Tuesday morning, I was starting to feel awfully attached to this little boy. But Tuesday, was his first day at "school."
At 3, Ethan started preschool for kids with special needs. He gets 3 hours a day, 4 days a week. We have been pretty excited, as he will have therapists there helping him each day. He can't help but make a lot of progress, right? His first day went great. His teacher said he was much higher functioning than they anticpated. The second day went well also.
But me? Today, I have been a basket case. I started crying for no reason. I was sad that I hadn't been able to be there for his first day. Sad I didn't get to meet his new teacher who will be so much a new part of his life right now. So this afternoon, I called to hear how his third day went. I needed to know things were still going great.
I wish that is what my daughter had been able to tell me. Unfortunately, he was not having a good day. He woke up very unhappy and destructive. She realized she forgot to give him his meds. last night. From there it went from bad to worse. And his teacher said after school, that he did not have a good day. He was pinching some of the other kids.
Hmmm...this is tough, I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it through a year of Ethan being so far away and not being able to do anything about it.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
It's Over
It's over. Summer is officially ended. Tomorrow morning is the first day of a new school year. What is wrong with me? Just typing those words, I can feel the sting of tears in my eyes. I miss my kids already.
It just doesn't seem possible, but I know when the alarm goes off at 5:45a.m. tomorrow morning, it will be all too real. I didn't make a single breakfast all summer long, but tomorrow, I will dutifully make the girls breakfast. I will pack their lunches in lunch boxes (or paper sacks, depending on their temperaments.)
Wait, is it really possible that I only have 2 children still in school? (The college ones don't count.) Only 2 lunches to make? When did this happen?
I have always driven my children to school, but this afternoon there was a discussion about this. My youngest wanted to ride the bus. So HH and Sb got into an argument about me driving or riding the bus. "Why can't one of you ride the bus and one ride with me?" I offered. But for some reason, this wasn't quite good enough. In the end, this suggestion was accepted. So, I will drop HH off at the bus stop at 6:45a.m., the proceed on to her school to drop off SB. Now that I think about it, it does seem a bit funny.
Well, now I must go lay out the fixings for lunch. Chips in a baggie, fruit, veggies or salad in containers in the 'fridge. And what is a lunch without a dessert? I bought each a brand new water bottle and have already half-filled them with water and put them in the freezer. If I get the chicken salad made, I will only have to assemble the sandwiches in the morning and then place everything in the boxes or bags and off they will go. I'm going to miss them.
It just doesn't seem possible, but I know when the alarm goes off at 5:45a.m. tomorrow morning, it will be all too real. I didn't make a single breakfast all summer long, but tomorrow, I will dutifully make the girls breakfast. I will pack their lunches in lunch boxes (or paper sacks, depending on their temperaments.)
Wait, is it really possible that I only have 2 children still in school? (The college ones don't count.) Only 2 lunches to make? When did this happen?
I have always driven my children to school, but this afternoon there was a discussion about this. My youngest wanted to ride the bus. So HH and Sb got into an argument about me driving or riding the bus. "Why can't one of you ride the bus and one ride with me?" I offered. But for some reason, this wasn't quite good enough. In the end, this suggestion was accepted. So, I will drop HH off at the bus stop at 6:45a.m., the proceed on to her school to drop off SB. Now that I think about it, it does seem a bit funny.
Well, now I must go lay out the fixings for lunch. Chips in a baggie, fruit, veggies or salad in containers in the 'fridge. And what is a lunch without a dessert? I bought each a brand new water bottle and have already half-filled them with water and put them in the freezer. If I get the chicken salad made, I will only have to assemble the sandwiches in the morning and then place everything in the boxes or bags and off they will go. I'm going to miss them.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Getting in Shape
I was so excited to finally be able to work out in a real gym. I imagined a new svelte me in cute little work-out clothes looking like a million bucks. Okay, I would have been happy just looking better, feeling better, wearing smaller clothes.
I began this adventure nearly 18 months ago. I can honestly say I do enjoy working out. I have gained muscle. I am more flexible. I am stronger. I feel better. Have I lost any weight? Absolutely not. If anything I have gained. So I go to the gym, work up a sweat, and still have not found that svelte person living inside of me. What gives?
When I started, I knew there was more for me to gain than physical muscle. I asked the Lord to teach me spiritual truths. Honestly, though, I have focused mainly on the physical aspect of it.
So why am I not losing weight after working out so much? If more muscle is being produced and I am expending more energy, I should lose, shouldn't I? I figured there must be something more I need to learn. I knew it was more about a spiritual lesson than a physical. But hey, if I learn it, it should help in the natural realm too. I think I'm ready.
The simple truth is, it is not enough (at least not for me) to just work out. I can't just add strenuous exercise, contrary to the opinion of some, and expect to lose weight. Maybe I'm too old, maybe I'm eating more. (Doubt that.) In any case, it doesn't matter. What matters is I have to change my eating habits. I'm not sure yet, but I believe I can do this one of many ways. (I'll let you know if I'm wrong on this one once I figure it out.) I can cut back on my portion sizes, cut back on carbs, cut fat,cut out desserts...basically, something needs to be carved out of what is now considered my regular dietary intake. The result will be, a thinner me. A fitter me will emerge.
So what is the lesson to be learned? I've been at this Christian walk a long time. When I began this walk 22+ years ago, my life was a mess. I was totally out-of-shape spiritually. As I began to exercise my faith, I began to grow. The more I prayed and spent time with God, the more I wanted to pray. I couldn't get enough time alone with Him. I would read my bible every chance I could. I attended church every time the doors were open and shared my faith with anyone who would listen. Along with spiritual exercise, I found that I carried a lot of extra baggage in my life that needed to be gotten rid of. Little-by-little, the Lord began to reveal things that I needed to eliminate. Sometimes they were annoying habits. Others were old coping skills that I no longer needed if I was really going to depend on God. I remember having a hard time saying no to salespeople. I'd end up buying something I didn't need. Afterwards I'd be very angry at myself. After one particularly frustrating purchase, I finally asked the Lord why I gave in to this temptation so often.
He showed me that my real desire was to feel worthy. If someone spent the time to talk to me, show me a product, make the effort to "sell" me, then I owed it to him to buy. I felt the time of others was more valuable than mine so if they spent their time on me, the least I could do was pay them for it. I know this must sound insane, but I truly had so little self-worth, that is what I believed. And what an amazing God to reveal this and then begin to speak to me about how much He values me. He walked me through the steps of not giving in to pressure by giving me worth. In doing so, I was able to throw off another weight that I was carrying around.
The more weights I threw off, the freer I became. Talk about spiritual fitness! I was doing spiritual sprints, spiritual marathons. You name it, I was more than ready to do the work-outs in order to train for these marathons. I was more than ready to give up excess baggage to run this race faster.
So how does this all fit in now? Sometimes the truth hurts. I needed an honest evalution of my spiritual life. I have found, no matter how long you've been in this Christian walk, there will always be more training needed. There are new areas to exercise our faith. And as much as we've already cut out of our lives or changed, there will always be weights we either haven't seen before or new ones we've picked up along the way or even old ones we've gone back to that need to be discarded. We can never think we've arrived, or that all we need to do is exercise our faith and that is enough.
I have to start changing my eating habits. As I do, I need to be open to other changes in my life that I have neglected to see. Those things the Lord knows are weights even if I think they are benefits. Dessert might be a dainty morsel but bring about extraordinary weight. I have to ask myself is it worth it? It is time to lose, in order to gain.
"Therefore this joy of mine is fulfilled. He must increase, but I must decrease." John 3:30
I began this adventure nearly 18 months ago. I can honestly say I do enjoy working out. I have gained muscle. I am more flexible. I am stronger. I feel better. Have I lost any weight? Absolutely not. If anything I have gained. So I go to the gym, work up a sweat, and still have not found that svelte person living inside of me. What gives?
When I started, I knew there was more for me to gain than physical muscle. I asked the Lord to teach me spiritual truths. Honestly, though, I have focused mainly on the physical aspect of it.
So why am I not losing weight after working out so much? If more muscle is being produced and I am expending more energy, I should lose, shouldn't I? I figured there must be something more I need to learn. I knew it was more about a spiritual lesson than a physical. But hey, if I learn it, it should help in the natural realm too. I think I'm ready.
The simple truth is, it is not enough (at least not for me) to just work out. I can't just add strenuous exercise, contrary to the opinion of some, and expect to lose weight. Maybe I'm too old, maybe I'm eating more. (Doubt that.) In any case, it doesn't matter. What matters is I have to change my eating habits. I'm not sure yet, but I believe I can do this one of many ways. (I'll let you know if I'm wrong on this one once I figure it out.) I can cut back on my portion sizes, cut back on carbs, cut fat,cut out desserts...basically, something needs to be carved out of what is now considered my regular dietary intake. The result will be, a thinner me. A fitter me will emerge.
So what is the lesson to be learned? I've been at this Christian walk a long time. When I began this walk 22+ years ago, my life was a mess. I was totally out-of-shape spiritually. As I began to exercise my faith, I began to grow. The more I prayed and spent time with God, the more I wanted to pray. I couldn't get enough time alone with Him. I would read my bible every chance I could. I attended church every time the doors were open and shared my faith with anyone who would listen. Along with spiritual exercise, I found that I carried a lot of extra baggage in my life that needed to be gotten rid of. Little-by-little, the Lord began to reveal things that I needed to eliminate. Sometimes they were annoying habits. Others were old coping skills that I no longer needed if I was really going to depend on God. I remember having a hard time saying no to salespeople. I'd end up buying something I didn't need. Afterwards I'd be very angry at myself. After one particularly frustrating purchase, I finally asked the Lord why I gave in to this temptation so often.
He showed me that my real desire was to feel worthy. If someone spent the time to talk to me, show me a product, make the effort to "sell" me, then I owed it to him to buy. I felt the time of others was more valuable than mine so if they spent their time on me, the least I could do was pay them for it. I know this must sound insane, but I truly had so little self-worth, that is what I believed. And what an amazing God to reveal this and then begin to speak to me about how much He values me. He walked me through the steps of not giving in to pressure by giving me worth. In doing so, I was able to throw off another weight that I was carrying around.
The more weights I threw off, the freer I became. Talk about spiritual fitness! I was doing spiritual sprints, spiritual marathons. You name it, I was more than ready to do the work-outs in order to train for these marathons. I was more than ready to give up excess baggage to run this race faster.
So how does this all fit in now? Sometimes the truth hurts. I needed an honest evalution of my spiritual life. I have found, no matter how long you've been in this Christian walk, there will always be more training needed. There are new areas to exercise our faith. And as much as we've already cut out of our lives or changed, there will always be weights we either haven't seen before or new ones we've picked up along the way or even old ones we've gone back to that need to be discarded. We can never think we've arrived, or that all we need to do is exercise our faith and that is enough.
I have to start changing my eating habits. As I do, I need to be open to other changes in my life that I have neglected to see. Those things the Lord knows are weights even if I think they are benefits. Dessert might be a dainty morsel but bring about extraordinary weight. I have to ask myself is it worth it? It is time to lose, in order to gain.
"Therefore this joy of mine is fulfilled. He must increase, but I must decrease." John 3:30
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Happy Birthday Ethan
Ethan's great-grandparents came for his 3rd birthday. It was so nice to have them here to celebrate with us. This is their first great-grandchild.
But this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. This wasn't how we planned to celebrate his 3rd birthday.
When my daughter was pregnant, Michael and I told her that on Ethan's 3rd birthday, we would take him to Disneyland. Of course that meant we'd take the whole family. We knew at the time it would be an expensive trip, but this was our first grandbaby. With 5 kids, we'd never been able to be so extravagant. So why not with our grandson? Afterall, we would be taking our 5 kids too and it would be a grand time for all.
We had no way of knowing that just months after Ethan's birth Michael would no longer have a job. But honestly, that wouldn't have stopped this. Michael has always been very good with our finances and provided well, and he would make it happen.
We knew things like finances could be a problem, but we never anticipated Ethan might not be ready for Disneyland. How could we know that? Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that at 3 he would not be speaking any words. I never thought he would have seizures and be on medications. Nor could any of us have known that this sweet, beautiful boy would have the struggles he has.
Just to see his smile, you'd never know anything was wrong. All you'd see is his curly hair, inquisitive blue eyes, and a big grin. But when you spoke to him and he didn't respond, you might begin to wonder. His jerky hand movement as he waved, or his awkward gait might tell you something was not quite right. If you asked him if he wanted to go to Disneyland, he probably wouldn't even look up at you. Ethan is not ready for Disneyland.
Will he be ready next year? Will he be able to say "mama?" Will he understand what a plane ride is? Will his face light up when we tell him he is going to meet Mickey Mouse? We don't know. It's hard to know what next year holds. It's difficult to imagine him talking and laughing while waiting in line for the next ride. It's not easy to dream about what the future holds.
We have learned new things about life from Ethan. And we have learned to celebrate the little things. This wasn't the plan for Ethan's 3rd birthday. But we had a glorious time anyway.
Happy 3rd Birthday Ethan!
But this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. This wasn't how we planned to celebrate his 3rd birthday.
When my daughter was pregnant, Michael and I told her that on Ethan's 3rd birthday, we would take him to Disneyland. Of course that meant we'd take the whole family. We knew at the time it would be an expensive trip, but this was our first grandbaby. With 5 kids, we'd never been able to be so extravagant. So why not with our grandson? Afterall, we would be taking our 5 kids too and it would be a grand time for all.
We had no way of knowing that just months after Ethan's birth Michael would no longer have a job. But honestly, that wouldn't have stopped this. Michael has always been very good with our finances and provided well, and he would make it happen.
We knew things like finances could be a problem, but we never anticipated Ethan might not be ready for Disneyland. How could we know that? Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that at 3 he would not be speaking any words. I never thought he would have seizures and be on medications. Nor could any of us have known that this sweet, beautiful boy would have the struggles he has.
Just to see his smile, you'd never know anything was wrong. All you'd see is his curly hair, inquisitive blue eyes, and a big grin. But when you spoke to him and he didn't respond, you might begin to wonder. His jerky hand movement as he waved, or his awkward gait might tell you something was not quite right. If you asked him if he wanted to go to Disneyland, he probably wouldn't even look up at you. Ethan is not ready for Disneyland.
Will he be ready next year? Will he be able to say "mama?" Will he understand what a plane ride is? Will his face light up when we tell him he is going to meet Mickey Mouse? We don't know. It's hard to know what next year holds. It's difficult to imagine him talking and laughing while waiting in line for the next ride. It's not easy to dream about what the future holds.
We have learned new things about life from Ethan. And we have learned to celebrate the little things. This wasn't the plan for Ethan's 3rd birthday. But we had a glorious time anyway.
Happy 3rd Birthday Ethan!
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Happy Birthday
On July 11th, at 12:30a.m. I called Chris. Afterall, it was his 21st birthday. He answered the phone and I wished him a happy birthday. His response was, "Ma, it isn't my birthday yet." I corrected him that although he may be residing in Arizona he was born in Colorado. Therefore, he truly was 21. He couldn't argue with that logic.
This was his very first birthday away from home. I missed him greatly. I missed baking him his favorite cake. (I even had to ask what his favorite cake was this year. Does that mean I am losing touch with him???)
I asked him what he was going to do to celebrate. He acted as if I must be nuts. I was supposed to know that at the stroke of midnight, or a minute thereafter, anyone who just turned 21 absolutely had to go out to a nightclub somewhere to have his first drink. Of course your college buddies who were already 21 were going with you and would proceed to try to get you to drink as much as possible. And I am supposed to wish him well, have a good time??? I did ask him to be wise and be safe, told him I loved him, and wished him a happy birthday.
When the real morning arrived, I put off calling him. I figured he'd be sleeping in for awhile. I was surprised when he phoned around 10a.m. He regaled me with tales of his first night of being 21. He told me of a couple of shots he was "forced" to drink. The only one I remember was something like FIRE, I think he said Tequila and Tabasco sauce. Who thinks up these things??? Is this really supposed to be fun? But, at the same time, I was thankful that he called me. How many 21 year olds will call their mom and share with them what they really did for their birthday?
Somehow, hearing of his celebration, didn't help me feel better about missing out on his 21st birthday. No balloons, no cake, no covering his door with wrapping paper....sigh. I was told "No 21 year old wants to celebrate his birthday with his family," but I think that person doesn't know my son. Happy Birthday Chris!
This was his very first birthday away from home. I missed him greatly. I missed baking him his favorite cake. (I even had to ask what his favorite cake was this year. Does that mean I am losing touch with him???)
I asked him what he was going to do to celebrate. He acted as if I must be nuts. I was supposed to know that at the stroke of midnight, or a minute thereafter, anyone who just turned 21 absolutely had to go out to a nightclub somewhere to have his first drink. Of course your college buddies who were already 21 were going with you and would proceed to try to get you to drink as much as possible. And I am supposed to wish him well, have a good time??? I did ask him to be wise and be safe, told him I loved him, and wished him a happy birthday.
When the real morning arrived, I put off calling him. I figured he'd be sleeping in for awhile. I was surprised when he phoned around 10a.m. He regaled me with tales of his first night of being 21. He told me of a couple of shots he was "forced" to drink. The only one I remember was something like FIRE, I think he said Tequila and Tabasco sauce. Who thinks up these things??? Is this really supposed to be fun? But, at the same time, I was thankful that he called me. How many 21 year olds will call their mom and share with them what they really did for their birthday?
Somehow, hearing of his celebration, didn't help me feel better about missing out on his 21st birthday. No balloons, no cake, no covering his door with wrapping paper....sigh. I was told "No 21 year old wants to celebrate his birthday with his family," but I think that person doesn't know my son. Happy Birthday Chris!
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Strangers In The Night
Ahhh...quiet has arrived temporarily. I have a moment to compose my thoughts. Alas, my brain seems to have fallen victim to stage fright. Those thoughts that have swirled in my head no longer want to be released from their hidden place to become a piece of cyberland.
Well, guess I will have to resort to the telling of a story that happened recently.
There have been some recent burglaries in our area. The first we heard about it was from an officer knocking on our door at 12:30a.m. Of course the kids and I were still up, but hubby was asleep.) The sheriff officer wanted us to shut our garage door. He told us of the burglaries and said most of the burglaries had occurred at homes where the garage was open. He happened to be driving through the neighborhood, so stopped to tell us. (Hey, maybe I can get hubby to get that garage door opener fixed now!)
The next day a frightening thought came. Just the night before, the girl next door was over. When it was time to go, my daughter Sb walked her home. They were only out the door briefly when they came running back into the house. They thought someone was outside and started to run after them. They were afraid to go back outside. We had written it off that they both were a little afraid of the dark. But now we were wondering, could someone have been out there?
Last week, Chris, my son came home from college for a week. His girlfriend had just returned from a semester abroad. He was sitting on my front porch at 3:30a.m. talking on the phone to her. While sitting there, he noticed a guy walking down the street. The guy starts walking through our yard between our house and the neighbors. So my son yells out, "hey! What are you doing?" The guy takes off running, with Chris running after him. Chris was wearing flip flops, so had a hard time keeping up. The guy cut through a neighbors yard 3 houses down.
Chris called the police and they came out. They talked to him and also to the neighbors whose yard the guy disappeared in. (And can you believe, hubby and I slept through the whole thing? We didn't hear about it until the next day.
So now we aren't sure if it was the burglar scoping out the neighborhood, or if "stalker boy" is back and was headed towards the back of our house where El's bedroom is. (For those who don't know, that is a another story. I'll pull it up some other time when my brain decides to be shy.)
Either way, I am thankful that Chris was sitting outside on his cell phone at 3:30a.m. Next time I start to complain about my kids staying up so late at night, I will think twice. Who knows, maybe there is a real good reason they are up.
Well, guess I will have to resort to the telling of a story that happened recently.
There have been some recent burglaries in our area. The first we heard about it was from an officer knocking on our door at 12:30a.m. Of course the kids and I were still up, but hubby was asleep.) The sheriff officer wanted us to shut our garage door. He told us of the burglaries and said most of the burglaries had occurred at homes where the garage was open. He happened to be driving through the neighborhood, so stopped to tell us. (Hey, maybe I can get hubby to get that garage door opener fixed now!)
The next day a frightening thought came. Just the night before, the girl next door was over. When it was time to go, my daughter Sb walked her home. They were only out the door briefly when they came running back into the house. They thought someone was outside and started to run after them. They were afraid to go back outside. We had written it off that they both were a little afraid of the dark. But now we were wondering, could someone have been out there?
Last week, Chris, my son came home from college for a week. His girlfriend had just returned from a semester abroad. He was sitting on my front porch at 3:30a.m. talking on the phone to her. While sitting there, he noticed a guy walking down the street. The guy starts walking through our yard between our house and the neighbors. So my son yells out, "hey! What are you doing?" The guy takes off running, with Chris running after him. Chris was wearing flip flops, so had a hard time keeping up. The guy cut through a neighbors yard 3 houses down.
Chris called the police and they came out. They talked to him and also to the neighbors whose yard the guy disappeared in. (And can you believe, hubby and I slept through the whole thing? We didn't hear about it until the next day.
So now we aren't sure if it was the burglar scoping out the neighborhood, or if "stalker boy" is back and was headed towards the back of our house where El's bedroom is. (For those who don't know, that is a another story. I'll pull it up some other time when my brain decides to be shy.)
Either way, I am thankful that Chris was sitting outside on his cell phone at 3:30a.m. Next time I start to complain about my kids staying up so late at night, I will think twice. Who knows, maybe there is a real good reason they are up.
Need Help
This morning after church I walked into the women's restroom. In front of me, a gentleman was pushing his wife's wheelchair into the restroom. I wondered to myself if he was going to go all the way in with her. But he stopped just inside the door.
I could tell she was struggling to move the chair herself, so I asked if she needed any assistance. She gladly accepted my offer. I pushed the chair to the back of a long line of waiting ladies. It was then that I began to question proper etiquette. Normally, when one stands in this line you wait for a stall door to open. Once open, you take your turn in whatever stall opens up. But wait, when this lady gets to the front of the line, it won't matter which stall door opens, she will only be able to use one. Does this restroom even have a wheelchair accessible stall? I felt so terribly inept at helping this lady. I mumbled something about where the stall was and peaked around the corner to see if there was one and if it was available. Yes, the first stall was wheelchair accessible, but it was already occupied by someone in a wheelchair. In a moment, we were in the front of the line. As stall doors began to open, I spoke to those waiting behind us to go ahead. And we waited. Were we blocking access to people leaving by where we were parked? Should I stand in front so we could carry on a conversation? Was she going to need help once inside the stall? I hated the panicked feeling of not having a better understanding of how to help someone in a wheel chair.
The stall door swung open and two ladies came out; one pushing the other in a wheelchair. She must have needed help once in there. They manuevered around us, or at least tried to. At one point the other pusher told me I needed to go ahead and push the chair forward so they could get around us. I opened the stall door and tried to push the chair forward, but the door did not want to stay open. I nearly caught her foot on the door. How do you do this? I couldn't reach the door to hold it while I pushed, should I try to back in? But if I back in, I will be trapped in the corner by the chair, then what? I did the best I could, fumbling about and go her beside the commode. I asked her where the easiest place to be was, and she said facing the other direction.
Thankfully, the stall was just big enough for me to turn her around so she was more beside the commode, then I squeezed myself past her and asked if she needed further assistance. She said she just needed to put the locks on the chair so it wouldn't move while she was getting in and out. I told her I would use the restroom myself and come back to help her. As I am closing the stall door, I wondered if I could latch it from the outside. No such luck. So I closed it the best I could. While in another stall, I hear someone open her door, apologies and such and I sat there feeling so terribly inadequate to help. Should I have locked the wheels for her or would it have just taken longer since I had no clue how to do it? She looked so frail, how was she going to manage all in there?
As I was washing my hands, I looked around for a lower sink that she would be able to reach from her chair. There wasn't one. Would she be able to reach the sink? I searched in my person and found I had a small bottle of waterless hand sanitizer. Good! I could always offer her that if she couldn't reach the sink. When I was finished I walked to the door of her stall. I told her I was there if she needed anything.
While I was waiting, a friend that I hadn't seen in awhile came in. We exchanged greetings and into a stall she went. I was hoping that this lady finished soon, as I was afraid it would be awkward if my friend came out and began chatting to me. What if I didn't hear the lady say she was finished and needed help? This friend tends to be long-winded and normally it would not be a big deal, but all of the sudden it was. As much as I didn't mind catching up on things, at the moment I didn't care. My friend did come out and began chatting. I thought I heard the soft voice of the lady in the stall but wasn't sure, and my friend kept talking. I glanced over at the stall twice to see if I could make out if she was moving about. I did hear her. I interrupted my friend and turned to the stall door. Yes, she answered, she could use some help. She was having a hard time getting back into the chair. It seemed like the brake was not on all the way and she could not slide back into it.
Once again, I painfully fumbled about trying to assist her back into her chair. Should I hold the chair steady, should I help her hold her weight with one arm, both? Somehow, without much help from me, she did manage to get back into her chair. She could not get the foot pegs in place and there just wasn't much room in the stall, so I told her I'd get her out and we'd manage it once outside the stall. Once again, I pushed her through the door fee first, instead of backing up. I pushed the door open and tried to get her through it before it closed on her. Ugh! This was awful. The door nearly hit her as I pushed it out of the way again. We got around the corner and I pushed her to one side of the room. Then I attempted to lock her foot pegs back in place. I got one, then lifted her foot and put it in what I thought was the right place. I swung the other one forward until I heard a click, then lifted that leg and placed her foot on the platform. I then pushed her chair out the door to where her husband was patiently waiting. He thanked me for helping and took over pushing her chair. Then I realized I didn't even let her wash her hands or even offer the hand cleaner.
The whole experience haunted me during the drive home. I didn't even ask her name. I didn't greet her, ask how she was doing. Nothing. Why didn't I at least engage her in a conversation? When I felt so inadequate, why didn't I tell her I wasn't sure how to do this, could she direct me to what would work best.
Tonight the whole scenario is still with me. I want to be able to help, but I am going to have to get a whole lot more comfortable. Just like when I was in the Dermatologist's office last week. A woman came in who was deaf. She did have someone there to interpret, but I still wanted to be of some assistance. I have been learning sign language with my 2 year old grandson. Somehow asking her if she wanted juice, milk, cracker, cookie, etc. did not seem adequate. Did I know how to say hello, my name is...and ask her how she was. Well, yes, but I have not had a lot of practice with reading sign language. What if she signed something back that I didn't understand and then I did not have a way to communicate that I didn't understand.
The Lord is teaching me much and this is just the beginning I'm sure. I have much to ponder, but in some way, can't help but think this incident will help with my grandson. As he gets older, others may be uncomfortable with him. There is already awkward silence when sometime tried to engage him in a conversation. I don't feel the need to go into an explanation of why he doesn't talk or why he seems different, but I usually try to offer, "he doesn't talk." But that is probably not sufficient, as it might leave others with the impression that he also doesn't understand. But truthfully, does he understand? We don't have the answers either, so the Lord will have to keep training me. I'm sure I will have many more experiences to learn from, no matter how humbling they may be.
I could tell she was struggling to move the chair herself, so I asked if she needed any assistance. She gladly accepted my offer. I pushed the chair to the back of a long line of waiting ladies. It was then that I began to question proper etiquette. Normally, when one stands in this line you wait for a stall door to open. Once open, you take your turn in whatever stall opens up. But wait, when this lady gets to the front of the line, it won't matter which stall door opens, she will only be able to use one. Does this restroom even have a wheelchair accessible stall? I felt so terribly inept at helping this lady. I mumbled something about where the stall was and peaked around the corner to see if there was one and if it was available. Yes, the first stall was wheelchair accessible, but it was already occupied by someone in a wheelchair. In a moment, we were in the front of the line. As stall doors began to open, I spoke to those waiting behind us to go ahead. And we waited. Were we blocking access to people leaving by where we were parked? Should I stand in front so we could carry on a conversation? Was she going to need help once inside the stall? I hated the panicked feeling of not having a better understanding of how to help someone in a wheel chair.
The stall door swung open and two ladies came out; one pushing the other in a wheelchair. She must have needed help once in there. They manuevered around us, or at least tried to. At one point the other pusher told me I needed to go ahead and push the chair forward so they could get around us. I opened the stall door and tried to push the chair forward, but the door did not want to stay open. I nearly caught her foot on the door. How do you do this? I couldn't reach the door to hold it while I pushed, should I try to back in? But if I back in, I will be trapped in the corner by the chair, then what? I did the best I could, fumbling about and go her beside the commode. I asked her where the easiest place to be was, and she said facing the other direction.
Thankfully, the stall was just big enough for me to turn her around so she was more beside the commode, then I squeezed myself past her and asked if she needed further assistance. She said she just needed to put the locks on the chair so it wouldn't move while she was getting in and out. I told her I would use the restroom myself and come back to help her. As I am closing the stall door, I wondered if I could latch it from the outside. No such luck. So I closed it the best I could. While in another stall, I hear someone open her door, apologies and such and I sat there feeling so terribly inadequate to help. Should I have locked the wheels for her or would it have just taken longer since I had no clue how to do it? She looked so frail, how was she going to manage all in there?
As I was washing my hands, I looked around for a lower sink that she would be able to reach from her chair. There wasn't one. Would she be able to reach the sink? I searched in my person and found I had a small bottle of waterless hand sanitizer. Good! I could always offer her that if she couldn't reach the sink. When I was finished I walked to the door of her stall. I told her I was there if she needed anything.
While I was waiting, a friend that I hadn't seen in awhile came in. We exchanged greetings and into a stall she went. I was hoping that this lady finished soon, as I was afraid it would be awkward if my friend came out and began chatting to me. What if I didn't hear the lady say she was finished and needed help? This friend tends to be long-winded and normally it would not be a big deal, but all of the sudden it was. As much as I didn't mind catching up on things, at the moment I didn't care. My friend did come out and began chatting. I thought I heard the soft voice of the lady in the stall but wasn't sure, and my friend kept talking. I glanced over at the stall twice to see if I could make out if she was moving about. I did hear her. I interrupted my friend and turned to the stall door. Yes, she answered, she could use some help. She was having a hard time getting back into the chair. It seemed like the brake was not on all the way and she could not slide back into it.
Once again, I painfully fumbled about trying to assist her back into her chair. Should I hold the chair steady, should I help her hold her weight with one arm, both? Somehow, without much help from me, she did manage to get back into her chair. She could not get the foot pegs in place and there just wasn't much room in the stall, so I told her I'd get her out and we'd manage it once outside the stall. Once again, I pushed her through the door fee first, instead of backing up. I pushed the door open and tried to get her through it before it closed on her. Ugh! This was awful. The door nearly hit her as I pushed it out of the way again. We got around the corner and I pushed her to one side of the room. Then I attempted to lock her foot pegs back in place. I got one, then lifted her foot and put it in what I thought was the right place. I swung the other one forward until I heard a click, then lifted that leg and placed her foot on the platform. I then pushed her chair out the door to where her husband was patiently waiting. He thanked me for helping and took over pushing her chair. Then I realized I didn't even let her wash her hands or even offer the hand cleaner.
The whole experience haunted me during the drive home. I didn't even ask her name. I didn't greet her, ask how she was doing. Nothing. Why didn't I at least engage her in a conversation? When I felt so inadequate, why didn't I tell her I wasn't sure how to do this, could she direct me to what would work best.
Tonight the whole scenario is still with me. I want to be able to help, but I am going to have to get a whole lot more comfortable. Just like when I was in the Dermatologist's office last week. A woman came in who was deaf. She did have someone there to interpret, but I still wanted to be of some assistance. I have been learning sign language with my 2 year old grandson. Somehow asking her if she wanted juice, milk, cracker, cookie, etc. did not seem adequate. Did I know how to say hello, my name is...and ask her how she was. Well, yes, but I have not had a lot of practice with reading sign language. What if she signed something back that I didn't understand and then I did not have a way to communicate that I didn't understand.
The Lord is teaching me much and this is just the beginning I'm sure. I have much to ponder, but in some way, can't help but think this incident will help with my grandson. As he gets older, others may be uncomfortable with him. There is already awkward silence when sometime tried to engage him in a conversation. I don't feel the need to go into an explanation of why he doesn't talk or why he seems different, but I usually try to offer, "he doesn't talk." But that is probably not sufficient, as it might leave others with the impression that he also doesn't understand. But truthfully, does he understand? We don't have the answers either, so the Lord will have to keep training me. I'm sure I will have many more experiences to learn from, no matter how humbling they may be.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Death
When the shadow of death
creeps in unnanounced
w/nary a whisper or hint
It shatters and breaks
the lives that are left
trying to stand, but just barely
If we'd only known
what lay ahead
we could have done things different
But could we really?
would the outcome change?
Or still hanging, stripped to the core?
Death shouldn't be allowed
to take the innocence
nor have a child of any age
Death should be reserved
for the old and aged
ones who've lived a rich full life
What is today
what is tomorrow
in this game that we call life?
Nobody knows
what the next day holds
or for that matter this very day
We can only count
for the moment we hold
and spend it on something worthwhile
The moment for now
is spent on grief
for a life has been lost to death
A very precious life
should be here still
But with it have gone our hearts
Where my heart was
now is emptiness
nothing can fill that space inside
creeps in unnanounced
w/nary a whisper or hint
It shatters and breaks
the lives that are left
trying to stand, but just barely
If we'd only known
what lay ahead
we could have done things different
But could we really?
would the outcome change?
Or still hanging, stripped to the core?
Death shouldn't be allowed
to take the innocence
nor have a child of any age
Death should be reserved
for the old and aged
ones who've lived a rich full life
What is today
what is tomorrow
in this game that we call life?
Nobody knows
what the next day holds
or for that matter this very day
We can only count
for the moment we hold
and spend it on something worthwhile
The moment for now
is spent on grief
for a life has been lost to death
A very precious life
should be here still
But with it have gone our hearts
Where my heart was
now is emptiness
nothing can fill that space inside
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Diets
So, my cardiologist wants me to "do the Zone Diet." According to him, it is a good, heart healthy diet and my whole family can benefit. I won't have to eat differently or prepare separate meals for myself. Sounds too good to be true. But I was willing to give it a try. If I am not successful, he wants me on meds. I haven't told him yet, that I won't take them even if this diet doesn't accomplish what he wants it to.
I went to Barnes and Noble to purchase two books he recommended. It sounded like it was a workable. We could live a normal life on it. Well, the first week life was too stressful to try it; A high school graduation, graduation party the next day...so the diet would have to wait a week.
Anyway, you don't want to hear about my procrastinations to start this new, incredible diet. So last night I began cooking one of these wonderful all-in-one dish meals. Sounded way too easy.
I am used to cooking for at least 7 people every night. Everyone living in this household is a teen, young adult, or full-fledged adult with the exception of one almost 3 year old. With teens and young adults come spontaneous invitations to dinner. So we often have extras, which translates into 7 to 10 people. I've learned to stretch meals by adding fresh fruit, bread, etc.
This is the meal I decided to create: Chicken Zucchini Italiano
Mmmmm...fresh basil, onions, chicken, mozzarella cheese, mushrooms, garlic...sounded delicious! It quickly became quite a chore, though. I did not have a pan big enough to cook all of the ingredients...I don't think my stove is big enough, and I did not have a serving dish big enough.
I cut up the chicken just fine. Then came the mushrooms, zucchini and onions. The orginal recipe called for:
4 cups zucchini
3/4 cup onion
2 cups mushrooms
2 tsp garlic
That is for 1 serving. So am I supposed to mulitiply that times 7??????? For those like me who don't like math, that means:
28 cups of zucchini
5 1/4 cups of onion
14 cups of mushrooms
1/3 cup garlic
You've got to be kidding! I figured I'd make less...but then was it ok to serve bread as a filler if that wasn't enough??? Of course there were other ingredients too. By the time I finished chopping and dicing and preparing small batches at a time, I was in tears.
The good news is, everyone pretty much liked it. The bad news is it was a lot to clean up, I didn't have the patience to prepare that much, and I was overwhelmed at the sheer volume of veggies. I don't have that much room in my 'fridge to store this much for daily consumption. I would have to shop every other day to cook like this.
So, do I call my cardiologist and tell him I can't follow the diet because it is too much work? Or tell him that I don't care if my family eats "non nourishing food" and gourges on bread and the likes and I will just prepare separate meals for myself?
For tonight's dinner? The doorbell just rang. It's pizza.
I went to Barnes and Noble to purchase two books he recommended. It sounded like it was a workable. We could live a normal life on it. Well, the first week life was too stressful to try it; A high school graduation, graduation party the next day...so the diet would have to wait a week.
Anyway, you don't want to hear about my procrastinations to start this new, incredible diet. So last night I began cooking one of these wonderful all-in-one dish meals. Sounded way too easy.
I am used to cooking for at least 7 people every night. Everyone living in this household is a teen, young adult, or full-fledged adult with the exception of one almost 3 year old. With teens and young adults come spontaneous invitations to dinner. So we often have extras, which translates into 7 to 10 people. I've learned to stretch meals by adding fresh fruit, bread, etc.
This is the meal I decided to create: Chicken Zucchini Italiano
Mmmmm...fresh basil, onions, chicken, mozzarella cheese, mushrooms, garlic...sounded delicious! It quickly became quite a chore, though. I did not have a pan big enough to cook all of the ingredients...I don't think my stove is big enough, and I did not have a serving dish big enough.
I cut up the chicken just fine. Then came the mushrooms, zucchini and onions. The orginal recipe called for:
4 cups zucchini
3/4 cup onion
2 cups mushrooms
2 tsp garlic
That is for 1 serving. So am I supposed to mulitiply that times 7??????? For those like me who don't like math, that means:
28 cups of zucchini
5 1/4 cups of onion
14 cups of mushrooms
1/3 cup garlic
You've got to be kidding! I figured I'd make less...but then was it ok to serve bread as a filler if that wasn't enough??? Of course there were other ingredients too. By the time I finished chopping and dicing and preparing small batches at a time, I was in tears.
The good news is, everyone pretty much liked it. The bad news is it was a lot to clean up, I didn't have the patience to prepare that much, and I was overwhelmed at the sheer volume of veggies. I don't have that much room in my 'fridge to store this much for daily consumption. I would have to shop every other day to cook like this.
So, do I call my cardiologist and tell him I can't follow the diet because it is too much work? Or tell him that I don't care if my family eats "non nourishing food" and gourges on bread and the likes and I will just prepare separate meals for myself?
For tonight's dinner? The doorbell just rang. It's pizza.
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