Bear with me, I am typing this on Roho's iPad, and I am a far cry from proficient with the "keyboard." Just had to share with you that last night STM and I went to an Estate Planning/Special Needs Trust info. thingy. A law firm and bank were presenting, and it was very informative, very comprehensive, and very overwhelming, despite the fact I knew a lot of the information already. We thought for sure we'd pursue guardianship, and that there would be no end to doctors, tests, case managers, etc. that would support the fact that Rojo will be "incompetent" as an adult when it comes to making his own health care and financial decisions (not to mention that he can't brush his own teeth or tie his shoes). Last night we got sold on the idea of having Rojo sign over a number of Powers of Attorney to us, upon turning 18. Apparently, that requires a whole lot less hoopla and expense, both initially, and forever more.
Rojo would need to be able to sign his name and agree that yes, we as his parents could help him as an adult. The attorney and notary present would have to decide that he was not under duress to agree. A "yea" would suffice, and a "signature" could be his all-printt, all-cap, giant handwriting that would never in a million years fit upon a signature line. We thought we had that one in the bag. When we got home from the meeting STM in a very round-about way asked Rojo if we could help him when he turns 18. Thinking for sure he would say yes, he surprised us by saying, emphatically, "No! You can't help me! I don't need any help! I will be married! My wife, my ex-wife and my kids will help me!
Where do I begin? With the ex-wife? With his adamant intention to have children? With his idea that his kids will help him, not the other way around? STM assures me that when the time comes, we can get him to jump through the hoops. I am not so sure.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Grateful
I've been 100% obsessed with the book, the book, the BOOK! I know how annoying it can get when authors go on and on about their books, so I am trying to spare you from all that. But let it be known, I have very little else to talk about. "We" and by "we" I mean Greg Koorhan, Toeless' husband, fixed the dpi problem, and whoever guessed that meant dots per inch, was right. It's just a really good thing I didn't know all that was involved before I started out, or I probably never would have done this thing. Now I'm too far gone to turn back. Of course there are already a million things I wish I'd done differently, and I'm sure there are books galore out there that tell you how to do this, none of which, of course, I bothered to read.
Anyway. We weren't going to talk about the book, but see? I can hardly help myself!
What I was going to tell you was about my friend calling, and us getting caught up after way too many months of being out-of-touch. We were best friends in high school, roommates in college and after, at the births of each other's children. All of that. I have known her and her family for 35 years. Turns out her mom has advanced Alzheimer's disease. Her mom still knows her husband and children but has them displaced in time. She doesn't think her home is her home, she thinks she's a guest. At one point her daughter found a note taped to the bathroom mirror, "Thank you for letting me stay here. Please let me know how much I owe you."
What has struck my friend and her siblings (7!) is that throughout this whole ordeal, their mother has never lost her sense of gratitude. She knows she has Alzheimer's. She knows where this is going - her father had it. She also knows that no matter what, there is much to be grateful for.
Anyway. We weren't going to talk about the book, but see? I can hardly help myself!
What I was going to tell you was about my friend calling, and us getting caught up after way too many months of being out-of-touch. We were best friends in high school, roommates in college and after, at the births of each other's children. All of that. I have known her and her family for 35 years. Turns out her mom has advanced Alzheimer's disease. Her mom still knows her husband and children but has them displaced in time. She doesn't think her home is her home, she thinks she's a guest. At one point her daughter found a note taped to the bathroom mirror, "Thank you for letting me stay here. Please let me know how much I owe you."
What has struck my friend and her siblings (7!) is that throughout this whole ordeal, their mother has never lost her sense of gratitude. She knows she has Alzheimer's. She knows where this is going - her father had it. She also knows that no matter what, there is much to be grateful for.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
My Head is Swimming
We are getting close to the big reveal of the book! Thank God for Laurie Harper, who has held my hand throughout this entire journey. Were it not for her, I would have bailed on this a long time ago. If you're a writer that needs help, really, on anything whatsoever, I would highly recommend you consult with Laurie. She is invaluable!
Turns out I need one company to do the e-book, and another to do the print version. Now I've got e-mails back and forth to both places and I don't know if I'm coming or going. So, obviously, the thing to do is fold laundry, type a blog post, have a snack, brush the dog, and in all ways avoid making important decisions. For instance, what do I want the cover to look like? How am I going to make the photo "pop?" What about the font? How many colors do I want? Do I want the title in a different color from the subtitle? My photo only has 200 dpi and it needs 300 dpi. HOW and WHERE do I get 100 extra dpi? And, more importantly, WHAT is a dpi? Now we can't have that quote on the front, but if we take it off it screws up all the ones in the back. But do we have to resubmit the whole thing? Can't we just tweak one little page?
Kathleen says it's like planning a wedding, a million details to anguish over, and in the end nobody is going to notice or care, they are just going to see two happy people getting married and have a nice time.
May this book live happily every after, too.
Turns out I need one company to do the e-book, and another to do the print version. Now I've got e-mails back and forth to both places and I don't know if I'm coming or going. So, obviously, the thing to do is fold laundry, type a blog post, have a snack, brush the dog, and in all ways avoid making important decisions. For instance, what do I want the cover to look like? How am I going to make the photo "pop?" What about the font? How many colors do I want? Do I want the title in a different color from the subtitle? My photo only has 200 dpi and it needs 300 dpi. HOW and WHERE do I get 100 extra dpi? And, more importantly, WHAT is a dpi? Now we can't have that quote on the front, but if we take it off it screws up all the ones in the back. But do we have to resubmit the whole thing? Can't we just tweak one little page?
Kathleen says it's like planning a wedding, a million details to anguish over, and in the end nobody is going to notice or care, they are just going to see two happy people getting married and have a nice time.
May this book live happily every after, too.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
There is Frugal...
and then there is CHEAP! Check out the armpits of my favorite "pajama" top. Got the T-shirt at Old Navy two million years ago (obviously). Probably paid $5.00 for it. CANNOT throw it away. WHAT is wrong with me. Never mind. Don't answer that.
Instead, look at Flicka's new friend, Layla:
Could she BE any cuter? She is Nancy's "granddaughter." We got to puppy sit part of yesterday (Rojo and I) when Layla's family all went down for the Duck game. See that afghan Flicka is lying on? Underneath are two pieces of an old foam pad we used to use for camping. (See? CHEAP! Why buy a dog bed when you have an ancient foam pad just sitting in the basement getting dusty?) I was at the kitchen sink and thought Layla was just lying there chewing on her toy, but she had gotten up and was trying to chew up Flicka's "bed." Flicka came and got me. Either she was pissed, or she was worried that Layla might ingest 100-year-old foam. I'm not sure which, but good ol' Flicka saved the day.
STM was gone this weekend, so Rojo and I were on our own. We had a lot of fun. Today we went to Walgreens to buy two of his friends birthday gifts. He labored over the cards, finally selecting two perfect ones (the Simpsons and Snoopy). For Rosie he picked shampoo (and not just Sauve, he isn't CHEAP like his mom), two bottles of nail polish and gum. For the male friend he picked out mints, and because the card he selected was a money holder one, we argued over how much money to put in there. He wanted $100 because, "Care, he's a good friend." We settled on 1/10 of that.
Came home and quickly wrote out the card for Rosie because we were picking her up in 10 minutes to have her help Rojo pick out a Halloween costume. She helped us last year, so now it's tradition. If there's one thing we do well around here, it's carve things in stone.
Inside the card he wrote, "I love you like a super star." I love Rosie like a super star, too. Because she is.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Keepin' it Clean
We have a pre-occupation with scents going on over here. It started with shampoo. Every time we'd go to any store that sold shampoo (ANY store), we'd have to take the lids off each and every one of the "flavored" ones and give them a good long sniff. We'd stand in the aisles of Safeway, Bi-Mart, Target, Walgreens, you-name-it, and just smell, smell, smell. Having trouble deciding on just one "flavor" we'd often end up with two or three. Our shower is fully occupied by all the various shampoos in all their stages of use.
Now he's added liquid soap to the drill. We have cucumber in the bathroom, vanilla upstairs and shea butter in the kitchen. He's got me making soap runs after school so he can buy them for gifts. "Care, Grandma really, really needs some soap." Apparently, Grandma did. She sent him a thank you note in the mail a couple days after I dropped it off, so touched was she that he would think of her in such a sweet way, and remember that her favorite fragrance was lavender. He bought one for his other grandmother, too, as well as both his primary teachers.
On Sunday we dragged Nancy on our hamburgers/frozen yogurt/soap shopping run. "It's like the shampoo," she said, having been dragged on more than one shampoo sniffing expedition, as well. We also picked out treats for his teachers, Hot Tamales for one (because she loves cinnamon) and gum for the other, because he swears she loves gum.
Got home and were getting everything in his backpack to take to school the next day, and the Hot Tamales had gone all Don Wilson on us (for those of you that are unfamiliar with that phenomenon, it's when things simply vanish from our house, usually showing up in an obvious place, way, way later). We looked in the car. We looked in the take-your-own-reusable-save-the-earth-bag. We looked in my purse. That box was goners.
Rojo obsessed over the candy for the rest of the evening to the point where I finally said, "Get your shoes on, let's go get her a new box." I suggested we go to a closer, easier, more convenient store than the one where we'd originally gone, but that was not flying. I think he thought the Hot Tamales might still be sitting at the self-check, all those hours later, just waiting for us. Frankly, I'm kind of surprised they weren't.
Off we went back to the store. Grabbed a new box of Hot Tamales and were heading to the self-check again when he said, "Let's just go look at the soap really fast." While he was sniffing and debating whether or not we also needed raspberry in the mix, I texted Nancy. "Guess where I am and what I'm doing," I wrote, "smelling soap."
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Now he's added liquid soap to the drill. We have cucumber in the bathroom, vanilla upstairs and shea butter in the kitchen. He's got me making soap runs after school so he can buy them for gifts. "Care, Grandma really, really needs some soap." Apparently, Grandma did. She sent him a thank you note in the mail a couple days after I dropped it off, so touched was she that he would think of her in such a sweet way, and remember that her favorite fragrance was lavender. He bought one for his other grandmother, too, as well as both his primary teachers.
On Sunday we dragged Nancy on our hamburgers/frozen yogurt/soap shopping run. "It's like the shampoo," she said, having been dragged on more than one shampoo sniffing expedition, as well. We also picked out treats for his teachers, Hot Tamales for one (because she loves cinnamon) and gum for the other, because he swears she loves gum.
Got home and were getting everything in his backpack to take to school the next day, and the Hot Tamales had gone all Don Wilson on us (for those of you that are unfamiliar with that phenomenon, it's when things simply vanish from our house, usually showing up in an obvious place, way, way later). We looked in the car. We looked in the take-your-own-reusable-save-the-earth-bag. We looked in my purse. That box was goners.
Rojo obsessed over the candy for the rest of the evening to the point where I finally said, "Get your shoes on, let's go get her a new box." I suggested we go to a closer, easier, more convenient store than the one where we'd originally gone, but that was not flying. I think he thought the Hot Tamales might still be sitting at the self-check, all those hours later, just waiting for us. Frankly, I'm kind of surprised they weren't.
Off we went back to the store. Grabbed a new box of Hot Tamales and were heading to the self-check again when he said, "Let's just go look at the soap really fast." While he was sniffing and debating whether or not we also needed raspberry in the mix, I texted Nancy. "Guess where I am and what I'm doing," I wrote, "smelling soap."
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Oh, Were it All That Simple
So Rojo has a retreat today at school - gone all day. One of those challenge courses, "Dress in layers, and wear closed-toed shoes," the directions say. Yesterday it was almost 80 degrees, today it's in the low 60's. I convince him to wear jeans. I convince him to wear a long-sleeved T-shirt. I convince him to wear a zip-up hoody. I cannot convince him to also wear his jacket on top, and then shove it in his backpack should he get too warm later in the day.
No. Way.
We step outside to get into the car. It's freezing outside. I try one last time, "Rojo, you're going to be cold in just a T-shirt and sweatshirt, take the coat, don't wear it if you don't want to, just take the coat," I plead.
"Care! Stop worrying about me! I am sixteen years old! I'm not a kid!"
No. Way.
We step outside to get into the car. It's freezing outside. I try one last time, "Rojo, you're going to be cold in just a T-shirt and sweatshirt, take the coat, don't wear it if you don't want to, just take the coat," I plead.
"Care! Stop worrying about me! I am sixteen years old! I'm not a kid!"
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Planning Ahead
STM has been taking Rojo to the "truck store" for lo, these many years (like 14). That's what Rojo named Home Depot due to the fork lifts and other assorted trucks that are in and around the place. Typically, they go on a Saturday or Sunday morning, count the trucks, buy a bunch of candy at the checkout stand and come home. Each year Rojo makes it a little more complicated, now he'll pick a random one, nowhere near where we live, and make STM take him there. They've been to Sherwood, Beaverton, Mall 205, you-name-it.
Last weekend when they were there, STM asked Rojo, "Would you like to work at Home Depot when you finish high school?"
"No," he said.
"Think about it, and I'm going to ask you to tell me more about that later," STM said.
The next day STM asked again, "Have you thought more about working at Home Depot when you are done with school? Maybe you could greet people? Maybe you could help put things on the shelves?"
"No, I cannot work at Home Depot because when I'm 25 I'll have my kids, and someone will need to stay with them. If I am working at Home Depot, nobody will be home with my kids."
Hadn't thought of that.
"So, what about your idea of working in a preschool? How would that work? Who would be with your kids when you were at that job?" STM asked.
"They would BE in the preschool!" he said.
Obviously.
Last weekend when they were there, STM asked Rojo, "Would you like to work at Home Depot when you finish high school?"
"No," he said.
"Think about it, and I'm going to ask you to tell me more about that later," STM said.
The next day STM asked again, "Have you thought more about working at Home Depot when you are done with school? Maybe you could greet people? Maybe you could help put things on the shelves?"
"No, I cannot work at Home Depot because when I'm 25 I'll have my kids, and someone will need to stay with them. If I am working at Home Depot, nobody will be home with my kids."
Hadn't thought of that.
"So, what about your idea of working in a preschool? How would that work? Who would be with your kids when you were at that job?" STM asked.
"They would BE in the preschool!" he said.
Obviously.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Generosity
It's interesting to note that when doing a Google image search for this Corita Kent print, I found it from own blog, long ago. I was hoping to get a better image without the glass and glare, but go ahead and say it with me... there are no accidents! I was the source of what I was looking for!
Yesterday Rojo and I met with his new-ish Developmental Pediatrician. It was only our second appointment with her, and the first one was four months ago. He was all out of sort at that appointment, and she really didn't see the true Rojo. This time, she did. She was asking him about his summer, how school is going, etc.
"I worked in a preschool," he said. Then he went into a long description of how you get to the preschool from our house, by bike.
"Did you get paid or were you a volunteer?" she asked him.
"I got paid $5.00 a day," he said.
"What did you do with your money?" she asked.
"SPENT it!" he said with emphasis and drama.
"No, you didn't," I corrected, "tell her what you really did with your money," I said.
"I gave it away," he said. "You know how there is church at 5:30 on Saturdays? You know how there are lots of homeless people? They are really homeless. I gave my money to them."
The doctor teared up and looked to me to validate the story.
"Yes," I said, "he gave almost all the money he made this summer, away."
"Those people are really homeless and poor," he said again, "so I gave it to them."
"I wish I could clone you," the doctor said with love in her eyes.
I looked up and saw that since the last time we were there, she had hung up some art (she had just moved in the first time we were there). She had up the exact same art we have at home. The Corita that I got when I graduated from college in education. Long before I knew just how "special" the children in my life would be.
"I have that same exact Corita at home, framed exactly the same way. I've had it for almost 30 years," I told her.
"Mine is about that old, too," she said. "My parents had it in our house when I was growing up, when I became a pediatrician, they gave it to me."
Each child is special. Give lots of love.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Deserving
I had lunch this week with two friends I've known for 31 years. I am still shaking my head and marveling that we've gone from talking about boyfriends, to husbands, children, and aging parents, and right around the corner: grandchildren and retirement.
We were reminiscing, talking about life in the past and life now. One of them has a seven-year-old from a second marriage, he's a great student, easy, happy kid and she is grateful. "You deserve it," I told her.
"No. I don't deserve it," she quickly corrected me. "Nobody deserves anything. You don't deserve the good things that happen to you, and you don't deserve the bad. They are all just part of the story."
Have you ever heard anything so wise?
We were reminiscing, talking about life in the past and life now. One of them has a seven-year-old from a second marriage, he's a great student, easy, happy kid and she is grateful. "You deserve it," I told her.
"No. I don't deserve it," she quickly corrected me. "Nobody deserves anything. You don't deserve the good things that happen to you, and you don't deserve the bad. They are all just part of the story."
Have you ever heard anything so wise?
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Are you anywhere near as excited as I am for the "Gray's Anatomy" season premiere tomorrow? Were you also three, count 'em, THREE seasons behind until you got your priorities straight and all but pulled all-nighters with Netflix to get caught up? Are you, too, feeling like 2012 hasn't totally been in vain due to this significant accomplishment?
Well, if that doesn't impress you - how about this: I haven't had coffee in two days. I'm drinking TEA, and we all know how I feel about tea. I'll spare you the details and just say that it was quite obvious that coffee wasn't my friend. I'm hoping we can reconcile down the road, but for now at least, it's me, my tea, and "Gray's Anatomy!"
Well, if that doesn't impress you - how about this: I haven't had coffee in two days. I'm drinking TEA, and we all know how I feel about tea. I'll spare you the details and just say that it was quite obvious that coffee wasn't my friend. I'm hoping we can reconcile down the road, but for now at least, it's me, my tea, and "Gray's Anatomy!"
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Let us Remember
I get Rojo into bed, pull up the tangled sheet from the foot of the bed, re-arrange the comforter on top of his long body, go to shut the shades and he starts praying out loud, "In God's name we serve each other with kindness, justice and forgiveness. Amen. Now go write that one down before you forget it."
Done.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Amen
So, I thought the background I picked last week was artsy, but one of my most artsy friends said it was "nightmarish," so it's gone. Not trying to scare anyone, here! Someday I am actually going to figure out how to put photographs in the header that aren't super gigantic, but that day is not today (or the last several days I've tried it).
We had Woohoo home from college for the weekend (actually, it was Saturday afternoon until Monday morning). We all sat down to family dinner on Sunday (lest you be impressed, please know we have not sat down to dinner since she left a month ago), and we were all exhausted from a full weekend of Rojo. He was just extra everything this weekend, for all kinds of reasons I'm guessing, and having Woohoo home was "weird," he said.
So, picture us all crawling to the table, already on our last legs, then us turning to Rojo to say the prayer and him saying:
Lord,
May our souls be forgiven,
Our hearts be open,
and attached to each other.
Amen.
Amen.
We had Woohoo home from college for the weekend (actually, it was Saturday afternoon until Monday morning). We all sat down to family dinner on Sunday (lest you be impressed, please know we have not sat down to dinner since she left a month ago), and we were all exhausted from a full weekend of Rojo. He was just extra everything this weekend, for all kinds of reasons I'm guessing, and having Woohoo home was "weird," he said.
So, picture us all crawling to the table, already on our last legs, then us turning to Rojo to say the prayer and him saying:
Lord,
May our souls be forgiven,
Our hearts be open,
and attached to each other.
Amen.
Amen.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
In My Path
Look at these four little beauties that literally, were right in front of me today when I went on a long walk. Couldn't help but see them. They were right there all along. Just like love.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Answering My Bell
When I decided that I was ready to wrap it up as the leader and host of the support group I'd been running for a number of years (6? 7? I lost count), the other women in the group banned together and presented me with a lovely gift. They gave me a trip to the beach and a gift certificate to a local spa. I was told I could take my whole family, a group of friends, just one friend, or go alone - whatever I wanted.
I, being me, chose to go all alone. I know some people think that's crazy or weird, in fact, I only know of one other person that also likes to take time away to be alone. I just do. In fact, I can't get enough of it. When I'm alone I don't have to answer the bell. For anyone. It is the only time I can be entirely selfish, sleep when I want, do what I want, eat what and when I want, talk when I want, be silent when I want, watch what I want, read what I want. Just what I want.
So, here I am, taking them up on their offer and enjoying the Oregon Coast. It's hot in Portland this week, so that means it's foggy and cool here - a 30 degree difference. I love it. I went on a walk after I arrived and had settle in. Sorry, my phone takes terrible pictures, but you get the idea. See all the other people walking on the beach, too? Exactly.
And look what I found just as I was heading back up the trail to the house. Just needs a period after it.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
A Gold Star
We had a great weekend - Friday we went to Rojo's high school's first home football game. We wore our "spirit wear," he conducted the band, he followed the mascot around and best of all, he took off a couple of times to go hang out with friends.
Saturday morning I took Flicka over to my mom's early in the morning so we could drive down to Eugene to watch the U of O game. She said, "Sonam and Kunga are going to the game, too, look for them!" I didn't want to tell Rojo we might see them because I was afraid it would be too difficult and knowing we would arrive late in the first quarter and leave in the fourth, I didn't want to get his hopes up (and hear about it non-stop for the two-hour drive).
STM rode his bike from Portland to Turner (past Salem, like a four-hour bike ride), and Rojo and I drove down and got him on the way. Right before we made it to Turner Rojo says, "I'm going to text Sonam and tell her to call me at 12:30." Granted, driving to Eugene would make him think of her, but I had said nothing. He didn't hear back from her and I wasn't sure just what he wanted to talk to her about when/if she did call.
We got to Eugene, parked a long ways, hopped on our bikes that STM had all loaded up on the back of the car, and rode to the game. There's a foot bridge from the campus to the stadium, there were some other stragglers like us, arriving late at the game. All of a sudden, THERE were Sonam and Kunga, on the bridge!
Sonam was holding her phone in her hand, and was just checking it to see what time it was and if she should be calling Rojo right about then (it was nearly 12:30). Come on. WHAT are the chances of that? About 100% when your name is Rojo. We walked a ways with them, visiting, hugging, and telling them we'd hook up in the stadium at some point. Then we hopped back on our bikes and rode the rest of the way.
Got to the stadium and it appeared that people were sitting in our seats, so we went over to the student section and sat down in some empty seats. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a woman stand up to take a picture with her iPhone. "Is that Sonam?" I asked STM. Sure enough, there she was, about two rows down from us. I'm telling you, there were over 50,000 people in that stadium. HOW could we not be able to sit where we were "supposed to" only to sit RIGHT by Sonam? Long story short, she was with another family and so three of them were in their season-ticket-holding-seats, and she and a friend were "students."
Turns out no one was sitting in our seats and eventually a marshall pointed that out to us and had us move, as I guess he wasn't buying we were students.
So, today Rojo had me taking him all over tarnation, meeting his every request. We did yogurt with liz in Lake Oswego. We were at Trader Joe's and Safeway before most people were out of bed. We were at New Seasons. We invited Nancy over for Beer O'Clock which was really water o'clock. Basically, he said, "Jump!" and I asked, "How high?" all day long. Something new and different.
Cleaning up after dinner I spotted the chocolate bars he has me buy so he can give them away - you know the ones, the little three-packs that they sell at Trader Joe's? The ones that are just the right size? I pulled out two and asked, "Do you want to take these to your teachers tomorrow?"
"Care! You read my mind. You are thinking what I'm thinking. You have been doing that all day. You just know what I'm thinking and boom, you say it. You deserve a gold star."
Going to the drawer he pulls out a Post-It. "Gold," he writes on it, handing it to me, "You make a star," he says. I do. He puts the Post-It on the calendar on the fridge right over this weekend and says, "This was a gold star weekend."
Saturday morning I took Flicka over to my mom's early in the morning so we could drive down to Eugene to watch the U of O game. She said, "Sonam and Kunga are going to the game, too, look for them!" I didn't want to tell Rojo we might see them because I was afraid it would be too difficult and knowing we would arrive late in the first quarter and leave in the fourth, I didn't want to get his hopes up (and hear about it non-stop for the two-hour drive).
STM rode his bike from Portland to Turner (past Salem, like a four-hour bike ride), and Rojo and I drove down and got him on the way. Right before we made it to Turner Rojo says, "I'm going to text Sonam and tell her to call me at 12:30." Granted, driving to Eugene would make him think of her, but I had said nothing. He didn't hear back from her and I wasn't sure just what he wanted to talk to her about when/if she did call.
We got to Eugene, parked a long ways, hopped on our bikes that STM had all loaded up on the back of the car, and rode to the game. There's a foot bridge from the campus to the stadium, there were some other stragglers like us, arriving late at the game. All of a sudden, THERE were Sonam and Kunga, on the bridge!
Sonam was holding her phone in her hand, and was just checking it to see what time it was and if she should be calling Rojo right about then (it was nearly 12:30). Come on. WHAT are the chances of that? About 100% when your name is Rojo. We walked a ways with them, visiting, hugging, and telling them we'd hook up in the stadium at some point. Then we hopped back on our bikes and rode the rest of the way.
Got to the stadium and it appeared that people were sitting in our seats, so we went over to the student section and sat down in some empty seats. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a woman stand up to take a picture with her iPhone. "Is that Sonam?" I asked STM. Sure enough, there she was, about two rows down from us. I'm telling you, there were over 50,000 people in that stadium. HOW could we not be able to sit where we were "supposed to" only to sit RIGHT by Sonam? Long story short, she was with another family and so three of them were in their season-ticket-holding-seats, and she and a friend were "students."
Turns out no one was sitting in our seats and eventually a marshall pointed that out to us and had us move, as I guess he wasn't buying we were students.
So, today Rojo had me taking him all over tarnation, meeting his every request. We did yogurt with liz in Lake Oswego. We were at Trader Joe's and Safeway before most people were out of bed. We were at New Seasons. We invited Nancy over for Beer O'Clock which was really water o'clock. Basically, he said, "Jump!" and I asked, "How high?" all day long. Something new and different.
Cleaning up after dinner I spotted the chocolate bars he has me buy so he can give them away - you know the ones, the little three-packs that they sell at Trader Joe's? The ones that are just the right size? I pulled out two and asked, "Do you want to take these to your teachers tomorrow?"
"Care! You read my mind. You are thinking what I'm thinking. You have been doing that all day. You just know what I'm thinking and boom, you say it. You deserve a gold star."
Going to the drawer he pulls out a Post-It. "Gold," he writes on it, handing it to me, "You make a star," he says. I do. He puts the Post-It on the calendar on the fridge right over this weekend and says, "This was a gold star weekend."
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Buddies
Rojo doesn't want to go to frozen yogurt with just me anymore. Passe. He wants to go with me and a buddy. He has many, but the ones his age are often busy when he wants to go - especially now that school has resumed. Fortunately, many of his buddies are also my buddies, and they are kind enough to go (not that they really have a choice, what with his twenty million texts/e-mails/Face Time requests).
We picked up Kathleen after school on Tuesday and took her to yogurt, and on Wednesday the plan was to take Nancy. Over the summer Rojo had me driving to hell and gone with Nancy for frozen yogurt, and then we tied it in with a trip to Target. One thing turned into another, and the next thing I knew he and Nancy were a pair with one list and cart, and I was on my own, shopping at Target (bliss).
So, Wednesday came and Nancy rode with me to get Rojo from high school, we went to the yogurt place next to Target, and then did our mutual shopping. Rojo had his very specific list: Pop Tarts, granola bars and Capri Sun, three things he considered "musts" for an early morning meeting he has next week, one in which he has already volunteered to bring the snacks. He's like me (times 10), doesn't like to have things on the To Do list too long, likes to get them on the list and OFF!
We had a pre-arranged time and place to meet (23 minutes later), and I got to the spot and they weren't there. Just then a text came through, "Care, we need five more minutes, please." I decided to go see what they had in clothing to kill time, found a Carrie Link dress and threw it in the cart. The extra five minutes cost me an extra $29.99, but watching Rojo and Nancy come around the corner and put their things on the conveyer belt without me, then walk out of the store together with is hand upon her shoulder? Priceless.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Music to my Ears
So, here's a little snippet that should bring hope to all of you raising kids that like to KNOW when things are going to happen, that like to have them happen the SAME way each and every time. Am I talking to you?
We left the house early today (couldn't be because I was dying to get him there or anything) and he noticed while driving, that we'd probably arrive 5-10 minutes earlier than usual.
"I'm not sure my classroom will be open yet, but that's okay, I can hang out in the hall or something. I'll just wing it."
And apparently he did just that. I never heard another word from him until I picked him up at our appointed time - at which point he kept me waiting 8 minutes.
We left the house early today (couldn't be because I was dying to get him there or anything) and he noticed while driving, that we'd probably arrive 5-10 minutes earlier than usual.
"I'm not sure my classroom will be open yet, but that's okay, I can hang out in the hall or something. I'll just wing it."
And apparently he did just that. I never heard another word from him until I picked him up at our appointed time - at which point he kept me waiting 8 minutes.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Three Journeys
I was just curious how many posts I'd written between this blog and my old one, "Fully Caffeinated." Turns out I've written 1,661, over six-and-a-half years. When I feel like I don't have much to say, that must be why - I've said it all. Maybe I'll just start posting pieces that say, "Ditto."
That being said, there are always little things that come up that I think, "I gotta put that on the blog." I am not the TV watcher in the family, and if I lived all alone I don't think I'd even have one (but I'd have Netflix on my laptop). Nonetheless, Oprah has this amazing show, "Super Soul Sunday," and I never miss it. Each week she has someone on that says something I ruminate on the rest of the week. She's had Jill Bolte Taylor, Marianne Williamson, Michael Singer, and Reverend Ed Bacon, to name a few.
The most recent one I watched (I'm using my DVR to catch up), was Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee, a Sufi mystic. Never knew a lot about Sufism, just knew I loved me some Rumi. Vaughan-Lee said in his interview, there are three journeys: the journey from God, the journey to God, and the journey in God. He didn't say this, but I have decided that the journey in God must equal heaven - being one with God.
Just me, or could you spend all day pondering that?
That being said, there are always little things that come up that I think, "I gotta put that on the blog." I am not the TV watcher in the family, and if I lived all alone I don't think I'd even have one (but I'd have Netflix on my laptop). Nonetheless, Oprah has this amazing show, "Super Soul Sunday," and I never miss it. Each week she has someone on that says something I ruminate on the rest of the week. She's had Jill Bolte Taylor, Marianne Williamson, Michael Singer, and Reverend Ed Bacon, to name a few.
The most recent one I watched (I'm using my DVR to catch up), was Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee, a Sufi mystic. Never knew a lot about Sufism, just knew I loved me some Rumi. Vaughan-Lee said in his interview, there are three journeys: the journey from God, the journey to God, and the journey in God. He didn't say this, but I have decided that the journey in God must equal heaven - being one with God.
Just me, or could you spend all day pondering that?
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
This is the Day that the Lord Hath Made, Let Us Rejoice and Be Glad!
A friend just e-mailed me with that refrain from a favorite church song of Rojo's. And it's true, the Lord did make today, and it's every bit as true, if not truer, that I am GLAD!
Rojo is at school! He was super janked this morning and had me out the door WAY before time to go. We took the long way, we dropped something off, and still we were there way too early.
For the last few days Rojo has been telling me he hopes a boy we'll call K., will be one of his assistants this year. We kind of know K., his younger brother was in Rojo's class for a few years, and K. lives in the neighborhood, I am acquainted with his mom. We know enough of K. to know he's wonderful, let's just say that.
Anyhoo. Rojo got it in his head that life would not go on without K. as a helper, and so he somehow got K.'s cell number and began texting him multiple times to see what could be arranged. Today when I dropped Rojo off way too early, THERE was K., already there, standing outside ready to walk up to the car, help Rojo unload all his stuff, and escort him to his classroom, whereby I imagine he helped unpack all the stuff and make some sort of sense of things.
I teared up seeing K. there early, ready to help, answering the bell. More than that, I was reminded for the one trillionth time, that Rojo will be okay. It is not all up to me. He can advocate for himself. He can make stuff happen. He knows when he needs help and he's good about figuring out the perfect person to "offer" that help. HE WILL BE FINE.
Came home from this whole scene and was all wound up, put the leash on Flicka and took her on a power walk. Walked by my friend L.'s house. She came outside and we chatted. Told her the story of K. Told her how he was met with open arms and a loving heart. Told her that Rojo will be okay.
With tears in her eyes she looked at me and said, "Oh, he'll be FINE!"
And I believed her in the bottom of my heart.
Rojo is at school! He was super janked this morning and had me out the door WAY before time to go. We took the long way, we dropped something off, and still we were there way too early.
For the last few days Rojo has been telling me he hopes a boy we'll call K., will be one of his assistants this year. We kind of know K., his younger brother was in Rojo's class for a few years, and K. lives in the neighborhood, I am acquainted with his mom. We know enough of K. to know he's wonderful, let's just say that.
Anyhoo. Rojo got it in his head that life would not go on without K. as a helper, and so he somehow got K.'s cell number and began texting him multiple times to see what could be arranged. Today when I dropped Rojo off way too early, THERE was K., already there, standing outside ready to walk up to the car, help Rojo unload all his stuff, and escort him to his classroom, whereby I imagine he helped unpack all the stuff and make some sort of sense of things.
I teared up seeing K. there early, ready to help, answering the bell. More than that, I was reminded for the one trillionth time, that Rojo will be okay. It is not all up to me. He can advocate for himself. He can make stuff happen. He knows when he needs help and he's good about figuring out the perfect person to "offer" that help. HE WILL BE FINE.
Came home from this whole scene and was all wound up, put the leash on Flicka and took her on a power walk. Walked by my friend L.'s house. She came outside and we chatted. Told her the story of K. Told her how he was met with open arms and a loving heart. Told her that Rojo will be okay.
With tears in her eyes she looked at me and said, "Oh, he'll be FINE!"
And I believed her in the bottom of my heart.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Not a Mark on Him
So. We've made it to the day before the first day of school. We've survived summer camp, sending Woohoo off to college, and a whole host of other challenges this summer, but I'm not quite sure we'll survive the day. It's only 10:41 AM and I am already on my third just-get-me-through-this beverage. Since it's a tad early to crack a beer, I'm relying on the ol' standbys of caffeine/dairy/fat/sugar. They never fail to add that extra element of liquid stress to the already stressful situation, and I never fail to rely on them to do just that.
Rojo has, as I've said before, had a great summer. He does not want it to end. Period.
I do.
I am, by all intents and purposes, at his beck and call, every minute he's awake and not at work. "CARE!" he calls a million times a day, full of another great idea of how we can kill time, usually involving buying something junky to eat. Usually I comply. Usually I indulge, as well.
I think the first order of business, beginning tomorrow, is to go on a health kick. I told STM that. "STM?"I said, "I am going to go on a health kick when Rojo goes back to school." He looked at me like I had three heads and handed me a beer. Let's face it, we all like me better under the slight influence.
Can't talk now, gotta chug my Starbucks Double Shot and take Rojo to frozen yogurt now. We've already been to Trader Joe's. And Plaid Pantry.
Thank you for your prayers.
Amen.
Rojo has, as I've said before, had a great summer. He does not want it to end. Period.
I do.
I am, by all intents and purposes, at his beck and call, every minute he's awake and not at work. "CARE!" he calls a million times a day, full of another great idea of how we can kill time, usually involving buying something junky to eat. Usually I comply. Usually I indulge, as well.
I think the first order of business, beginning tomorrow, is to go on a health kick. I told STM that. "STM?"I said, "I am going to go on a health kick when Rojo goes back to school." He looked at me like I had three heads and handed me a beer. Let's face it, we all like me better under the slight influence.
Can't talk now, gotta chug my Starbucks Double Shot and take Rojo to frozen yogurt now. We've already been to Trader Joe's. And Plaid Pantry.
Thank you for your prayers.
Amen.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
All in Good Time
Lots to tell you about, but I'm really just not in the mood. Rojo continues to say profound/spiritual/deeply resonating things several times a day, always at the moment you're ready to kill him and/or go for the bottle. I am too old/tired/emotional/menopausal to write them all down or even fully appreciate them at this moment.
We've had a great summer - our best ever. Rojo is not ready to go back to school, he's dreading the work, the homework, in particular. He would go on living his summer life forever, if possible: working at the preschool 9-1, riding his bike, swimming, going for frozen yogurt with his wide range of friends, being outside in good weather, finding the ice cream truck every day, etc. It's the good life and he's loving it.
The teacher at the preschool, Sandy, said this year he is much more of a leader, and less of a peer to the preschoolers. He is already talking about doing it again next summer, and God willing, Sandy won't retire and that will be possible. For sure when he is done with high school, I need to find him a similar job.
We had someone from Ride Connection come out to the house yesterday - she was going to chat with Rojo, and form a plan for helping him learn to ride the bus - alone. She would ride it with him for as many times as necessary, until he could manage it entirely on his own. We're not talking transfers and distant places. We're talking learning how to catch it two blocks from our house, go somewhere nearby (without me), and come home. Rojo was all for it. I made sure to get his buy-in before even calling them. We had it on the calendar, we talked about it several times. He answered the door when she came. Two minutes into it he said, "That's it for me, I'm out of here," and stomped upstairs.
Poor timing.
I should never have tried to throw this on him as he's transitioning from Woohoo being home, to Woohoo being gone, as he's saying goodbye to summer, and hello to school, as he's barely gotten used to being 16, let alone ready to start talking about being 18. I rushed things, such is my way.
As my brother is always saying, "Slowly, slowly." There is wisdom in that, deep wisdom that I am able to occasionally tap into.
Slowly.
Breathe.
Slowly.
Breathe.
Repeat.
Amen.
We've had a great summer - our best ever. Rojo is not ready to go back to school, he's dreading the work, the homework, in particular. He would go on living his summer life forever, if possible: working at the preschool 9-1, riding his bike, swimming, going for frozen yogurt with his wide range of friends, being outside in good weather, finding the ice cream truck every day, etc. It's the good life and he's loving it.
The teacher at the preschool, Sandy, said this year he is much more of a leader, and less of a peer to the preschoolers. He is already talking about doing it again next summer, and God willing, Sandy won't retire and that will be possible. For sure when he is done with high school, I need to find him a similar job.
We had someone from Ride Connection come out to the house yesterday - she was going to chat with Rojo, and form a plan for helping him learn to ride the bus - alone. She would ride it with him for as many times as necessary, until he could manage it entirely on his own. We're not talking transfers and distant places. We're talking learning how to catch it two blocks from our house, go somewhere nearby (without me), and come home. Rojo was all for it. I made sure to get his buy-in before even calling them. We had it on the calendar, we talked about it several times. He answered the door when she came. Two minutes into it he said, "That's it for me, I'm out of here," and stomped upstairs.
Poor timing.
I should never have tried to throw this on him as he's transitioning from Woohoo being home, to Woohoo being gone, as he's saying goodbye to summer, and hello to school, as he's barely gotten used to being 16, let alone ready to start talking about being 18. I rushed things, such is my way.
As my brother is always saying, "Slowly, slowly." There is wisdom in that, deep wisdom that I am able to occasionally tap into.
Slowly.
Breathe.
Slowly.
Breathe.
Repeat.
Amen.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Top 10 Ways to Run Into Everyone You Know
10. The night before you want to run into every person you know on the planet, say goodbye to your daughter as she goes off to college.
9. Tear up several times a day for several days in a row
8. Have one good ugly cry
7. Drink one too many beers (which means 2, instead of 1) the night before
6. Don't drink enough water for several days prior, be nice and dehydrated, and look older than your years
5. Don't sleep well for weeks
4. Do not shower
3. Walk the dog and get all sweaty
2. Be sure to wear a baseball hat to cover your dirty hair
1. Go to the grocery store early on a Sunday morning, hoping you won't run into anyone you know
9. Tear up several times a day for several days in a row
8. Have one good ugly cry
7. Drink one too many beers (which means 2, instead of 1) the night before
6. Don't drink enough water for several days prior, be nice and dehydrated, and look older than your years
5. Don't sleep well for weeks
4. Do not shower
3. Walk the dog and get all sweaty
2. Be sure to wear a baseball hat to cover your dirty hair
1. Go to the grocery store early on a Sunday morning, hoping you won't run into anyone you know
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Orientation
Where to begin? We took Woohoo to college on Tuesday evening, but she was really just leaving for a 2-day service trip. We had one hour to "drop"her stuff in her room, and then get her over to where she needed to be to head out for service. Because if there's one thing STM does well it's pack/load/unload, we had that girl fully in, in 1 1/2 trips from the car, thanks to STM's handy dandy hand truck/cart thingy. Then, today, I went back and met her after she finished the service immersion, and helped her really settle into her room. Actually? I put her clothes on hangers and tried not to tell her where everything really SHOULD go, since it's, let's face it, none of my business.
Went back later this evening to learn all about dorm life from the hall director, and bring her various things she's thought of that she needs, and haul more stuff out that she doesn't. Tomorrow and Saturday are full orientation days for parents and students, culminating with an all-school Mass on Saturday night and then the big goodbye.
Got back tonight and Rojo said, "So, do you miss her already?" There is something so different about knowing she's gone and not coming back, versus a typical day where she might be gone all day and I never even see her, but knowing she'll be sleeping in the room next to ours, eventually.
Rojo swears he doesn't miss her, but it's obvious he does. He hasn't been himself for days, first really edgy and crusty, and now really quiet and somber. I'm starting to get to know Woohoo's roommate's mother. She asked tonight, "How is this for Rojo?" which of course bonds me to her forever because she gets that this transition affects us all, even, and maybe especially, him.
On the (big) plus side, Woohoo is obviously happy. I'd go so far as to say giddy. And I love, love, LOVE her college. I'd give my right arm to trade places with her, but alas, we are here, she is there, and we are all reorienting.
Went back later this evening to learn all about dorm life from the hall director, and bring her various things she's thought of that she needs, and haul more stuff out that she doesn't. Tomorrow and Saturday are full orientation days for parents and students, culminating with an all-school Mass on Saturday night and then the big goodbye.
Got back tonight and Rojo said, "So, do you miss her already?" There is something so different about knowing she's gone and not coming back, versus a typical day where she might be gone all day and I never even see her, but knowing she'll be sleeping in the room next to ours, eventually.
Rojo swears he doesn't miss her, but it's obvious he does. He hasn't been himself for days, first really edgy and crusty, and now really quiet and somber. I'm starting to get to know Woohoo's roommate's mother. She asked tonight, "How is this for Rojo?" which of course bonds me to her forever because she gets that this transition affects us all, even, and maybe especially, him.
On the (big) plus side, Woohoo is obviously happy. I'd go so far as to say giddy. And I love, love, LOVE her college. I'd give my right arm to trade places with her, but alas, we are here, she is there, and we are all reorienting.
Monday, August 20, 2012
College Bound
WARNING: The following post is rambling and disjointed. As within, so without.
Tonight will be the last night Woohoo will sleep at "home," as she informed me. Starting tomorrow, college will be "home" and this will be, I don't know exactly, I guess the place where her family lives. For those of you that put your little babies on airplanes and send them off to college in far away places, I bow to you. Woohoo will be 30 minutes away and psychologically, that is just super helpful. Not to mention how practical and easy it is as far as managing her move and our juggling act with Rojo.
I'm having college dreams left and right - the latest one was finding out I'd missed the first three weeks of my high level Spanish class (!) and then discovering it met at 10:30 PM, ruling that OUT for me, as my bedtime is 9:30 (at the latest).
I am 90% excited and happy for her - truly, my four years of college were among my happiest and most carefree. I loved learning, loved my living situation, loved my friends, loved being "independent," loved it all. I am hoping the same is true for her. 10% of me is nervous. How will she manage? Will she find her calling? Her friends? Her "thing?" Will she not just survive, but really thrive there?
Today she is spending the entire day saying goodbye to friends, one right after the other. Tomorrow it's the grandparents. Although she will be close, and can come home for birthdays, holidays, and special occasions, we have told her she's entitled to be "away at college" and her attendance is not required.
Yesterday Rojo was a bear - super grumpy, snappy, sassy and generally difficult. Today he has kept himself away from the house almost the entire day. He will miss her. He knows that, but he cannot/does not say that. He doesn't know a home in which she is not an integral, day-to-day part.
Kathleen is taking her youngest to college this week, too. Above is a picture of our two little girls thirteen years ago. Good thing Kathleen and I don't look a day older than we did then, but boy, have our girls changed! Although she's been through this two other times, this time it's the hardest - her baby. "Forced retirement," she says, then end of full-time parenting for a woman that's made it more than a career (even when she's had concurrent jobs). And even though it is not the end of my parenting (not by a long shot), it is the end of something.
And the beginning of more.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Monday, August 13, 2012
More Rumi
“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers
within yourself that you have built against it.”
― Rumi
It's really true. I'm going through the fun, and sometimes crazy-making, process of coming up with a subtitle for my book. Believe it or not, it never occurred to me to have one, even though the first book I wrote, had one, all the other books on the planet have one, and I pretty much should have been thinking about this months ago. Nonetheless, I'm doing it now.
Words like "relentless," "embracing," "autism spectrum," and "grief." Have all (among others) been mixed and matched. Then my astute agent reminded me that the story is about, more than anything, the boy with a super-human ability to love.
My posting will be spotty at best as I tie up loose ends of the book, and get a girl ready for college NEXT WEEK!
Love, love and more love.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
A Day at the Beach
For those of you that are faithful followers of the blog (THANK YOU), you know that each summer we take a day and drive to Seaside, Oregon to do exactly (and only exactly) what we do each and every other year. We go to the arcade, drop $40 in about 4 minutes, go to a salt-water taffy place and hand pick a bag's worth, have lunch at Pig-n-Pancake, hit the beach, build a sand TV, throw a ball around, complain about how cold/windy/whatever it is, make a big mess, clean it up, then go home.
We arrive home exhausted from our day at the beach, with a bunch of things to unpack, hose off, wipe and clean.
This year (yesterday) I only loaded $10 on each kid's card for the arcade. Rojo went straight to "the claw" where for 25 cents you can "play 'til you win" a pice of candy. The machine must not have been working properly, because 10 minutes in he still had $9.75 on the card. I didn't complain. When he had a whole sweatshirt pocket full of gross candy, he headed for the Big Bass Wheel. He swiped his card (actually, I helped him), pulled the handle down nonchalantly, then while being totally distracted trying to get a piece of candy from his pocket, he won 1,000 tickets. He was mildly impressed, the three of us were beside ourselves.
After waiting an eternity for the machine to punch out 1,000 tickets, we decided to break from our tradition of giving away the tickets, and instead, went to the redemption counter and squandered all 1,000 on mostly MORE gross candy (and a Frisbee for Flicka).
Because both kids still had a ton of money left on their cards, the four of us played basketball, skee ball, rode on motorcycles, and had a ball. We gathered up a bunch more tickets in the process, and decided we would then return to our tradition. We looked around for an unsuspecting family to whom we wanted to give the tickets. Soon as we spotted a dad following a four-year-old boy with Down Syndrome all around the arcade while his two daughters played, we looked no further. The dad was so excited he almost cried.
We were the big winners.
Then we headed for Pig-n-Pancake and ate both. Rojo had a side of fries (and a bottle of ketchup). Ate every last one of them. STM did something totally out of character, at lunch he suggested we also go out to dinner. He had a place in mind. As soon as Rojo was assured there would be French fries there, too, he was in.
Over for the salt-water taffy (because we didn't have enough candy), and that, too, was fun and easy. No crowd, they had all his favorite flavors, and I got out of there for less than $5.00.
Off to the beach and we had fun watching Flicka have fun with her new Frisbee. She hardly ever plays, and it was so cute to see her run, fetch, dive into the water, roll around in the sand and just be a dog.
After about three hours having fun on a pretty chilly day, we packed up and went to dinner. For the second time in one day, the four of us sat around a table and enjoyed food and conversation with one another. I don't think we've eaten out together two times in two years (or maybe more like 5).
On the way home everyone (but the driver) fell asleep, and we enjoyed a quiet, relaxing drive home, plus, since we'd eaten there we not only missed the rush hour traffic coming back, but everyone was full and ready for bed.
Success all the way around.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Intimate
I have a dear friend that lent me a book that is dear to her, WHEN WOMEN WERE BIRDS, by Terry Tempest Williams. This is the first TTW book I've read, as I am not one to enjoy reading about nature, much as I love experience it, I do not like reading about it. Sorry. This friend insisted I would enjoy this particular book, and so I read it.
Loved it.
Still didn't like the parts where she describes nature.
Loved the parts where she forayed into her own psyche, and even more interestingly, into the mysteries of her mother that died and bequeathed all her journals to her. They were blank. All of them. Her mother made a point of telling Terry she was leaving her her journals, but not a single one had writing in them. The rest of the book is Terry's attempt to come to terms with that and understand what the journals were and weren't. Fascinating.
What is also fascinating, is that my friend marked in the book lines that really struck her - passages, thoughts, ideas, perspectives. I got to know my friend in a way I hadn't before, and we've known each other for twelve years.
When we understand what matters to our loved ones, we understand them better. Thanks, Terry Tempest Williams, for helping me do just that.
Friday, August 3, 2012
A Sign, Pt. 2
Last night was the final night for camp, and they had a Friends and Family BBQ. One of Rojo's sainted teachers camp up with a friend to visit him, and camp. She and the friend had met at that camp when they both worked at it for a summer a few years ago. Rojo was not very nice to her when she got there, he was visibly tired, hungry, overwhelmed by some of the sounds and behaviors of the other campers, and just overall unpleasant.
He seemed less than enthusiastic that STM and I drove all the way there, giving us a very lukewarm reception. He didn't eat a bite of dinner, and Ruby said he had hardly eaten anything all week - relying almost entirely on the jumbo-sized tub of Goldfish I'd brought just in case. He hadn't gone swimming, hadn't showered until THURSDAY, and said he'd had a lot of trouble sleeping because two of the boys in his cabin were really loud at night.
I asked Ruby if there was any other place he could sleep, and apparently two campers had gone home so he moved into a different, quieter cabin, and slept much better.
I drove to pick him up today, and he was more animated than last night, but not by much. Slowly as we drove home and he checked important things (like frozen yogurt flavors and the weather forecast, as well as the exact time) on his recently returned cell phone he came more and more to life. I asked him how much he liked camp on a scale from 1-10, he said, "3."
We drove straight to the frozen yogurt place before even coming home and putting on cooler clothing, he didn't have his usual two bowls, only one, and still he was not quite himself. He went straight for the TV/iPad combination and relaxed for awhile, then he was all about riding his bike to visit friends, seeing if there were dogs at the park, and going to the Little Store to buy stuff all on his own. When I mentioned I had to walk up there later he said, "Just tell me what you need and I'll get it for you." HUGE! AND, he did! (Romaine lettuce.)
He called Kathleen to ask her if she'd heard the ice cream truck on her street, and when she asked him how camp was, he said, "Great!" And he said it as though he meant it!
As I drove up the mountain this morning with a huge pit in my stomach after the BBQ last night, I saw another sign in someone's yard: "God bless you." I recalled a pep talk I'd had earlier in the morning with Rojo's preschool teacher, and a pep text message(s) from a friend reminding me that sometimes just because something is hard, doesn't mean it isn't good, and doesn't mean we shouldn't do it. Rojo didn't love camp. He missed us, his favorite foods, routines, TV, dog, bike, friends. He was pushed way out of his comfort zone. He wasn't very gracious or happy about it some of the time. He was, and is, however, so, so blessed.
He seemed less than enthusiastic that STM and I drove all the way there, giving us a very lukewarm reception. He didn't eat a bite of dinner, and Ruby said he had hardly eaten anything all week - relying almost entirely on the jumbo-sized tub of Goldfish I'd brought just in case. He hadn't gone swimming, hadn't showered until THURSDAY, and said he'd had a lot of trouble sleeping because two of the boys in his cabin were really loud at night.
I asked Ruby if there was any other place he could sleep, and apparently two campers had gone home so he moved into a different, quieter cabin, and slept much better.
I drove to pick him up today, and he was more animated than last night, but not by much. Slowly as we drove home and he checked important things (like frozen yogurt flavors and the weather forecast, as well as the exact time) on his recently returned cell phone he came more and more to life. I asked him how much he liked camp on a scale from 1-10, he said, "3."
We drove straight to the frozen yogurt place before even coming home and putting on cooler clothing, he didn't have his usual two bowls, only one, and still he was not quite himself. He went straight for the TV/iPad combination and relaxed for awhile, then he was all about riding his bike to visit friends, seeing if there were dogs at the park, and going to the Little Store to buy stuff all on his own. When I mentioned I had to walk up there later he said, "Just tell me what you need and I'll get it for you." HUGE! AND, he did! (Romaine lettuce.)
He called Kathleen to ask her if she'd heard the ice cream truck on her street, and when she asked him how camp was, he said, "Great!" And he said it as though he meant it!
As I drove up the mountain this morning with a huge pit in my stomach after the BBQ last night, I saw another sign in someone's yard: "God bless you." I recalled a pep talk I'd had earlier in the morning with Rojo's preschool teacher, and a pep text message(s) from a friend reminding me that sometimes just because something is hard, doesn't mean it isn't good, and doesn't mean we shouldn't do it. Rojo didn't love camp. He missed us, his favorite foods, routines, TV, dog, bike, friends. He was pushed way out of his comfort zone. He wasn't very gracious or happy about it some of the time. He was, and is, however, so, so blessed.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Deafening Silence
I feel like my right arm is missing with Rojo at camp, but in a good way - now. The first 24-hours were brutal. Neither STM nor I slept a wink (I don't think Flicka did, either). I had both phones by the bed and was on high alert waiting for them the ring. As we got through all the firsts: first dinner, first sleep, first wake-up, first breakfast, first shower, etc., I started to relax. Now I'm very relaxed (in terms of him), and just savoring the thump/hum/tap/yell/door slamming-free house.
Monday night I slept like a rock and had energy ALL day yesterday - amazing what a difference it makes having a morning where you can complete a thought/activity! Woohoo and I spent the whole day getting her ready for college - and I was patient and pleasant! Both! And we were wildly successful and got a whole lot of things checked off the To Do and To Buy lists! Love that!
Now I'm about to dive back into the manuscript and do my "last" (I keep saying that) go-through before converting it into e-reader format. I'm going to warn you now, the book is not perfect, but I love it all the more each time I read it. I laugh, I cry, I cringe, I have hope, and that's just me. I hope you will, too. Better, more diligent, more careful, more highly crafted writers abound, but this book has something to say and I am excited to put it out there to have it's voice.
love.
Monday night I slept like a rock and had energy ALL day yesterday - amazing what a difference it makes having a morning where you can complete a thought/activity! Woohoo and I spent the whole day getting her ready for college - and I was patient and pleasant! Both! And we were wildly successful and got a whole lot of things checked off the To Do and To Buy lists! Love that!
Now I'm about to dive back into the manuscript and do my "last" (I keep saying that) go-through before converting it into e-reader format. I'm going to warn you now, the book is not perfect, but I love it all the more each time I read it. I laugh, I cry, I cringe, I have hope, and that's just me. I hope you will, too. Better, more diligent, more careful, more highly crafted writers abound, but this book has something to say and I am excited to put it out there to have it's voice.
love.
Monday, July 30, 2012
The Swimming Story
Some of you will remember that Rojo finally got into a body of water two years ago in Sisters, and that body of water was the "baby pool." He has not been in any body of water since. He has a good friend, J., with a pool at his house. This friend's pool was made for the friend. No deep end. Warm water. Just a great place to play, complete with a basketball hoop in the pool. J. has invited Rojo to swim no fewer than two thousand times over the years. No interest whatsoever.
We took J. to yogurt early last week, and when we dropped him off, his mother again invited Rojo to come swim sometime. She emphasized he could touch at all points in the pool, and that the water was warm, and nobody would splash him. He bit. Quick as you can say had-her-in-his-contact-list, he was texting poor J.'s mother to arrange the specifics.
It was "decided" (forced upon them) that we would come at 12:30 on Saturday. I mean to tell you that my boy walked down the steps into the pool like he'd done it a million times, and proceeded to spend the next TWO HOURS in total bliss. Could not get him out.
So, when he told camp that what would calm him down was "swimming," it was so ironic. 48-hours earlier swimming would have been a stressor, then suddenly it was a calming force.
Predictably unpredictable, that's the name of the game around here. I can't wait to see what he decides to love next.
We took J. to yogurt early last week, and when we dropped him off, his mother again invited Rojo to come swim sometime. She emphasized he could touch at all points in the pool, and that the water was warm, and nobody would splash him. He bit. Quick as you can say had-her-in-his-contact-list, he was texting poor J.'s mother to arrange the specifics.
It was "decided" (forced upon them) that we would come at 12:30 on Saturday. I mean to tell you that my boy walked down the steps into the pool like he'd done it a million times, and proceeded to spend the next TWO HOURS in total bliss. Could not get him out.
So, when he told camp that what would calm him down was "swimming," it was so ironic. 48-hours earlier swimming would have been a stressor, then suddenly it was a calming force.
Predictably unpredictable, that's the name of the game around here. I can't wait to see what he decides to love next.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
A Sign
Just got home from taking Rojo to camp. Sleep away camp. Five full nights camp. Go ahead, take a moment and let that soak in.
We've been psyching him up for a full year, and not once has he said, "You know, I don't want to go to camp," or "I'm scared to go to camp," or "Why do I have to go to camp?" Today he was SO extra super duper hyper it was unbelievable. He kept talking about his counselor, "Steve Bennett," a name he dubbed him for no apparent reason. Because I thought the counselors slept in the room with the kids, I assumed the boys would have boys and the girls would have girls. He's been talking about his boy counselor that he's going to have for months.
So, of course, he got a girl. Turns out his cabin mates are all boys, but the counselors sleep OUTSIDE of the cabins, to make sure kids don't wake up and sleep walk/wander off/etc. Anyway, the counselor is his 1:1 for the whole time, and she could not be any sweeter. Ruby. Don't you love that name? Ruby is 23, has been married 5 years, has a 1-and-a-half-year-old and is pregnant with number two. She works and goes to college and this is something she's doing (just for 2 weeks) for college. She wants to work with people with disabilities when she graduates. Ruby was sent straight from heaven.
We have been talking about this camp and how it's for kids with disabilities - all kinds - and how everyone will have a counselor to themselves, and so will he. Still, I don't think he connects the dots and realizes he has a disability. They talk openly in his school about it, we talk openly with him and around him about it, yet still, I just don't think he thinks he does. His eyes were huge when we got there and in the parking lot parents were pulling out the wheel chairs. (So humbling.) There were kids with disabilities that were obvious and some that were not. Mostly boys, I think I only saw a couple of girls. As STM said when we left, "We have so much in common with all the parents there, yet no time to try to connect with them, because we're all busy doing what we have in common."
Most of the kids are repeat campers, I think Rojo might be one of the few that is there for the very first time, and perhaps the only one really away from home for the first time (besides grandparents' houses and his one night at Outdoor School three years ago, and a night at the liz's). When we went through the line of the Behaviorist, she noted that this was an awfully big deal, and asked what would comfort him if he got anxious. He said, "swimming," (that's a whole post for another time right there). Since swimming isn't really reasonable I suggested time with Elmo. Ruby said, "Oh, my son loves Elmo!" I forgive you for pointing out that your BABY loves Elmo, because I know you are still learning, Ruby, and you mean well, and you want my son to be happy, safe and comfortable, and that is all that really matters. But still.
We finished the long check-in process, answered questions the Speech Path had (he's giving Rojo a printed schedule each day so he will know what's going on), and the nurse, we unloaded all his stuff, found him a bunk, and said our goodbyes. He was being brave when we left but I could tell he was processing a lot.
I was processing more. STM and I drove straight to the closest pub for a beer and a burger before climbing back down the mountain. After checking my cell phone for the umpteenth time to make sure it would both vibrate and ring should they call, I looked up and there was a sign in someone's yard that simply said, "God provides."
Amen.
We've been psyching him up for a full year, and not once has he said, "You know, I don't want to go to camp," or "I'm scared to go to camp," or "Why do I have to go to camp?" Today he was SO extra super duper hyper it was unbelievable. He kept talking about his counselor, "Steve Bennett," a name he dubbed him for no apparent reason. Because I thought the counselors slept in the room with the kids, I assumed the boys would have boys and the girls would have girls. He's been talking about his boy counselor that he's going to have for months.
So, of course, he got a girl. Turns out his cabin mates are all boys, but the counselors sleep OUTSIDE of the cabins, to make sure kids don't wake up and sleep walk/wander off/etc. Anyway, the counselor is his 1:1 for the whole time, and she could not be any sweeter. Ruby. Don't you love that name? Ruby is 23, has been married 5 years, has a 1-and-a-half-year-old and is pregnant with number two. She works and goes to college and this is something she's doing (just for 2 weeks) for college. She wants to work with people with disabilities when she graduates. Ruby was sent straight from heaven.
We have been talking about this camp and how it's for kids with disabilities - all kinds - and how everyone will have a counselor to themselves, and so will he. Still, I don't think he connects the dots and realizes he has a disability. They talk openly in his school about it, we talk openly with him and around him about it, yet still, I just don't think he thinks he does. His eyes were huge when we got there and in the parking lot parents were pulling out the wheel chairs. (So humbling.) There were kids with disabilities that were obvious and some that were not. Mostly boys, I think I only saw a couple of girls. As STM said when we left, "We have so much in common with all the parents there, yet no time to try to connect with them, because we're all busy doing what we have in common."
Most of the kids are repeat campers, I think Rojo might be one of the few that is there for the very first time, and perhaps the only one really away from home for the first time (besides grandparents' houses and his one night at Outdoor School three years ago, and a night at the liz's). When we went through the line of the Behaviorist, she noted that this was an awfully big deal, and asked what would comfort him if he got anxious. He said, "swimming," (that's a whole post for another time right there). Since swimming isn't really reasonable I suggested time with Elmo. Ruby said, "Oh, my son loves Elmo!" I forgive you for pointing out that your BABY loves Elmo, because I know you are still learning, Ruby, and you mean well, and you want my son to be happy, safe and comfortable, and that is all that really matters. But still.
We finished the long check-in process, answered questions the Speech Path had (he's giving Rojo a printed schedule each day so he will know what's going on), and the nurse, we unloaded all his stuff, found him a bunk, and said our goodbyes. He was being brave when we left but I could tell he was processing a lot.
I was processing more. STM and I drove straight to the closest pub for a beer and a burger before climbing back down the mountain. After checking my cell phone for the umpteenth time to make sure it would both vibrate and ring should they call, I looked up and there was a sign in someone's yard that simply said, "God provides."
Amen.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Life-Giving
Had a really short, but great conversation with a (much younger) friend of mine yesterday. She mentioned that she wanted to point something out to her husband, but that it would not be "life-giving," so she didn't. Quickly forgot the term but remembered the gist and couldn't shake it from my mind, so this morning I texted her to ask her what the term was, so I could burn it in my memory.
She said that in Engagement Encounter they learned many things, but two that have been most helpful is that everything you do/say in a marriage should be life-giving, and you should hold hands when having a disagreement. She said it's very hard to stay angry when you're holding hands. I feel that I'd be up to the challenge, personally, but I do like the life-giving part.
Today STM and I hung the art that I picked up from being framed two-and-a-half weeks ago. I no longer have the brain capacity to calculate where to nail a hole if I want two paintings to hang side-by-side, and still remain exactly centered over the couch. WAY over my head. Side note: in our basement I once upon a time managed to hang SIX pieces of art, perfectly level and with equal distances between them, AND centered on a wall. I marvel at my former self every time I walk by them. Alas, that was many ice-cream-truck-talking-about summers ago.
Turns out STM had a bit of a struggle with it, too. You don't even want to know how many tries it took us to get it right, and how many holes are behind the paintings. We at one point really over shot our capacities by trying to find studs and nailing two holes per painting, and have it all match up. Not possible by these humans.
I will say this about that - throughout the challenge we were able to stay "life-giving" with one another. Who cares that we have one extra hook next to the paintings? Who needs perfection? Marriage is not perfect. Our house certainly isn't perfect, but we can have the goal of perfect love.
She said that in Engagement Encounter they learned many things, but two that have been most helpful is that everything you do/say in a marriage should be life-giving, and you should hold hands when having a disagreement. She said it's very hard to stay angry when you're holding hands. I feel that I'd be up to the challenge, personally, but I do like the life-giving part.
Today STM and I hung the art that I picked up from being framed two-and-a-half weeks ago. I no longer have the brain capacity to calculate where to nail a hole if I want two paintings to hang side-by-side, and still remain exactly centered over the couch. WAY over my head. Side note: in our basement I once upon a time managed to hang SIX pieces of art, perfectly level and with equal distances between them, AND centered on a wall. I marvel at my former self every time I walk by them. Alas, that was many ice-cream-truck-talking-about summers ago.
Turns out STM had a bit of a struggle with it, too. You don't even want to know how many tries it took us to get it right, and how many holes are behind the paintings. We at one point really over shot our capacities by trying to find studs and nailing two holes per painting, and have it all match up. Not possible by these humans.
I will say this about that - throughout the challenge we were able to stay "life-giving" with one another. Who cares that we have one extra hook next to the paintings? Who needs perfection? Marriage is not perfect. Our house certainly isn't perfect, but we can have the goal of perfect love.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Say it With Me...
So, I told you how on Rojo's birthday we got the letter in the mail saying he qualified for disability services. What with it being his birthday and all, and really not in the mood to deal with it just then, I skimmed the letter, saw the part where he doesn't need to be re-evaluated again until age 22, and then put it away. I didn't read down at the bottom to see who the case manager was that was assigned to him.
Tuesday night I was out with Woohoo meeting her new roommate, and a call came in. "Restricted Number." I do not answer those. No sir, I do not. Tell me who you are if you want me to talk to you (and even then I probably wouldn't answer your call, what with the phone phobia and all). Got home and there was a message on my home voice mail. Finally listened to my cell message, and they were the same message - our case worker was calling and wanted to set up a time to come meet with Rojo.
Her name rang a bell, but I didn't recognize the voice really, so I thought, must just be someone with the same name - pretty common first and last name, it surely can't be her. Called her back the next morning and she said, "We know each other. I am the cantor at church. I know you come to 5:30 Saturday Mass and you sit on the right in the back. I am SO excited to have Rojo on my case load! I will walk you through the whole thing, tell you what to do and not do, etc."
Rojo ADORES this woman (although until last night we'd never actually met her, just worshipped her from afar). He sings for days whichever songs she leads each week at church. He mimics her gestures to perfection. He thinks she's all that and a little bit more.
We could NOT have been given a better case worker if we'd asked specifically for one. In fact, if I'd known at all that that's what she does, I would have killed myself trying to get her.
But I didn't know.
But Someone did.
No accidents.
Tuesday night I was out with Woohoo meeting her new roommate, and a call came in. "Restricted Number." I do not answer those. No sir, I do not. Tell me who you are if you want me to talk to you (and even then I probably wouldn't answer your call, what with the phone phobia and all). Got home and there was a message on my home voice mail. Finally listened to my cell message, and they were the same message - our case worker was calling and wanted to set up a time to come meet with Rojo.
Her name rang a bell, but I didn't recognize the voice really, so I thought, must just be someone with the same name - pretty common first and last name, it surely can't be her. Called her back the next morning and she said, "We know each other. I am the cantor at church. I know you come to 5:30 Saturday Mass and you sit on the right in the back. I am SO excited to have Rojo on my case load! I will walk you through the whole thing, tell you what to do and not do, etc."
Rojo ADORES this woman (although until last night we'd never actually met her, just worshipped her from afar). He sings for days whichever songs she leads each week at church. He mimics her gestures to perfection. He thinks she's all that and a little bit more.
We could NOT have been given a better case worker if we'd asked specifically for one. In fact, if I'd known at all that that's what she does, I would have killed myself trying to get her.
But I didn't know.
But Someone did.
No accidents.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
College Angst
I think I'm nothing but excited for Woohoo and the fact she's about to leave for college in, gulp, a month from Saturday. My nightmares say otherwise. Night after night I'm in college. I'm in huge, rambling, weird and wrong dorm rooms. I'm 49 and living in a sorority with 60 teenagers. I can't find my classes, forgot to study for the final, forgot to go to class in the first place, etc.
I do, in the light of day, realize she is the one going to college, and this is not about me.
I'm glad she is going to college really close to home (really, really close). It helps, psychologically, to know that I'm right here if she needs anything. If anything, I'm afraid I've under-prepared her for life on her "own." In some ways, as a special needs sibling, she's had to fend for herself in ways her peers have not. In other ways, because I have to do everything for Rojo - literally, do his thinking for him, it's hard not to carry that over to Woohoo - doing for her things she could, and should, do for herself.
STM reminded me of something I know, but choose to forget: if I never let her fall, she'll never know how to get back up. She'll never know how to rely on herself. She'll never know that making mistakes, changing course, righting the ship, is all part of life - actually, it is life.
And so, in a few short weeks, she will be living life - ready or not, here she comes.
I do, in the light of day, realize she is the one going to college, and this is not about me.
I'm glad she is going to college really close to home (really, really close). It helps, psychologically, to know that I'm right here if she needs anything. If anything, I'm afraid I've under-prepared her for life on her "own." In some ways, as a special needs sibling, she's had to fend for herself in ways her peers have not. In other ways, because I have to do everything for Rojo - literally, do his thinking for him, it's hard not to carry that over to Woohoo - doing for her things she could, and should, do for herself.
STM reminded me of something I know, but choose to forget: if I never let her fall, she'll never know how to get back up. She'll never know how to rely on herself. She'll never know that making mistakes, changing course, righting the ship, is all part of life - actually, it is life.
And so, in a few short weeks, she will be living life - ready or not, here she comes.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Sunday, July 15, 2012
And Happy it Was
Rojo had a really happy birthday. All his favorite people came to see him, and they gave him all his favorite things: money for the the ice cream truck, gift cards to frozen yogurt, junk food and college T-shirts. One family even made him a T-shirt (can't even imagine doing such a thing) with an ironed on letter on the front for his first name, and a "16" on the back. The shirt is florescent yellow and super cool. He wore it for two days straight and slept in it.
Somehow he got it in his head that now that he's 16, he can, and indeed should, say no to everything I ask him to do. He told me in no uncertain terms, "Now that I am 16 I can do whatever I want. I will say no to everything you ask me to do. I quickly cleared up the confusion. "Okay, when I'm 22 I will do whatever I want to do and say no to everything you ask me to do."
We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. It's funny, though, because this is the third time his 22nd birthday has come up in 24 hours. The first time was on his birthday when he went to get the mail to see if he had any birthday cards (he had two), and in there was also a letter from the Disability Services notifying him he qualifies (happy birthday!) until he's 22, and then he'll need to be re-evaluated. Apparently there is some government agency that believes it's possible in six years for him to suddenly be a fully independent adult.
Then today we took Rojo's friend to yogurt, and the friend said, "I'm going to take Rojo out drinking on his 21-er." I reminded the friend that he would still be 20 when Rojo turns 21. "Not a problem," he said, "I'll get fake ID for the night."
"I do not want to go out for a 21-er" Rojo piped in (he has no idea what a 21-er is) "I will go out for a 22-er."
There you have it.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Sweet Sixteen
My boy turns sixteen tomorrow, and no where on the planet is someone sweeter. This cute little thing has taken up so much of my heart and soul, I had to do a big remodel to make more room - fully outgrew the old set.
Before there was Elmo, there was Big Bird. Both were originally Woohoo's. Both became his and there was nothing you could do about it. Nothing at all, so we didn't even try.
Woohoo is about to go to college and just learned who her roommate will be. They have a lot in common and one big thing not in common. The roommate is an only child. Woohoo might as well be in the middle of 10. They'll get along great.
Woohoo is the first to say, "Just when you're about ready to kill him, he goes and says something so sweet you can't help but forgive him."
This boy came here to teach. He came here to teach patience. He came here to teach compassion. He came here to teach the shedding of the ego. He came here to teach life re-prioritization. He came here to teach love period.
And he's done so, sweetly.
Happy birthday, Rojo!
Thursday, July 12, 2012
A Long Couple of Days
I would hardly call it a crisis, but the same day that blood showed up in Flicka's poop, Rojo lost his watch. Flicka will be fine, thanks to our friend and neighbor Greg, that did a house call, hauled her "sample" into work with him and had two prescriptions ready for me to pick up before 9:30 AM yesterday.
The watch, however, is a goner.
Rojo doesn't just like to wear a watch, he likes a very certain kind of watch. For years these were available at Target for $9.99, and there wasn't a problem. Only a couple of months ago his strap wore so threadbare it broke. Woohoo and her boyfriend were kind enough to alter their plans for the evening, and immediately high tailed it to Target before bedlam ensued.
No luck.
They came home with a watch, but not the watch.
Rojo wouldn't have anything to do with it. The next day after school we went from store to store to store, finally finding one at Walmart, making that my pilgrimage trip there, and basically a convert for no other reason than they put me out of my misery.
Last night the new watch broke in a different place - beyond repair. Woohoo AGAIN left the house in search of a watch. She went to Target, Walmart, Fred Meyers. Nothing. She was willing to give him her OWN watch, but he wouldn't take it.
I tried to be firm. I tried to strike deals. I tried to make him swear on a stack of Bibles that if we couldn't find the watch today, he'd agree to wear the one Woohoo bought him last time. The perfectly good one sitting in our kitchen drawer for just such emergencies.
He swore. And honest to God, I think he meant it. Nonetheless, we spent all afternoon looking at DIFFERENT Targets, Walmarts and the like, and still, no watch.
He is now convinced that we'll just keep trying, and in the mean time, he'll walk around with a big tan mark where the old watch used to be.
I don't want to keep trying. I want him to put on the flippin' watch and give it a rest already. If I have to hear one more word about the watch, in between questions about when the ice cream truck is coming, or what flavors of frozen yogurt they currently have in each different yogurt store in the metropolitan area (including Sherwood), I will lose what little is left of my mind.
The watch, however, is a goner.
Rojo doesn't just like to wear a watch, he likes a very certain kind of watch. For years these were available at Target for $9.99, and there wasn't a problem. Only a couple of months ago his strap wore so threadbare it broke. Woohoo and her boyfriend were kind enough to alter their plans for the evening, and immediately high tailed it to Target before bedlam ensued.
No luck.
They came home with a watch, but not the watch.
Rojo wouldn't have anything to do with it. The next day after school we went from store to store to store, finally finding one at Walmart, making that my pilgrimage trip there, and basically a convert for no other reason than they put me out of my misery.
Last night the new watch broke in a different place - beyond repair. Woohoo AGAIN left the house in search of a watch. She went to Target, Walmart, Fred Meyers. Nothing. She was willing to give him her OWN watch, but he wouldn't take it.
I tried to be firm. I tried to strike deals. I tried to make him swear on a stack of Bibles that if we couldn't find the watch today, he'd agree to wear the one Woohoo bought him last time. The perfectly good one sitting in our kitchen drawer for just such emergencies.
He swore. And honest to God, I think he meant it. Nonetheless, we spent all afternoon looking at DIFFERENT Targets, Walmarts and the like, and still, no watch.
He is now convinced that we'll just keep trying, and in the mean time, he'll walk around with a big tan mark where the old watch used to be.
I don't want to keep trying. I want him to put on the flippin' watch and give it a rest already. If I have to hear one more word about the watch, in between questions about when the ice cream truck is coming, or what flavors of frozen yogurt they currently have in each different yogurt store in the metropolitan area (including Sherwood), I will lose what little is left of my mind.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Too
So I wrote a book. Not a book, actually, a bunch of pieces pre-blog. Didn't get very far with it, but now looking back, am surprised I even got one single publisher to consider it (before rejecting it). Wrote another book. This time landed me an agent. Love her. She loves me. She loved the book, and away we went - sure I was headed straight to Oprah's yellow couch and the New York Times Bestseller list.
Not so much.
Wrote another book - third time's the charm, right?
Agent went to town again. Lots of nice feedback. Loved the book. Loved me. Loved Rojo. Loved our story. Too spiritual. We exhausted mainstream presses and went to Plan B - spiritual imprints. Too Catholic for the Protestants. Too Christian for the Buddhists. Too something for everyone. Got so far as to have one editor love it, take it to he "pub board" and really fight for it, but in the end, it was just "too" for them.
Here's the deal. If I had written a work of fiction (and we considered at one point fictionalizing this), I could keep reinventing the story to be less "too" and more whatever it is that we thought might sell. But this is a true story. It's our story. To the best of my knowledge, ability and integrity, the story happened exactly as I write about it. There isn't a lot of wiggle room and I don't want to turn it inside out to make it anything other that what it is - a book of love.
After much soul searching we (my agent and I) have decided to self-publish it. She is going to help me, because she is that awesome, and believes in the story that much. I have lost all hopes and desires of being famous. I have dropped expectations that everyone I know will read it, help promote it, and it will sell enough copies to ever recoup what I've put into it. I do, however, want to finish what I started, and put it out there for whomever "needs" to read it. When it's ready to go, you'll be the first to know.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Art
My dear and holy friend, Candace Primack is among other things, a fine artist. I recently bought four of her incredible pieces, two sets of companion pieces. The two above are "Love Your Neighbor" and "Do Unto Others." The two below are "Love Is" and "Blue Benediction." You can't see it here, but there is writing on the paintings, cool, powerful, spiritual words that bathe me when I read them.
Candace is a theologian who uses art to express what she believes about God. She prays over her pieces and lets the Divine come through. These photos don't do them justice. The Good pops from behind the UV protectant glass and museum matting. No telling what all is going to come from my future "can" time.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Keeping Your Marbles
Lately I've been thinking a lot about the term "losing your marbles" and my opinion that if you can only have one thing in this world, it sure as hell better be your mental health. I believe hell and heaven are states of mind, and that we are always moving along the continuum between one and the other, "happy" when we are at least in the middle, and at times experiencing both the pits of hell and the ecstasy of heaven.
I'm already driving STM and my dearest friends crazy with constant reminders to "put a marble in your jar" - make the choice that fills your mental health jar, not the one that takes a marble away. This is really just another expression for self care, but self care I'm afraid has a "selfish" connotation, even though we've come to know better than that, haven't we?
Kathleen and I had an interesting breakthrough recently when we discovered we had too narrowly defined self care. We thought it it wasn't manicures, pedicures, massages, doing a crossword puzzle, sitting in an over-sized chair with an iPad, etc., it wasn't self care. We had not deeply considered what would put the most marbles in our very individual jars.
We are each super programmed to save money at all costs - including the cost of our wellness. To break that "cheaper is better" thinking is a challenge, but we start by adding tiny marbles every time we choose "yes" to the online shipping choice that guarantees what we need will be here when we need it, rather than saving $5 and freaking out it won't.
Because I am a proud gold card carrying member of Starbucks, after 15 drinks they send me a card in the mail for a free one - any drink at all. I carried the last card in my purse for over a month, visiting Starbucks many times along the way, refusing to use it because I had it in my head that because the drink would be free, it needed to be fancy. I didn't once consider my usual tall cappuccino "enough." I finally realized how ridiculous I was being and sipped my free drink of choice with great delight.
What will you do today to help fill your marble jar?
Monday, June 25, 2012
America's Newest Citizen
Meet Sonam, America's newest citizen! Sonam and Kunga came up to Portland yesterday, and today Sonam took her oath and it's all official - see her flag? She and 52 other new Americans from 23 other countries, swore to uphold all that is good and right in this country. It was really moving!
Could my nephew BE any cuter? He knows it, too. Now his new thing is saying, out of the blue, "God bless you, Carrie," with a huge grin on his face.
God bless you, Kunga. God bless you, Sonam. God bless you, America!
Friday, June 22, 2012
So
So, here's what you've missed since I've been absent from the blogosphere:
* Woohoo graduated.
* Before the Baccalaureate Mass STM and I took Woohoo out to dinner. This is what she wanted in lieu of a big party - dinner with both, and only, her two parents. Feeling like *&^% that this is far too seldom the case, we of course obliged. We had a nice time, gave her our gift, and toasted to her overall awesomeness. At one point in the evening she said something about how nice it was without Rojo tapping, singing, thumping his leg, interrupting, etc. STM said, "Oh, Rojo, you'll never know what he's done to us!"
Woohoo didn't miss a beat and said, "I wouldn't say to you, as much as I'd say for you. You aren't the same people you'd have been without him."
* She's clearly wise beyond her years, and so ready to have a life that isn't about him. Speaking of which...
* At the Baccalaureate Mass one of the salutatorians mentioned Rojo by name, and said the moment he won the Timber tickets and the whole school gave him a standing ovation, was the proudest moment for the school in all her four years.
* At least three times at the graduation something was said in one of the speeches, or during one of the award presentations, about the impact of the program Rojo is in, on the rest of the school. One of the boys that went WAAAAAYYY above and beyond (missed his Senior Skip Day to stay and help Rojo), got a special award. We nearly clapped our hands off for him, and later got a picture of him, his parents, his award, and Rojo.
* After the graduation, graduate after graduate came looking for Rojo to get a picture, a hug, a hand shake, a goodbye.
* One graduate had leis flown in from Hawaii for everyone in her family. And Rojo.
* There was an all-night party afterwards and I volunteered to help the first shift - 10:30 - 1:30. God love the people that came at 1:30 and relieved us.
* Woohoo came down with some flu bug right before the party, got picked up by STM at 5:00 AM on Sunday, and virtually slept for the next 48 hours.
* The next day was Father's Day and we had combined it with a graduation party for Woohoo. She missed the whole thing. Her "Congratulations, Woohoo" cake was delicious. We took a picture for her.
* Rojo will start his summer job of "working" at the same preschool he did last summer, on July 2nd. Until then, he is mine, mine, mine, and there is no end in sight of talking about the ice cream truck. Modern technology has only added to the frenzy. He now has friends positioned all over the neighborhood, poised and ready to respond the minute they hear the sounds. There is Face Time, texts, e-mails, phone calls, you-name-it, all in an effort to find the truck each and every day.
* He's now discovered Garage Band on his iPad and taps out songs to... say it with me... ice cream truck tunes!
* I had cataract surgery on Wednesday. The operation could NOT have taken more than 5-6 minutes. STM said he didn't spend 10 minutes total in the waiting room. Went great, and although there is some strobe-like thing going on now, I can already see better. I'm not even wearing my ill-fitting, very smudged, very cheap readers right now!
* Best thing about the surgery was the two days off I milked it for - the full day of, and the following day. Let's just say I am almost through Season 4 of "Private Practice," and leave it at that.
* Woohoo graduated.
* Before the Baccalaureate Mass STM and I took Woohoo out to dinner. This is what she wanted in lieu of a big party - dinner with both, and only, her two parents. Feeling like *&^% that this is far too seldom the case, we of course obliged. We had a nice time, gave her our gift, and toasted to her overall awesomeness. At one point in the evening she said something about how nice it was without Rojo tapping, singing, thumping his leg, interrupting, etc. STM said, "Oh, Rojo, you'll never know what he's done to us!"
Woohoo didn't miss a beat and said, "I wouldn't say to you, as much as I'd say for you. You aren't the same people you'd have been without him."
* She's clearly wise beyond her years, and so ready to have a life that isn't about him. Speaking of which...
* At the Baccalaureate Mass one of the salutatorians mentioned Rojo by name, and said the moment he won the Timber tickets and the whole school gave him a standing ovation, was the proudest moment for the school in all her four years.
* At least three times at the graduation something was said in one of the speeches, or during one of the award presentations, about the impact of the program Rojo is in, on the rest of the school. One of the boys that went WAAAAAYYY above and beyond (missed his Senior Skip Day to stay and help Rojo), got a special award. We nearly clapped our hands off for him, and later got a picture of him, his parents, his award, and Rojo.
* After the graduation, graduate after graduate came looking for Rojo to get a picture, a hug, a hand shake, a goodbye.
* One graduate had leis flown in from Hawaii for everyone in her family. And Rojo.
* There was an all-night party afterwards and I volunteered to help the first shift - 10:30 - 1:30. God love the people that came at 1:30 and relieved us.
* Woohoo came down with some flu bug right before the party, got picked up by STM at 5:00 AM on Sunday, and virtually slept for the next 48 hours.
* The next day was Father's Day and we had combined it with a graduation party for Woohoo. She missed the whole thing. Her "Congratulations, Woohoo" cake was delicious. We took a picture for her.
* Rojo will start his summer job of "working" at the same preschool he did last summer, on July 2nd. Until then, he is mine, mine, mine, and there is no end in sight of talking about the ice cream truck. Modern technology has only added to the frenzy. He now has friends positioned all over the neighborhood, poised and ready to respond the minute they hear the sounds. There is Face Time, texts, e-mails, phone calls, you-name-it, all in an effort to find the truck each and every day.
* He's now discovered Garage Band on his iPad and taps out songs to... say it with me... ice cream truck tunes!
* I had cataract surgery on Wednesday. The operation could NOT have taken more than 5-6 minutes. STM said he didn't spend 10 minutes total in the waiting room. Went great, and although there is some strobe-like thing going on now, I can already see better. I'm not even wearing my ill-fitting, very smudged, very cheap readers right now!
* Best thing about the surgery was the two days off I milked it for - the full day of, and the following day. Let's just say I am almost through Season 4 of "Private Practice," and leave it at that.
Monday, June 18, 2012
I am at Hopeful Parents today with an inspiring story of a friend's journey from tragedy to triumph!
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Normal
When Rojo and I met with his new developmental pediatrician (and she went through our story from the beginning), she asked a lot of questions about how things operate now for him, and for the family. I think she was trying to have the full picture in her head so she can advise us going forward, and I appreciate it. We aren't in crisis. I told her we weren't in crisis. I told her we used to be and now we're not, and really, we're just after staying the course we're on.
About every two minutes she said, "So, you've adapted..." or, "Wow, you've really adapted," or, "That's not a problem because you've adapted."
It's weird to watch someone reflect back to you your life as they see it, particularly an "expert." I would never have used the word "adapted" to describe what we've all done, but that's exactly what it is, we've adapted. Rojo has done his share of adapting, but by in large, STM, Woohoo, his family, friends and I, we've adapted. One might call it "giving up," but I am going to go big with adapted. Do the four of us ever go to a restaurant? No, we've "adapted." Do we ever go see a movie, or even sit around the flat screen together in our very own house? No, we've "adapted." There is very little about our lives that looks like everyone else we know, but we're so used to it now, it's our normal. Our at long last, adapted, accepted, at peace with, normal.
About every two minutes she said, "So, you've adapted..." or, "Wow, you've really adapted," or, "That's not a problem because you've adapted."
It's weird to watch someone reflect back to you your life as they see it, particularly an "expert." I would never have used the word "adapted" to describe what we've all done, but that's exactly what it is, we've adapted. Rojo has done his share of adapting, but by in large, STM, Woohoo, his family, friends and I, we've adapted. One might call it "giving up," but I am going to go big with adapted. Do the four of us ever go to a restaurant? No, we've "adapted." Do we ever go see a movie, or even sit around the flat screen together in our very own house? No, we've "adapted." There is very little about our lives that looks like everyone else we know, but we're so used to it now, it's our normal. Our at long last, adapted, accepted, at peace with, normal.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Eenie, Meenie, Miney, Massage
I have piles all over and around my desk. Each one is a stack of ick I care not to deal with, each one more depressing and off-putting than the next.
I straightened the piles. I got out my Post-its and made notes ON the piles. I put dates on my calendar of when things really needed to go down, in relation to the piles, but I didn't actually tackle the piles. It was more of a pre-tackle.
Then I asked myself, "Where is the trip to Tahiti pile?" There is no pile of fun going on.
Immediately sent an e-mail to my favorite person in the world, the massage therapist, Miho. Because there are no accidents, she e-mailed back within 5 minutes and could see me that very day for one hour of pure relaxation and self-care.
It might not be Tahiti, but it sure was Heaven.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Just Like in the Movies
Woohoo's and Rojo's high school had their equivalent of Field Day on Friday - a day spent having fun. Yummy food, fun activities, a time to be with all your friends and just goof around together. Both kids were really looking forward to it - Woohoo, because it was her last, and Rojo, because it was his first.
The school has had year-long fund raising efforts to help support their sister school in Kenya. On Friday they were raffling off four donated tickets to the Portland Timbers, to raise money for their favorite cause. I'd given each kid a few bucks to spend on food. Rojo used some of his to buy a bag of popcorn, and spent three dollars buying three raffle tickets.
At the end of the day there was an assembly, where various things took place, not the least of which was the drawing for the raffle. You guessed it, Rojo won. Out of 600 kids in the school, he won. That was great, but not the greatest part. The greatest part was what happened next - his name was called and the WHOLE ENTIRE SCHOOL spontaneously stood up, clapped, cheered, and chanted his name. And there were tears. Lots of tears. Lots and lots of happy, touched, thrilled, tears.
I had people coming up to me in the parking lot after school, calling, texting, e-mailing, stopping me when they saw me in the neighborhood - everyone had heard or was there.
It was a Hollywood ending. Sometimes things really do happen like in the movies.
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