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It’s almost cliche these days to say it, but we live in an On Demand world. My daughters haven’t experienced much waiting-for-things in their short lives.
It all started with breastfeeding. I breastfed on-demand the whole first year of each of their lives, imposing no limits until after they reached their first birthday. An even then, it was a slow change.
It didn’t end with breastfeeding. This on-demand mentality has pervaded much of our lives. My girls are pretty good at self-regulating their food intake, so when they ask for a snack, they get one. We snack on demand.
We have a DVR and a Kids Preschool On Demand channel. Caillou, Super Why! and Little Einsteins – all readily available whenever.
There’s also an Exercise on Demand channel (loving that!), Movies on Demand and, of course, the DVR. Thanks to that nifty little box, I watch LESS TV than I used to. Far less. Less commercials, too, which means I never know what movies are coming out, but that’s okay because there’s a Movie Previews On Demand channel to take care of me.
Communication is on-demand as well because of cell phones and the Internet. When is the last time I ever waited to talk to someone? If I’m out or they’re out, it no longer matters. We all have cell phones. Need info about a new restaurant, a movie review, how to make anything? Click click click – there it is.
Motherhood, I need not say it, is an On Demand job. All the time.
I admit that I struggle with this. I need downtime. I need me-time. I neeeeeed to be able to disengage for a bit.
And not just once a week or once a month. I need it every day. Not a lot. Ten minutes here, 15 minutes there. A couple of times a day. Longer when my husband gets home.
He calls it checking out.
And that’s just what it is. I check out. I sit behind my laptop and click on my Reader to read a few blogs, or I browse headlines (though usually that’s just too depressing), check email or Facebook. Whatever. Just a few minutes to escape being on demand. (Technically, I’m still subject to demands, the kids don’t actually leave me alone.)
Sometimes, when my husband is home, I will check out for longer. Sometimes, he gets irritated. But we’re arriving at a good place where he’ll just say he’s feeling annoyed and could I please check back in. And I will. There’s no resentment on either part. We’ve had lengthy conversations about my need for social interaction and the isolation of being a stay-at-home mom (I’m not kidding when I wonder aloud how I would ever cope without the Internet).
We’ve also had conversations about how I need to close the laptop, or the newspaper, or my book and fully engage with the family. Which I do. Often. Mostly, in fact. We spend a good deal of time hanging out every night, the four of us, after dinner. I often save the dinner dishes till the next morning even.
I will admit to feeling some guilt about my need to check out. I sit back and imagine every other parent living present in the moment with their kids Every Single Minute of the day. I conclude other parents are probably just more selfless than I am.
Maybe. Or, maybe they are checking out but just don’t talk about it.
I know that if I didn’t disengage just a little bit every day (and not just at night after they’re in bed), I’d be very depressed. Isn’t that why employers give their employees two 15-minute breaks a day?
As with every other aspect of my life, it’s all about balance. I could easily spend hours a day absorbed in a book, a hobby, writing. Not a good idea. I could also give up all of that and put everyone else’s needs entirely first. Also not a good idea.
I don’t have an enlightening conclusion to this. Just that once again I remind myself that I am a work-in-progress mother, who has found a way to make something work. For now.
A few months ago, an online friend of mine enrolled her daughter in a preschool that mixes typical children with special needs children in the classroom. She shared that knowing about Chee and her special needs/typical preschool experience made her desire that same kind of class for her daughter Lane, even though Lane doesn’t require any special services. I was really glad to hear that our experience had influenced Lisa in such a positive way.
Prior to having a child with developmental delays (aka Special Needs), I was entirely unfamiliar with the subject. I didn’t know anyone with a child receiving special education. Certainly I never expected my own child would be one. About 3 months before I contacted our school district about their preschool program, someone mentioned to me the idea of the public, special needs preschool, and I remember saying, Oh, she doesn’t need that. She’s not disabled.
I really believed that.
I thought special education was for the disabled – which to me meant physically and/or mentally handicapped. Not for a kid who had a language delay or speech delay. It never occurred to me that her significant delay in fine motor skills alone (-2.67 standard deviations from the norm) would qualify my daughter for special education. It wasn’t a matter of denial as much it was a matter of ignorance.
Prior to my own child’s experience with an IEP, I only knew one person who had a child with an IEP. I’ll be honest and admit that I assumed she had one because she needed help due to not being very intelligent. That’s what I thought IEP meant - not very smart, needs extra help. Again, a matter of ignorance. And stupid assumptions.
Obviously, I am ignorant no more.
I’m very open about Chee’s disability. This was not always the case.
I abhor pity. It’s why I initially kept quiet about Chee’s early speech therapy to friends. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone feeling sorry for me. It’s why, at the time, I didn’t share my struggles with infertility either. After the fact, no problem; but during, no. I didn’t want anyone thinking, Poor dear, she can’t get pregnant.
I no longer hide from any of my friends or acquaintances that she has Sensory Processing Disorder, and a Language Delay, and that she’s behind in her Fine Motor skills. I openly share that she is in Special Needs Preschool with an IEP. Part of my reasoning is that I assume most people are ignorant about disabilities unless closely connected to someone with one. And I assume that those that are ignorant, like I was, probably make false assumptions, like I did.
When I think about my own earlier assumptions about IEPs, I cringe.
What if people think of my daughter as less capable, less intelligent? I know better now, and I’m burdened to enlighten others.
Chee’s potential for development is huge, she has already progressed tremendously, and will continue to. Yet, she might still need an IEP in Kindergarten in two years. Maybe First Grade. Maybe beyond. We don’t know.
The Mama Bear in me would like to prevent as many false assumptions about my girl as I can. I know, it’s not possible to enlighten everyone. No matter how open I am, there are still individuals who will think that she is slow or not very intelligent simply because she is in special needs preschool. Because she has an IEP.
There are probably friends, acquaintances, distant relatives in my life right now who do not know Chee, who maybe have only read about her, or met her a few times, who think of her as that way. Whatever that way is. Perhaps they feel sorry for me because of what I “have to deal with” (there’s a line I’ve heard too many times – “I could never do what you do.”).
Chee’s disability is not about me though. If friends or acquaintances wish to pity me because of Chee’s challenges, so be it.
If being open about her challenges, about her IEP, creates greater understanding, and more empathy, than it’s worth it. It’s worth it when a friend says, Because of you, because of Chee, I’m sending my daughter to a blended preschool, something I wouldn’t have considered before.
It’s worth it to me for the people around us to recognize that disabled doesn’t have to mean less intelligent, it doesn’t always mean uses a wheelchair. IEPs aren’t for kids who are slow.
In the not too distant past, my goal was to get Chee caught up and more like her peers. And in some ways that is still true. I want her social skills to develop and her language skills to catch up. But not so that labels can be removed or avoided as was my earlier reasoning.
No, now it’s for her. Life is better with friends with whom you can share your feelings.
Relationships are the stuff of life after all.
So I will continue to be open about Chee. By changing my attitude about sharing her disability, we have the opportunity to change others. To impact our small corner of the world.
I’ve always been inspired by Ghandi, who said that we must become the change we want to see in the world. I’m no Ghandi, but I think this is what he meant. Just a little bit maybe. Either way, it feels right.
Wow. It was quite interesting to learn, via comments on yesterday’s post, a couple of emails, and conversations with another parent at OT yesterday, that Circle Time is difficult for many kids. Sensory stuff and Circles are not a good combination apparently. I’m sorry that our kids struggle with it, but I am comforted knowing that we are not alone in this.
I shared the church experience with Chee’s OT yesterday and she was nonplussed. She felt it was more a reaction triggered by not liking Circle Time at preschool this past year, and not so much church-specific. Our plan is for her to collaborate with the School OT and see if we can find something to make it easier for Chee. I will share the suggestions that were given to me in the comments as starters. And to a certain degree I think she will outgrow it.
In other news…
Chee has resumed using big toilets. I think we’re over the not-using-public-restrooms debacle (’scuse me while I go knock on some wood).
While there is still some fear about our garage at the house, Chee has shown little problem with going in other garages. We’ve hit a few random garage sales over the summer with success, so last week we hit about 10 in one day at a neighborhood garage sale. She’s still hesitant when walking in, and I noticed that she’d duck and look up while crossing the threshold into the garage. That has led me to suspect that it may be a fear of the garage door itself. There’s that, and then the fact that last week as she was running as fast as she could to the van from the front door, she was saying, I. do. not. like. it. when. the. garage. door. is. open. That gives me something new to work with when garage therapy resumes again.
Lastly, in the spirit of Kids Say the Weirdest Darndest Things, Chee was snuggling with her Daddy the other day, laying back in his arms like a wee baby. She looked up at him and said, Daddy, you can’t nurse me. We all laughed. And almost cried.
There is something almost indescribable about hearing your language disordered (delayed?) kid finally start using her OWN words. But many of you already know that.
Church was interesting yesterday and the conversation that followed with Chee was equally interesting, if not leaving me just a wee bit perplexed.
Recall, this was the first time I have taken Chee to church over three years.
The short version is that Chee was fine in the class (Daddy stayed with her, Mommy and Ess eventually joined when Ess realized they were in there and was not to be consoled unless she went in too) until it was time for Circle Time, which was a song and a story. Prior to Circle Time, the teacher (who, as luck would have it, happened to be a preschool special ed teacher) walked around telling the kids they had 5 minutes till Clean Up, Circle Time and Snack. I had told her of Chee’s Hyperlexia, so she wrote the same information on a piece of paper and reviewed it with her.
Circle Time is when things fell apart. Chee sat in her Daddy’s lap, crying and crying, saying, “I don’t want to, I don’t want to,” and asking for the Snack. I have a hunch that it wasn’t about having a Snack, but more because Snack Time would mean Circle Time is over.
Once Circle Time was done, she was pretty much fine. Not pretty much fine, she was totally fine.
Fast forward to the evening and my husband and I are trying to get her tell us what she didn’t like about church. He asked her if it was too loud and too many kids and she affirmed that. But she also affirmed other things that weren’t true. What a challenge it can be to get good answers from echolalic kids!!
Finally we got out the magical pen and paper. I wrote out some fill in the blank statements.
I did not like church because _____________
She read the statement and then said, Mommy, can you write in the words, “I cried.” And then she read the statement out loud again.
For each statement, she did the same thing. She’d read it and then ask me to write down her words. The underlined parts are her words.
I cried because I did not like storytime.
I do not like storytime because I do not like to be quiet.
I do not like to be quiet because I do not like to go to church.
When I have to be quiet, I am going to be upset.
Then she asked me, Mommy, write down these words.
I want to go home.
She read the whole page out loud again, followed it up with a The End and closed the notebook.
On the whole, I’m very happy with the communication between us that transpired. I do believe that she was sharing her true thoughts and feelings about her church experience. However, I don’t think the real reason that she doesn’t like Circle Time is because she has to be quiet.
Yet, I don’t know what it is. And I don’t know how to help her tell me what the real reason is.
Whether or not this was a significant issue in her preschool class, I’m not sure. She has been known to cry for “no apparent reason” during Circle Time, and she always cried when I came to her class and it was time for us all to sit in a circle. She has never liked Story Time at the Library.
What baffles me is how she didn’t seem to mind the noise and chaos of way too many kids running around too small of a room, but she minded when we all sat down and got quiet. Is there something about quiet that could be affecting her Sensory system? But yet she seemed rattled when we first walked into the church lobby – full of laughing and talking adults. Was it the noise? or the crowd? Or is it something altogether different? Like auditory processing? Is it possible she’s moving in and out of Auditory over and under stimulation in rapid succession? Or does it have nothing to do with SPD at all? Is it anxiety?
My head is officially spinning now.
Good thing we have OT this afternoon. I would really like to help Chee overcome this, but it’s difficult when she can’t tell me what specifically was bothering or her. Or, worse yet, when it doesn’t make sense to me. It’s awful to me to think that she’s so upset by something and that I don’t understand, even though she’s telling me. It’s obviously something to do with Noise and Quiet.
Meanwhile, I’m going to continue to use this Fill-in-the-Blank communication technique with Chee. That was actually pretty cool.
As I’ve mentioned recently, Chee has been communicating up a storm with us. I consciously do not use the word talking as Chee has always been a talker. She didn’t communicate a whole lot, but talk she did. That has changed and she is planted squarely in the world of communication now. The echolalia is still there (does it ever go away, I wonder), but the majority of her speaking is conversational, purposeful and original.
At varying times in her short life, Chee’s language has been some combination of those three things, and often times none of it. Sometimes her echolalic speech has been most definitely purposeful, if not conversational or original. Such was the case with her usage of the phrase, “The end.”
Like most good little Hyperlexics, from a very early age Chee loved books. At six months of age she would sit through readings of Hop on Pop as well as many other books. Books were her constant companion and kept her happily entertained most anywhere we went. Whenever I finished reading a book to her, I would always say (emphatically), “The end!!” It wasn’t long before she would say that, and laugh hysterically, when I closed a book.
When Chee began speech therapy at 2 1/2 years old, although she had a good-sized vocabulary, she wasn’t at all conversational with us. All of her speech was echolalic, nothing original that I could think of. I can’t remember the first time she said it, but I can remember realizing one day that she was using the phrase, “The end,” out of context. At least, out of the context of reading a book. She used the phrase often. When she finished eating, or when we turned the TV off, or cleaned up other toys. Always, “The end!!”
A specific incident that stands out in my mind happened while we were in her SLP’s office. Chee wanted to stop doing an (not memorable) activity that she was being encouraged to do by the therapist. She began to whine and became frustrated because the therapist wanted her to finish her work. Chee pushed it aside and started repeating, “The end! The end! The end!”
Somewhat self-conscious about her behavior, I immediately piped up, “Oh she says that all the time, she’s trying to tell you she wants to stop.” The therapist, of course, did not need me to explain this to her. She told Chee, “Chee, you can say, I’m all done, when you’re finished.”
At the time I remember feeling very discouraged because the therapist said that Chee was only using words out of context (based on that and other examples I gave her). There are appropriate occasions to use “The end!” and wanting to stop an activity was not one of them. It all felt so doom and gloom to me. She only says words out of context! Oh no!! What does it all mean???
At some point it hit me that although she was saying, “The end!” when she meant, “I’m done,” or “I want to stop,” what Chee was really doing was communicating! She was getting her point across using words. Maybe not the most appropriate language, but she was using the words she knew to communicate her wants, her desires.
It didn’t take long before she began to use the “right” words (I cringe a bit when I type the word “right”) to get her point across. Today she expresses her wants and her dislikes quite easily. Her new favorite thing to say is, “But I don’t like [whatever], I like [something else].” A monumental improvement over, “No [whatever]!! No [whatever]!!!”
I see a similar pattern taking place in the realm of social communication. Chee wants to talk to new kids but she doesn’t know what to say. A few days ago she kept watching another little girl at the park. I told her to ask the girl her name and if she wanted to play. Which she did and the girl gave her name and said Yes to playing. A few times I could hear Chee ask her, “Do you have an aquarium at home?”
One might think, “Oh how cute that she asks that!” but I know that she is scripting from a Caillou episode (about making friends) in which Caillou asks a new kid at playschool if she has an aquarium at home.
No, that’s not the right thing to say to a potential new friend repeatedly. It’s unusual and is likely to be considered annoying. I don’t have the doom and gloom feelings this time, though. Absent is the worry: She doesn’t know how to talk to kids! Oh no!! What does it all mean???
Our past experience has taught me something different. I see that she has the desire to communicate with friends. She wants to play with same-size people and not just the adults she’s preferred for so long.
And just like with learning to find the words to communicate her basic needs, so will she also find her words here. With help from her parents and the team at school, she will indeed make friends.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
The End!!
… the indoctrination of my kids.
Despite the fact that I haven’t been to church in over 3 years, I consider myself a church-going gal. Lapsed a little in attendance, perhaps, but a church-goer nonetheless.
Chee is not the reason we stopped going for awhile, but she is the reason we never started back. I’ve considered it often over the last few years, but stopped short because I knew I couldn’t leave her with some random Sunday School volunteer. Even for just an hour.
Not because of Chee, but because of them. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone looking askance at her because they don’t recognize Sensory Processing Disorder. I worried she might be forced (or someone might attempt to force her) to sit in the Sunday School version of Circle Time, and she would become agitated and I would be summoned because of her “non-compliance.” Worse yet, I worried she would be ignored and left to play alone due to her reciprocal (or lack thereof) communication skills. Those same missing language skills would also mean she couldn’t tell me if she was not treated well.
In short, church just wasn’t worth me subjecting my kid to something that would only stress her out. She wasn’t ready for it, and neither have I been.
But lately the itch has been getting stronger, and I’m suspecting that Chee, with her Seriously Awesome Language (official SLP term, don’t ya know?), could handle it. And if she didn’t like it, I am now 100% certain she could tell me and we could talk about it. (Just today she ever so articulately told me, But I don’t LIKE green grapes, I want RED grapes. Seriously. Awesome. And that’s nothing. Oh the post I could write…)
Churches I have attended have been of many flavors and varieties. From traditional, old-school denominational churches to the hip, new mega-churches I’ve been to them all. I attended a Catholic church for awhile, as well as a couple of different Evangelical churches.
Having been around the church-search block a time or two, I know what I’m looking for, and what I’m not. When we visit churches, the we is ME. I scout the church ahead of time on my own. Check out the kids area first, read the handout and see what kind of stuff they do for and in the community, then go to a service. The main criteria in the service is that the message has to be good. Damn good.
This past Sunday I think I found The Church. I know quite a few people that go there already, and was pleasantly surprised to run into still others once there. It’s of the hip, new variety (not a mega-church though) with multimedia mixed into the service, a rock band and everyone is dressed like they’re going to a picnic. Great for me since I don’t own a single dress. (Is that sad?)
Interestingly, when I asked Chee if she’d like to go to church on Sunday she said no. When asked why, she said, I don’t want to sit down and be quiet. Considering she hasn’t been to church since about 10 months old, I haven’t a clue where she got that idea.
On a whim, I decided to ask if I could bring her into the church during the week to see her classroom. Since one of the people that I know at the church is the minister’s wife, it was not uncomfortable to make this request. What are friends for, right?
Wouldn’t you know it, the classroom for Chee’s age has many of her favorite things: a rock climbing wall, a slide, a book nook (how cool is that?), a dollhouse and a pretend kitchen. And much more. She was enthralled. When we left she said, Can we go to church tomorrow? This was followed by much whining when the answer was no.
The visit was not complete without a trip to the nursery where Ess will hang with the other Under Twos. Right away she spotted one of those annoying Elmo dancing dolls and so she’s raring to go back.
And so begins the indoctrination.
A slide, a rock band, Elmo and God.
Peace be with you.
And enjoy your latte.
In my comparatively short tenure as a mother, I have made a few observations. Bear with me as I am about to completely over-generalize the Mother Population. I AM going somewhere with this.
What I have observed is that there seem to be two kinds of mothers. There are those that sit on the park bench while their child plays, and those that are climbing the monkey bars and playing games of chase around the swings.
At the pool, we see mothers who are dangling their feet in the water’s edge, chatting with friends while their kids splash and frolic. Nearby, but a few feet in, are soaking-wet, hair-mussed mothers playing endless games of toss and catch.
What’s it like at home for the two mothers? Are the Sideline Moms busy engaging their kids with games and activities so when they are out that is a chance for them to have some down time? Are the Monkey Bar Moms like that all the time, or do their kids mostly entertain themselves at home while Mom is working (or whatever)?
Or is what I see at the park and the pool a reflection of what is happening at home? Are there mothers who are not fully engaged with their kids on a day to day basis.
I will not presume to know the answer to those questions.
I do know that I am the Mom on the monkey bars. I am the soaking wet Mom in the pool. I am also the Mom on the floor playing Go Fish, Barbies and Little People.
Motherhood did not start out that way for me though. I have written before about what an easy-going baby Chee was and how she happily entertained herself often. Back then, I was just following her lead.
Back then, I was more of a Sidelines Mom. Sideline mothering is familiar to me. It’s what my family does. Growing up, we kids went off to play with the other kids while the grownups played cards. Kids sat at the kids table for big meals while grownups sat at the big table. I don’t have a lot of specific childhood memories, but I do retain many feelings. A feeling I remember is wanting to play games with my Mom. I badly wished that she would sit down and play checkers or cards with me. One specific memory I have is when she taught my sister and I how to play Monopoly. For me to remember it, it must have been special.
My mom was great in many ways, a terrific mother, and we have a healthy relationship, I am not demeaning her in anyway here.
Despite those memories, and despite me vowing that I would play games with my kids and have fun with them, it seems I was on the path to repeating the pattern of Sideline Mothering. When Chee was younger and not engaging with me, I enjoyed the freedom, if you will, of being able to have my space, do my thing.
But then I had my “lightbulb” moment during her first speech evaluation. That shocking (to me) realization that I had to teach my kid how to play. That’s when I went from being a Sidelines Mom to a Monkey Bars Mom.
It hasn’t always been an easy thing. I can only dress and undress Ken and Barbie for so long. I can only order a pizza with mushrooms and cheese from my favorite little pretend waitress so often. Ess would have me putting Mr. Potato Head’s hat on 30 million times a day if I just sat there.
I often yearn to retreat to my computer or whatever book I’m reading and lose myself in something more interesting than another game of Boggle Jr or another session of stamping (these girls LOVE to stamp!).
Don’t get me wrong. There are many things I do enjoy doing with the girls. I love the Language Sequencing activity I bought to do with Chee (she calls it the Story Telling game). I love working on the shapes and colors puzzles with Ess as she is learning those things.
Lest anyone get the impression I’m entertaining my kids 24/7, you can rest assured that’s not the case. They eat their breakfast and lunch together and then I eat mine and do some reading while they watch TV. There are dishes to be washed and laundry to be folded, times they don’t get my attention.
My natural inclination, however, and maybe it’s the natural inclination of everyone but we just don’t talk about it, is that I want to kick my feet up and watch my kids play and see their early development unfold before my eyes.
I didn’t realize, until about two years after Chee came along, just what an important role I play in that very development. Had she not shown me that, I wonder how much joy I might have missed out on if I was just letting them do their thing.
I am a Monkey Bars Mom and I have my daughter to thank for that.
It’s one of the many gifts she continues to give me.
Chee has always been a good little hand-holder.
I haven’t worried too much when we traverse the scary terrain of a Target parking lot. Not worried because she will always hold my hand.
Until recently, that is. Of late, she has decided she wants to run ahead to the van. Usually I open the doors as we’re walking toward it and, if whatever parking lot we’re in is relatively empty and we’re pretty close, I will let her run ahead.
More times than not, though, I have to hold tightly to her wrist, nearly a death grip it feels, and she will sometimes throw herself down trying to escape. Sometimes I end up just running right behind her (Ess and bags in arms) because she has wrangled loose.
She’s four, though, no big deal, right?
Right, except she has absolutely no concept of safety. No understanding that the moving cars, vans and trucks could obliterate her very existence.
I have talked to her about it some. We used to use the phrase, Busy cars, need to watch for the busy cars and be careful. She doesn’t get the concept.
Lately I’ve begun brainstorming different ways to address safety in a parking lot. I tried Parking Lot Rules and that seemed to help for awhile. I can’t seem to come up an idea for communicating safety to her that is simple, but won’t scare the jeebers out of her.
I understand that she wants to be independent and doesn’t want to hold Mommy’s hand all the time. She handles shopping very well now, walking alongside me or pushing one of those kid-sized carts. I can trust her in the grocery store. But the parking lot, no way. She is too impulsive.
So, readers, I ask you. How can I get the message across?
We’re way past due for this particular lesson.
I am suffering an awful case of Buyer’s Remorse.
In an effort to be good and conscientious parents, my husband and I created a soft landing around our backyard swingset to cushion any potential falls by Chee and Ess. I decided against rubber mulch (due to what I now think was bad advice) and went with wood chips. But they really aren’t what I was wanting and now I have them in a way-too-huge area (thanks to my you-can-never-be-too-careful husband) around our swingset. Over time (a few weeks) I grew to hate them.
I want to get rid of the wood chips (which are more like a stickly, prickly mulch – thus we call it mulch). It was no small undertaking spreading them out and now I want them gone. Gone! This terrible decision I feel I made has caused me much self-flagellation. The hours I have spent agonizing over my wrong choice are precious hours I won’t get back.
Then my own mother spoke: It’s mulch. It’s not the end of the world.
Inotherwords, get over yourself.
Aren’t mothers grand?
Now whenever I do something even mildly stupid, my husband calls it, another mulch moment. Fortunately, I can laugh about it now. He’s laughing about it a lot.
Yesterday began the dreaded process of correcting my mistake. Of relocating the prickly, spidery mess to some mulch-deprived areas of our yard. The morning had not started well, with Chee in some kind of mood and a half, crying over nothing and everything. I managed to convince her to come outside with me to at least sit in the backyard. It was sunny, breezy, high 70s. Perfect weather.
Once out there Ess wanted to swing, therefore Chee wanted to swing, and right away she got the evil mulch caught in her shoe. As she lay on the ground wailing about the mulch in her shoe (it was that kind of day, you see), I decided then and there to just get on with it. My goal was to get through this work as fast as possible.
I left Chee whining in the grass and went for the wheelbarrow and the shovel. Right away Ess wanted to help. She grabbed her plastic sand shovel and started digging. Somehow, miracle of miracles, Chee managed to get her own sandals back on and also got a shovel and started digging in the mulch. My husband came home and soon we were all outside together.
The whining was replaced by giggling and frolicking. Chee peppered me with questions about what I was doing and where the mulch was going. She engaged Ess in games of chase around the swingset. They picked apples off the apple tree and jostled for rides in the wheelbarrow. Returns to the mulch pile to help with the shoveling were frequent.
The afternoon ended with aching arms. A blister on my thumb. Ants in my shoes.
There were conversations with my daughters. Happy girls. Engaged girls.
A satisfied feeling. A better mood.
What started out as a dreaded chore turned into the kind of afternoon that sustains us, that will call to us from the past to remind us of the innocence of our children and the time we shared. An afternoon of connections within a family.
Just another mulch moment.
There’s a bloggy shift headin’ this way.
While I love writing about Chee and our (mostly) ups and (few) downs (lately at least), there are other matters weighing on me of late. Mostly all health-related. My health is good, excellent even, but there are improvements, important changes, I should must make. And ones I just want to make.
I wrote some time ago about my husband wanting to help me get organized with a calendar system. Big fat flop. Because it’s not just about being organized for me, I also want to make better choices. Smarter choices. More thoughtful choices. A calendar won’t help me do that.
Blogging about Chee has forced me to pay attention to her differently. I’ve become more thoughtful about how I help her through challenges. Knowing that I can write about something the world 20 people might read skim has had a subtle but powerful effect. I want to be a better parent, a better person. A better writer.
There are other areas of my life that deserve that same degree of thoughtfulness. What I feed my family, for example. We’re not terrible eaters, but we can be better. Exercise (or lack thereof at the present time) is another area that deserves not just thoughts but action as well. There are more.
More than any other thing, writing seems to be the impetus for change in my life. I can set all the goals in the world (lose 5 lbs, exercise daily, eat organic, spend less money), but without a tool for seeing me through the daily choices involved in meeting those goals, I tend to flop.
I’m tired of flopping. I’m tired of kicking myself for not getting in some form of physical activity. I’m tired of spending too much money eating out, especially when most of the time the food or service is disappointing. I’m tired of forgetting (again!) to take kids clothes to the resale shop. I yearn to sit down at the end of the day and feel pleased as punch that I made positive choices that will benefit us in the long-term.
The long term. I love living in the moment, I do. I will play in the rain with the kids, I will drop everything to talk to a friend on the phone, I’ll skip the chores to watch a good movie. But the long term is still out there. I’ll be in my early 50s when my kids graduate from high school. At 37, 50 doesn’t seem all that old. It will be here in a blink.
So, a bloggy shift. While I intend to still write about Chee and her fascinating development, and the antics of the precocious Ess, I want to also write on some other aspects of my life, namely my efforts to lead a very healthy life, and lead my family in that too. I’ll try to make it entertaining.
I hope you’ll stick around.
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