love.

Letting Go

2012-02-09T20:52:00.000-08:00

So, had a great trip to Philly to see Toeless. As an extra bonus, I planned my trip to route through Minneapolis/St. Paul with a long layover. My agent lives there, and we were able to have a delightful two hours together catching up, laughing, talking shop and just enjoying each other's company. Super fun. She is full of good ideas and determination to get this book "out." If anyone can, she can! Go ahead and light the Marys, though, if you're so inclined. "Let it be," is my prayer for the book. Whatever "be" is. I no longer MUST have it published to consider myself a "real" writer. By the same token, I am no longer holding it back energetically because I'm afraid. I've let it go. And it feels great.

Terry and I had 3 full days together. We slept in, drank excellent coffee from carefully selected mugs, went for long walks, showered about 2 PM and then started Wine O'Clock by 5 (although in four nights we didn't even finish 2 bottles). Really, it's just impossible not to have fun when you're with Toeless. Impossible. I laugh just thinking about her. And laugh we did. At one point we had that intoxicating can't catch your breath, can't stop howling, tears pouring down your face and snot running down your nose kind of five minute laugh. Your basic heavenly experience.

We did have plenty of HDRs, though, too, it wasn't solid hilarity. We actually got into it immediately when she picked me up from the airport, and she said, "It's amazing what happens when you stop white knuckling it." She was talking about business, clients, making everyone happy, and I thought about how far I've come in being good with the outcome of my book.

Not enough can be made of the fact that when I met Terry 17 years ago, she worried all the time about two things: her weight and money. Year after year during my visits these worries were ever-present, until a few years ago she consciously decided to stop fixating on her weight. She hasn't gained a pound since doing so. Then she let go of her anxiety around money - the scarcity mentality - gone. Poof. Her expenses have, and will, only go up (she has a son going to NYU in the fall). Her fear that there will not be enough, however, has only gone down.

You can read all the self-help books, listen to all the experts, know that it's true, but to behold it for yourself when you see a loved one profoundly lighter, is powerful.

Perfect Understanding of Himself

2012-02-08T12:47:00.000-08:00

Lots of things to tell you, all in good time. About my trip to Philly. About my planet-imposed blogstipation. About my feeling like a big chapter is closing, and another exciting one is opening up. About turning 49 next week. But for now, we are all in need of a Rojo-ism, am I right?

At Rojo's school he has a class called "Support." This semester they are going to help the kids better understand their own diagnosis, learn to self-advocate and form a written body of work they can pass on to future teachers, to help them work effectively with them. Rojo has three eligibilities: ASD (PDD-NOS), Communication Disorder (long story why I wanted him to have that, on top of ASD), and ADHD. He knows in no uncertain terms he has ADHD. He can tell you all about how hyper he gets without his meds, how it makes it hard for him to focus, how he's easily distracted, etc. He knows that learning is hard for him. He knows he's in a class where everyone needs extra help. He knows he's going to camp this summer where again, everyone has "something" and needs extra help. We've talked about Asperger's, classic autism and PDD-NOS and how that makes up autism spectrum disorder, which he has.

Every time it comes up or I bring it up, he jumps off the topic immediately. I've always taken that as my clue that he doesn't want to talk about it, or is comprehending it as best he can at that particular point. But because there is going to be quite some discussion/work on this at school, I brought it up again last night.

"Rojo, you know how we've said you don't exactly have autism or Asperger's like _________ or __________, but that you do have autism spectrum disorder? Well, you're going to learn more about that in Support, and learn how to advocate for yourself, and help your other teachers understand you better."

"Will we go around the room and tell what we have?" he asked.

"I'm not sure."

"I want to. I want everyone to ask me what I have, so I can tell them I have optimism!"

Need I say more?

* To order your own IEP T-shirt, click here.

Oxygen Mask

2012-02-01T06:00:00.000-08:00

Here's a neat Website you should know about. I may or may not get some ass kissing in this particular post I'm sending you to. You've been warned. Oxygen Mask

love.

And speaking of oxygen masks, I'm off to Philly tomorrow for my annual oxygen mask-a-thon with Toeless Terry. See you on the other side!

2+2

2012-01-31T15:21:00.000-08:00

Been thinking about new dishes for years. My set is from Target - less than $50 for the whole shebang, and it shows. I'm down to 5 salad plates, 6 bowls, 5 dinner plates and 7 mugs. Even those are in bad shape - chipped, stained, cracked, you-name-it.

Thought about getting Fiestaware - classic, great color choices, go with everything, durable, easy to replace pieces, etc. Did some pre-shopping, looked at prices, added it all up, left the store thinking too expensive. Plus, how would I ever decide which bowl, which salad plate size, with so many to choose from. Blew my fuses so I tabled the whole thing and continued using the Target stuff.

Had to go to the mall for something else (new jeans for Rojo, if you must know, he's growing like a weed). Had a few minutes to kill before I had to pick him up from school, so wandered into Macy's. There was Fiestaware in 4-piece boxes, $50, with a BUY ONE GET ONE FREE deal. 8-pieces for $50? Wow!!! Didn't have time to make the purchase before getting Rojo, so went home and ruminated on it for several more days.

Got my friend Nancy to save her Macy's coupon for me (we don't get the newspaper, but as I recall Macy's ALWAYS has a coupon in there), then marched myself back there yesterday before getting Rojo from school again. Allowed plenty of time. Was so tickled with myself for getting the sets, giving her the coupon, and even presenting a gift card I'd found when I helped Woohoo sort through her disaster of a room. She had no idea if there was money on the card still, but I am nothing if not cheap, so I took a risk. Yes, a full $2.55 left, made me happy.

Got home and showed STM. "Where are the rest?" he asked.

"What do you mean? I got 8 pieces, they're right here!"

"You got eight pieces, but didn't you want 8 place settings?"

Um. Yea. About that.

Went back today and got the other SIX place settings, even got to use my coupon, too. They're in the dishwasher now getting excited to go in my cupboard, and I'm excited to learn how to add.

Nothing Says Romance Like...

2012-01-30T19:16:00.000-08:00

For Christmas I asked STM for two things, one being doorknobs for the remaining four doorknob-less doors to our home that we moved into 8 years ago. I knew the minute we moved in after renovations, the renovations would stop, and I was right. "Just a few doorknobs," he told me. Eight years later....

Don't have my doorknobs yet, but they are on order. Progress.

The other thing I have asked him for for each gift giving occasion since my cousin's husband died and left her with all kinds of *&^% to handle on top of everything else during her time of grief, was an If I Die List. I'm not even an authorized signer on STM's business accounts. I couldn't pay the bills if I tried. If he died tomorrow, even with an iron clad will, we'd be in a world of hurt.

So, for my birthday next month I am definitely getting both doorknobs AND the If I Die List, and on Wednesday we are meeting at the bank and signing in all the right places so that I can write checks with abandon the minute he dies.

To be fair, I have created my own If I Die List. There are accounts I have from which I pay certain bills. There are passwords and all kinds of things that are just in my head and he'd never know what to do with if he had to, either. I'm cleaning all that up and giving him the method to my madness.

A friend of mine's husband was full of vim and vigor one day, in ICU the next. Stuff happens. It may not be the most romantic of gifts, but if, God forbid, we ever need to refer to the lists, we'll sure feel loved.

Going Bigger with Nothing

2012-01-29T21:07:00.000-08:00

Didn't do a damn thing today. Well, sure, did walk the dog, did some laundry, took Rojo and his friend "Baz" out for yogurt, even made dinner and cleaned up. But there was plenty of napping, solitaire and Netflix, too. And by plenty I mean hour after hour after blissful hour. Kept thinking, I should go though all those stacks on my desk, or I need to deal with that closet I keep not dealing with, or any number of other things that need doing around here, but in no particular hurry.

On the solitaire game I downloaded, there is a cool "hint" button. When you are stuck and can't figure out another move, you press "hint" and it will show you possible moves. You feel ridiculous when you missed an obvious one or two, and vindicated when it flashes, "No useful moves detected."

Long about the 10th "No useful moves detected" today I realized that while there was plenty I could be doing, none of them were truly as useful as sitting on my can.

* Photo from http://my.greasy.com

Jumping and Falling

2012-01-24T20:52:00.000-08:00

So, we decided to find a good home for our trampoline. Neither kid has so much as taken a single jump on it in ages. Their friends like to jump, but even when they come over, they don't often make it out there, and let's face it, their friends are getting older, too. The trampoline was a great investment, it's been well used, and now it needs to go.

We're giving it to a young family we know from school and church. Actually, I wrote about my "chance" encounter with the father, Mike, and his two kids over a year ago, but I can't remember what I named that post, so can't find it for you - sorry. Maybe you'll remember, though, Flicka climbed up on the play structure at the park, and Mike's kids ended up taking Flicka for walks with the leash, and Mike and I struck up a conversation. Turns out we are both raising sons with special needs. Turns out he went home and Googled me, found my blog, found my e-mail address. Turns out his wife, Amy, is in my support group now, and we're all on our way to becoming BFFs, because, as you well know, there are no accidents.

Amy and the kids came over to measure the trampoline and let the kids jump. We had texted Amy earlier in the afternoon to see if they could join us for frozen yogurt after jumping. Amy said they'd love to, but would it be okay if we went with Mike, because she had a doctor appointment, and she and Mike were going to switch at our house Rojo and I were both down with that idea. Rojo chatted Mike up one side and down the other, going so far as to invite their whole family to move to Disneyland with us when he graduates from high school (that plan is still very much in effect).

At yogurt we sat in five side-by-side stools, ate, visited, and then it became clear the kids were all done, and it was time to skedaddle. We walked them to their car, said goodbye, and no sooner had Rojo jumped into my car and buckled up, did he say, "I like Mike. He's the right kind of man."

Both parents handled both kids beautifully - like they should write a book or teach parenting classes type of good. Rojo particularly related to Mike, I think, because he's the type of dad Rojo aspires to be. Whenever Rojo tells me about his future parenthood, it always includes him taking his kids out for ice cream.

Some people take the jump into parenting. Some fall into it. Some were born for it.

* Photo from http://trampolinegame

Blame the Planets

2012-01-23T10:49:00.000-08:00

There's a reason my blog posting has been spotty at best, and there's a reason there's not much I can do about it. The reason is this: my writing planets are all out of whack. STM and I went for our annual check-in with our friend the astrologer, and she said it was all right there on my charts. "This is not a time for writing. In fact, do you want to know when you're going to feel like writing again?" Of course I did, and the answer was right there in her handy dandy book, "September 19th. Until then, only write when the mood strikes you, and that might not be before September, and that's fine. There's just no wind behind that sail until then."

And that's just exactly what it feels like to me, like there is just an occasional breeze, but no wind there. Problem is, there's not much breeze, let alone wind, behind anything lately for me. Apparently all that was on the chart, too. "It's a period of rest for you. I know that's a four-letter word, but it's important that you take this time and do just that."

In the seventeen-and-a-half years I've been a parent, this is the first time I'm not racing through my days and nights breathless, racing to get it all done. This is the first time my days have had windows of time where I sit in the over-sized chair with Flicka and play solitaire on Rojo's iPad, or read a book, or take a nap. This is the first time I've sat with STM in the living room at night and watched whatever it is he's watching on TV (you don't even want to know).

I told the astrologer that I felt like I should find something more useful to do with my time, volunteer, start a project, plan for Rojo's transition to adulthood, something. She said that there was a force equally strong in my chart that wanted to learn new things, not for a degree or even for a career, but just for the pleasure of learning. Right now I can't imagine having the brain capacity to learn a single thing, and nothing even sounds fun or exciting, but the idea that something might sound fun and exciting after this period of rest, is fun and exciting.

"The back 9," these years I'm entering where I'm getting closer to the "club house," I believe will be the best and most fulfilling of my life. There is no end of possibilities, but for now, I rest.

* Photo from www.awakening-healing.com

Unique Qualities

2012-01-19T09:29:00.000-08:00

Toeless' husband, Greggy, is taking a class, and the professor wanted them to list their unique qualities - things they did easily and well, that others may not. The assignment was to ask others to help them identify them, which is brilliant, since so often we are blind to our own gifts.

I told him that he had way more than one, but if I had to boil it down, it was his unbridled enthusiasm, his genuine interest in others that made you feel like you were a rock star, every time you were around him. I've only known a handful of people in my life that have that quality. It's not like other people make me feel bad about myself, it's just that there is something, well, unique about the way they make anyone feel that comes into contact with them.

I've been thinking and writing about this for awhile, especially in terms of Rojo's unique gifts, of which there are many. His purity, his vast love, his compassion, his generosity, all amazing. I think the one that makes him stand out more than anything else, though, is his lack of ego. He simply doesn't have one. There is no spiritual wrestling match going on inside of him, no angel/devil on his shoulder, no posturing himself, no concern over how to make himself get ahead/more. Zero.

I think most of humanity could use an Individual Educational Plan, a plan in which we strive to be ego-less 80% of the time, a plan in which a team of ego-less specialists train and assist in that, mark our progress and keep us on track. I'm thinking we turn the tables, get the ones like Rojo and many others like him I know, to let them do what they came here to do... teach.

* Photo from http://upload.wikimedia.org

2012-01-18T05:41:00.000-08:00

I'm at Hopeful Parents today, writing about something I've written much about already, and will likely write about again soon! Thanks for joining me!

Celebrate

2012-01-12T10:37:00.000-08:00

I can't speak for everyone (but would dearly love to), I just know that one thing I don't do nearly enough, is celebrate. I think, I'll feel so good when that is done/settled/over/successful/etc... and I count down the days until it is. Then the day comes and goes without so much as an extra-shot in my cappuccino.

Well, no more, I tell you, no more. I gathered three dear friends for happy hour in early January to celebrate the fact that none of us killed anyone all of Christmas vacation. We may have each considered it, but none of us actually did it. Big.

Not every event needs to include Champagne, food, a gathering and a lot of hoopla, but something, some way of marking goodness.

Top 10 Things I Could Celebrate Just Today:

10. I finally mopped the kitchen floor that's needed it for a good two weeks

9. The sun is out and it's a gorgeous, cold, January day

8. Yesterday the sunrise was so spectacular I couldn't stop talking about it

7. I even noticed the sunrise and took time to look at it (albeit, I was walking with Kathleen and she drew my attention to it)

6. I am getting really, really good at solitaire

5. I have time to play solitaire

4. I bought a bunch of primroses and planted them in my window boxes yesterday - they make me happy every time I look out the window

3. We may have finally found the right med/dosage for Rojo's ADHD, after MUCH trial and error

2. I get to go visit Toeless in February!

1. STM closed a deal he's been working on for MONTHS!

Solitaire

2012-01-11T10:13:00.000-08:00

We did get Rojo an iPad for Christmas, and a friend of mine with one mentioned that solitaire was highly addicting, so, naturally, within ten minutes of her telling me that, I'd loaded that app and was well on my way to developing a problem.

You can play a game in 2-3 minutes, so easy to say, "Oh, just one more..." until pretty soon you've pissed away an hour or three. There must be something about the game that occupies the right hemisphere of the brain, allowing the left brain to be free to roam. I find myself getting almost trance-like while playing, deeply relaxed and reflective, rather than obsessive. Let's just say it's working for me - that's my story and I'm sticking with it.

My dad taught me how to play solitaire (and other card games). He had such a sharp mind, could always see and explain strategy, was always three steps ahead of me. I realize now, at almost 50, how exasperating I must have been for him - not as quick, not as ambitious, not as competitive, no matter how hard he tried to get me to be. When I finally made up my mind about where I was going to go to college and told him, he was underwhelmed. When I finally decided in my sophomore year I'd be a teacher, again, underwhelmed. I always felt like he was disappointed, that the bar was too high for me, that nothing I did made him happy.

During my hours of solitaire, I've been able to see it a different way. As a woman now with a daughter choosing between the very college I went to and one that's "better," I see how a parent could feel the way he did. No matter what she chooses she'll be fine, and I will not be disappointed, she can and does make me happy, and I hope she feels she clears the bar every day, all day long. It's just that I think she's great, and is headed for greatness, and want greatness for her. But what is "greatness?"

Although I am a long way away from being the doctor my father hoped I'd be, don't have an impressive resume, haven't done a lot that the world might call "great," my life has been, and is, indeed, great. I know that if my father were here he'd agree. I am happy. I have ALL my needs and damn near all my wants met. I have tons of people that love and care for me. I have laughter, I have health, I have, by all definitions that count, greatness.

I'd say the iPad has already paid for itself.

Camp

2012-01-09T08:32:00.000-08:00

So, it's been decided around here that Rojo is ready to try summer camp. My friends with older kids with different abilities recommended one in particular - a whole camp just for this very thing. Not cheap, but a week without Rojo is a vacation for the rest of us, and nowhere are we going to get a vacation for the cost of camp, and so, we justify. Plus, Sandy, the woman that runs the preschool Rojo worked at all summer (and four blessed days during Christmas vacation), suggested camp numerous times, and this one most enthusiastically. I've been psyching Rojo up for this for months, and have him sold. His only condition is that he be home on his birthday.

My friend Joan reminded me when online registration began and urged me to do it immediately, as the camp fills up in the first week, and people registering even a couple days after registration opens, are often put on the waiting list for the weeks they request. Joan gave me paperwork, e-mails, links, you-name-it, everything I would need to make sure I got my place in line, on line, on time.

Today was the day. Had Post-its to remind me to set the alarm so I'd be up and fully caffeinated before the 6:00 opening of registration. I slept fitfully, looking at the clock several times in the night to make sure I hadn't over-slept. Woke up at 4:30 fully awake, lay there for half an hour, finally got up, caffed up, and booted up the computer. I was ready to click in all the right spots on the Website the minute the clock turned to 6:00:00. Did just that, and I was number 36 in line. Didn't even think about getting in line before 6:00, such a rule follower am I. I impatiently waited to move up in the virtual line, which thankfully only took about 5-6 minutes. I felt like I'd won the lottery when it said I was first in line, and then when the Website magically opened and had slots for me to enter information, I was on a high. Because I am notorious for being in a hurry and making careless mistakes, I was painstaking in my entering. I was just to the place where I was filling out emergency contact information, when suddenly the site put me back in the virtual line, this time, #76. I know I didn't push the browser or the refresh button, both which had been cautioned against. I just deleted a phone number that was incorrect (which the computer had automatically entered and I needed to substitute for right information), pressed "tab" and BOOM, to the back of the line I went.

The expletives flew. I put on pretty music, lighted the candles, did a few (shallow) cleansing breaths and tried to get myself right. Had to wait about 15 minutes to get back to my first place in line, and then JUST as the site opened up for me, BOOM, Safari quit unexpectedly. That has only happened to me a handful of times in the five years I've had this computer, and NEVER when I was doing something of significance (Facebook doesn't count). Oh, and let me back this up and tell you that at 5:00 Rojo was sound asleep and I had the quiet of the house. By 6:00 he was awake and thumping loudly, making the whole house pulse with his unmedicated hyperactivity and joy. By the time I got in line for the THIRD time (back to number 36), STM had left for work and he was ever-present with his uncontained joy. Let me just tell you, the LAST thing you want when you're trying to register your special needs child for camp, is the "help" of your special needs child.

"GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW, I'M TRYING TO REGISTER YOU FOR CAMP! IF I DON'T DO IT RIGHT NOW, YOU CAN'T GO!" I shrieked. He took his joy and thumping and went and bothered Woohoo. I paced, I made the bed, I threw a load of laundry in, I brushed my teeth, neurotically checking the queue every 2 1/2 seconds. Finally, finally, just as Woohoo and Rojo had gotten themselves dressed and ready for school and were about to leave, I got on. I entered all the information (pages and pages of does he need help with this, that or the other thing questions), and submitted. RECEIVED! WOOHOO! Rushed downstairs and said goodbye to the kids. "You need to play solitaire on my iPad," Rojo said, "You need to calm down."

He's right. I'm going to make a cup of herbal tea, light another candle, breathe deeply, play a little solitaire, calm down, and thank God there is a camp so great that people are queued up to send their special needs child (ages 10-35) there. A place where campers go back year after year after year. A camp that campers say is their favorite week of their whole year. A place set up to accommodate them - make them feel successful and gain confidence. A place where they aren't special because they need help - everyone there needs help. They are special because they just are.

* Photo from http://pdx.edu

Year of the Dragon

2012-01-06T20:39:00.000-08:00

When Sonam was up visiting this past weekend, we spent a fair amount of time looking up everyone's Chinese zodiac sign, and seeing who is compatible with whom. Fortunately for our husbands, they are both compatible with us - good to know. STM is a pig, I am a rabbit. Sonam is also a rabbit. Her husband, my brother, is a goat. Woohoo is a dog, Rojo is a rat, Kunga is a rooster. My mother is a horse. It was amazing to see just how accurate they all were, except for STM's, he didn't really sound much like a typical pig (no comment).

We used this site to calculate our sign. I don't really understand it all very well, but find it fascinating. Sonam, having spent her whole childhood and young adulthood living in a Tibetan refuge camp in India, knows a lot more about it. Her mom can tell you all about the elements, all about compatibility, traits, luck, fortune, etc. Like I said, fascinating.

Sonam and I both had good 2011s, which was a rabbit year, so it makes sense that we rabbits would find "luck" in 2011. According to this, 2012 is going to be my lucky year, too, because I'm a not only a rabbit, but a water rabbit. Think it has something to do with me being February/Aquarius, although I've been told Aquarius is not a water sign, it's actually an air sign - so confusing.

Funny, I don't really believe in luck, per se. I believe in fate, I believe in destiny, I believe in karma, I believe in choices that produce consequences, but I don't really believe in luck. Maybe it's just a matter of semantics, maybe they are all words for the same thing. Whatever the case may be, I look forward to the year of the dragon.

Striving

2012-01-04T17:16:00.000-08:00

Next month I'll turn 49. In 13 short months, I'll be 50. Fifty is fine with me. Fifty is not scary. Fifty is even welcome. The thing about it is, when I was growing up I had an image of myself at 50, all "grown up," and now that it's almost here, I am coming to terms with what is and is not accurate with that image.

50-year-old Carrie would have a library in her house, one with the built-in ladder, four walls of nothing but books and a comfy chair. 50-year-old Carrie would have a music room with a grand piano, and she and her musically gifted children would all play it beautifully. 50-year-old Carrie would have "real" furniture - not just a mattress and box springs, but a proper bed. There would be matching night stands and dressers, a short one for my husband and a taller one for me. I'd have an office with a desk, credenza, doors that close and all kinds of really amazing things would come out of that room. I'd probably have my Ph.D in teaching, and be teaching teachers how to teach children - especially exceptional learners. I'd have traveled extensively, my passport having been stamped from all kinds of exotics lands. I'd have learned to cook, bought real art and had it properly framed, I'd have crystal and know how to pick out a bottle of wine.

48-year-old almost 49-year-old Carrie is realizing, if she doesn't have it by now, hasn't done it by now, hasn't been there by now, she probably never will. It's not like I won't ever travel or learn something new, I might, but then again, I might not, and that's okay. I finally realized that what is gone is not the dream, but the striving. I simply don't want to strive any more - not for things, not for adventure, not for accomplishments.

At almost 50 I want less, not more. Less stuff. Less acquaintances. Less high-maintenance relationships. Less drama. Less obligations. Less busyness. Less involvements with things that aren't important to me. I'm all done forcing things. In fact, that reminds me of a Toeless Terry story - she had a friend going through a divorce, and she asked him why. He said, "The woman forced flowers to bloom." I've never forgotten that (and I'm fairly sure there were bigger troubles in the marriage than forced flowers, but it does beg the question, what is the point in forcing things?).

So, I don't consider it being resigned, giving up, quitting, being lazy, any of that. I consider it being content with what I have. Letting things happen. Allowing. Accepting. Being grateful for what is, and not with my eyes on the horizon for what might be.

* Photo from http://www.sitepoint.com

2012

2012-01-02T19:17:00.000-08:00

I was a lot more freaked out about 2012 three or four years ago, than I am now that it's here. You know, all the end of the Mayan calendar stuff. Not that I'm not a big believer that we're headed for something all right, I just don't think it's the end of the world, figuratively, or literally. I think, or chose to believe, we're headed for profound healing. I think so much of what's been off balance in our world, is going to start shifting back to center. If ever there was a year for the feminine divine to make a big comeback, it's 2012 - just sayin'.

My sister-in-law, Sonam, and nephew, Kunga, were up for the weekend. (Side note: They gave Rojo a U of O Rose Bowl T-shirt for Christmas, which he wore all day today, all the way to the Ducks first Rose Bowl victory since 1917! Go, Ducks!)

We went out for frozen yogurt all three days (Rojo and I are, without a doubt, their best and favorite customers). They had new year's resolutions forms you could fill out and get 20% off on your yogurt (when you spend $200/month on frozen yogurt, you'll save 20% every chance you get). Rojo, Sonam, Kunga and I talked about what we wanted for the new year. Both Sonam and I were, and are, hesitant to state our resolutions for lots of reasons. (You feel like a loser when you break them, it's like jinxing them, you should be working on improving yourself at all times, not just at the new year, blah, blah, blah.) We saw other people's resolutions taped along the bank of yogurt machines. There were lots and lots of "lose weight" and "eat better." But the ones that stood out to us were these:

Go to Tibet (Sonam is Tibetan, but has never been there. It's our dream to travel there together as soon as she has a US Visa - hers is Indian)

Be kind to myself

Be positive

Take time for myself

Forgive

Let it go

Apologize

Choose to be happy, instead of being right

Isn't it encouraging to think that right now, all over the world, there are people resolving to be kind? To forgive? To apologize? To let it go and to be happy?

Photo from www.washingtonpost.com

Fidelity

2011-12-31T06:00:00.000-08:00

STM and I celebrate 20 years of wedded bliss today. Twenty. Years. That's a lot, don't you think? Feels like it to us, too. And that's why we went to Hawaii, because it is a lot. We're proud of ourselves, and without over-sharing, I'll just say, we should be.

Without a doubt, one of the best moves we ever made, was going through RCIA together, with Kathleen and her husband Jerry as our sponsors, and then joining the Church. It's not because it's Catholic. It's not because it's Christian. It's because it's an active, vital, loving, supportive community, right in our own backyard. It's our Cheers - a place where everyone knows our name, knows our story, loves and accepts us and supports us on our journey.

Say what you want about the Catholics (and I've said it all, and some of it I continue to say, so go ahead), but they revere marriage, and I think that's a good thing. There is much to support the institution inherent in the Church - again, a good thing. STM and I decided to milk some of that goodness yesterday, when we received a blessing from our priest, following the daily morning Mass. We had wanted to mark our 20th in some spiritual way, and asked the priest if he'd perform a blessing. We found a day that worked for everyone, and STM and I went to 8:00 AM Mass yesterday, surrounded by the holy elders, and basked in their goodness and wisdom. After they all cleared out, three of our favorite humans, all of whom happen to work at the Parish Center, stayed behind. Because they know of my love for Mary, we moved over to a beautiful statue of her, prayer candles aflame below her feet, and the priest performed a beautiful blessing, complete with a "You may kiss the bride," at the end.

The blessing came straight from the Book of Blessings, and it used the word "fidelity" several times. Both STM and I noticed, and talked about it later. Kathleen and I even dissected the word on our walk later that day. "Of course we have fidelity," I said, "we certainly don't have infidelity!" But I realized even as I was boasting, that just because we don't have that kind of infidelity, doesn't mean we both can't clean up our acts. Merriam-Webster defines fidelity as the quality or state of being faithful. Faithful - full of faith.

Isn't that, indeed, what a marriage needs to survive? Doesn't it need to be full of faith? Faith in each other? Faith in ourselves? And faith in something greater than ourselves?

* Photo from www.stmatthewcath.org

My Idea of a Good Time

2011-12-29T06:00:00.000-08:00

Lately, after I get Rojo to bed, I either make myself a hot cup of this:

Or a big, round glass of this:

Light a whole bunch of these:

Throw something called an achy bakey in the microwave for three minutes, take out the fabric bag holding lavender scented seeds and place it on my leg that gives me fits, then watch a couple three of these:

I had always seen commercials for "Brothers and Sisters" but never watched it. Now I'm catching up, one delicious episode after another after another after another. At this rate I'll be through Season One by New Years!

Joy Boy

2011-12-28T07:51:00.000-08:00

We have nicknamed Rojo Joy Boy. The boy just exudes (loudly) joy, pretty much 24/7. At times when I'm ready to strangle him due to the excessive (loud) joy, I remember that many a mom would give her right arm to have a child that is not only happy, but as I say, joyful (and loud). Moms that have never heard their children speak, never heard them laugh, sing, give glory to God in the highest while YouTubing church songs. None of that.

This is Joy Boy's favorite song in the whole entire world. Know any other fifteen year old boys that go around with their hands in the air and a smile a mile long, singing alleluia?

Me, neither.

I Am in Here

2011-12-27T07:54:00.000-08:00

I am on a reading frenzy, frenzy, I tell you. I can (and do) go months without finishing a single book, then every now and then I just can't stop. I have a stack of books as long as my arm of unread books by my bed, and am determined to get through the stack before I allow myself to even consider buying a new book.

I sat down with I Am in Here a couple days before Christmas, and despite the fact it was a couple days before CHRISTMAS, still managed to read the whole thing in less than 24 hours. I Am in Here is not just another autism book. I've had it up to here with your standard mom-of-a-kid-with-autism book. I've lived it, I don't need to live it all again in my free time.

Virginia Breen is the author, her daughter, Elizabeth co-authors the book. Elizabeth is unable to speak, but writes beautiful poetry that allows everyone reading the book to see into her mind, and by extension, have greater understanding of perhaps others that cannot speak. The book has a very Helen Keller feel to it, complete with Elizabeth's own Anne Sullivan.

What I liked best about the book was the spiritual component, it delivered it perfectly, without hitting you over the head with it. Virginia, like me, believes these kids are here to teach, they are deeply spiritual, wise, and enlightened beings here to help evolve us all to a higher place. I felt this book conveyed that with just the right touch.

To order your copy, or ready more about Virginia and her daughter Elizabeth, go here.

Giving

2011-12-22T11:35:00.000-08:00

Rojo is super excited for Santa to come Saturday night, we've been counting down since the minute we put away the Halloween decorations. For the last few rounds of birthdays Rojo has been grabbing one of his beloved "friends" from the top bunk, shoving it into a gift bag, letting the recipient open it, "have" it for some specified amount of time (usually a couple of hours), then asking that they return it.

This year he's decided to take the giving idea and apply it to Christmas, too. He dragged me to Bi-Mart in late November to buy a gift for Elmo. "Elmo wants gummy bears for Christmas." We headed to the Christmas candy aisle and he decided to do all his shopping in that very spot. Within five minutes we'd covered his aunt, Papa, Grandma, Grammy, Woohoo, and STM. He nagged and nagged until I wrapped them, and they were amongst the first packages under our tree.

Yesterday STM called Rojo and asked, "Do you have a present for Mom, or do you need me to take you shopping?"

"No, I've got it, STM, I have Care's present all ready."

Hung up the phone and turned to me, "Care, will you help me wrap your present? But you can't look. You need to be surprised."

I found a big box, he ran upstairs and grabbed the three friends while I held the box open, eyes closed, then he put the lid back on. We went down to the ping pong table in the basement and wrapped it together.

To: Care
From: Rojo

We tied a green ribbon around the red and white polka dot paper, and put it under the tree.

Then the relentless quest to pin down the exact moment I would open it, began, with a fervor. With some amount of doing I managed to put him off for almost 24-hours, agreeing to open it today when Kathleen came by for our annual three-way gift exchange.

Minute that poor woman sat down (before she even got to taste the coffee or eggnog he insisted we have ready for her), he had me opening the gift.

"Never trust the box," he said as I peeled back the paper to reveal a box that said gala apples. When I pulled out friends 1, 2 and 3 nobody was more tickled than he. I think he thought I was genuinely surprised. I think he thought he'd really pulled a major gift-giving coup. I think he thought right.

Winter Solstice

2011-12-21T08:34:00.000-08:00

In the beginning was the Tao.

All things issue from it;

all things return to it.

To find the origin,

trace back the manifestations.

When you recognize the children

and find the mother,

you will be free of sorrow.

If you close your mind in judgments

and traffic with desires,

your heart will be troubled.

If you keep your mind from judging

and aren't led by the senses,

your heart will find peace.

Seeing into darkness is clarity.

Knowing how to yield is strength.

Use your own light

and return to the source of light.

This is called practicing eternity.

- Lao-Tzu

Translated by Stephen Mitchell

* Photo from http://www.earthrites.org

2011-12-18T08:34:00.000-08:00

Please join me at Hopeful Parents today. Thanks!

How to Start Your Own Support Group

2011-12-16T14:41:00.000-08:00

Bear in mind I have "started" (been in on the ground level, really, didn't technically start), exactly one. This is not a manual, but a what-worked-for-us list.

If you are the parent of a special needs child, you need support. Period. You also need resources and a good group will do both - offer resources and support!

1. Find 2-3 other people that also have a kid with special needs, even if they aren't the same as your kid's. You know 2-3 more. You just do. If not, ask your doctor, therapist, kid's teacher/principal/counselor, you-name-it.

2. Meet. Could be a coffee shop (don't recommend that - the walls have ears). Could be one person's house every time (I actually DO recommend this, and I'll tell you why in a minute). Could trade off houses. Pick a time that works for the initial group of people, and stick to that. Others will join the group and suggest times that would better work for them. This is a no-win. You will forever be rearranging your meetings, frustrating everyone, losing consistency, and never finding a perfect time. Don't apologize. "We meet ________ from ________ to ___________." I do tell people that it's fine (and common) that people come late and/or leave early, whatever they need to do.

3. Key is to meet when the kids aren't around. We meed the 2nd Friday of every month, 9-12 AM. Many of the moms do work. They arrange their schedules around this. I recognize this is not always possible, but you would be impressed with the lengths some of the women in our group go to. We (I) put out the schedule for the whole school year by September 1st, they block that time out and show up.

4. Establish a strict what-is-said-in-the-room-stays-in-the-room, policy. This is key. If people feel like they can't be free to share, there is no point in having a group. I always e-mail a summary of our meetings and distribute it to the whole group, but never put on there anything personal or specific, just Websites, resources, etc. that were shared at the meeting, maybe even a question that someone in the group that wasn't there, could still answer.

5. You kind of need one person to take charge, have all the information filter through, and keep everyone on track. A leader will rise. It may or may not be the person that gets the group going.

6. Take an All Are Welcome approach. If someone comes to the group and wants to bring a friend/neighbor/relative/whatever the next time, always say yes. You can't control the size or formation of the group - this is organic and will take care of itself.

7. Some people will come once, dump all their problems on you, and never return. This is not unusual. Likewise, some people will come many times before opening their mouths to speak. This is also not un usual, and is to be encouraged. They are feeling out the group, establishing trust and are sure to be invaluable "members" of the group.

8. Sometimes have a topic and/or guest speaker, sometimes do not. I have found if we are too loosey goosey, or too all-business, it doesn't work.

9. Each time a new person joins, do NOT go around the room and have everyone tell their whole story again. This will chew up ALL your time and the ones that are faithful and loyal and never miss, have to hear it over and over again. People will catch on. It doesn't matter anyway. You don't need the full story to be a strong support.

10. We have considered, and even tried to start, sub-groups. ADD/ADHD, ASD, Down Syndrome, whatever you may have a lot of people coming for support for. We've never been able to get this off the ground for whatever reason. There is something nice about the group that is "misc." Many of the people in our group ALSO attend specific group meetings, but they always like our group better. It can be pretty depressing when the whole meeting is about the same "different ability" - you hear the extremes and that can overwhelm and freak some people out.

11. Keep the e-mail list blind copied. I JUST started doing this and wish I'd done it years ago. Not everyone needs to see a new name on the list and start to speculate what all is going on in THAT family! If they want to know who else is in the group, they are welcome to come to the meetings.

12. I have found that it is more successful to just have all the meetings at my house every month. I make coffee and move the furniture around, someone almost always offers to bring treats, and if they don't, I open a bag of whatever is in the pantry and call it good. Some people that need the group most, are barely holding it together. If they think that eventually the group will need to meet at THEIR house, they may not even bother joining the group. Just like a natural leader will emerge, so, too, will someone that likes to host things at their house. Trust that this is true. Again, you could always meet somewhere where nobody is the host, but I think it's hard to talk about such personal issues, in a public place.

13. We have twice as many names on the email list, as typically come to a meeting. That does not mean they aren't valuable and contributing. People have posed all kinds of questions to the group, all the way from, "Do you know of a good math tutor?" to "What experiences have you had with Risperdal?" The e-mail responses are helpful and varied.

14. Have someone in the group be the recorder at the meetings (again, this could all be the same person that hosts and organizes, and communicates, but doesn't necessarily need to be). Keep track of all the great resources shared, and create a directory. It took me 7 years to figure that one out. Each time someone needed a good something-or-other, I was forever going back to the group to ask, AGAIN. We now have a many page document with names of acupuncturists, doctors, therapists, books, speech paths, Websites, etc.

15. Try to keep the support on special needs. Invariably "life" will hit people in the group - death, divorce, foreclosure, health issues, all of that. While it's inevitable some of the discussions will also include all that's going on in a family, the group is really gathered for one very specific reason, and needs to stay focused on that.

16. Don't meet in July or August because A) Your kids are home, B) Everyone's schedule is different, and C) It's good to have a break.

* Photo from http://cureanxiety.com

FroYo

2011-12-14T17:15:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the lack of posting, just a little thing like CHRISTMAS keeping me from the computer these days. Shop, shop, shop, wrap, wrap, wrap! Was lucky enough to be given a pass to the Nike Employee Store (thanks, Janell!) and went there today to get the last few things I needed. For. Myself. Yes, I am fully shopping for myself this year, too. Really excited about the Mary necklace I bought myself from my friend Candace - the incredible artist/jeweler/Mary lover that she is. Really excited about the cute rain jacket I got at Nike today (not that anyone in Portland, Oregon needs a rain jacket or anything). Really excited about the new dish towels I got. TWO packs. Yep. Come Christmas day at least six of the nasty old ones in the drawer are getting shit canned. I have stacked all my gifts on the ping pong table in the basement with just a little Post-it that says, "To: Mom, From: ?" I'm going to get Woohoo to wrap them all up - no gift bags, either, I want boxes, ribbon and BOWS!

On another note, I think I've failed to tell you all about Rojo's full on addiction to frozen yogurt! You can blame Nancy. She could hardly stand his 3-a-day snow cone habit this summer, full of nothing but sugar and empty calories. She persuaded him to try frozen yogurt, and now, many $$ a week later, I'd say she was successful! Nancy is Rojo's favorite guest to invite to join us, and because she's a trooper, goes at least a couple times a week with us.

Rojo goes through the self-serve section in record breaking time, making a "graveyard" of sorts, with at least a smidge of every flavor offered. Then I sprinkle graham cracker crumbles, Oreo crumbles and 2 gummy worms on top (per his request). Times two. he eats both giant bowls before I finish my modest-sized bowl. It doesn't matter if the temperature outside is 34 degrees. It doesn't matter if we're the only ones in the place, it doesn't matter if dinner is right around the corner, if Rojo had his way, he'd go to the frozen yogurt place every single day and twice on Sundays.

I know Rojo's diet is terrible. Believe me, I know. But every year we inch it towards something "better." I don't have any aspiration of it being "healthy," just "less toxic" would be nice. At least the yogurt has some health benefits which I'm hanging my hat on. It's all relative.

Good for your bones:

An excellent source of calcium: (Based on 2 servings -8 fl oz) Adequate calcium as part of a healthful diet may reduce the risk of osteoporosis

Good for your tummy:

Helps maintain a healthy digestive tract
Increased digestibility for individuals with lactose intolerance

Supports wellness:

Helps maintain general digestive health and body immunity
Low Sodium: Diets low in sodium may reduce the risk of high blood pressure, a disease associated with many factors

Promotes a healthy lifestyle:

Packed probiotics to promote a healthy immune and digestive system
Low Cholesterol
Low Sodium

Other great things about YoCream Frozen yogurts:

All YoCream frozen yogurts are certified by the National Yogurt Association and proudly display the Live & Active Cultures Seal
All YoCream products are Kosher Certified
YoCream products are Gluten Free*
No high fructose corn syrup**

Amazing Grace

2011-12-10T10:42:00.001-08:00

I "run" a support group called the Amazing Graces. I didn't name us, the founder of the group did. She felt that it took a certain level of grace to mother these kids, and that the kids themselves were amazing. She had a need for support as she was raising a child with medical issues, and didn't feel that her friends with typicals could really understand or hold all that that entailed, so she went in search of those that did. Enter me. Sometimes it's great having a child that obviously is atypical, it makes me approachable to others feeling like they're the only one.

Our group started with four people: the founder with a child with medical needs, two moms with kids that had mental health-related issues, and me. Eventually the founder moved out of the state and I took the reins. We now have an e-mail distribution list of almost 50, and generally have 12-15 people at our monthly meetings. Of those 12-15 we have our 10 or so "core members," ones that come month after month after month, a few that come now and then, and almost always, someone new. We are all word of mouth and we now cover a wide range of different abilities, ASD, ADHD, mental illnesses, seizure disorders, cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, you name it. I've lost track, but I think this is about our 7th or 8th year of being together.

One thing that has been coming up lately is the need for more support for the dads. We thought having a Christmas party might be a good ice breaker, get a bunch of the dads all in the same room, and just see if a men's group could evolve from that. By men's group I mean, going out for a few beers at the pub up the street. So, last night we had our party. It was awesome. We had people in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s. We had those born and raised in this very neighborhood and those born in foreign lands. We had nurses, doctors and attorneys, flight attendants, teachers, receptionists and self-employed entrepreneurs. We had plenty of those that once worked outside the home until the day our child's needs became so great, that was no longer an option. We had those with one child and those with four. The one thing we all had in common, was at least one child with special needs (many have more than one).

STM said it was the best party he's ever been too - couldn't stop talking about what a great group of people. Many of the conversations did revolve around our children, but many did not. There were a lot of laughs and a couple teary eyes. There were exchanges of information, words of encouragement, and much, much grace.

It was amazing.

* photo from http://www.chinese-symbols.com

God is Love

2011-12-09T07:38:00.001-08:00

My cousin Julie sent this to me, thought I'd like it. I do. Think you might, too...

Big Mary Day

2011-12-08T09:49:00.001-08:00

Today, December 8th, is the Feast Day of the Immaculate Conception, that is to say, Mary, at the moment of her conception, was and remained so, free of original sin. Whether or not you believe that to be true, I think we can all believe that Mary was one special mom. Even if you don't believe her son was the savior, he was, nonetheless, remarkable. I think we can also all agree that what this world needs most, is the presence and healing of a mother's love.

Hail Mary,
Full of Grace,
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit
of they womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary,
Mother of God,
pray for us sinners now,
and at the hour of our death.

Amen.

* Photo from www.saintwilliam.net

Born For It

2011-12-06T08:44:00.001-08:00

First of all, I feel it's important to mention that I'm actually living my ideal life. All I ever dreamed of doing was being a wife and a mother, and being able to stay home and take care of the needs of my family. I used to think I'd get a job being a hotel maid, because there are few things in life that bring me more pleasure, than making a mess tidy. So, for me, an unexciting day of taking care of house and home, suits me just right. In fact, I was born for it. Which brings me to my next stream-of-consciousness (no time for well-crafted posts).

Yesterday was our annual visit to Santa. Rojo wouldn't dream of not visiting Santa, telling him what he wants (a bear like Max but with a proper nose, remember?), taking a name off the giving tree, finding a gift for that person, having a snack in the food court, then looking at Christmas lights on the way home. STM and Woohoo find it brutal. 99.99% of the population would find it brutal. It is, in fact, brutal. Standing in line with a bunch of babies, toddlers and some kids as old as six or seven, then us. Rojo is now 5'7 and fifteen.

Our plan is always to hit the mall early in the month, and early in the afternoon (right after school). We arrived at 3:00 yesterday, and there was a long line already formed. I took one look at the family and decided I was the only one capable of snaking around the line, and that the others must start in on the giving tree portion of the evening. We separated, I stood in line and Rojo texted me every two and a half minutes for an update. Finally, when we were about four kids from the front, he joined me, meeting my new friends, four-year-old Jaden and his dad.

The 45 minutes in line had given me ample time to get to know Jaden and learn his family's story. Jaden's dad had lost his job, home and family all within two weeks of each other, several months ago. He was now living with his grandparents and had taken the bus there with Jaden to see Santa. He didn't know they'd charge for pictures. He didn't know there would be a small train tantalizing Jaden, but costing $3.50/person for a 3-5 minute ride (racket!). He didn't know that after hearing that story I just had to reach in my wallet and cough up enough money for the two of them to ride the train. After all, Jaden was all excited to ask Santa for a choo-choo train for Christmas.

I didn't explain to Jaden's dad why a mother of a fifteen-year-old would be standing in line. When Rojo joined us I let Rojo speak for himself. "Do you want to see the list I am giving to Santa?" His earnest expression and obvious excitement (and belief) spoke for themselves.

"Sure," said the dad.

Rojo produced the list we'd made the day before and put in my purse so we'd be sure to have it for the big moment:

Teddy Bear
Slippers
Hat
Gloves
Mittens
Warm boots
Mint candies
Flavored shampoo

As the man handed the list back to Rojo and he moved up in line that much closer to the goal of seeing Santa, a realization fell upon me, "I was born for this." It really doesn't bother me a bit standing there, holding hands with someone taller than me now, talking about flavored shampoo and teddy bears, reindeer and Santa. I'll take it.

I would not make a good soccer mom. I am no good at cooking, entertaining, decorating, working outside the home, having a house full of kids here doing what a house full of kids do, basically all the things my friends are super good at.

No accidents.

Top 10 Exciting Things I'm Doing Today

2011-12-05T09:17:00.001-08:00

10. Drove the kids to school in my pajamas and slippers when Woohoo's car wouldn't start

9. Calling a repair person to come fix the oven that sparked and made a big popping sound when I tried to turn it on. Now it won't do anything at all despite several attempts to flip the circuit breaker, because that's all I could think to do, so continued doing that long after it clearly wasn't doing anything to fix the problem

8. Taking Flicka into the vet to have her anal glands expressed

7. Putting on rubber gloves and removing 100 layers of grease and grime from our oven fan, because when I was checking out possible causes of the spark and pop, I discovered it had been quite some time since I got in there and scrubbed

6. Changing beds

5. Vacuuming dog hair

4. Looking for all the missing dishes in Woohoo's room - wish me luck

3. Wrapping gifts, gifts and more gifts

2. Turning everyone's clothes right side out before washing them - apparently this is really, really hard to do and I'm the only one in the family that has learned the secret

1. May "save" cleaning the toilets so I have something to look forward to tomorrow

Moving On

2011-12-02T09:29:00.001-08:00

Went into Rojo's room two nights ago and there on his mini-trampoline, lying face down, was a framed picture of him at age two. Actually it's one of those frames with places for three pictures, and it captures him in rapid succession being all two - darling. Not a lot to love about him at that age, but I have always loved those three shots, because they remind me that although my memory tells me he was nothing but a pain-in-the-ass, he did have his moments. Three of them are captured for all eternity.

When I asked Rojo why he took the frame off the wall, he just said, "I didn't want it up there anymore." I took it down to live in the basement with all the other things we have framed and don't want on the walls anymore.

Yesterday I walked into his room and all but two of the framed pictures of himself that have been on his dresser for years, were turned towards the wall. The two that remained facing forward, was a darling picture of his godparents, Tom and Nancy, and a Bible verse my mom gave him when he got baptized in April. The ones now facing the wall were all of him as a baby or toddler. I turned them around again, just to see what he'd do. Sure enough, went in his room this morning and those same ones were turned towards the wall again.

I asked him, "Why do you keep turning the pictures of you around?"

"I'm sick to death of them," he said.

In all these years he's never said boo about what he wants his room to look like, what he wants on the walls, what kind of comforter cover he wants, what color the walls should be, the arrangement of the furniture, nothing. It's as though he's now looking around his space with different eyes, teenage eyes, growing up eyes, moving on eyes. And with tears in mine, I took all the smaller pictures down to the basement, too, and closed that door.

Holiday Induced ADHD

2011-11-30T14:44:00.001-08:00

I have four blog posts started, and none of them are going anywhere. Started telling you about the dream I had last night where someone was asking for specific books on my bookshelf, and I was handing them over, and had some vague connection/realization that I do that a lot - just hand over whatever anyone asks for. Didn't finish that one because I got distracted.

Started telling you about all the gifts I am going to give myself this year, both "actual" gifts (exciting things like new kitchen towels), and "true" gifts, like permission to half-ass the Christmas shopping/wrapping/etc. Didn't finish that one because I got distracted.

Started telling you about how Woohoo asked that for Christmas this year, I "do my magic" on her bedroom, purge, purge, purge, "Just make it go away!" Didn't finish that one because I got distracted.

Started telling you that I think we're going to break down and get Rojo an iPad for Christmas for many, many reasons, not the least of which is the fact he sends approximately 2,000,000 texts a day and the poor people that get them and respond need a flippin' break. (Thank you Tom, Nancy, Kathleen, Aunt Julie, Meghan, Laurie, Ann, Jenn and many, many more.) Didn't finish that one because I got distracted.

Was going to ask you for your recommendations on must-have apps for said iPad, in fact, I'll just do that now before I get distracted. What are the must-have apps for an iPad? I want to load it up so it's good to go when he opens it.

Can't really finish this post, either, something else just caught my attention...

What's New Around Here

2011-11-28T12:19:00.001-08:00

I am playing catch-up today after five L-O-N-G days with Rojo. I swear with every inch he grows, he gets one notch louder. His voice is changing, he's taller than me now, and has the "gift" my side of the family has, with a voice that really carries. It's impossible to find a place in our home where you can forget he's also in the home. Impossible.

Oh, and did I tell you STM wants to get a motor home after Woohoo goes off to college, so STM, Rojo, Flicka and I can travel together in a space smaller than our kitchen? Days on end in close quarters? "Ideally" with two TVs, so the boys can each watch their shows and I guess I'll be somewhere with earplugs AND headphones, and a giant Margarita? I have convinced STM that the first thing to do is rent one for a week and see how we all do. I'm taking bets now on who calls "uncle" first. I doubt we'll make it past the city limits.

Woohoo got into the university she was hoping to get into! WOOHOO for Woohoo! She has her colleges narrowed down to two, and they are apples and oranges. I am trying (rather unsuccessfully) to not sway her with my strong preference of one over the other, even though the "other" is where I went to college. Not a thing in the world wrong with that university, I just don't see how it would be the right fit for Woohoo. Actually "sway" is not the right word, I'm trying to not drive her so crazy that she picks the other one just to spite me.

I am pretty much living on pumpkin pie with aerosol whip cream and eggnog lattes. Every year I tell myself I'm not going to succumb, and every year I do. It's about a one-month thing that I am simply powerless over. If eggnog were available year-round I wouldn't touch it. It's my November-December "thing."

We continued our tradition of going out the day after Thanksgiving (I refuse to call it Black Friday, what TFBS), and cutting down our Christmas tree. I'm happy to report that our house is fragrant with the scent of a Shasta fir, and the stockings have been hung by the chimney with care. Our Christmas dishes are out and being used, and they make me happy. My pumpkin pie is extra yummy served on them.

STM and I had a "crisis" when the DVR was out of new things to watch and On Demand was down. We actually watched last week's "Modern Family" again, because we'd laughed so much the first time. Happy to report we laughed just as hard, or harder, the second time. That's the first show to come along since "Seinfeld," that really makes me giggle. My favorite is Cam, I belly laugh at every word and gesture from him. In fact, I'm having a chuckle right now just thinking of Cam. Cam. Cam. Funny, funny Cam!

We are going to see Santa next week, and Rojo is going to ask him for a little stuffed bear to replace Max, the one with a broken nose that I tried to fix, but to no avail. Let's hope Santa can put his hands on a new Max, because it can't be sort of like Max, it needs to be Max, but with a perfect nose.

So, some big things, some little things, your basic life.

Back By Popular Demand

2011-11-23T12:37:00.001-08:00

I wrote these YEARS ago, way before I even had a blog, and shared them with some friends. They continue to ask for them, so here they are (and they remain as true as they did then):

TOP 10 THINGS LIKELY TO BE SAID BY STM'S MOM ON THANKSGIVING:

10. The newspaper today was as thick as the Sunday paper with all those ads.

9. I think while all of those people are out shopping tomorrow, I'll just enjoy staying home.

8. That button on the turkey already popped, and it can't possibly be done.

7. My mother used to serve creamed onions every year, and she was the only one that ate them.

6. I hope you all brought your Tupperware, there are going to be lots of leftovers!

5. The stores are all decorated for Christmas already!

4. That's enough salt, Papa!

3. This time we're having real butter.

2. I'm so full I couldn't eat another bite.

1. Who's ready for pie?

TOP 10 THINGS LIKELY TO BE SAID BY CARRIE'S MOM ON THANKSGIVING:

10. Who thinks the new mayor is a closeted alcoholic?

9. What is going on with all these math labs? Do you realize the long-term implications of this epidemic?

8. There is a real spiritual deficit in this country. Did you know that Macy's won't even let their employees say, "Merry Christmas" now? They have to say, "Happy holidays."

7. Everywhere I go now there are these gambling places disguised as coffee shops. I thought we were keeping all this gambling within the Indian reservations to create jobs and help these poor people make something of their lives.

6. I am calling the cable company on Monday and canceling my subscription. Have you sen the rates?They just keep going up, while the quality of programming just keeps going down.

5. Who wants to call _______________ and wish them a happy Thanksgiving? I'm sure they are lonely and thinking of all of us while they are in rehab.

4. I can never eat enough to make it worth all the trouble of cooking a big Thanksgiving meal. Even if I could, who can enjoy eating knowing that one third of the world goes to bed hungry every night.

3. Oh, no salt for me! You know I have terrible blood pressure! I never salt anything, I haven't for years! Of course, I do love my chips!

2. I'm so full I can't eat another bite.

1. I'm ready for pie!

THAT College

2011-11-21T12:39:00.001-08:00

Lots of talk of college in our house these days. Every month or so Rojo reminds me, "You know, I'm not going to college." Just yesterday we were standing in the kitchen and he looked up on the wall where my favorite Corita Kent print is hung, and said, "THAT's the college I'm going to. I'm going to live here with you, and go to the 'Each child is special give lots of love college.'"

He'll graduate summa cum-laude, I haven't a doubt.

2011-11-18T13:06:00.001-08:00

I'm writing about blue twos at Hopeful Parents today - won't you join me? Thanks!

Word Choice

2011-11-16T08:36:00.001-08:00

I'm on a bit of a rampage, and we all just love a good rant, right? No? Just me?

A friend of mine called last week and was telling me how now that her son is seventeen, she needs to get crackin' with a case worker and start the arduous task of setting things up like Medicaid, transitional services, and SSI. These are things that are in our future, too, but I am letting my blinders stay on until Rojo turns sixteen, maybe seventeen, before crossing those bridges I don't want to cross.

When this friend finally got someone helpful on the phone (can you imagine the extent to which my phone phobia will flare up when I have to do this?), the kind woman on the other end asked, "What is his current eligibility?" My friend gave the initials that bring a tear to her eye and a choke to her throat each time, "M.R."

"Well, we aren't going to use that term," she said, "We'll use Developmentally Disabled."

Later, I was sharing all this with another friend of mine that has closely walked my story with me, and who is the aunt of a fifteen-year-old with Down Syndrome. "I like Intellectual Disability," she said kindly enough. At which point I bit her head off.

"I DON'T!" I said. "It's just another way of saying, 'not smart.' It's focused entirely on what we think of as intelligent, and doesn't tell us anything about the other intelligences the person may have."

I then proceeded to blast her with a long litany of people I know with high SAT scores, impressive graduate degrees, and by all standard measures are "intelligent," and frankly, make some of the most piss-poor decisions I've ever heard of in my life.

At Rojo's school they use the term "learning differences" rather than "learning disabilities." I love this, because that's just exactly what they are, differences. Rojo still can't tie his shoes - probably never will, but that boy is a wiz on his phone and computer. Nobody taught him. He innately knew how to make them do what he wanted them to do. Technology makes sense to him. It works in a way his brain can get itself wrapped around.

Rojo has a spiritual intelligence I've never seen in another person. Ever. I see plenty of "smart" people striving to attain a state of mental health and peace that he effortlessly just has.

I don't know, maybe when it's time for me to make that call I'll give them his "true" diagnosis of PDD-NOS, but maybe I'll just see what happens when I say he has "intellectual differences."

Photo from http://www.iqtestexperts.com

The A Dar Never Vacations

2011-11-14T12:49:00.001-08:00

When STM and I were on vacation, we kept spotting the same family. They often ended up eating breakfast next to us, walking on the path next to us, you get the idea. Right away my A-dar went up when I saw their little girl, who was about six or seven. I can't even put my finger on it, it was just "something" about where her gaze was, how repetitive she was in what she said, "Mom is sitting here," "Don't sit there, Mom is sitting there, "Mom is sitting there," "That's where Mom will sit," etc.

The father finally said, "I know, you've told me repeatedly." He didn't sound mad, he didn't sound super annoyed (I was), he sounded resigned. Then I watched the same father go to the buffet and bring her back a plate of all white food: toast, rice, banana. That sealed the deal.

I saw the exhausted looking mom. I saw the exhausted looking dad. I saw the game-for-anything grandparents they'd brought along to help with the kids. I saw the older, typical brother. I saw the old me that would have tried to make a trip like that work (and did just such a thing when we took everyone, STM's parents included, to Disneyland when Rojo was that age). I saw the strain between the parents, despite the fact that they were "on vacation." I saw their future. I saw their past.

I didn't say a word to them.

I remember in the earlier years when someone thought they had a kid like Rojo, and they'd tell me their story, and pass along their words of wisdom. I found it presumptuous. I found it putting the cart before the horse - they were trying to give me input I was not ready to have. I found it hard to shake their words loose from my brain, and some lived to haunt me.

I also know they were doing it out of kindness, that they recognized something in him, in me, in us that resonated with them, and they wanted to connect from that place, but that is just not a place everyone necessarily wants to connect.

So, although the A-dar never takes a vacation, my tendency to "help," must.

Photo from: www.letschatautism.com

$180 Richer

2011-11-11T12:45:00.001-08:00

We found the retainers! Rojo put on a sweatshirt today and there in the pocket were BOTH of them!

Thank you, St. Anthony!

Thank you, Don Wilson!

Thank you, concerned readers! I just KNOW none of us had any bigger fish to fry than this! : )

A Vacation Was Had by One and All

2011-11-10T07:49:00.001-08:00

Okay, I finally have my caffeine-induced wits about me enough to tell you about our AWESOME vacation! Here's the thing about vacations - they're a good thing to take! Note to self: take one with spouse more than every 10 years. We went to Vegas for 3 days for our 10th anniversary, have had a night or two here and there since then, but have not been away for a whole week alone, for 18+ years. (Nine months exactly before Woohoo was born. Just sayin'.)

It's just a really nice thing to go away and remember why you ever thought getting married was such a hot idea to begin with. Thing is, I like STM. My love for him has never been in question, but it was really nice to just enjoy the heck out of his company. I know I'm preaching to the choir here, but once you have kids, it's so hard to keep the focus from totally being on them, and then throw a special need or two (or 12) in there, and well, it's easy to become co-parents of a special needs child, and not much else.

Everyone keeps asking us what we did when we were in Maui. Here's the answer: a whole lot of nothing. We didn't go to "do," we went to "be." And "be" we did. We "be'd" at the beach, at the pool, on our balcony, on long walks and leisurely breakfasts. We did golf once (he golfed, I rode in the cart for an extra $35). We took nice drives around the island, did explore the other towns both near and far, but most of the time we just hung out.

STM read the Steve Jobs book cover-to-cover (it's a monster), and I read three paperbacks that were all wonderful. (Shanghai Girls, Secret Daughter, The Miracles of Prato. Put all three on your To Read list, and don't forget The Blood of Flowers, too.)

We slept 9 hours each night. We awoke before daybreak, got our coffee and sat on our balcony watching the sun come up. We had our beer and/or wine each evening at sunset and watched the glory of that. In a nutshell: pure heaven.

And the kids. The kids had a ball without us. Woohoo said, "No stress for a full week." Nobody asking her if she did this or that, nobody nagging. Somebody cooking sumptuous meals for her each night. Someone that let her take over our master bedroom and make it her own for a week. Someone that said, "Sure!" to whatever it was she wanted to do.

Rojo was blissed out, too. We only talked to him once for 2 seconds and had a couple of texts. He was too busy keeping our friend, liz, (you can call her the liz, but you can't capitalize her name) hopping. He had her going out for frozen yogurt, playing basketball in the living room while she played YouTube videos on her laptop to provide the appropriate accompanying music, listening to him play and sing church songs on the piano or keyboard, or just having "conversations."

When we got home it was 9:00 PM and we thought he was asleep. When we went up to check on him he was SOBBING in his bed. "Rojo, what's wrong?"

"This is liz's last day!" he said through his cracking, crying, voice.

I settled him down, went back to say goodbye to liz (and tell her how sad he was she was leaving), and when I went back he was crying even more - up out of his bed, pacing around the room frantically, in a total frenzy. "My heart is BROKEN," he said. "I have a sad life!"

Of course this tore me up inside and I couldn't sleep a wink that night, even after I saw he'd settled down and was sleeping peacefully. The next morning we discovered liz had left her cell phone charger at our house, so we dropped it off after school. Rojo didn't even want to get out of the car, I made him, he said his hello and goodbye and then was in a big hurry to get home and to the school yard before it got dark.

liz e-mailed me the next day, "If you're not lucky enough to be in the Rojo circle, you will never get why it makes total sense that he was crying his eyes out last night because I was leaving, but had absolutely no time for me today!" Exactly! Nothing personal! You were here, I was sad you left. I processed all that. I'm over it. No baggage. No attachment. In the present.

liz also wrote, "Oh, my hell of God... Rojo and I are even more solidly connected than before. I want everyone to love me the way he does... deeply, no strings... no agenda. Thanks for the opportunity to be with someone who touches my soul in a way that no one else ever could."

Thank you liz for being the perfect person to make it all possible. Rest up, Hawaii 2013 is already in the works (my 50th)!

Top 10 Things I've Found While Looking for Rojo's Retainers

2011-11-08T20:30:00.000-08:00

We had a GREAT vacation (more on that in another post). The kids did great (more on that in another post), the house looked great (more on that in another post), fun was had by all (more on that in another post). Only "casualty" of the time away was one set of retainers. They went all Don Wilson on us. Vanished. Thin air. Were right there and now they simply aren't. I know they'll turn up, but now the clock is ticking and I do NOT want Rojo's teeth to move while we wait for Don Wilson to return the damn things to where he found them. This could take months (and usually does).

So, I've turned the house UPSIDE DOWN looking for them (they are $180 to replace, not something I feel like forking money over for right now, or ever, actually). Have NOT found the retainers, but I have found these...

10. 29 bobby pins

9. Rojo's sunglasses he lost in July (which I did replace, so now he has a back up pair for next July, roughly the next time he'll need them around here)

8. Nine of Flicka's "chews"

7. Balled up Kleenex

6. Screw thingies from a drawer that broke ages ago

5. Dust bunnies too numerable to count

4. An empty Gatorade bottle

3. An empty something else, not-quite-sure-what bottle

2. My 5 lb. weights I've been wondering about

1. Candy wrappers

All Souls

2011-10-31T11:44:00.000-07:00

Running last minute errands this morning before we take off tomorrow morning for Hawaii, and had the radio on KBVM (K-Blessed Virgin Mary), which I've listened to on and off for years. Love the music. Like some of the discussions. Do NOT like some of the discussions. You can take the girl out of the Protestant religion, but you can't take the Protestant religion out of the girl.

Topic turned to Halloween, which precedes All Saints' Day, and then All Souls' Day. The woman on the radio urged us to be praying for all the souls in purgatory. I snapped that radio off so fast it would have made your head spin - did not want to hear one WORD about purgatory, a concept I have always struggled with.

Got to thinking, anything that made me react with that amount of energy, probably needed to be looked at a little more closely. Clicked it back on. Because there are no accidents, the whole conversation was about people's struggle to understand purgatory.

I'm not pretending I understand it any better, but it did get my wheels turning. I, personally, don't believe there is a heaven "up there," or a hell "down there," I believe that they are states of mind, and there are those who have figured out how to achieve heaven on earth, and those for whom this alludes. It then stands to reason that there is an in between, too, a place of purification, a place of struggle, and mental anguish. Doesn't that sound a lot like life? Or at least periods in our life? Is it possible that we experience heaven, hell and purgatory over and over and over again, sometimes concurrently?

The Buddhists believe in Samsara - a cycle of birth and rebirth, until one finally breaks free through enlightenment and transcends the cycle to a state of Nirvana. I like this concept, or maybe just the words sit better with me. I like the notion of "transcending," of breaking free from a cycle, be it lifetime after lifetime or just what feels like it, the issues we have that seem to haunt us and feel so old and ingrained we grow weary and doubtful we will ever transcend them.

On this All Souls; Day (Wednesday), I will light a candle for just that - all souls. May we all transcend. May we all move from a place of mental anguish and struggle. May we all "find" heaven.

Amen.

* Photo from http://blissfullydomestic.com

Top 10 Signs I Need a Vacation

2011-10-29T09:53:00.000-07:00

10. I am virtually incapable of speaking intelligibly - even STM says, "Never mind, I know what you mean."

9. I needed to return something, put it in a box, closed it up, realized I had not put the paper work inside, opened it up. Closed it. Realized I had not put the paper work inside. Opened it. Closed it. THREE times!

8. Started packing two weeks ago.

7. Finding new ways to drive my loved ones crazy by micro-managing their lives.

6. Got super annoyed when someone took a bite of something that was "mine" in the fridge.

5. Can't be bothered letting Flicka sniff on our walks, must be marching forward at all times!

4. Until this moment, totally "blogstipated."

3. Totally becoming a hypochondriac.

2. Looking for things to worry about.

1. Forgetting to be grateful.

* Photo from www.gohawaii.com

Blogcation

2011-10-26T11:06:00.000-07:00

Didn't intend to start my blogcation until next week, when I will be sunning myself with STM on the beaches of MAUI, but I guess my fingers knew I needed a little extra time off. Just not a whole lot going on to report on, and that is a good thing. My resolution for 2011 was: boredom. While 2011 has been anything but, I am enjoying a nice little lull now, and let me tell you, it feels good.

Can't get enough of this:

And can't stop reading this:

And every now and then I pop up to use one of these babies, on a light fixture that hasn't seen the likes of it for oh, say, five to six years:

Did have an IEP meeting for Rojo at his new school, and this time he had to go, too. Just going into the basement and pulling out that box set off a PTSD episode, and I was dreading the whole thing something fierce. Here's the thing: it was great. They've found a way to tap into services through the school district this school is in (different district than we've dealt with for 15 years), and they will come to HIM, during school, and teach social skills! They are calling it "social cognition," which I am too busy drinking tea and reading my good book to Google and learn more about, but they both sound like good words, and coupled, they must be twice as good, right?

My tea is getting cold and this book isn't going to finish itself, so until later, TTFN!

Helicopter Parents

2011-10-20T05:00:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I'd be a helicopter parent if I weren't a parent to a child that requires I be so (probably), but I do know I am, and I do know the minute I turn down the vigilance, things fall apart. Meds are not taken. Things are not brought to school that need to be, glasses are not worn, underwear is not changed, etc.

We have been highly involved in Woohoo and Rojo's schools, always. Auction chairs, coached sports, sat on numerous boards, organized/pushed for new programs, blah, blah, blah, so naturally, I was at the open house the high school held on Sunday, to help answer questions prospective parents might have about the program Rojo is in.

Ran into one of Woohoo's favorite teachers and was chatting it up. Learned Woohoo is pushing it a little on the dress code. Nothing major, hasn't been written up, but still, pushing it. All totally within the realms of normal teenage behavior, and we are not concerned, however, we did mention it to her. Her boyfriend happened to be over at the time. (What were the chances? Answer: high!) She wanted to know how we knew and when we answered, "Our spies told us," he said, "I'm so glad my parents aren't involved."

He wasn't been funny or ironic, wasn't going for a laugh, totally 100% serious. You could see the genuine gratitude he had for the way his parents have parented.

I am definitely less helicopter-y with Woohoo, but I do my fair share of hovering over her, too. It's a chicken/egg kind of thing - I'll never know which came first, the tendency or the need. Guess I don't even need to know - just touch it all with gentle awareness and see from where it all comes - love.

Photo from http://www.jetplanephoto.com

Spirit Week

2011-10-19T05:00:00.000-07:00

It's homecoming week at Woohoo and Rojo's school, and that means another spirit week. Rojo lives for spirit week(s), and fortunately for him, they are a plenty in his high school. This is already the second "round."

Monday was OSU/UO day, which was a no brainer for him (I actually hate that expression, don't know why I used it). He has a surplus of both OSU and UO T-shirts. The only bet was on which team he'd represent, since truly he's a "platypus" as we call them around here, half and half with parents from each of the rival colleges, and a fan of both, enemy of neither. He picked UO. No telling what pushed him in that direction.

Tuesday was Celebrity Day. I don't think he knows the meaning of the word "celebrity," and certainly is not impressed by anyone that calls themselves a celebrity. I suggested we skip the day, as they are optional, anyway. "No, he said, I know who I'll be. I'll be Wayne Newton."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. WAYNE NEWTON? Where in the world did he come up with THAT one??? I refused to kill myself trying to come up with a Wayne Newton costume in less than 12 hours, so I blew the whole thing off and thought it would just go away. Tuesday morning he came at me with a Sharpie and Scotch tape and wanted me to write, "Hi, I'm Wayne Newton" on the tape and put it on his T-shirt. Naturally, I did. Naturally, that made him Wayne Newton. Naturally, it worked for everyone else, too.

Today is Red and Blue Day (school colors). Rojo is also "singing" with the choir at the Homecoming Mass, so he'll be wearing a red polo shirt with his black choir pants. I will be probably the only parent at the school Mass because I probably have the only high schooler that begged his mother to come and "watch" him sing. If he moves his lips even a little, it will be well worth it.

Thursday is Twin Day and he has worked it all out with one of his peer tutors to be twins. I think they are just wearing their T-shirts that have their high school's name on them. (Nothing could be more made than (most) boys and their lack of effort/attention/freak out they put into what they wear.)

Friday is Color Day - each class has a color, freshman are orange. He'll be wearing... yes, that's right, an orange T-shirt!

2011-10-18T07:46:00.000-07:00

It's the 18th of the month, and you know what that means, it means I'm at Hopeful Parents today. See you over there!

My Right Arm

2011-10-15T08:40:00.000-07:00

There have been times in my life when all I wanted or needed to be happy, was to have my children be happy. As a friend of mine always says, "You're only as happy as your unhappiest child." So true. Right now I have two happy children. I am happy. And so, so grateful. Our village is vast and powerful, and I give it much of the credit for our collective happiness.

When Anxiety tries to get me to worry about what's "next" for Rojo after high school, I only need to look around at his ever-expanding village, and realize, it's not all up to me. In fact, "next" is already under construction. I don't know how it will look, but I know that something good is coming!

We took Rojo to the football game on Thursday night (no school Friday). We've been taking him to all the home games since Woohoo was a freshman. He likes to "direct" the band. The band has come to count on it, and some of the horn players are even able to continue playing through their smiling mouths. On Thursday we told Rojo he needed to stop hanging out with us, and go see his friends in the student section. He did. It was awkward. It was painful. It wasn't all that successful, but he did it. We watched as he tried to enter existing circles of conversation and one group after another patiently at worst, and delightedly, at best, spoke to him until he moved on to the next circle.

On the way home in the car he piped up with, "I love my life. I love my friends. I love my school. I just love my life."

I can think of at least ten moms I know that would give their right arm to hear their kid(s) say that.

That's so much more than "enough," that's everything.

Amen.

Chinese Medicine

2011-10-12T08:23:00.000-07:00

So, went to the acupuncturist and got the very abbreviated background on the rudiments of Chinese medicine. Learned a little about the way wood, fire, earth, water and metal are represented in our bodies, and how Chinese medicine is a way to bring harmony to the flow between them (not even sure I have that right, but something like that).

Anyhoo, my Fire and Metal are not happy. Also, there's the dietary thing. Turns out my main two categories of food, gluten and dairy, are both big no nos for me. As I've said here before, I knew dairy was not working for me, and so have really worked hard to eliminate it. Since it didn't do a lot to clear up my issues, I suspected gluten may also be a problem. It is. She wants me off both completely. Of course I am kicking and screaming and throwing a big pity party - and you're invited! I'll do it, but I'm going to complain for (quite) awhile. It is fair to say that everything I enjoy eating has gluten and/or dairy, and everything I don't, doesn't.

Guess it's time to learn to cook.

What happened when I had the acupuncture treatment, is I did deeply relax and had all kinds of wild visions/dreams in just 15 minutes. Then, what I also experienced but didn't count on, was a much keener focus. I did not ping from thing to thing to thing, task to task to task, I was actually able to calmly complete one thing (like bringing in a car load of groceries and putting them away), before moving on to the next (like emptying the dishwasher and reloading it). May not sound like much, but it felt so different (and good) that I'm a believer.

* Photo from http://www.complementaryhealthcentral.com

A Big Day

2011-10-11T08:59:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a big day around here. First of all, I took Rojo into the DMV to get an ID card. He is fifteen, and it's time to have official identification for whatever/whenever he needs it. I just sort of sprung it on him that we were doing this after school, and miraculously, he fully cooperated. I think most people assumed the DMV was closed on Columbus Day, so the crowd was thin and the wait blessedly short. He is fully IDd, now, all 5'6" 92 lbs. of him.

Then, Woohoo submitted her college application that has kept me up nights for months (needlessly, but nonetheless). Any of you wanting to light the Marys for that one, would sure be appreciated. Our hope and prayer is that she's accepted to this school - her first choice and ours, too. We think it is a good fit for her and one in which she can be successful. (The school has a radio station there dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Just sayin'.)

Last, but not least, heard back from my agent last night that she likes all the changes I made to the book, and she's ready to go "out" with it. Again, light the Marys! A bestseller would be nice, but we really just want to the book to "do" whatever it is it is meant to do in the universe. Let it be.

love.

Acupuncture

2011-10-10T13:16:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I am seeing an acupuncturist for the very first time. I'm excited. I can't wait to have her place needles wherever it is she places needles, and let them do their thing. I have heard it's very effective in treating anxiety, and that is music to my soon-to-have-needles-all-over-them-ears.

In the meantime, I am trying to be mindful of my breath and saying to myself, "With this breath I calm my body..." that is helpful. So is my favorite anxiety cure: distraction. I have decided that today is the day I need to create a directory for the support group I facilitate. Imagine the possibilities of six or even seven years worth of saved e-mails listing various naturopaths, speech paths, occupational therapists, neuropsychs, psychologists, psychiatrists, play therapists, social skills therapists, you-name-it. I can finally make a comprehensive list of who we have all used and liked and stop re-creating the wheel every time someone asks me, "Do you know someone that...." which is a question I get a lot.

Had a conversation with a fellow anxiety "sufferer" today. There are some pros to having anxiety, most of us "high strung" individuals do get a shit load of stuff done in a day - so hard is it for us to do "nothing." We find things to do that don't always need doing. Sometimes, in fact, they require un-doing because not only did they not need to be done, they shouldn't have been done.

STM is famous for looking at people like me and saying, "You're not watching enough TV." Let's just say he does watch enough. He works like a dog when it's time to work, and he rests (like an old dog) when it's time to rest. A lesson I have failed to learn despite his many attempts.

We do have an awful lot of good bad TV stored on our DVR, perhaps tomorrow after acupuncture... can't talk now, gotta go put that on the To Do list.

* Photo from http://www.grandstrandacupuncture.com

College

2011-10-07T12:48:00.001-07:00

It is October 7th and on my desk is a huge pile of stuff for Woohoo's graduation in eight months, and that's not just because I'm neurotic.

By October 18th we need to submit our order for all things graduation related: cap and gown, announcements. There are senior pictures to select for the yearbook, and we need to dig out the baby pictures and pick one of those, too. College Night was last night, and now is the time to get all the recommendations in, finish up that essay, submit applications left and right, visit colleges, etc...

One of my oldest and dearest friends, Ruth, has a daughter just a year older than Woohoo. She said last December to me, and I've thought of this a million times, "Just call me next year and scream - I'll know it's you."

AHHHHHHH!!!

First of all, there are the 1,001 details that all need to get done really soon, not to mention the fact we have to figure out how we're even going to pay for college, but how is it possible that I my little girl is going off to college in ten months? HOW? I'm still driving the same car that took her to preschool, doesn't that automatically make her little? Will that car, indeed, drive her off to college? Probably. Where have the years gone?

Between a part-time job, a boyfriend, three AP classes and all this college stuff, she is BUSY. Already we hardly see her, which I guess is part of the natural order of things - by the time she actually leaves, it will be less dramatic, less painful, less upsetting, but nonetheless, just as poignant.

Adding to the poignancy is the fact that we're only doing this once. Rojo will not be taking and retaking the SATs and the ACTs. He will not be filling out applications. He will not need a roommate and a meal plan. We know, as we pass through this milestone year, it will be the only time that we do.

And that is the good news, because my old friend Anxiety, cannot do this twice.

And that is the bad news, because my old friend, Anxiety, is stressing already about What's Next for Rojo Instead.

Had our support group meeting at my house this morning. We talked about how we all struggle to enjoy the highs, fearing the lows. When things are even with our kids, when they are happy, in the right schools, have friends, healthy in all ways, we spend that time worrying about when they aren't, instead of celebrating that they are.

Woohoo is going off to college in less than a year. That is to be celebrated. Although it feels like everyone I know has kids that are in college or college bound, I have to remember that that is not the real world. It is a privilege and an honor to be headed to college, not the norm.

So, instead of screaming, instead of complaining, instead of worrying, instead of every other lower vibrational emotion or reaction, I am going to count my many blessings, not the least of which is I have a daughter that will be ready for college and gets to go.

Photo from http://blog.syracuse.com/college

This One Goes Out to the Ones I Love

2011-10-05T11:14:00.000-07:00

Just sent my agent my manuscript. "Just" as in 2 seconds ago. It's off my desk and on its electronic way to being on hers. That makes me happy. That makes me freaked out. That makes me insecure. That makes my IBS and racing heart go nuts (TMI?). That makes me feel accomplished. That makes me feel like a giant fraud - like I think I can pull off writing a book, ha! That makes me excited for everyone in the whole entire world to one day read it. That makes me want to DIE if anyone at ALL ever considers reading it!

Your basic head case.

After YEARS of having this book rattle around in my brain and make me all but pre-occupied and unable to do anything else, I FINALLY decided it just needed to get "out." However "out" turns out to be. If nothing else, it tells the story of our little family and the transformations in all of us as a result of the wisdom born of having Plan A turn into Plan B. At least from my perspective. Someday my grandchildren can dig it out of a box in the basement and argue over who gets stuck with it.

Rosie Thomas' song, "The One I Love," is in my ears and on my brain, both on a loop. This, ultimately, is my greatest wish for the book, my greatest hope, my greatest prayer. "Let this book go out to the one(s) I love. Mary, carry this book and place it into the hands of whomever needs to read it, for whatever reason (perhaps just to feel better about their own abilities as a writer - Shakespeare, it ain't).

Whatever may be, may be - let it be.

Amen.

My Old Friend

2011-10-04T08:28:00.000-07:00

My old friend, anxiety, is back. She is making my arms tingle, my heart race, my stomach churn. She taunts me in my sleep, awakening me in a dead panic at least once a night.

Struggled with anxiety my whole life, came to a peak almost ten years ago, exactly. Started doing the math yesterday (anxiety loves to run numbers), realized it was as I approached 39 that she really went nuts. I am fast approaching 49. She's right on time.

About to say goodbye to another decade and hello to the next one. About to launch my oldest off to college. About to see Rojo's years of formal education wind down, not up. About to move into a different stage with our marriage and parenting, while we will still have one at home (and may always), we will no longer be really "raising" kids.

We have three parents in their 80's, it's only a matter of time until their needs become greater and our roles shift in those relationships, too.

STM is concluding a project he's worked for years on. He will be starting "next."

Although I may need to revisit the idea of medication, I am hoping to avoid that. Scheduled an appointment with the naturopath. Going to try to do this "naturally."

Going to spend more time in meditation and less in my car racing from silly errand to silly errand (i.e. three trips to Safeway in 24 hours).

Going to take more slow walks with the dog - let her sniff to her hearts content and let that time be an opportunity for deep breathing, as opposed to utter exasperation.

Going to drink more herbal tea and less coffee.

Going to stop making lists of what I'm going to do, and just...

be.

http://vinodnarayan.files.wordpress.com

Home Sweet Home

2011-09-30T13:30:00.000-07:00

Well, my perfect get-away took an abrupt U-turn. I ended up with either food poisoning or the stomach flu, but whatever it was, it wasn't pretty. Had to call my mom who had to call a friend that still lived over there, to come bring me supplies. Answering the door to let her in took it out of me for the rest of the day.

Anyway. I'm home now, and feeling much better. I guess it's a good thing I took my time-out-for-illness then, because since I've been home I've:

* Vacuumed approximately 20 lbs. of weightless dog hair

* Taken Woohoo's car through DEQ. Twice. Needed a fuse so they could run the test. Got the fuse. Got back in line. Fun times.

* Done 100 loads of laundry

* Been to Safeway three times, and Trader Joe's once

* Signed up to bring snacks for several different commitments

* Ordered black pants for Rojo so he can perform in the upcoming choir concert

* Watered all the sagging plants inside and out

* Worked the Snack Shack with Rojo

* Taken both kids to the dentist

* Brushed the dog like there's no tomorrow

* Walked the dog twice

* Put 20 other To Dos on the list from all the e-mails I've received since getting home

* Hyperventilated a few times

* Picked up something from Bi-Mart for STM that he needed immediately

* Several other things hardly worthy of mention, but time consuming, nonetheless

It's important to note I've been home just over 24-hours.

To all you working-outside-the-home mothers, I bow to you.

Deeply.

It's Working Already

2011-09-28T05:30:00.000-07:00

One thing I harped on repeatedly, while working with Rojo and Woohoo's high school to start a program for kids with learning differences, was the need for peer tutors. "Not just for the special learners, but for the peers themselves," I professed, as though I knew what the hell I was talking about.

I didn't have statistics. I didn't have facts. I had a knowing that what was good for Rojo, would be good for anyone helping Rojo. I guess I did have facts, I had 29 other kids that went through 1-8 grade with him, that I would say, without a doubt, are better for having done so.

So, I talked up peer tutors for years. I knew that Rojo would relish time with someone that was all about him, someone in his age bracket, someone "typical," someone that for a specified amount of time each day, got to leave their "normal" life and immerse themselves in neuro-diversity.

Blessedly, I didn't have much opposition, and a peer tutor program was developed. Rojo loves everything about his school and program, but by far, his favorite thing is the peer tutors.

Friday night STM, Rojo and I went together to the first home football game. Woohoo went too, separately, and spent the evening with her friends, which is all good and the way it should be. We were there about 20 minutes and some kid I'd never laid eyes on before came up to Rojo, plunked himself down, and began to "hang." Finally, I said, "Rojo? Would you please introduce us to your friend?"

Rojo did, and the young man (a senior) shook our hands warmly and firmly, using lots of ma'ams and sirs, before resuming his spot right next to Rojo on the bleachers. Later, when they were off at the Snack Shack, one of Rojo's teachers walked over to us, looking for Rojo. I explained where he was. "Oh, that's great. You'll love this story," she continued, "I asked all the peer mentors to write me a reflection piece, and that young man said that before this program began, he didn't have any intention of going to college, he thought maybe he'd join the Marines. Now, however, after working with Rojo and his classmates, he's decided what he wants to do with his life is be a special ed. teacher. He's found his calling."

And I can say, without hesitation, that yes, he has.

Happy to Help

2011-09-27T05:30:00.000-07:00

We like to go to 5:30 Saturday night Mass. Not (just) because we then have our Sunday mornings free from the hurry up go, go of the rest of the week, but because there's just a different vibe at that Mass. That's the Mass that most of the "holy elders" attend, the ones that go every weekday morning at 8:00. The ones that have been taking communion with and to each other in times of sickness and in health. The ones that have been there and done that since way before that was an expression. The ones that walk with canes, walkers, and each other arm-in-arm. The ones that teach and preach volumes just by showing up. Those ones.

On Saturday night Rojo, STM, Kathleen, her husband, "Romey," (nickname given to him by Rojo) and I were all sitting there together, Rojo's arms flailing around in his usual celebratory way. A friend came over and asked if he'd help at the end of Mass - hold a basket for donations for a second collection, to our sister parish, a parish in need.

I thought for sure Rojo would say no. He says no to 100% of everything. He is, much like his father, a buck, buck, buck embracer. They say no just to say no, even when "yes" behooves them. Don't get me started. Anyway... thought for sure he'd say no, but he looked at her and said, "I'd be happy help you!"

I looked at him incredulously and he said, point blank, "Glory to God, always."

Always.

Amen.

The Sound of Silence

2011-09-26T11:32:00.000-07:00

The tradition has always been that after we're about three weeks into the school year, I go to Sisters, alone, and celebrate the fact that Rojo doesn't have a mark on 'em. I take my journals (dream and otherwise), spiritual readings, ear plugs and sleep eye shade thingy, walking shoes and computer, and de-stim. After three months home with Rojo, the various ice cream truck songs and cell phone ring tones being hummed, sung, kicked and tapped non-stop, it's what I do so that I can keep on doing it.

Because last year we sold the house my mom had in Sisters, I didn't know what I was going to do to keep the tradition alive, and thus, my sanity, and thus, Rojo. My cousin Julie graciously offered me the use of their vacation home, and I very nearly took her up on it (and will in the future). But I don't just need the time away, I need time away in this part of the world - the place where I am most able to hear and feel the comfort of Mary/God/Spirit/myself.

Checked into the possibility of a hotel - way too expensive and would have to have all my meals out (too much bother and too much money). Did a little looking on the Internet and found a super bargain house, now that it's off-season, in the same development in which we had our house. STM thought that was weird, but I know myself. I don't need novelty. I don't need adventure. I need, especially at this moment, the least amount of decision making, the least amount of new and different. I need everything to come down about 10 notches in my brain, and here is the place on Earth where that is possible for me.

I wish I could capture the smell of the air here, and let you have a sniff. It would heal you in a place you need healing - I promise. I have the windows open now, a warm sweatshirt on, and am just reveling in the smell. And the silence. Not enough can be made of the silence. With the windows open I can hear the birds, and in the far distance, the highway (which I pretend is a waterfall - it works). So quiet, in fact, that the battery operated clock on the wall was driving me CRAZY with its incessant ticking. Yanked that battery right out.

Got here yesterday, late afternoon. Went on a walk soon as I got things put away. Had to see my favorite tree on Earth. The tree that reminds me that no matter how far off course I get, or how long it takes me to get wherever it is I think I want to go, things have a way of straightening themselves out. That, and nature corrects.

Can't talk now. Must go sit on the deck and breathe deeply.

40 Days and Counting

2011-09-22T13:38:00.000-07:00

Just spent the last several hours:

* Putting one million dates on the August-August calendar for each of the kids' activities for the year

* Answering one million e-mails

* Generating one million e-mails

* Finding my desk under all the paperwork that's been gathering from church, school, mail, notes to myself, assorted To Do lists, etc...

* Buying/replacing all the things Rojo has grown out of, lost or broken since school started

* Being grateful I have the luxury of doing all these things during the day, and not after work, like so many people I know

* Counting how many days remain until STM and I fly off to celebrate 20 years of wedded bliss

* Photo from http://www.waileacondorentals.com

Finding a New Routine

2011-09-21T12:35:00.000-07:00

Dear Blog,

I'm sorry I've been neglecting you as of late, you see, it goes a little something like this: We have out-of-town guests staying with us, and my routine is thrown off. Plus, Kathleen and I have started walking in the afternoons when she gets off work, before I have to go get Rojo from school, and that has, what's that you say? thrown my routine off. Back-to-school has... drumroll... thrown my routine off. STM was doing Cycle Oregon all last week and that, well, as a matter of fact, yes, that has thrown my routine off. Had one over the summer, and am now looking for a new one.

The guests are great - two sisters that are STM's first cousins, travelled all the way from Ohio and Indiana just to spend time with STM's family (and us). Lovely. It's kind of like having two extra Carries in the house, which obviously, is a good thing.

Things continue to go really well for Rojo in his new school and new program. I'm knocking on wood pretty much 24/7 because everything is so great. I well up with tears of gratitude several times a day. Seriously. The communication between Rojo's teachers and me is excellent. No "housekeeping" issue too mundane for them to take seriously. Had a little tiny hiccup in choir as Rojo doesn't read music, has never sung WITH people before, and pretty much doesn't have a single solitary clue what's going on in there. Within 24-hours of the hiccup being identified, a solution was in place. Let me just say this, not only a solution, but divine intervention. The vice-principal found a senior that happened to have a free period when Rojo is in choir, and could serve as a peer tutor. He happens to have had choir before. He just so happens to have a middle school-aged brother on the spectrum and gets it. Oh, and he was already thinking he'd like to get involved in new program somehow - lend his help. Say it with me...

Woohoo continues to own the place as a senior, and is kicking ass all over the place. Most days she takes Rojo to school and many days she's able to bring him home, too. Sometimes she drags him with her to run her various errands, or attend something after school, etc. The other day they didn't get home until 4:15. She looked like something the cat dragged in. Grabbing a snack she says, "I'm out. I'm going in my room and not emerging. Taking Rojo to the mall really did me in."

No comment.

We've done all we can to separate her life/needs from his, let her have her life independently. I see this as a big transition year for her - for one year and one year only, they'll go to the same school, she will be his big sister in a way she hasn't been before, by design. She is assuming greater independence and at the same time, more responsibility. I think it's a good thing to prepare her for college/life. At least that's what I tell myself.

So, things are well here, blog, better than well... blessed.

More soon,
Carrie

* Photo from http://www.montini.org

2011-09-18T07:36:00.000-07:00

Please join me at Hopeful Parents today! Thanks!

No Soliciting

2011-09-16T09:11:00.000-07:00

Doorbell rang last night just as I was trying to put Rojo to bed. Already dark outside, porch light was not on, nothing about our house said, "We are interested in buying what you're selling."

Flicka barked and ran for the door (only time she ever barks is when the doorbell rings). Rojo and Woohoo beat me to the door, and by the time I got there (2 seconds later), they were chatting it up with the young man on the other side. Apparently they'd forgotten all instructions to yell through the door, "Sorry, we're not interested!" Certainly, they forgot not to open the door to strangers.

When I entered into the mix I heard Rojo and the young man having quite an exchange. Of course Rojo knew him from the neighborhood, and this young stud was being so darling with him, I almost started crying. Here stood a tall, handsome, high school athlete, selling some such thing as a fund raiser for his team. Something we clearly don't need, but I bought one anyway, to the tune of $20.

He said goodbye to Rojo in such a sincere way, a way that showed me not only had he had exchanges with him in the past, but that he'd enjoyed them - he wasn't just being nice, which, would have been nice, too.

I love it when people are nice for the sake of being nice, but there's something that warms my heart even more when people are clearly feeling more than that - invested isn't the right word, but you know what I mean. They feel, oh, I guess, sincere in their interaction.

It was $20 well spent.

"Music"

2011-09-15T09:38:00.000-07:00

So, Rojo, who's only interest in music up to this point has been ice cream truck and church songs, is getting familiar with popular music when he drives with Woohoo in the morning. He now has one favorite, and he sings it over and over and over and yes, you got it, over again. He asked if I could make it play on the radio. I'm powerful, but not that powerful. Turns out what he meant was could I put it on a disc so he could play it on the old Target boom box with flowers on it, and spattered paint from all the times its provided music during painting projects.

Found it on iTunes, burned it on a CD, and within five minutes he was jammin'. Now the song is stuck in my head, too, so I thought I'd share it with you, in the hopes that everyone I know could be singing Ke$ha's song, "Blow."

No need to thank me.

(And no, he has not seen the video.)

DAUGHTER OF THE DRUNK AT THE BAR

2011-09-13T13:07:00.000-07:00

Look what my human did - all by herself! Not only did she WRITE a book, she made her own trailer! You must watch this, it's fantastic, just like her, just like the book.

love.

Chit-Chat

2011-09-13T05:30:00.000-07:00

So this morning I was on breakfast duty, STM was away, and Rojo decided to pick this day, of all days, to sleep in. Not that I didn't mind a few extra quiet moments, I certainly did, but eventually I had to actually go and wake him up, and it was surprisingly difficult to do. Guess he really is a teenager, after all.

So, Woohoo was leaving at 7:15 sharp to get to school and take care of some things, and he needed to be ready to go. At 6:30 he was lounging (loudly). At 6:40 he was promising to come eat breakfast, but was making no moves towards having it happen. At 6:45 he was finally sitting at the breakfast bar, but was not eating. He was chatting. He was kicking to the beat of some song he was humming. He had his mouth engaged in ten different ways besides the one I needed it to be.

"Rojo, stop chatting and EAT!" I finally said in exasperation.

He continued to chat. Pretty much to himself, I guess, because I was not engaging.

"There's no time for chit-chat, EAT!" I said, now fully enraged.

"There's always time for chit-chat with a friend like you," he said, which of course made me laugh, which of course made him laugh, which of course gave his mouth one more thing to do besides eat.

After we got done laughing, I resumed the drill sergeant role, shouting out, "Eat! Eat! Just EAT!"

"Jesus," he said,"you're like a merry-go-round with the eat, eat, eat, when are you going to get off?"

So, he finally ate, they finally left, I finally took the dog for a walk, and on the way I saw that my favorite sign maker was back at it. "Make someone happy," it said. I decided that by getting off the merry-go-round I'd make at least two people happy.

Miracle Boy

2011-09-12T05:00:00.000-07:00

So, I'm at Bi-Mart picking up a prescription. I march up to the counter and hear a woman to my left say, "Actually, you're in line." She was an elderly woman, sitting on the nearby bench waiting for the pharmacist to finish her order.

"Oh, okay, I'll stand over here and wait until you're done," I tell her.

She takes a harder look at me and says, "Aren't you the mother of the miracle boy?"

I had recognized her, too, but didn't knew her name - knew she was what we call one of the "holy elders" at our church. When I donate blood she often checks me in.

"So, you were at his Baptism, I see," I say.

"Yes, I've never seen anything like it," she says, "and I've seen a lot."

Then the woman proceeds to tear up and say, "That moment he raised his arms and led us all in the 'Alleuluia Chorus," really got me, it gets me just thinking about it."

"Yes, he's a special boy, alright," I say.

"He certainly is," she says, and wipes her eyes.

Then the mother of the miracle boy wiped hers, too.

Still Flying High

2011-09-08T13:27:00.000-07:00

Day #2 was great. Showed Rojo where I would be parked on the days I come to get him, and that took a couple extra minutes. In those couple minutes one of his favorite people got dropped off and was walking into the building. Rojo didn't even glance back, he shot out of the car and was in that building, arm around the friend and marching forward.

Got an e-mail from one of the lovely women that work in the building saying how much she enjoyed her conversation with Rojo that day, and marveled at how much his communication skills have improved in the three years she's known him. Then she thanked me for sending him there. He forced her to be in the present, and she appreciated that. She looked forward to more of what he would be teaching her.

My friend Val and I had a few minutes to catch up today and we talked again about how Rojo has no ego whatsoever. No vanity. No modesty. No self-consciousness. No doubt and no anxiety about how his needs will be met. He is clear he can't do a whole lot of things, and he trusts that whomever he asks to help him, will be more than happy to. This approach hasn't failed him yet.

Why do we struggle so to believe this universal truth, that help is abundant and all we have to do is ask?

Got a good reminder of that recently. We are going to take Woohoo on an overnight trip to visit a college, and are leaving Rojo and Flicka home with a former teacher of his and her husband. Rojo was handled, but I worried about poor Flicka being home alone all day - she isn't used to that and doesn't like being alone. Finally reached out to someone that has told me numerous times she'd be happy to help with Flicka anytime, and guess what? She was happy to help out with Flicka - just like she said! Then she thanked ME for asking!

The message is clear. The universe is set up to be win:win. We ask, we receive. We give, we get. People are helped by helping. It all works if we just let it.

* Photo from http://www.psychologytoday.com

Off to a Great Start!

2011-09-07T13:59:00.000-07:00

So, approximately two million details went into the first day of high school for Rojo. We're talking years. We're talking about meetings, lists, e-mails, binders of information, more meetings, more e-mails, more years, more lists, more, more, more. Thought I'd considered everything.

Monday afternoon I realized Rojo was going to need PE shoes for the next day. The next day. As in, the next one after that one. This is the kind of thing that would normally have been on my July list of things to do, but instead, it was on my Right This Minute List. Because he can't tie his shoes, it's not just a matter of running out and getting some. I twisted STM's arm, and dragged him to the Nike Factory Store (thank you, Nike, for being local and having an outlet a few miles away). We were there the day before school doing last minute shopping with all the other people doing the same thing. And it was hot. And I was freaking out. And I had my doubts about whether or not we'd find cool shoes with Velcro, in his size, at an outlet store, the very moment we needed them.

But, you already know the end of this story, right? They had one pair. Perfect. His size. Velcro. And not only were they already marked down because they were at the Factory Store, but they were on sale, too. Probably would have been full price if I'd bought them in July. I was rewarded for waiting. I was rewarded for not stressing about the PE shoes until I needed to focus on the PE shoes. I had a need and the universe swiftly and compassionately met the need.

So, Tuesday morning Rojo and Woohoo got up, had breakfast, got dressed, and were out the door by 7:15. I got a couple e-mails from different people at school saying Rojo was having a great day. My head and heart believed that, my stomach had a different idea. I inefficiently (and maniacally) flitted about all day, finally getting Flicka and going outside to wait for them to drive home way before they could possibly be driving home.

The car pulled up, and just as Rojo was getting out, an older man and his dog walked by. "Oh, hi, Jerry, hi, Phinneas," Rojo says.

"Hi, Rojo," says the man I now know to be Jerry. "How was your first day of high school?" So, I got to hear Rojo's stories as he told them to a man I'd never laid eyes on before, but whom clearly loves my boy and is invested in him.

As Jerry (finally) left, he turned to me and said, "I really enjoy my talks with Rojo at the dog park in the mornings. I'm going to miss them. I hope he'll come on the weekends."

You better believe it, Jerry.

Rojo told me all about history - loved his teacher. Loved all his teachers, actually. Didn't use his locker. Didn't remember to get food from the cafeteria like we'd talked about, but did remember that I'd packed snacks, so ate those during lunch. Did go to the restroom when prompted. Did have different buddies assigned to help him for various things. Did have every teacher/staff member/administrator looking on and out for him. Did bring more than one person to tears by how darn cute and sweet he is.

Rested at home for half an hour, peed, ate a snack, drank a ton of water (hadn't all day), then was ready to head right back to school for volleyball. We headed straight for the Snack Shack and announced to the two dads working there (one of whom is Rojo's godfather, Tom, the other the father of one of Rojo's mentors - no accidents), that we'd be helping. We sold Gatorade, water, and popcorn for a full hour, with about a million people coming in to say, "Hi, Rojo!" Both people I recognized, and those that I didn't.

Then our friend J. came into the Snack Shack (I've blogged a lot about this special young man). He is also in the new program at the high school. He was positively beaming. He was talking so fast and so excitedly I could hardly understand him. Didn't need words to get that the boy had had a great first day. He, too, had come back for more. J's mom came in - she was checking to see if I could keep an eye on J. while she ran to Target. "Sure, buy me a lock for Rojo's PE locker - you'll know what to get, one that he can manage." So she did. Meanwhile J. had worked out an alternative ride home for himself from another mom in our village. He was set to stay longer than his mom could, and had no problem being at the school indefinitely.

Sat between the two special boys on the bench and watched/listened as one person after another came to say hi to them. Little kids. Students. Siblings of their friends. Parents. Staff/teachers. All of a sudden the day(s) caught up with Rojo and he looked exhausted. "Rojo, you look tired, are you ready to go?"

"Yea, let's do," he said. On the way home he told me all about how the boys have five minutes to shower after PE. He's all excited about that. Had I thought about that before, I'd have lost several nights sleep, but because it (like the shoes), failed to reach my radar, it also failed to freak me out. He's not modest, he's full of belief that that, like everything else, will go just great for him.

When we got home there was a voicemail - friend of STM's wanted him to call him back. Turns out the man wanted to tell us that Rojo and Woohoo had been the topic of their dinner conversation that night. This man's daughter, Woohoo's friend, caught Woohoo walking hand-in-hand with Rojo out of the building when it was time to leave Tuesday afternoon. The friend told her family all about how proud and protective Woohoo is of her little brother, and that the whole school knows not to mess with him, or they mess with her (all 110 lbs. of her).

It was a great day.

Today was Late Start, Rojo didn't have to be there until 9:40. Woohoo left early to meet her boyfriend for coffee first (how grown up does that sound), so I said I'd take him - had to run errands out that way, anyway. Thought we'd leave about 9:15, get him there with time to spare, but not too much. Long about 9:00 he shouts up to me as I'm finishing getting ready and says, "Care? You ready to hit the road? I want to get to school and see my friends."

* Photo from http://www.angelamaiers.com

My Boy

2011-09-06T10:19:00.000-07:00

My boy had Freshman Orientation on Friday. He was there from 8-2.

My boy was "22% nervous and 78% excited."

My boy made a bunch of new friends, "Mom, I have all their phone numbers in my phone."

My boy ate lunch in the cafeteria, and ate what they were serving just like everyone else.

My boy knows all the women that work in the cafeteria (they used to work at his grade school). One of them asked me on Friday, "Will Big Bird be in his locker?" She remembers him from the days he looked like the picture above. NECBM of that.

My boy figured out where he was supposed to go and got there. "Mom, they gave me a schedule and it had all the room numbers on it, so I just looked up and found the rooms."

My boy fell asleep at his regular time today and got up at his regular time, meanwhile, I didn't sleep a wink last night, too busy trying to open his locker (unsuccessfully) all night in my dreams.

My boy hopped in his sister's car and drove off with her for his first real day today.

My boy didn't even ask if I would take him and get him to his room the first day.

My boy has plans for after school - we are going to the see his "girlfriend" play volleyball and help out in the Snack Shack.

Done List

2011-08-31T19:00:00.000-07:00

Had so many things crossed off the To Do list, had to start a whole new list. Problem. Didn't just sit with that crossed off list and kiss the ground I walk on. I impetuously (we're not going to call it "compulsively") got out the paper and made a fresh list.

So, because not enough has been made of what I've been able to do this summer in between endless trips for snow cones, frozen yogurt, glazed donuts and talking/waiting/holding life in a freezing pattern about the ice cream truck, I decided to make a DONE! list. Read it and weep:

1. Cleaned the garage

2. Cleaned the outside toy box

3. Re-organized the whole garbage/recycling system at our house, and replaced in newly cleaned garage

4. Purged and re-organized the pantry

5. Went through all drawers/cupboards in the kitchen and sorted, purged and re-organized. Now I have an empty cupboard (it's tiny, but still...) and an empty drawer. Makes me happy every time I open them and see nothing in there.

6. Filled my car three times and hauled everything to Goodwill. The man's name that helps me there is Solomon. Say it with me, NO ACCIDENTS!

7. Filled my car innumerable times and went to the recycling center.

8. Filled my whole car with old and rusted shut paint cans and took them to the hazardous waste site. Guy that helped me saw the sticker on my car with the name of my kids' school and his wife works there. Totally know her. Say it with me...

9. Found a stack of old e-mails that will help my cousin write her memoir. Not only found them, but sent them to her. She was excited. I was more excited.

10. Cleaned my medicine cupboard. Praised God we don't need 1/2 the stuff in there we at one point needed.

11. Cleaned the attic crawl space and made it a place for luggage. Either need to start going places or purge the luggage, too.

12. Got rid of everything that Rojo doesn't use or doesn't fit him anymore. Took all the faded, tattered posters off his wall and hung up crosses, framed collages and his Baptismal gown, instead. A holy person should live in a holy room, don't you think?

13. The minute Woohoo left for three weeks in June, I hyper-organized her room. Instead of being mad I touched her stuff, she was grateful for the big head start, and has managed to sort of keep it that way.

14. Got rid of most of the clothes that don't fit me. If I got rid of everything that doesn't properly fit, I'd have five things to wear.

15. Got out all the artwork with broken glass, removed (and recycled) it, then reworked some frames/glass/art and re-hung in different places.

16. Weeded the yard within an inch of its life and then sort of kept it up the rest of the summer.

17. Built myself three new Target cabinets for our bathroom and hauled the nasty ones away.

And, tomorrow I will haul two giant tubs of paper that needs to be shredded to my local UPS. Was already planning on going to that UPS to make a return ANYWAY, then with a few clicks of the computer learned that it is also a contracted shredding center. Say it with me!

* Photo from http://www.clipartguide.com

Recycling

2011-08-30T09:11:00.000-07:00

Ever since I was told my book was "almost there," I haven't touched it. It is in a pile right next to my desk taunting me, but nothing about it beckons me. Quite the opposite. Instead I am knee deep into a complete purging of all the extra stuff in my house. No drawer is safe. No closet. No nook. No cranny. Today I will go drop off two large shelves worth of old paint at the hazardous waste site, wash those shelves like there's no tomorrow, and be blissed out as I put freshly reorganized totes in their place.

All the while I sort, toss, haul, and wipe, I am listening to soothing music and lost in my thoughts. It's a good lost. It's actually, the best kind of lost. It's a mindlessness kind of thinking, much more like meditation than anything else. And as I go through old things, I see that I am truly done with them, and that is healing. Done with taxes that go back to 1999. Done with different phases and eras of my life I don't care ever to go back to. Done with projects I thought I'd finish but have freed myself from ever needing to. Done with some of the boxes that hold hard times, too: all the paperwork that went with my father's death. All the different information on therapies we tried or considered trying. All the ventures I toyed with that didn't pan out.

Done.

It's time to make my house, and especially the basement, no longer a graveyard. No longer a place where things that are over, are stored forever. Keepsakes need to move. Junk needs to move. The energy needs to move.

What I am finding as more goes out the door, is that new reservoirs of my own energy and creativity are freed up, too. I am no longer considering the purging to be writing avoidance, but pre-writing. A necessary step towards being in a place where I can allow more in, because I released a bunch. It's really recycling, if you will, a recycling of energy.

Each of Each

2011-08-29T12:56:00.000-07:00

You will be as surprised to hear this, as I was to feel it, but I'm actually not that excited for school to start next week. I am excited, but I'm lots of other things, too. Nervous. Anxious. Sad. Reflective. Nostalgic. You-name-it. Rojo will start in a program I worked years to help create. I vacillate between, "Yea! Finally!" to "OMG, I hope they aren't sorry! This is a lot of responsibility! I sold them a bill of goods!"

Then there's the fact that Woohoo starts her senior year of high school, and this will be the one and only year they'll be together there. While doing some preliminary clearing in the basement, I found the scrapbook I made of her K-8 years. (It is the one and only scrapbook I've ever in my life made.) It's true what they say, the years fly by. Soon she will be out the door and on to college, and life under our roof will never look the same for her, for us, forever.

As rough as this summer began, it has ended up being lovely. Rojo has gained so much independence and maturity, he needs me a fraction of what he started out needing, which is to say, a round-the-clock playmate/entertainer/driver/etc. He gives me several breaks a day and if the weather stayed lovely and he could "work" four hours a day and spend the rest at the dog park, he'd be happy, and so would I. It makes me think of all kinds of jobs that would be perfect for him after high school, and realize I don't need him to be gone all day every day, just consistently so we both have routine and breathers.

I asked him this weekend how he was feeling about high school. "Are you excited? Are you scared?"

"Each of both," he said.

My friend Terry has a family expression, "Each of each." When asked, "Do you want ice cream or pie?" and the answer is you would really go for a little of both, the answer to such (silly) questions is, "Each of each." I've been thinking a lot about that expression and Rojo's new Rojo-ism, "each of both," and thinking just how apt they are. It's not one or the other. It's not even simply "both." It's each of both, each of each.

* Photo from http://www.makeuptalk.com

Ride 'er 'til She Bucks Ya

2011-08-26T09:27:00.000-07:00

My on fire streak lasted four days. Cleaned the hall closet top to bottom. Cleaned the pantry - put like with like, what a concept. Cleaned the laundry room. Filled my car and went to Goodwill, did the same thing the next day. Made a dent in the basement (am giving myself all year to plug away on that purging project), but did get some of the chaos under control.

Went to bed last night feeling like, "Wow! My life is so manageable! I can totally do this! Look! I can run the show, get everyone where they need to be, and tend to more than the superficial cleaning of this home! I have it all figured out!"

But then today I woke up and the streak was clearly over. Whatever it was that was working, was not. Back to the spinning of the wheels. Back to the never stop moving but never get anything done routine that I know so well. Back to "normal."

At least now I know a streak is possible, it's not predictable, you can't put it on your calendar and plan for it. You just have to strike while the iron is hot (the latest expression I taught Rojo). You have to ride that bull until she bucks 'ya.

Then get back up and do what you can to hang on.

* Photo from http://eckrothrodeobulls.com

Love it When that Happens

2011-08-23T16:18:00.001-07:00

Know how most of the time it feels like you're swimming upstream? Spinning your wheels? Banging your head against the wall? Everything takes twice as long as it should and is needlessly frustrating and complicated? Just me?

Know how every once in awhile you have a day where the opposite is true? The stars line up and everything just clicks along? Had one of those blue moon days yesterday. Thought I had a day to dread: mammogram, LensCrafters, a whole list of Must Dos that I was not looking forward to.

Got to my mammogram early, they got me in early, whole process took just a few minutes and was as painless and simple as that procedure is capable of being. Arrived home with time I hadn't counted on, so took Rojo's bike into be fixed. When I asked if the three things I needed could all be done that day, they gave me the, "We'll see what we can do," answer with the not-bloody-likely look. They called an hour later and were done. $49.95 total, parts and labor, and his bike is good as new. Plus he has a rockin' kick stand now.

When we'd taken a recent day trip to the beach, I'd tossed Rojo's glasses in the beach bag when he needed his sunglasses. Scratched the hell out of them. I (briefly) considered making him look through (badly) scratched lenses as opposed to my having to deal with a trip to LensCrafters and spend another $200 replacing the lenses we just got in March.

Got to LensCrafters and they asked if I'd happened to buy the Protection Plan when I got the glasses. Rang a bell. Turns out that yes, I did buy the plan (love when I surprise myself with my own foresight). "Well, then, that will only be $25 to replace them, not $199 like it would be without the plan."

"Yea!" I said.

The kind woman punched in a bunch of numbers and soon the computer screen we were both looking at said, "Balance Due: -$17.50."

"Does that mean I have a credit of $17.50?" I asked.

"That's weird," the woman said, "I've never seen that before. Let me call my manager."

She did just that, and yes, as a matter of fact, LensCrafters owed me $17.50 to get new lenses.

Still don't know how that is possible, but took the money and ran.

Now Rojo is stylin' in his scratch-free lenses, I am $17.50 richer, and have a renewed sense that life doesn't have to be as hard as I make it out to be, if only I allow that to be true.

Loving People with Less

2011-08-23T05:30:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine just started a new blog that I want to point you towards, Loving People with Less.

I think you'll be inspired!

love.* Photo from www.baptisttwentyone.com/

An Interview with Michelle O'Neil

2011-08-19T06:49:00.000-07:00

Those of you that read this blog know I love. Michelle O'Neil. I love Michelle and everything about Michelle. She is my human. I don't have heros, I have certain humans that I wholly admire for their amazing ability to be human. She is a shining example of such a human. She is a wonderful wife, mother, friend and writer. Her writing speaks to me in a way few other writer's words do.

I have had the privilege of journeying through with Michelle on her memoir-writing path since 2006. I even got to read a much earlier draft of this book, which has come so far and is such an example of what stick-to-it-iveness and skill can do!

Friends, I bring you an interview with writer Michelle O'Neil:

1) Whydid you decide to write your story as memoir?

I played with the idea of fictionalizing it, but nomatter how I tried, it just didn't feelright. One of the themes running through Daughter of the Drunk at the Bar wasthis fear of being found out, and trying to hide. Having to pretend what washappening in our home wasn't really happening. Shame. I think writing andpublishing my story as fiction felt like more hiding. Hiding is no longertolerable to me.

2) How did you know what the framework would be?

Initially, I wrote a really long, everything butthe kitchen sink, get it all out version, (you now Carrie, you read it…poorthing) and then spent a very long time whittling away at it. As I was writing,I would remember songs, TV shows, fashion trends and memories came floodingback along with the scenes. I had tons of material.

3) How did you decide which episodes to include, andwhich ones to exclude?

Once I figured out what my point really was, it waseasy. My point, was to cultivateempathy for kids growing up in dysfunctional homes. To humanize them. Not tofeel sorry for them, per se, because there is a tenacity there, but to open upwhat might be going on for them, their rich inner worlds, so they might not bewritten off by teachers and other adults in their communities. Small actions onthe part of healthy adults had a profound impact on the trajectory of my life.I wanted people to know it doesn't take much to profoundly help a kid from atroubled home. Sometimes just inviting them over for a meal can teach themskills which will serve them well.

So once I was clear on that, it was easy to figureout what to keep. Not necessarily easy to cut, because you get attached to yourscenes but you've got to do it!

4) How is your family reacting to the publication?

For a very long time in our family, I believe I wasseen as "overdramatic" for taking a hard stance against my father. Hewas not invited to my wedding, we were estranged, etc. Reading my book hashelped others in my family better understand the reasons for my decisionsaround him. My sister was often out of the house and did not experience as muchof our father's dysfunction as I did. She was off living an adult life while Iwas still in the thick of it. And there was a lot she had just blocked out. Mybrother, being a boy, had a completely different experience. Both are dealingwith our father in their own way right now, but I feel loved and supported bythem.

My mother has always been very supportive of mywriting and doing whatever it is I need to facilitate my own healing. She isnot sure she's ever going to read Daughterof the Drunk at the Bar, and I support her decision not to, if that'swhat she chooses.

My young brothers are from a different time period,a different world! I'm not sure the story even interests them that much and asof yet, I don't think they've read it.

5) When will you have your kids read it, if ever?

For a long time, I didn't even let my husband readmy manuscript. I had this fear it would be too painful for my loved ones tobear. The thought of my children one day reading it paralyzed me and made meunsure about going forward withit. Children of dysfunction often feel they are "too much" or aburden.

Something shifted when I talked with a therapistabout it. She assured me my husband was a grown man, and he could take it, andsharing my story was important for our relationship. She was right.

I feel certain my children will one day read it, (we'veagreed to revisit the issue when each is at least fifteen) and I'm confidentthey will not be devastated by it, but proud of their mom, for breaking thecycle so they might lead happy healthy lives.

6) What has surprised you from the whole process?

With technology today, it is much easier than Ithought it would be to independently publish. Gone are the days of having toorder a thousand hard copies to sit in your garage and mock you. With print ondemand there is very little upfront cost. Of course if you don't want your bookto suck you should invest in good editors.

7) What would be your advice to someone juststarting to write memoir?

Have a writing practice. Make time every day towrite (or almost every day). Write everything.Especially that scene you'd rather not. Eat good food and drink pure water, andsleep. And step away from the computer and exercise. If you are just starting,just write. Don't worry if it is good. Don't share it with many people whileit's new and tender. Go to writing workshops and find friends like Carrie Wilson Link, Jenny Rough and Courtney Sheinmel to havein your corner. Seriously.

8) What do you know now, that you wished you'dknown then?

I know now, that my writing, whether brilliant orsucky, does not determine my value as a person. If I'd really known that in thebeginning, I'd have taken myself less seriously and had a lot more fun. While Iam always learning and striving to be a better writer, life is supposed to befun.

Thanks so much, Carrie!

Love.

Daughter of the Drunk at the Bar is available inpaperback on Amazon or inebook form on Smashwords.

2011-08-18T06:39:00.000-07:00

Today is my Hopeful Parents day - see you over there! Thanks!

With Ease

2011-08-15T12:32:00.000-07:00

Night number two of the reunion was super fun, too. Got to talk to some of the people I didn't the night before, and go a little deeper with those that I had. Really nice.

There were unexpected connections, small world stories, then just before I was leaving (after being there six hours), someone came up to me and said, "Oh, you're leaving, darn, I really wanted to talk to you." So, of course I stayed another half hour and was glad I did. He said, "I just wanted to tell you how much I liked your dad. I had him as a business law teacher, and now I'm a lawyer practicing business law."

On the way down to Eugene I stopped and saw really old family friends, spent a couple hours with my "twin" (born on the same day), her older sister and elderly parents. They knew my parents before they were married - knew my dad before he was even dating my mom. Both my twin and I have dad's with the same name, born four days apart. More than a coincidence, don't you think?

These two experiences book ending my weekend were nice extras. Wasn't expecting to go to my reunion and get stories about my dad that made me smile, made me soften, made me know him and appreciate him in a way I don't always.

Then, right before my two buddies and I parted for the weekend, one of them told us about her time with an intuitive healer. The woman asked if she'd been using a belt sander. As a matter of fact, yes, she had. The healer said, "Did you sand with ease?" As a matter of fact, no, she had not. "Do everything with ease. No matter what you're doing, cooking, sanding, laundry, talking, resting, washing dishes, driving, do it all with ease. Say to yourself, 'I am cooking with ease.' Add 'At ease' to the end of everything.

Like that better than "mindfulness" or "with presence." So, I said goodbye to my friends with ease. I drove home (in lots of traffic) with ease. I greeted my family, took Rojo out for frozen yogurt, and didn't unpack until today. With ease.

All day today I've found myself narrating what I'm doing. "I'm going to Trader Joe's with ease." "I'm parking with ease." "I'm putting things away with ease," etc.

And so I offer those helpful words to you, with ease.

love.

Reunited, and It Feels So Good

2011-08-13T15:50:00.000-07:00

Having a ball at my 30th high school reunion. Last night a bunch of us (30?) gathered at a bar that we had virtually to ourselves, outdoor seating, and enjoyed a lovely summer evening getting caught up on each other.

In just a few minutes my two high school buddies and I are meeting to do it all again tonight - this time at a restaurant, with appetizers, dinner, the whole 9-yards.

Something so neat (and slightly weird) about being in a group where everyone is exactly the same age. Only time that happens anymore, and that is only every ten years. School is like that, isn't it? We put kids into homogenous groupings according to age, and then we break it further down into abilities, interest, college bound-ness, and the like. I was in education for years, I get it. But life is kind of like that, too, much as we may spend large amounts of time with a wide-variety of people, we tend to group ourselves according to what we have in common - our shared interests, skills and lives.

The great thing about a 30th reunion, is that everyone is so over themselves. We were all commenting on how much more fun it was than the 10-year, where we all had our heads up our you-know-where, thinking we were it on a stick with all our 28-year-old know-everything-ness.

Twenty years later we've all been humbled. We now know how little we know about most things, and what we do know, we know. And don't need a committee to agree. We are comfortable with our knowing and unknowing in a way that only a few hard knocks can provide. Nobody gets to 48 unscathed. Some might present as though they did, but if you talk to them for more than five minutes, you quickly learn that is simply not the case.

STM's advice to me before I packed up the CR-V and drove the two-hours south, was simply this: "Everyone wants everyone else to be happy and well. That's all we want for each other at this point. And to be at peace."

Amen.

* Photo from Zazzle.com

Happy Birthday!

2011-08-11T15:58:00.000-07:00

Kathleen is 50 today! Happy birthday, Kathleen! Does she, or does she not, make 50 look HOT? I know! C'mon, could she be any more beautiful? And that's just her outside!

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and this one certainly is. There she is right behind me, gentle hand on the shoulder. Guiding. Listening. Being present. Loving. We're starting our lucky thirteenth year of walking/talking/living side-by-side.

If we are judged by the company we keep, please, judge me! If I am but a fraction of the "company" that she is, I'll be happy!

Let us all raise our glass to friends that keep us sane. Friends that never say, "I know, you already told me that." Friends that forgive. Friends that root and cheer and champion our dreams. Friends that help raise our children. Friends that are friends with our other friends. Friends that don't believe in scarcity. Friends that make sense of the nonsense and add joy to the joyous!

Love, love, LOVE!

Passed Up

2011-08-09T16:25:00.000-07:00

It's official: I am the shortest one in the family. Just in the last week Rojo has passed me up, not by much, but enough. Considering that he is STM, Jr. in a million different ways, I'm sure he'll eventually be way, way taller than me.

Growing taller is not the only thing that Rojo's been doing this summer. I cannot believe the difference in him even since his birthday just less than a month ago. He is more responsible. He is more independent. He has better behavior. He is extra thoughtful and has good manners, especially when texting.

Yesterday he texted from the school to say he was going up to the neighborhood grocery store. "Do you need anything?" he asked. "I'll be back in 15 minutes. Love you. Bye." Actually, it's all in caps when he texts, just like when he types and prints, and come to think of it, speaks. He's an all caps type of person.

Our behavioral/developmental pediatrician has been after me for months, to get him to go up to that store just a few blocks away, get whatever is on a short list, and come back. Yesterday he initiated the whole thing all on his own. There's a lesson in there somewhere.

Not only am I now looking up to him, I am really looking up to him.

Age of Wisdom

2011-08-07T14:02:00.000-07:00

Woohoo is getting all four wisdom teeth out tomorrow. Long story short, we went to a dentist and two oral surgeons before deciding to move forward. She will have major drugs and the whole thing will be over in less than an hour. We won't even go there with the out-of-pocket cost (no dental insurance) and why it's fine for some people to charge $2,000 an hour. Believe me, I've gone there, and it's a black hole. So, instead of a family vacation, she gets her wisdom teeth out. Could be worse. Could be a lot worse. Could be unimaginably worse.

Was reading up on the procedure and all the things we need to know for the days following. Turns out the third set of molars are nicknamed wisdom teeth because they usually develop in late adolescents - the age of wisdom.

Trying to remember that Woohoo is indeed in late adolescents. She is balanced. Hard working - been working 30-hours/week all summer and making good choices with her time off. No complaints.

Still. If it were up to me, she'd already have her two books read that she needs to have read by September 6th, ("But Mom, that's like a whole month from now.") She'd have her "common ap." sketched out for college. She'd have a rough draft of her personal essay. She'd have a master list of colleges and their respective admission deadlines and criteria. She'd be registered for the ACTs and SATs. She'd be boning up on the books I bought her for that very reason.

In essence, she'd be an anxious wreck.

But she's not. She's chill. She's full of laughter. She's got nice friends and they do fun/safe/appropriate things together. "Mom, I'm not there yet. I'll get there," she says when my own anxiety can't be suppressed another minute.

I have to remember that her road to college is not mine. She will end up where she ends up because that's where she needs and wants to end up. It will be fine. It will be better than fine. It might not be what I would have chosen for her, but this is but one of many future such crossroads.

Indeed, she is ready. She knows herself. She always does what needs to be done.

And she is wise.

*http://www.a-w-i-p.com/media/blogs/spiritual-matters

What Kind of Mother...

2011-08-04T09:35:00.000-07:00

Ever since Rojo turned 15 and got a cell phone, he's discovered a whole new independence. Kathleen also gave him a bike no one was using at their house, and of course he did his usual buck-buck-buck-embrace dance he always does, just like he did with the cell phone.

"I don't want a cell phone. I don't want to learn to text."

"I don't want a new bike. I will ride my old bike. I am not getting a new bike."

Blah, blah, blah and so it went for months until we slowly but surely won him over. Now he's a boy on a bike with a cell phone ALL the time. At times he's a naughty boy texting WHILE riding his bike, but he knows the wrath that shall be upon him if he's caught one more time doing that.

He has taken to riding over to the nearby school several times a day and seeing who's there. Sometimes there are friends, usually there are strangers, whom, to Rojo, are simply friends he hasn't made yet. He is big on talking to all the people throwing the ball for their dogs to catch. Flicka must have had all that trained out of her, because she does not like to run after a ball more than once. Rojo could throw it a hundred times and has discovered the joys of a Chuckit. He's become something of a regular, and can tell you everyone's name, their dog's name, which dogs are good and which ones are rambunctious, which ones listen to his commands and which ones need him to "train" them.

Some of the people he talks to over there I know, too. Some, I do not. There was a day I would have had lots of judgment about a mom that sends her special needs child out on his own, to do whatever it is he is doing. There may be some of that going on - probably is. And here's the thing: I no longer care (too much).

I'll tell you what kind of mother lets her now 15-year-old special needs son "wander" the neighborhood. One that is three doors down. One that comes by often to observe. One that has her cell phone attached to her at all times. One that trusts her son has guardian angels. One that believes in the goodness of her community. One that believes in the goodness of most humans. One that believes her son is an excellent judge of character. One that is ready to let him spread his wings just a little bit. One that is tired of being with him every second of every day.

That's who.

New Marys

2011-08-02T06:32:00.000-07:00

SUPER BIG MARY

SVELTE MARY

TINY MARY

Top 10 Things to Do Rather Than Finish Your Manuscript

2011-07-31T18:33:00.000-07:00

10. Clean the garage that hasn't been cleaned in almost 8 years.

9. While you're in there, sweep.

8. Once you've swept, time to hose everything down.

7. Don't actually remove anything, just hose it all - it'll eventually dry.

6. Take all the things that are now wet, that you've decided you don't need, and immediately load them into your car to go to Goodwill.

5. Ditto with the recycling.

4. Stop what you're doing and drive to both Goodwill and the recycling center.

3. Come home and not really be in the mood to finish anymore.

2. Finish anyway.

1. Start in on the outdoor toy box.

Definition of Insanity

2011-07-29T12:07:00.000-07:00

Wasn't it Einstein that said the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Yea. About that. After 30+ years of being told by experts and having physical proof that I am dairy intolerant, I am going to make a concerted effort to kick the habit. I am sure I would feel better kicking gluten, processed foods, caffeine, alcohol, etc, also, HOWEVER, I am going to start with the obvious culprit and just see what happens when I try to remove it from my diet.

Here's the deal. I had my one and only "cup" (read: giant mug) of coffee this morning, black. Tasted just find. Liked it, in fact, just didn't scratch the itch, though, you know? Like a whole different drink. Not a bad one, just not the one I've come to rely on. And, I fully expected to feel like a whole new woman five minutes after skipping the cream. I don't know where people got the idea that I am patient, I am simply not. That's why it's just one big cosmic joke that I was given one of the most annoying people on the planet to spend my days/months/years/lifetimes with.

Took all my Starbucks Double Shots that lined the pantry and fridge, put them in a used shopping bag and dumped them off at Nancy's house this morning before I could change my mind. They are just one more example of something I crave, fantasize about, look at my watch to see if it's too late in the day to have, basically go nuts over, and then feel crummy for hours after consuming. Then the next day I go through the same torment all over again.

"You've got to break the loop," STM said. "One day at a time it. Don't think about never having another one again, just don't have one today."

The (annoying) voice of reason.

Woohoo woke up this morning, first words out of her mouth (after lying and saying, "I'm up, I'm UP!" when clearly she was not), was, "How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb?"

"I don't know, " I said.

"Zero. First the lightbulb has to want to change."

This ol "lightbulb" is ready to make one change.

Eating Like a Caveman

2011-07-26T12:11:00.000-07:00

I'm not a dieter, and by the grace of God have not had to "diet" for the sake of weight loss. However, seems like everyone I know is changing theirs, changing their kids', changing their spouses, trying to get healthy. Some seem extreme: no gluten, no dairy, no soy, no egg, no sugar, no to most nuts, no, no, no.

I've been thinking about seeing an acupuncturist for a chronic health issue. Thought I'd get stuck with a few needles, perhaps a few different times, and be cured. "She's going to put you on the Paleo Diet probably," said my friend that recommended one to me.

"No! I want needles! Maybe some herbs! Not a diet! I already know I'd feel better if I ate better, but I simply do not have the energy (or desire) to radically change the way we eat!"

"Carrie, I am telling you, I had 17 symptoms and within 30 days 15 were gone and two were managed. I'm not hungry, it feels like someone finally pulled the cotton from my head, I'm going to the grocery store without a list, I have energy, I'm pain-free..." on and on she went.

I believe her 100%. Yet, I still want no part of it.

A Must Read

2011-07-25T11:21:00.000-07:00

My friend, Michelle O'Neil, is an indie publisher, check it out: Daughter of the Drunk at the Bar. I had the pleasure of being a super early reader, as well as a recent reader. The book rocks, quite frankly. You will love it. You will laugh. You will gasp. You will cry. You will rage. You will cheer. You will have more empathy and compassion. You will not be sorry.

love.

Yes, Yes and More Yes

2011-07-22T10:27:00.000-07:00

Yes, Rojo had the same two friends stop by yesterday, unexpectedly, that came by a few weeks ago.

Yes, he was a jerk to them, again.

Yes, it was because he had money in his pocket and was planning on waiting outside for the ice cream truck, and their arrival threw a wrench into his plans.

Yes, I have tried to teach him to behave appropriately, despite frustrations and changes of plans.

Yes, he could have easily hung out with them while waiting for the ice cream truck.

Yes, I pointed that out.

Yes, he remained jerk-like.

Yes, I sent him to his room.

Yes, he went, but not before throwing his bike on the ground and his helmet across the driveway.

Yes, I took his cell phone.

Yes, I told him Flicka could not hang out with him while he spent 35 minutes in his room.

Yes, I told him if the ice cream truck did come, he would not be buying any.

Yes, that was what broke him.

Yes, I felt terrible.

Yes, he is eating out of the palm of my hand, today.

Yes, everyone that asks me how my summer is going gets to hear this story in excruciating detail.

Scarcity Mentality

2011-07-20T10:01:00.000-07:00

The same (rebel) priest that recently held the Mary Magdalene retreat, has done many other amazing things in his career. He has done a lot in education, been a principal, started a school for kids with learning differences, on and on the impressive list goes.

Actually, he was once a principal in the Catholic school where I started teaching, several years before I got there. He created a set of five rules by which the school would operate. Kids. Teachers. Staff. Parents. Everyone. I learned them almost 25 years ago, but of course, fail to use them most days. I'm convinced they are the keys to happiness. I did blog about these on my old blog, but I realize that was many moons ago, so here they are in summary:

1) No Scarcity: "I agree to act on my belief that there is enough of what we all need if we cooperate."

2) Equal Rights: "I agree to respect your rights as a person, as equal to mine." Everyone has an equal responsibility to cooperate.

3) No Power Plays: "I agree not to use power plays to get what I want." Power plays - hitting, yelling withdrawing, slamming doors, threatening, staying angry, refusing to talk, refusing to cooperate, etc.

4) No Rescues: "I will not do for you anything that makes me angry."

5) No Secrets: "I will tell you what I am feeling, especially when I am feeling angry or afraid."

For whatever reason, the one that trips me up the most is No Scarcity. I do have a real fear that there is simply not enough. Not enough time. Not enough energy. Not enough of anything, really, simply put, everything is scarce. I know that's not true, but I believe it's true.

When I am all in a tizzy (too many times to count), if I slow myself down enough to get at what's under the tizzy, it's a belief in scarcity. I need to hurry because there isn't enough time. I need to do it because there aren't enough people to do it. I need to do it today because tomorrow there won't be enough time/energy/etc.

I am going "back in" with these rules, and while I don't pretend I'll ever master them, I'm going to spend some time with each one until I am at least thinking that way more often than not. Good thing there's no scarcity of time!

* Sanskrit for abundance

Outage

2011-07-19T06:45:00.000-07:00

We've had the weirdest summer, only a handful of days over 80 (and none over 85) and many in the 60's. Sunday it rained so hard you would have thought it was January. Even knocked the power out for a couple of hours.

Just when the power went out STM was getting ready to take Rojo over to visit his parents, and give me a break. I was going to go to the grocery store(s), get started on dinner, do laundry, catch up on e-mail, and about 100 other things I planned to pack into the 2-hours they'd be gone.

They left, and I went to open my garage to get my car out, and of course, could not. Couldn't do the laundry. Couldn't cook the dinner. Couldn't get on the Internet. Couldn't vacuum. Couldn't iron. Couldn't do anything on the list.

Walked around aimlessly for a few minutes before deciding the outage was a huge gift. The gift of not being able to do anything except rest. Crawled into bed and had a great a nap. When I woke up the power was back on. I pretended it wasn't and went back to bed.

Note to self: Don't wait for the power to go out to restore mine.

* Photo from Wikipedia

2011-07-18T05:47:00.000-07:00

I am at Hopeful Parents today. : )

Only Way Out

2011-07-15T06:17:00.000-07:00

I am one of the very worst when it comes to asking for help. I loved this post for that reason. I would have definitely been the one that walked aimlessly forever because I refused to believe I needed help and/or it was simply impossible. Rojo would have raised his hand in 2 seconds and said, "That's it for me."

* Photo from http://rcvane.com

FIFTEEN

2011-07-14T10:50:00.000-07:00

Our boy is fifteen today. Fifteen. Don't know how that happened. The days go by slowly, yet somehow the years fly by.

Could he have been any cuter? I remember holding him in my arms for the very first time just after he was born and thinking, He's handsome. And at fifteen he's a pure lady killer. Dimples to die for, nice teeth, twinkly blue eyes, sandy blond hair with natural blond highlights, gorgeous hands, tall, slender (alright, skiiiiiinnny).

The boy that couldn't, then wouldn't, converse, is Mr. Social now. He is my dad at his best, all over again. It's got to be pure DNA or some encounter in the In Between, because they never met, but Rojo has many of the same mannerisms as my dad did, and it makes me smile every time I see or hear them.

Now Rojo rides his bike over to the neighborhood school just down the street from our house (you can actually see it from our house), all by himself. It started with me telling him to ride on down and I'd follow with Flicka. He would beat us by five minutes, and that would be all the time he'd need to find or make a friend. By the time I got there he had the full 411. "Mom, I just met a boy named Garrett. He is five. He.... " blah, blah, blah.

Now I've got him riding his bike down there without me. He rides in circles around the black top and chats people up if they're there, or just sings and raises his arms in praise if they aren't. If he's still there after fifteen minutes I walk on down and check it out. Sometimes it's painful to watch, not that he's doing anything wrong or that anyone is being less than kind - the opposite. People are exceedingly kind and patient, and some seem to actually be enjoying themselves. I forget that in small doses he can be delightful. He is just so not 15 when I observe, and as long as I've been at this, that still sweeps me at the knees at unexpected times.

We told him for his birthday we'd get him a cell phone and teach him to text. "No, I do not want a cell phone," he protested, as expected. That's why we started the soft sell months ago, warming him up to the idea. We want him to have a phone for safety reasons, and for my convenience when I pick him up from school in the fall, since it's not as cut and dried as it's been for the past nine years. We also want him to be able to ask for help from his tribe, should the need arise.

Got the phone a few days ago - walked into Verizon and explained the situation. Got the perfect sales person that didn't try to sell me a bunch of stuff I didn't need, but did get me sold on the need for insurance and an extra hard carrying case to withstand dropping. The phone has pretty big keys and "flips," which was all that Rojo insisted upon. "Mom, make sure my phone flips. I want a flip phone. Make sure it does not slide, like yours, make sure you turn it this way (horizontally) and it just boom, flips right up." Got him just the perfect one - way nicer than the cheap-o one I have, but what are you going to do?

Knew he'd be obsessed about getting the phone all day if we didn't give it to him 2 seconds after he woke up, so that's just what we did. Doesn't everyone have their family birthday parties at 6:15 AM? Woohoo had to be up any way to go to work, so it was perfect. By 6:30 I'd received four texts from him. By 8:15 I'd received over 20. He is an awesome texter. Remembers to say, "please" and "thank you." Remembers to say, "goodbye." Remembers to say, "I love you." I do realize that 2 hours do not a trend make, but I'm very encouraged.

I had pre-programmed all his tribe into the phone before he opened it, and before wrapping it I'd sent everyone a text letting them know what his number is and warning them they'd be hearing from him on Thursday. He did not disappoint.

Then the nicest thing evolved organically this morning, his three favorite tribe members: Kathleen, Nancy and her husband, Tom, all let me know they'd like to come by after he gets done at work. As it turns out they are all free at the same time and so we are all going to get frozen yogurt and celebrate our favorite boy.

It's cliche to say it takes a village to raise a child, but that doesn't make it any less true.

Here's to Rojo's village, which happens to be mine.

Here's to texting.

Here's to Rojo.

It All Boils Down To These

2011-07-13T06:45:00.000-07:00

I went to a mini-retreat on Mary Magdalene - one of the most misunderstood women in history, if you ask me. The information was fascinating, various myths were debunked (of course she was not a prostitute), and it was just overall enlightening. The retreat was led by a Catholic priest - but a rebel one. He encouraged all of the women in the room to challenge the church, to make history, to go ahead and speak the truth without any hope of being honored, in fact, content knowing the opposite would most likely be true.

All that was utterly compelling and invigorating to me, however, what he said about Jesus' teachings being universal, was the coolest. He once did a conference with every different faith represented, Wiccans, Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Protestants, Catholics, Baptists, Buddhists, you-name-it. He asked each person to list all the tenants of their faith. What do they believe in? What are the teachings? What are they about? People scribbled and scribbled, filling their notebook paper up on both sides, and some asking for another sheet.

"Now circle the top six things - the six things that everything else on the list boils down to." They, without exception, circled the same six things: Peace, Justice, Compassion, Forgiveness, Healing and.... Love.

* http://www.reconciliationday.net

FROM WHERE I SIT

2011-07-12T11:57:00.000-07:00

Not enough has been made about Rojo's summer "job," working in a preschool four blocks from our house. He rides his bike there, I just text the teacher, Sandy, and say, "He's on his way," and she texts me, "He's here." Then for four lovely hours each of us does what we do best: he works with kids three to five-years-old, and I do anything other than talk about the ice cream truck.

We have been dragging my friend Nancy along with us for frozen yogurt each day. Nancy is the one with the swing in her backyard, and the husband that brings me beer. I finally turned to Nancy one day and said, "People must think I exaggerate about how much he talks about the ice cream truck. Do I?" She, in her soft-spoken Nancy way just said, "Not so much." She is way too kind to say, "He never *&^%$#@ shuts up about it!"

So, for four hours each day, M-F, Rojo gets to spread his wings, be the one in charge, be the one that is kind, patient and thoughtful, be the one that is helpful, be THE guy. He is relishing it, and he's already telling me that that's what he wants to do for his job when he finishes high school in four (frighteningly short) years. Of course, I don't have to tell you, those wheels are already fully in motion.

Which brings me back to The List, as in, The List of What I Do Well. Everywhere I look my friends are doing all kinds of things I couldn't begin to do, and part of my most recent funk, was the inferiority complex I had going, because the things they do well, it just seems like I should be able to do well, too, but the fact of the matter is, I don't.

Had a little pow-wow with Mary recently, and she said, "I've asked you to do one extraordinary thing. That's all you need to do. You could do 100 ordinary things well (and you suck at all of them), but I'm not asking you to do any of them."

Terrry (Toeless) called the other day. Everyone needs at least one Terry in their life - the Truth Teller. One who can show you your dark side while you belly laugh the entire time. She dared to utter all the ugly things running through my mind about all kinds of things. One by one she gave voice to them and I could hear how utterly ridiculous they sounded, while also hearing the true wounds that created the less than optimal reactions in the first place. I gave her an inch and she took a mile, in the best way possible. I complained that Kathleen had rightfully been offered the job of her dreams, and Terry said wonderful things like, "How DARE she?" "You wouldn't have done that to her!" and my favorite, "Nobody would even hire you!" All things at some level I believed to be true, but once brought into the light, saw to be only tiny truths, with much larger (healthier) truths underneath them.

"Nobody's telling me to get a job. I don't even want a job, but I don't want to be unemployable!" I complained. "I cannot get settled with that. Why can't I just complete the processing of that, and move ON?" knowing instantly what the real answer to that is. I have a job. I have a 24/7 job, fifteen years in the exact same job, as a matter of fact, with no raise, very little change in responsibilities, no end in sight. No hope of retirement.

However, there are great benefits. I get to spend hours on my front porch each day rocking in a cute white double rocker, with the beverage of my choice. I sit there while people walk by all day, point, smile, and say things like, "What a great place to sit!" and even this, "You look like you're at such peace." Rojo rides his "ice cream truck" back and forth singing the same song over and over, but I'm getting him to go all the way around the block now, and yesterday, he made a several block loop giving me a full 5:05 period of peace (yes, my task includes timing him on the stopwatch feature of my phone). This is progress. Rome wasn't built in a day, and Rojo will not be independent tomorrow, but we are moving in the right direction.

One World

2011-07-07T12:18:00.000-07:00

I am in one of my Poor Carrie moods, and no good can really come from blogging when I'm in this mood, because it will pass, and you've all heard it before anyway, and so, instead, I bring you a "new" blog. It's not new, it's a year old, but I'm late in bringing it to your attention, and I'm sorry about that, because it is absolutely 100% fab.

Michaela is my friend Kathleen's daughter, a 21-year-old almost senior in college. This summer she is the activities director at a camp for seriously ill children, The Painted Turtle.

She recently posted a beautiful piece called One World that did much to help me recover from the Poor Carrie Syndrome.

Checking the Box

2011-07-05T12:31:00.000-07:00

Going to my 30th high school reunion in August. Thirty years. Sounds like a big number. Been doing the math since the 20th and knew that 2011 would mark thirty, and kept my ear to the ground for details of the reunion as they emerged - knew I'd want to go and see everyone.

Only kept in close touch with two friends, and we'll be staying together in a hotel for the weekend, which in and of itself will be worth the trip. We are three very different people that might not ever find each other now, but because we found each other when we were 14 (actually, one was only 13), we are forever found.

Had to write a check for $40 for the night of the actual reunion, there is an unofficial come-who-may night beforehand, too. Undoubtedly that one will be more fun - the more thrown together the better, if you ask me.

Got new checks - first time I've had those 2-parters and I'm left with the copies underneath. Not sure just what I'll do with them, never had a need for them before and now I know I'll feel compelled to somehow store them (in plastic totes in my basement), like all the other junk I don't know what to do with. On each duplicate is a little "Track Your Expenses" portion, with neat and tidy categories from which to choose. Kind of having fun doing that, just to see where my money actually goes. Feel super noble when I get to mark "Charities," feel responsible when marking "Education" or "Utilities," and feel lazy when marking "Other."

When it came time to mark the check for $40, I decided on "Entertainment." Could have called it "Travel," could have called it any number of things, but really, I'm going there to laugh about old times, learn about everyone since the last time we gathered, maybe cry a little, too. I'm going there to have an experience I cannot have by staying home. I'm going to have fun. I'm going because it's time to form union. Again. Re-union.

You Raised Me Up, Thank You

2011-06-30T10:28:00.000-07:00

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."

Dr. Seuss

We said goodbye to our beloved priest today. Tomorrow there will be a new priest, and I hear he's great. I am feeling a little like the step-child that doesn't want to like the new "dad" just because the mom does. He's going to have to win me over.

We moved to this neighborhood just days before Rojo was born and just days before this priest came to this parish. And Rojo left the school just days before this priest leaves, too. You don't think that's an accident, right?

The priest did a Mass this school year where he used the Josh Groban lyrics and talked about the importance of raising each other up - not tearing each other down. Then he demonstrated by having the eighth grade boys lift him up. It was powerful. I tear up each time I look at my photo from that day. I tear up each time I say goodbye to this priest (and I've been dragging it out - it's been three goodbyes so far). I tear up each time I think of how I wouldn't have reconciled so many powerful and persistent inner struggles had it not been for this man - a man who 100% gets it. A man who preaches on a God of love. A God that does not want our sacrifices - only our heart. A God that forgives. A God that heals. A God that does not "give" us our struggles, but the grace by which to handle them. A man who lives his life like the God he shares with us.

It's fair to say I would not have found a church home at all had it not been for this man. It's fair to say that he has shown me what can be right about "organized religion" and the power of a faith-based community. It's fair to say this man has inspired hundreds and hundreds of people in his 15-years in this parish. It's fair to say his legacy will live on and on and on, because we've been raised up. And up we will stay.

Listening and Hearing

2011-06-28T06:17:00.000-07:00

I have a blissful hour to myself and am in a coffee shop listening to good music and trying to loose myself in the comforts of my laptop. Around me are students with highlighters, people with books, friends talking, people having business meetings. Then over in the corner is a foursome, two men, two women, all grey haired, having coffee. They are all using sign language.

Although I don't know their story (and am dying to), I'm so distracted by them I can hardly enjoy my sinfully delicious beverage. What I am most struck by is how only one of them "speaks" at a time. The other three "listen" with rapt attention. There are lots of nods and smiles, even silent laughs. Can you imagine how different the hearing world would be if people stopped interrupting each other? We are so used to it we don't even get annoyed when it happens to us - we accept it as "normal" to be asked a question and then not have the opportunity to answer without being interrupted, particularly if we're in a group of more two.

This is a particular pet peeve of STM's and so I am extra aware of how badly most people listen. We hear but we don't listen. These people don't hear but they do listen. They must hear so much more that way.

* Photo from http://www.lifeprint.com