You may wonder where I have been. Stuck under something heavy? Kind of...but not exactly. Well, anyway, I am back.
I-I am ho-o-o-ome. Gazing through my window, to the street below, I'm a freshly fallen, silent shroud of snow...
But I am not a Rock or an Island. I am a walking entertainment and education factory that also functions as a restaurant and housekeeping service throughout the day...through admittedly not as efficiently as professionals.
This is probably why, when I told my friends about my summer job at my daughter's camp, they were all so happy for me. "Oh, how nice, it will be like a vacation for you for the summer!"
Now just to clarify things, I am VERY happy about my summer job. I LOVE Deeny Riback and am truly grateful that I can use my god-given skills to help out, while providing an opportunity for Rachel to join her sister at camp this year. It will not be a vacation, but I understand why my girlfriend thinks so. After all, I have been up since 6 am, cooking and cleaning. We baked pumpkin bread, and we have done two extensive craft projects. I have read several books to them, and we each have written our own books. Finally, after much feeding and cleanup from crafts and then lunch, I prepared them for snow angels and playtime outside, which is absolutely Daddy's domain.
Still I wouldn't trade anything for the ability to be the person at home doing this job. Yes, it is challenging, and yes the girls do fight every half-hour or so...but here I am, witness to their growth and development, squabbles, learning, and first experiences of every kind.
So I am not a Rock or an Island. I am a Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, a Teacher and a Friend, the Good Cop and the Bad Cop.
And on this "winter's day, in a deep and dark December", the falling snow means we all get to stay home and enjoy it together. Squabbles and all...
Happy Snow Day to You!
Friday, December 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Head's Up
Head's Up Everyone...the news on the radar today is so ahocking, astounding and unbelievable that it will leave you breathless.
Michael Jackson is...
sick.
Now how about some real news or at least something that we did not already know for the past few decades...
Michael Jackson is...
sick.
Now how about some real news or at least something that we did not already know for the past few decades...
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Thank God I'm a Country (Girl)
Today was a very special day for my eldest daughter Sarah. A day trip into manhattan to meet up with her Favorite Aunt Stephanie to have lunch and see Mary Poppins on Broadway.
Being a white knuckler in the congested streets of manhattan, I was none too pleased with the alternate train schedule for track construction which featured missing routes at exactly the times we needed Midtown Direct to be there for us.
Neither Jeff nor I favor the joy of NYC driving, but after much research into alternate routes, we determined the best and most direct bet was a drive through the Lincoln Tunnel, which links up directly with the Port Authority parking deck.
Now if you know Jeff and I, then you know that the best laid plans are almost always waylaid by some comical force to ensure a grand "adventure" (AKA getting lost or misdirected at the very end). In this case, thankfully, there was no construction, closure, or filled lot awaiting us.
In fact, this may be our new favorite way to get into the city.
So, we arrived at the Port Authority parking deck, unloaded and off we went, and it was all amazingly simple.
Once in Times Square, we encountered the usual suspects, transgendered and proud, rastafarian preachers expounding upon the eternal damnation that awaits us, and all sorts of slippery street vendors (though surely they must realize that most of us already know Canal Street is the place to shop for knockoffs?). I was a little surprised that the Naked Cowboy neglected to show, considering the milder weather. Perhaps he was concerned about "shrinkage" and how it would affect his image. Frankly I am relieved that I did not have to explain that one to the girls today, and that Sarah forgot him from our last trip into New York.
Interestingly, my girls did not take much note of the folks we encountered who were talking, dancing, and singing to themselves, and simply assumed that they had earpieces in and were on their cell phones. The sweet and roasty smell of Halal food and roasted nut stands combined with the waft of toilet odor from the sewers to make NYC, at it's most simple description (the one I used to prepare my daughter) "a city with lots of everything beautiful and ugly at once". This microcosm of the globe, only less spread out, is, in my opinion, a good place to show your children - if for nothing else - a perspective from the larger world that we live in.
The girls were well behaved and made me proud; holding our hands and staying safe, but smiling kindly where appropriate at the mix of characters we encountered.
After we lunched, we waved Sarah off with Steph, and then we enjoyed our share of all that Times Square has to offer with a 4 year old in tow. And M&M World was the overall winner. When Rachel finally lost her steam, we headed back to our trusty parking deck and drove back home to Randolph.
I always feel a sense of comfort driving up the hill towards home on sussex turnpike, and this afternoon was no exception, with the sun still shining and crimson leaves cascading down as we neared our turnoff.
Once back home we three (sans Sarah who would arrive home later) found that we wanted to relax and be quiet together.
Not a surprising end to our day in the big city.
Being a white knuckler in the congested streets of manhattan, I was none too pleased with the alternate train schedule for track construction which featured missing routes at exactly the times we needed Midtown Direct to be there for us.
Neither Jeff nor I favor the joy of NYC driving, but after much research into alternate routes, we determined the best and most direct bet was a drive through the Lincoln Tunnel, which links up directly with the Port Authority parking deck.
Now if you know Jeff and I, then you know that the best laid plans are almost always waylaid by some comical force to ensure a grand "adventure" (AKA getting lost or misdirected at the very end). In this case, thankfully, there was no construction, closure, or filled lot awaiting us.
In fact, this may be our new favorite way to get into the city.
So, we arrived at the Port Authority parking deck, unloaded and off we went, and it was all amazingly simple.
Once in Times Square, we encountered the usual suspects, transgendered and proud, rastafarian preachers expounding upon the eternal damnation that awaits us, and all sorts of slippery street vendors (though surely they must realize that most of us already know Canal Street is the place to shop for knockoffs?). I was a little surprised that the Naked Cowboy neglected to show, considering the milder weather. Perhaps he was concerned about "shrinkage" and how it would affect his image. Frankly I am relieved that I did not have to explain that one to the girls today, and that Sarah forgot him from our last trip into New York.
Interestingly, my girls did not take much note of the folks we encountered who were talking, dancing, and singing to themselves, and simply assumed that they had earpieces in and were on their cell phones. The sweet and roasty smell of Halal food and roasted nut stands combined with the waft of toilet odor from the sewers to make NYC, at it's most simple description (the one I used to prepare my daughter) "a city with lots of everything beautiful and ugly at once". This microcosm of the globe, only less spread out, is, in my opinion, a good place to show your children - if for nothing else - a perspective from the larger world that we live in.
The girls were well behaved and made me proud; holding our hands and staying safe, but smiling kindly where appropriate at the mix of characters we encountered.
After we lunched, we waved Sarah off with Steph, and then we enjoyed our share of all that Times Square has to offer with a 4 year old in tow. And M&M World was the overall winner. When Rachel finally lost her steam, we headed back to our trusty parking deck and drove back home to Randolph.
I always feel a sense of comfort driving up the hill towards home on sussex turnpike, and this afternoon was no exception, with the sun still shining and crimson leaves cascading down as we neared our turnoff.
Once back home we three (sans Sarah who would arrive home later) found that we wanted to relax and be quiet together.
Not a surprising end to our day in the big city.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Trite But True
I have a bit of a moniker, a signature catchphrase that I use when friends ask how I handle difficult situations. "I have a choice, chicken s**t or chicken salad, and chicken salad just tastes better".
Most of the time this approach works for me. I truly believe that while 50% of life is what is thrown at you, the good, bad, and ugly; at least 50%, if not more, is based upon your response.
No one that I know with a positive outlook has ever suffered from it. No one I know who can smell the roses in spite of the rain has ever missed out on a critical piece of their life.
I have a good friend with a unique ability to channel this positivism. Even in times of challenge (like the week her 6 year old started wetting her pants again and whining uncontrollably), she is easily able to remind herself of how lucky she is that her child can whine and effectively communicate with her.
Because, you see, once you enter the world of raising a child who has had some special needs, you are more keenly aware of each success, each daily pleasure, as well as the concern and pain you may feel for your child.
We special-needs mommies don't despair when our child can't kick a soccer ball properly. We are just grateful if he/she is running in the same general direction on the field! We don't continually complain over typical behavioral issues, because we truly understand how mild they are in a way that parents of typical children simply cannot.
What I am amazed at is the stoic approach I see in parents of children who are severely impaired. It seems that they too have bottled this "chicken salad" approach to the extreme in their own circumstances, adding their own layer of "don't pity me" armor - in spite of any private pain.
Given all of this, I am sure that you can understand why I at times lack the ability to fully comprehend parents of typical, delightful, appropriate children who can't understand and embrace the beauty of this amazing gift that they have been given.
There is one woman in my community that I will generously label the "frowner". A Jap-Wanna-Be without the means or the style, every day is an "exhausting" challenge with her beautiful typical children and her handsome doting husband. She even approached me at a recent school event to vent about how she is looking for more ways to "get rid" of her 7 year old during the upcoming school holiday. The constant wails of her 4 year old, strapped mercilessly in a confining stroller (lest she have to keep an eye on her child) did nothing to sway her attention from the more important topic at hand, complaining to me about her difficult life. Clearly she has chosen chicken s**t in spite of the obvious blessings that God has given her. Keep in mind that this is an aquaintance, not a friend, and that this is what she chooses to project to the world around her.
Interestingly, I do not resent this woman. Rather, I pity her. Anyone who cannot take even a grain of pleasure in watching their beautiful, accomplished child grow and flourish must be a terribly depressed and unhappy person.
Which, again, reminds me of my own blessings.
Now the only question that remains is, what is it going to be for you? Chicken s**t or chicken salad? Think about it.
Most of the time this approach works for me. I truly believe that while 50% of life is what is thrown at you, the good, bad, and ugly; at least 50%, if not more, is based upon your response.
No one that I know with a positive outlook has ever suffered from it. No one I know who can smell the roses in spite of the rain has ever missed out on a critical piece of their life.
I have a good friend with a unique ability to channel this positivism. Even in times of challenge (like the week her 6 year old started wetting her pants again and whining uncontrollably), she is easily able to remind herself of how lucky she is that her child can whine and effectively communicate with her.
Because, you see, once you enter the world of raising a child who has had some special needs, you are more keenly aware of each success, each daily pleasure, as well as the concern and pain you may feel for your child.
We special-needs mommies don't despair when our child can't kick a soccer ball properly. We are just grateful if he/she is running in the same general direction on the field! We don't continually complain over typical behavioral issues, because we truly understand how mild they are in a way that parents of typical children simply cannot.
What I am amazed at is the stoic approach I see in parents of children who are severely impaired. It seems that they too have bottled this "chicken salad" approach to the extreme in their own circumstances, adding their own layer of "don't pity me" armor - in spite of any private pain.
Given all of this, I am sure that you can understand why I at times lack the ability to fully comprehend parents of typical, delightful, appropriate children who can't understand and embrace the beauty of this amazing gift that they have been given.
There is one woman in my community that I will generously label the "frowner". A Jap-Wanna-Be without the means or the style, every day is an "exhausting" challenge with her beautiful typical children and her handsome doting husband. She even approached me at a recent school event to vent about how she is looking for more ways to "get rid" of her 7 year old during the upcoming school holiday. The constant wails of her 4 year old, strapped mercilessly in a confining stroller (lest she have to keep an eye on her child) did nothing to sway her attention from the more important topic at hand, complaining to me about her difficult life. Clearly she has chosen chicken s**t in spite of the obvious blessings that God has given her. Keep in mind that this is an aquaintance, not a friend, and that this is what she chooses to project to the world around her.
Interestingly, I do not resent this woman. Rather, I pity her. Anyone who cannot take even a grain of pleasure in watching their beautiful, accomplished child grow and flourish must be a terribly depressed and unhappy person.
Which, again, reminds me of my own blessings.
Now the only question that remains is, what is it going to be for you? Chicken s**t or chicken salad? Think about it.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Top 10 List
When Jeff & I decided to have children we were full of ideas. I would be home with our children, and therefore, be able to prevent all of the usual problems that arise in toddlerhood. We would be active and involved, consistent and caring, and would never experience the challenges that we witnessed, with dismay, in diners and aboard airliners alike. So, since you are probably already laughing at me, without further ado, here is my personal list of the Top Ten Things I Never Thought I'd Hear Myself Say...
10. No Webkinz for you! (to the tune of the Seinfeld Soup Nazi)
9. We only kiss eachother on the face. The face. Not the armpit, the face!
8. If you use your blanket as a weapon again, it is going into time-out!
7. Don't make me pull this car over.
6. Why are you naked? Where are your clothes?
5. Go potty. GO potty. GO POTTY NOW!
4. Nobody touch anyone. The next person to touch anyone is in big trouble.
3. No mooning allowed. Tushy dancing is NOT acceptable in this house!
2. Why is the water running upstairs? Where is that water coming from? Where is it from? Oh My GOD!!!!
And, my favorite...
1. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT eat your sister!
10. No Webkinz for you! (to the tune of the Seinfeld Soup Nazi)
9. We only kiss eachother on the face. The face. Not the armpit, the face!
8. If you use your blanket as a weapon again, it is going into time-out!
7. Don't make me pull this car over.
6. Why are you naked? Where are your clothes?
5. Go potty. GO potty. GO POTTY NOW!
4. Nobody touch anyone. The next person to touch anyone is in big trouble.
3. No mooning allowed. Tushy dancing is NOT acceptable in this house!
2. Why is the water running upstairs? Where is that water coming from? Where is it from? Oh My GOD!!!!
And, my favorite...
1. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT eat your sister!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Get Out the Tissues!
Down Syndrome teen is Homecoming Queen
Check out this link at Good Morning Yahoo. http://www.video.aol.com/video-detail/down-syndrome-teen-is-homecoming-queen/3490469585%20-%209%20hours%20ago%20-
In a time of mud-slinging politics, depressing and volatile market news, and negative press all around, this story had me tearing up this morning.
While there may also be Columbine, there is also Alito, Texas. This town is not far from Fort Worth, and while some may give a lot of extra credit to the teens in her school who unanimously elected her, I say, she obviously earned it.
Search it on yahoo and check it out, but make sure that you have a box of tissues handy. In an unforgiving world, there are obviously some incredibly kind and inclusive communities.
Check out this link at Good Morning Yahoo. http://www.video.aol.com/video-detail/down-syndrome-teen-is-homecoming-queen/3490469585%20-%209%20hours%20ago%20-
In a time of mud-slinging politics, depressing and volatile market news, and negative press all around, this story had me tearing up this morning.
While there may also be Columbine, there is also Alito, Texas. This town is not far from Fort Worth, and while some may give a lot of extra credit to the teens in her school who unanimously elected her, I say, she obviously earned it.
Search it on yahoo and check it out, but make sure that you have a box of tissues handy. In an unforgiving world, there are obviously some incredibly kind and inclusive communities.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Raising Women
Facebook is an interesting phenomenon. It is definitely an amusing timesuck.
For me, Facebook is a universe into which I tread pretty lightly. I definitely enjoy catching up with people I was friends with when I was younger, and am always happy to hear about their fulfilled lives and see their kids adorable pictures. I am however, sometimes a little perplexed at all the "poking" and virtual gifting of Starbucks. But that is a nonsequitor...
Facebook has become such a phenom that I have friends who specifically describe certain people as their "Facebook" friend versus an in-the-flesh one. In that sense it becomes a bit of a popularity contest for some people. And that is a game I really don't have the time or desire to play at this point in my life. But it certainly does bring back some interesting memories for me.
You see, I tortured myself enough with that garbage in high school. So much so that I was friendly with everyone in every social group, but really never truly close with any one person at my school. I always wanted to be nice to everyone and to people-please, and this definitely prevented me from being a true confidant, or really intimate friend, to anyone at my high school at that point in my life.
Now, to be fair in this recollection, I did have two close friends that I grew up with and remained close with at the neighboring high school, and I had some very memorable boyfriends, prom dates, and all that goes with along with that. What I was missing, however, was a true sense of self, and a strength from within. Add in a good dose of anorexia, a mild dose of bulimia, and a dying father, and you can imagine that my high school years were years that I just survived, under the radar, for the most part. What you'll see in the yearbook reveals none of this, and merely documents my leads in the plays and musicals, pictures with friends, and my requisite position in the popularity poll. I was so careful to avoid sharing my innards, my core, with anyone, that I remember being truly shocked at the number of friends and aquaintances that showed up at my father's shivah.
And I am one of the lucky ones. I got help for my bulimia during my college years, help that I sought out for myself after watching a close relative struggle with her eating disorder and her other separate issues. I figured out what I wanted in my life and I went after it. And if that people-pleasing role is no longer a large part of who I am, it did teach me how to make aquaintances easily. I have a large network of wonderful, genuine, caring friends, live in a great community, and have a handful of very close friends who cheer me on and support me when times get tough. I have a kind, generous, amazing husband who is 100% devoted to our family. I've got it good, and I know it.
Why am I writing about all of this now, you may wonder?
The answer is very simple. I have two daughters.
Sarah is beautiful, curious, funny and bright, and has some mild special needs that she may hopefully outgrow with time and therapies. Rachel is fun, caring, playful, nimble, and precocious.
These two beautiful girls of mine will soon age into the social pressures that I faced in school, only it is all happening even earlier these days than it did for our generation.
As a parent I definitely teach my children to be polite, kind, and follow all of the important rules. I was taught to do this at all costs as a child. But I also am teaching my girls to take care of themselves, to express themselves, to be true to themselves, and to stand up for their beliefs.
Even with this approach to parenting, I know that the time will soon come when my oldest daughter will come home from school feeling bad about herself for some reason. And hopefully she will talk to me about it so I can help her develop a way to cope with it. And then, soon after that, will come the time when she will no longer deign to talk to her mother about these pressures, both social and physical, and I will have to hope that all the parenting I do between now and tweenville is enough to build her up to withstand the harsh realities that lie ahead. Then it will start all over again with my youngest.
My own parents raised me to be a compliant, pleasant, giving member of society. All of this has indeed served me well. I am the friend you call for a listening ear, the mom who volunteers with her children at the local senior center. But I emerged from my own early childhood lesson in civilization as a Spongy Person, one who feels others' pain and joy almost too much, and lives life always hoping I have been good and kind enough to everyone else, second-guessing and questioning myself where I shouldn't.
My hope is that in raising my girls to be kind and caring, but stronger than me, they will emerge to live their lives unapologetically and with self-driven purpose. I hope and pray that these lessons stick, and that I have enough time between now and then to prepare them to not just survive, but also enjoy, their high school years and all of the growth that they face in between and beyond.
For me, Facebook is a universe into which I tread pretty lightly. I definitely enjoy catching up with people I was friends with when I was younger, and am always happy to hear about their fulfilled lives and see their kids adorable pictures. I am however, sometimes a little perplexed at all the "poking" and virtual gifting of Starbucks. But that is a nonsequitor...
Facebook has become such a phenom that I have friends who specifically describe certain people as their "Facebook" friend versus an in-the-flesh one. In that sense it becomes a bit of a popularity contest for some people. And that is a game I really don't have the time or desire to play at this point in my life. But it certainly does bring back some interesting memories for me.
You see, I tortured myself enough with that garbage in high school. So much so that I was friendly with everyone in every social group, but really never truly close with any one person at my school. I always wanted to be nice to everyone and to people-please, and this definitely prevented me from being a true confidant, or really intimate friend, to anyone at my high school at that point in my life.
Now, to be fair in this recollection, I did have two close friends that I grew up with and remained close with at the neighboring high school, and I had some very memorable boyfriends, prom dates, and all that goes with along with that. What I was missing, however, was a true sense of self, and a strength from within. Add in a good dose of anorexia, a mild dose of bulimia, and a dying father, and you can imagine that my high school years were years that I just survived, under the radar, for the most part. What you'll see in the yearbook reveals none of this, and merely documents my leads in the plays and musicals, pictures with friends, and my requisite position in the popularity poll. I was so careful to avoid sharing my innards, my core, with anyone, that I remember being truly shocked at the number of friends and aquaintances that showed up at my father's shivah.
And I am one of the lucky ones. I got help for my bulimia during my college years, help that I sought out for myself after watching a close relative struggle with her eating disorder and her other separate issues. I figured out what I wanted in my life and I went after it. And if that people-pleasing role is no longer a large part of who I am, it did teach me how to make aquaintances easily. I have a large network of wonderful, genuine, caring friends, live in a great community, and have a handful of very close friends who cheer me on and support me when times get tough. I have a kind, generous, amazing husband who is 100% devoted to our family. I've got it good, and I know it.
Why am I writing about all of this now, you may wonder?
The answer is very simple. I have two daughters.
Sarah is beautiful, curious, funny and bright, and has some mild special needs that she may hopefully outgrow with time and therapies. Rachel is fun, caring, playful, nimble, and precocious.
These two beautiful girls of mine will soon age into the social pressures that I faced in school, only it is all happening even earlier these days than it did for our generation.
As a parent I definitely teach my children to be polite, kind, and follow all of the important rules. I was taught to do this at all costs as a child. But I also am teaching my girls to take care of themselves, to express themselves, to be true to themselves, and to stand up for their beliefs.
Even with this approach to parenting, I know that the time will soon come when my oldest daughter will come home from school feeling bad about herself for some reason. And hopefully she will talk to me about it so I can help her develop a way to cope with it. And then, soon after that, will come the time when she will no longer deign to talk to her mother about these pressures, both social and physical, and I will have to hope that all the parenting I do between now and tweenville is enough to build her up to withstand the harsh realities that lie ahead. Then it will start all over again with my youngest.
My own parents raised me to be a compliant, pleasant, giving member of society. All of this has indeed served me well. I am the friend you call for a listening ear, the mom who volunteers with her children at the local senior center. But I emerged from my own early childhood lesson in civilization as a Spongy Person, one who feels others' pain and joy almost too much, and lives life always hoping I have been good and kind enough to everyone else, second-guessing and questioning myself where I shouldn't.
My hope is that in raising my girls to be kind and caring, but stronger than me, they will emerge to live their lives unapologetically and with self-driven purpose. I hope and pray that these lessons stick, and that I have enough time between now and then to prepare them to not just survive, but also enjoy, their high school years and all of the growth that they face in between and beyond.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Swiftboat Politics: Are You Ready to Rumble?
Waappp! Obama's middle name is Hussein!
Pow! Pow! McCain has a lymph gland the size of Arizona!
Waaaapp! Obama might be untrustworthy (what a new revelation, an untrustworthy politician? Oh, that's right, he is black, and his middle name is Hussein, therefore he must be a terrorist!)
Pow Pow! Bam! McCain is old and frail and will die in office, leaving Lipstick to rule!
Slap! Waapp! Obama voted for new taxes for indigent families 1,999,999 times!
Bammm! McCain was a POW - POWs are all crazy, so he will surely blow up the planet in a PTSD funk!
Waaap! Bam! Obama knew a neighbor who was arrested as a Domestic Terrorist many years ago! Together they will surely bomb our government buildings in a joyous killing spree!
Pow!!! McCain was one of the Keating 5...of course this is assuming that he is intelligent enough to have brokered that deal or understood it.
Round one! It's a draw! And how could it not be?
Should I move on to round two? Let's not and pretend that we did, because we all know that it will always be a draw with these attacks, which are often at least exaggerated if not downright incorrect.
The thing I find most frustrating is that all around me I hear friends, neighbors, and frenemies alike playing along with this game. All this proves is that we are all much more susceptible to propaganda and swayed by swiftboat politicking than we care to admit.
How about a new strategy (yes, my friends, that is strategy, not strategery - feel free to look it up if you disagree): READ. And by that I do not mean read the internet's biased campaign drivel on either side. I mean READ PUBLIC VOTING RECORDS.
If you take the time to read public voting records and understand with a more realistic approach what each candidate actual votes for and supports, then you know what he will do when push comes to shove. Then, and only then can you make an educated decision. I am not even telling you who to vote for - and believe me, I have an opinion!
Until then please refrain from sending me your loaded emails. And for God's sake, if you are going to say, "I just don't trust Obama", or "Palin's a Nazi", then at least realize that you are not expressing even the remotest intelligent thought, and are instead giving in to your own knee-jerk reaction to the Politics of Fear.
Pow! Pow! McCain has a lymph gland the size of Arizona!
Waaaapp! Obama might be untrustworthy (what a new revelation, an untrustworthy politician? Oh, that's right, he is black, and his middle name is Hussein, therefore he must be a terrorist!)
Pow Pow! Bam! McCain is old and frail and will die in office, leaving Lipstick to rule!
Slap! Waapp! Obama voted for new taxes for indigent families 1,999,999 times!
Bammm! McCain was a POW - POWs are all crazy, so he will surely blow up the planet in a PTSD funk!
Waaap! Bam! Obama knew a neighbor who was arrested as a Domestic Terrorist many years ago! Together they will surely bomb our government buildings in a joyous killing spree!
Pow!!! McCain was one of the Keating 5...of course this is assuming that he is intelligent enough to have brokered that deal or understood it.
Round one! It's a draw! And how could it not be?
Should I move on to round two? Let's not and pretend that we did, because we all know that it will always be a draw with these attacks, which are often at least exaggerated if not downright incorrect.
The thing I find most frustrating is that all around me I hear friends, neighbors, and frenemies alike playing along with this game. All this proves is that we are all much more susceptible to propaganda and swayed by swiftboat politicking than we care to admit.
How about a new strategy (yes, my friends, that is strategy, not strategery - feel free to look it up if you disagree): READ. And by that I do not mean read the internet's biased campaign drivel on either side. I mean READ PUBLIC VOTING RECORDS.
If you take the time to read public voting records and understand with a more realistic approach what each candidate actual votes for and supports, then you know what he will do when push comes to shove. Then, and only then can you make an educated decision. I am not even telling you who to vote for - and believe me, I have an opinion!
Until then please refrain from sending me your loaded emails. And for God's sake, if you are going to say, "I just don't trust Obama", or "Palin's a Nazi", then at least realize that you are not expressing even the remotest intelligent thought, and are instead giving in to your own knee-jerk reaction to the Politics of Fear.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Big Surprise! The Bailout Didn't Pass!
Let me just lay my cards on the table.
I am a liberally-raised registered democrat. I spent many tender years summering as a child-volunteer-envelope-stuffer for landmark campaigns in Florida when visiting relatives in Delray Beach (not DelBocaVista, my Seinfeld-loving friends). And my Great Aunt Mae has for years sat as a delegate to the Democratic National Convention, carrying 40,000+ votes in each election.
I come from people who founded some of the first labor unions, helped bring clean water to communities, and worked to ensure services for those in need. This often included increased taxes for the greater good.
I share this all knowing that as I do I am speaking as one of the less policitally active and knowledgeable amongst my accomplished family members. This unique brood includes not only my Aunt Mae, but also many other accomplished, intelligent and politically active members, including:
I am a liberally-raised registered democrat. I spent many tender years summering as a child-volunteer-envelope-stuffer for landmark campaigns in Florida when visiting relatives in Delray Beach (not DelBocaVista, my Seinfeld-loving friends). And my Great Aunt Mae has for years sat as a delegate to the Democratic National Convention, carrying 40,000+ votes in each election.
I come from people who founded some of the first labor unions, helped bring clean water to communities, and worked to ensure services for those in need. This often included increased taxes for the greater good.
I share this all knowing that as I do I am speaking as one of the less policitally active and knowledgeable amongst my accomplished family members. This unique brood includes not only my Aunt Mae, but also many other accomplished, intelligent and politically active members, including:
- my politically outspoken and knowledgeable activist sister, Steph.
- my Professor / Health Officer brother, Pete who also teaches college courses and sits on NJ Health committees.
- my Ivy educated mother, who works in a municipality, and deals daily with grassroots politics.
- my lawyer stepdad with a history of renegade cases and local and state campaign management.
- my Grant-Writing cousin Linda, whose work benefits the community and their mental health services.
- my cousin Jimmy the Supreme Court Justice in NYC.
- my brilliant Uncle Sam, who, in addition to many other professional accomplishments, was so ridiculously intelligent that he discovered and in essence created a new form of mathematics, Repunits & Repetends, while in retirement. Then he published a book on said subject, and actually died at the podium, while on tour lecturing admiring geniuses who wanted to learn from him.
I come from these movers and shakers, these self-starters, educators, and professionals that embrace the fight to constantly improve our nation. So you can understand why I often do not write about politics, since the majority of my moving and shaking lately involves the playground and potty training. God forbid I accidentally use an incorrect term or get one of the facts wrong and wind up in a doomed debate with one of my more stellar and in-the-know family members.
But even I was not surprised when the Bailout failed in the House today. A blank check for $700 Billion? I may not be the sharpest economic tool in the shed here, but a Bailout plan of this magnitude requires not just quick action but a modicum of serious thought and planning. House members are afraid to commit to something of this magnitude so quickly with this little planning - for fear of failure and catastrophic consequences to not just their careers, but also to our collective National Pocketbook.
Get out the big chalkboard, folks, and try again. And this time, please come up with a solution -quickly - that includes some more regulation, oversight, and planning for the distribution of these funds!
Until then,
Shana Tovah,
Jen
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Wild Horses Couldn't Stop Me...
From crying into my tissues at the end of Nights in Rodanthe, the movie that Jeff & I saw this evening.
WARNING: Spoilers to follow: Actually, spoilers precede this, in the title, but you really can't possibly have a clue about that unless you've already seen the movie, so what am I blathering on about now...?
Ah, yes, movie night with my husband. Jeff loves to do these remarkably considerate things for me, often as a surprise. Sometimes these surprises are big (i.e. my fabulous Mother's Day earrings), and sometimes they are small (i.e. his quiet purchase of Nights in Rodanthe tickets instead of our decided upon compromise movie tonight), but he is always thoughtful in his approach.
Jeff is, however, a man who believes in balance. Not in that Yoga-Karma way, but he is a passionate supporter of balance in the more important things in life, like ice-cream vs. toppings in your dessert. You may think I am joking, but when is the last time that you had dessert with my husband?
With Jeff's thoughtful surprises always come his diversions, this version of balance. Tonight at the movies, his diversion tactic was a combination of having overeaten on Corned Beef at Harold's (don't ask, I accidentally purchased too many of the WDHA dining deal certificates) and his subconscious desire to avoid the "chick" part of the "flick".
Here's an example: Halfway through the first are-we-going-to-live-or-die-oh-to-hell-with-it-let's-rip-eachother's-clothes-off love scene, he took my hand gently, then leaned in close and...burped quietly into my ear. Then, during their separation, as she walked back onto the beach, he started quessing at the twist. "OK, now is the perfect time for her to get eaten by a shark", and "Watch...now, he'll get into a terrible car accident and die".
Thing is, after nine years of marriage, we have absorbed enough of eachother's essence that I actually do find some of this commentary pretty funny. I can appreciate his Mike Myers / Adam Sandler humor, and he can understand more of my sentimentality.
Even with all of that typical guy posturing, the ending got to him also. He wasn't looking for a tissue like I was, but he paid enough attention to it to share serious discussion on the ride home.
"We all want to believe in the Wild Horses as a sign," he said, "and that part of the movie got to everyone, because everyone wants to make sense of their life experience and know that it has meaning. The idea that he is OK and sent the horses as a sign to her, this is something everyone in this audience would love to believe in."
So it seems that after 9 years of marriage I can tolerate the chick-flick heckling, and he can glean philosophical or spiritual discussion topics out of the experience. And at the end of the night there is still no other guy I'd like to hold hands with.
A pretty good deal if you can get it...
Till next time,
- Jen
WARNING: Spoilers to follow: Actually, spoilers precede this, in the title, but you really can't possibly have a clue about that unless you've already seen the movie, so what am I blathering on about now...?
Ah, yes, movie night with my husband. Jeff loves to do these remarkably considerate things for me, often as a surprise. Sometimes these surprises are big (i.e. my fabulous Mother's Day earrings), and sometimes they are small (i.e. his quiet purchase of Nights in Rodanthe tickets instead of our decided upon compromise movie tonight), but he is always thoughtful in his approach.
Jeff is, however, a man who believes in balance. Not in that Yoga-Karma way, but he is a passionate supporter of balance in the more important things in life, like ice-cream vs. toppings in your dessert. You may think I am joking, but when is the last time that you had dessert with my husband?
With Jeff's thoughtful surprises always come his diversions, this version of balance. Tonight at the movies, his diversion tactic was a combination of having overeaten on Corned Beef at Harold's (don't ask, I accidentally purchased too many of the WDHA dining deal certificates) and his subconscious desire to avoid the "chick" part of the "flick".
Here's an example: Halfway through the first are-we-going-to-live-or-die-oh-to-hell-with-it-let's-rip-eachother's-clothes-off love scene, he took my hand gently, then leaned in close and...burped quietly into my ear. Then, during their separation, as she walked back onto the beach, he started quessing at the twist. "OK, now is the perfect time for her to get eaten by a shark", and "Watch...now, he'll get into a terrible car accident and die".
Thing is, after nine years of marriage, we have absorbed enough of eachother's essence that I actually do find some of this commentary pretty funny. I can appreciate his Mike Myers / Adam Sandler humor, and he can understand more of my sentimentality.
Even with all of that typical guy posturing, the ending got to him also. He wasn't looking for a tissue like I was, but he paid enough attention to it to share serious discussion on the ride home.
"We all want to believe in the Wild Horses as a sign," he said, "and that part of the movie got to everyone, because everyone wants to make sense of their life experience and know that it has meaning. The idea that he is OK and sent the horses as a sign to her, this is something everyone in this audience would love to believe in."
So it seems that after 9 years of marriage I can tolerate the chick-flick heckling, and he can glean philosophical or spiritual discussion topics out of the experience. And at the end of the night there is still no other guy I'd like to hold hands with.
A pretty good deal if you can get it...
Till next time,
- Jen
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Playdate Politics and Special Needs
A few years ago I experienced it for the first time. It was painful and raw, and then it stuck with me like an open wound that will not completely heal. Over time it ebbs and flows, only to return like hurricane winds; at times unexpected and at other times like the train wreck I knew it would be - coming fast - but with me standing there in it's wake - powerless to prevent the wreckage.
I am obviously not talking about the weather, nor am I talking about any of the personal struggles that many face when going through a clinical depression or the loss of a loved one.
I am finally writing about the one thing I generally refuse to discuss - the hollow pain of obvious rejection. Not my rejection mind you, but the rejection of my child who has special needs.
It started a few years ago when a good friend stopped responding to my requests for a playdate. After making clumsy excuses about difficulty finding something for her older son to do during the scheduled time, and a lack of response to my offers for a drop-off playdate that I would personally supervise, I figured it out fairly quickly. She did not want her child playing with mine. Either that, or her child did not want to play with mine and she understood this and was making excuses for it, hoping to avoid an uncomfortable conversation and, possibly, in an effort to save my feelings. Perhaps deep down she felt my daughter's issues were purely behavioral, and did not want her daughter exposed to these behaviors. I will never know.
But what I did know is this. What this friend did not realize is that when your child has developmental issues or special needs of any kind, this passive avoidance approach, this "kindness" is actually worse. Because it is obvious to special-needs parents at every turn that our children cannot keep up with other children physically or socially. We know that our children are the ones who melt down more quickly, have more difficulty participating, and, often, just look different as well.
We parents dealing with these issues make our own daily efforts at avoidance as well. But it is an entirely different kind of avoidance. We subconsciously speak mantras to ourselves to keep perspective: Today I will not mentally keep track of the differences between my child and others at the park. Today I will not try to fix my child all day long, but rather only address behaviors when appropriate. Today I will be grateful for the progress, the possibility of a mainstream future, and all the good I see.
But when we see and feel our child being rejected, again and again, the only thing we can truly feel is their pain.
In the situation I encountered with my friend I tried to encourage honesty. I even tried to let her off the hook in my own kind way by offering up the "Hey, even if our children don't have great chemistry, there is no reason why our friendship should suffer". But still no honest sharing or explanation followed. Months later, after going through 'playdate rejection' with her own close friend, which unfortunately permanently damaged their relationship, she seemed to indicate that she understood how I must have hurt for my daughter. I tried to open the dialogue then for honest feedback, but only received the message that "of course we can get the girls together soon", which I knew would never happen.
It would honestly have been easier, when I opened the door, for her to be honest - to say " Jill doesn't know how to play with your daughter, and doesn't understand what to do when XYZ happens" Because then I could have offered her words to explain the situation to her child. Even better, I could have helped explain it to her daughter directly to help her understand. When I realized this honesty wasn't forthcoming, I was forced to face the reality: She does not want her daughter playing with mine because of her different behaviors. This is why the dialogue did not continue honestly.
To all of those parents out there who do not know how to address questions that your child has about a child or disabled person who is different, I have a strategy for you. Be honest and direct in the simplest terms. Do not shush or hide your child's inquiry out of embarassment. As long as the parent in question is not in denial, being honest with your friend so that together you can address your child's questions about the other child's differences is one of the more helpful and supportive things that you can do. Do not lie to a good friend to save her feelings when she specifically asks for the truth. It will not work.
I put this theory into practice long ago when Sarah had questions about a child in a wheelchair in Walmart. The girl was about three years old, could not speak, and obviously had severe developmental issues. Sarah asked me, "Mommy, why is that girl in a chair?" and since she has some difficulty with volume regulation, this was not a quiet question.
Instead of shushing her or rushing her away, I answered her question, "because the wheelchair moves and gives her help to get around the store". Then a few more questions about why she couldn't walk, etc. followed, which I answered simply and positively. Then I brought Sarah over to say hello. I asked her mom, "My daughter wants to say hello and has some questions, is this OK?". This led to a short but pleasant conversation.
The young girl's mother thanked me afterwards, telling me how strangers always tell her how beautiful her daughter is when they really have questions they are afraid to ask, or they try to comfort her and tell her how God has a plan, but that they never just allow their children to say hello and act normal and friendly. She had tears in her eyes as she thanked me for this approach. Afterwards, Sarah turned to me and said, "Mommy, God makes us all different, so maybe it will take longer for her to walk, and that's OK".
Now keep in mind that this other mom and I are worlds apart on what God has given us to handle, and yet the feelings are the same. The pain you feel for your child, and the desire to be treated normally is the same. Interestingly, some parents always feel better when they see someone with a worse situation. It provides then with some hope and perspective. While this type of reminder can and does remind me how lucky I am that Sarah has a shot at a mainstream future, I am not one who feels better when gaining perspective from another's pain and misfortune. Instead I am one of those "Spongy People", who feels almost too much compassionate pain for others along with my share of gratitude. That is one of the reasons why I don't often discuss these things.
It is, however, my hope that this story will help someone know how to support a friend who has a child with special needs. It will not take away a parent's private pain, but it will create a healing dialogue, and may ultimately foster a more inclusive community.
I am obviously not talking about the weather, nor am I talking about any of the personal struggles that many face when going through a clinical depression or the loss of a loved one.
I am finally writing about the one thing I generally refuse to discuss - the hollow pain of obvious rejection. Not my rejection mind you, but the rejection of my child who has special needs.
It started a few years ago when a good friend stopped responding to my requests for a playdate. After making clumsy excuses about difficulty finding something for her older son to do during the scheduled time, and a lack of response to my offers for a drop-off playdate that I would personally supervise, I figured it out fairly quickly. She did not want her child playing with mine. Either that, or her child did not want to play with mine and she understood this and was making excuses for it, hoping to avoid an uncomfortable conversation and, possibly, in an effort to save my feelings. Perhaps deep down she felt my daughter's issues were purely behavioral, and did not want her daughter exposed to these behaviors. I will never know.
But what I did know is this. What this friend did not realize is that when your child has developmental issues or special needs of any kind, this passive avoidance approach, this "kindness" is actually worse. Because it is obvious to special-needs parents at every turn that our children cannot keep up with other children physically or socially. We know that our children are the ones who melt down more quickly, have more difficulty participating, and, often, just look different as well.
We parents dealing with these issues make our own daily efforts at avoidance as well. But it is an entirely different kind of avoidance. We subconsciously speak mantras to ourselves to keep perspective: Today I will not mentally keep track of the differences between my child and others at the park. Today I will not try to fix my child all day long, but rather only address behaviors when appropriate. Today I will be grateful for the progress, the possibility of a mainstream future, and all the good I see.
But when we see and feel our child being rejected, again and again, the only thing we can truly feel is their pain.
In the situation I encountered with my friend I tried to encourage honesty. I even tried to let her off the hook in my own kind way by offering up the "Hey, even if our children don't have great chemistry, there is no reason why our friendship should suffer". But still no honest sharing or explanation followed. Months later, after going through 'playdate rejection' with her own close friend, which unfortunately permanently damaged their relationship, she seemed to indicate that she understood how I must have hurt for my daughter. I tried to open the dialogue then for honest feedback, but only received the message that "of course we can get the girls together soon", which I knew would never happen.
It would honestly have been easier, when I opened the door, for her to be honest - to say " Jill doesn't know how to play with your daughter, and doesn't understand what to do when XYZ happens" Because then I could have offered her words to explain the situation to her child. Even better, I could have helped explain it to her daughter directly to help her understand. When I realized this honesty wasn't forthcoming, I was forced to face the reality: She does not want her daughter playing with mine because of her different behaviors. This is why the dialogue did not continue honestly.
To all of those parents out there who do not know how to address questions that your child has about a child or disabled person who is different, I have a strategy for you. Be honest and direct in the simplest terms. Do not shush or hide your child's inquiry out of embarassment. As long as the parent in question is not in denial, being honest with your friend so that together you can address your child's questions about the other child's differences is one of the more helpful and supportive things that you can do. Do not lie to a good friend to save her feelings when she specifically asks for the truth. It will not work.
I put this theory into practice long ago when Sarah had questions about a child in a wheelchair in Walmart. The girl was about three years old, could not speak, and obviously had severe developmental issues. Sarah asked me, "Mommy, why is that girl in a chair?" and since she has some difficulty with volume regulation, this was not a quiet question.
Instead of shushing her or rushing her away, I answered her question, "because the wheelchair moves and gives her help to get around the store". Then a few more questions about why she couldn't walk, etc. followed, which I answered simply and positively. Then I brought Sarah over to say hello. I asked her mom, "My daughter wants to say hello and has some questions, is this OK?". This led to a short but pleasant conversation.
The young girl's mother thanked me afterwards, telling me how strangers always tell her how beautiful her daughter is when they really have questions they are afraid to ask, or they try to comfort her and tell her how God has a plan, but that they never just allow their children to say hello and act normal and friendly. She had tears in her eyes as she thanked me for this approach. Afterwards, Sarah turned to me and said, "Mommy, God makes us all different, so maybe it will take longer for her to walk, and that's OK".
Now keep in mind that this other mom and I are worlds apart on what God has given us to handle, and yet the feelings are the same. The pain you feel for your child, and the desire to be treated normally is the same. Interestingly, some parents always feel better when they see someone with a worse situation. It provides then with some hope and perspective. While this type of reminder can and does remind me how lucky I am that Sarah has a shot at a mainstream future, I am not one who feels better when gaining perspective from another's pain and misfortune. Instead I am one of those "Spongy People", who feels almost too much compassionate pain for others along with my share of gratitude. That is one of the reasons why I don't often discuss these things.
It is, however, my hope that this story will help someone know how to support a friend who has a child with special needs. It will not take away a parent's private pain, but it will create a healing dialogue, and may ultimately foster a more inclusive community.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Catch That Train!
My Mahjong Girls & I just finished an evening of laughs and libations, which we historically have paired with our regular game of Mahjong.
We have played together on and off for the past 5 years, going into hiatus here and there, especially when two of us took turns postpartum a few years ago. Even when Mahjong was on hold, we still always found time to eat, drink, laugh, and occasionally cry together.
Anyone who plays Mahjong seriously will quickly get that our game was really always just a cover for a scheduled time to talk and eat together; especially when they hear that our record speed is the completion of 3 hands in a 3 hour evening of play - a turtle's pace to more serious players.
Tonight, Joker Bitch presented us with a new game for the evening, called Mexican Train. Our Mahjong Nazi, who years ago taught us all the complex rules, game sequences, and suits for Mahjong, was up for it. Yenta Bitch and I fell in line, me primarily because it looked less complex than Mahjong. I am always up for something simpler, especially since I am forever the player who forgets the "no jokers allowed in a pair" rule.
Mexican Train is a fun game. It is a cross between Dominoes and Poker, and while it doesn't carry the same time requirement or complexity as Mahjong, it is definitely similarly entertaining. And it allows us even more time to yak amongst ourselves.
If you get together with the girls for a game regularly, try this one. You won't be disappointed.
Until next time,
Jen
AKA Yakowitz / Joker Throwin' Ho
We have played together on and off for the past 5 years, going into hiatus here and there, especially when two of us took turns postpartum a few years ago. Even when Mahjong was on hold, we still always found time to eat, drink, laugh, and occasionally cry together.
Anyone who plays Mahjong seriously will quickly get that our game was really always just a cover for a scheduled time to talk and eat together; especially when they hear that our record speed is the completion of 3 hands in a 3 hour evening of play - a turtle's pace to more serious players.
Tonight, Joker Bitch presented us with a new game for the evening, called Mexican Train. Our Mahjong Nazi, who years ago taught us all the complex rules, game sequences, and suits for Mahjong, was up for it. Yenta Bitch and I fell in line, me primarily because it looked less complex than Mahjong. I am always up for something simpler, especially since I am forever the player who forgets the "no jokers allowed in a pair" rule.
Mexican Train is a fun game. It is a cross between Dominoes and Poker, and while it doesn't carry the same time requirement or complexity as Mahjong, it is definitely similarly entertaining. And it allows us even more time to yak amongst ourselves.
If you get together with the girls for a game regularly, try this one. You won't be disappointed.
Until next time,
Jen
AKA Yakowitz / Joker Throwin' Ho
I Google Myself...I Want You to Google Me...
Have you ever, just for yucks, googled yourself to see what comes up?
After being connected with a few "I-havent-seen-or-talked-to-you-since-middle-school" folks by Facebook, I gave Reunion.com a try, just for fun. And like most of these sites, Reunion tried to lure me to pay for membership with a teaser. The teaser was, of course, a list of the many intriguing and anonymous people that have been feverishly searching for me this past month and year. The anonymous list made sense, at least demographically, until I reached the bottom of the list to find "A 75 Year Old Man in Plano, Texas".
Knowing this Texan could not have been searching for me, I decided it would be interesting to see how many other Jen Halperns there are out there on the web. After all, I have always felt that I'm a unique and distinctly fabulous person, friend, wife, and mom, so why not check out the other Jen Halperns to see how accomplished they are?
Trusty Google was my tool of choice, and so I typed myself in and off it went, searching for any sliver of me or others like me in the universe. What I discovered was really interesting. There are a lot of really amazing Jen Halperns out there. Here is just a small sampling of what I found:
But there is one Jen Halpern that I did not find out there in this online media landscape...
After being connected with a few "I-havent-seen-or-talked-to-you-since-middle-school" folks by Facebook, I gave Reunion.com a try, just for fun. And like most of these sites, Reunion tried to lure me to pay for membership with a teaser. The teaser was, of course, a list of the many intriguing and anonymous people that have been feverishly searching for me this past month and year. The anonymous list made sense, at least demographically, until I reached the bottom of the list to find "A 75 Year Old Man in Plano, Texas".
Knowing this Texan could not have been searching for me, I decided it would be interesting to see how many other Jen Halperns there are out there on the web. After all, I have always felt that I'm a unique and distinctly fabulous person, friend, wife, and mom, so why not check out the other Jen Halperns to see how accomplished they are?
Trusty Google was my tool of choice, and so I typed myself in and off it went, searching for any sliver of me or others like me in the universe. What I discovered was really interesting. There are a lot of really amazing Jen Halperns out there. Here is just a small sampling of what I found:
- One blockbuster Casting Agent
- One Interior Designer to the Rich & Famous (a little Feng Shui for the next Soiree?)
- One renowned Orthopedic Oncologist & Surgeon
- A Successful Theatre Wardrobe Designer
- A NYC Photographer with her own firm
- A Psychologist, with multiple publications
- A PR Giant in the UK
But there is one Jen Halpern that I did not find out there in this online media landscape...
- Jen Halpern the writer, published & syndicated.
Because that niche is mine. And I will continue to write, rant, seek advice from experienced columnists and writers, and put it all out there until I get there.
Until next time,
Jen
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Olympic Tantrums
When a mom and writer discusses Olympic Tantrums, one can only imagine a typical toddler meltdown. Let's picture my three year old daughter having a gargantuan hissy over something terribly insulting to her, such as my demanding we leave the playground as gale force winds and lightning follow us to the parking lot. I can also recall fondly the playdate where she insisted that she was the winner at Candyland and threw down her playing piece, storming off to wail it out. These behaviors were of course followed by an immediate consequense, respectful apology, and reinforcement of appropriate behavior.
Civilizing a toddler is hard work, but my hope is that by doing the hard work now, I will help my child learn to live in the world later. I consider this part of parenting my right, privilege, and my duty to the rest of society.
Armed with all of this information, you can take a quick guess about my reaction to Ara Abrahamian's titanic and actual "Olympic Tantrum". Disputing a penalty, he angrily confronted judges, stormed off and then displayed what can best be described as the ideal "before video" for any anger management class. Once he completed the competition, he considered the Bronze medal an insult, and refused it.
My 4 year old witnessed some of the replay on this turn of events, and had a few questions for me:
"Mama, why is that man yelling?"
"Because he lost a game and he is misbehaving."
"But he is like, older, like a daddy-man...Why is he throwing a fit?"
(Pause)
"Because maybe he never learned how to behave as a child."
"Mommy, that is bad, bad, bad! That is the baddest fit! Will he lose a big privilege? Like no dessert or no TV?"
(Pause)
"This is a big game, and I don't know what the judges will say, but YES he absolutely SHOULD lose a privilege."
This of course lead us into a simplified and short conversation about the purpose of the Olympic games, along with a reminder of why it is important to be a good sport.
An Olympic athlete is revered and respected, and required to uphold the goodwill spirit and requisite sportsmanship expected for this worldwide competition. While it took a short time, I was pleased to learn that Abrahamian was ultimately called out for poor sportsmanship and stripped of the Bronze medal.
I then made a point to show my daughter the news clipping, and explain to her that the "daddy-man" who threw "a fit" got into "trouble" and lost his "privileges".
Thank you International Olympic Commitee, for doing what many governing bodies and businesses fail to do today: requiring civilized behavior of its participants. This is, after all, the most difficult and most critical lesson we will teach our children.
Civilizing a toddler is hard work, but my hope is that by doing the hard work now, I will help my child learn to live in the world later. I consider this part of parenting my right, privilege, and my duty to the rest of society.
Armed with all of this information, you can take a quick guess about my reaction to Ara Abrahamian's titanic and actual "Olympic Tantrum". Disputing a penalty, he angrily confronted judges, stormed off and then displayed what can best be described as the ideal "before video" for any anger management class. Once he completed the competition, he considered the Bronze medal an insult, and refused it.
My 4 year old witnessed some of the replay on this turn of events, and had a few questions for me:
"Mama, why is that man yelling?"
"Because he lost a game and he is misbehaving."
"But he is like, older, like a daddy-man...Why is he throwing a fit?"
(Pause)
"Because maybe he never learned how to behave as a child."
"Mommy, that is bad, bad, bad! That is the baddest fit! Will he lose a big privilege? Like no dessert or no TV?"
(Pause)
"This is a big game, and I don't know what the judges will say, but YES he absolutely SHOULD lose a privilege."
This of course lead us into a simplified and short conversation about the purpose of the Olympic games, along with a reminder of why it is important to be a good sport.
An Olympic athlete is revered and respected, and required to uphold the goodwill spirit and requisite sportsmanship expected for this worldwide competition. While it took a short time, I was pleased to learn that Abrahamian was ultimately called out for poor sportsmanship and stripped of the Bronze medal.
I then made a point to show my daughter the news clipping, and explain to her that the "daddy-man" who threw "a fit" got into "trouble" and lost his "privileges".
Thank you International Olympic Commitee, for doing what many governing bodies and businesses fail to do today: requiring civilized behavior of its participants. This is, after all, the most difficult and most critical lesson we will teach our children.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Starting the School Year with Special Needs
It is that time of the year again.
Everywhere I go, I exchange understanding smiles with other moms as we work our way through our August to-do lists, which includes everything from school supply shopping to staking our collective claim on discounted athletic gear.
If you happen to have a child with special needs who attends public school, this time of year also brings these errands, but along with that carries a mix of hopeful anticipation and trepidation about the coming school year.
What I have learned is that two parts preparation and one part collaboration really combine well to reduce some of the anxiety that a new school year brings. This approach also sets my child up for the greatest possible success. For the benefit of those who may follow down this path, I will share my tips with you.
1. Learn the Law:
If you research the NJ PRISE laws, you will come to understand what you are and are not entitled to under laws for public education. This document includes everything from eligibility for services and support, to the criteria for placement in the Least Restrictive Environment. You need to understand what the school is required to do, so that you can revisit, and perhaps modify, your expectations. Speaking of expectations...
2. Determine Realistic Expectations:
This is one short sentence but it is loaded with a hefty directive - and it is the hardest part for any parent. For example, Least Restrictive Environment laws may prompt a parent to expect that their autistic child in a self-contained classroom be placed in a general education class without a shadow, because they do not want their child stigmatized. A more realistic expectation might be to watch their child progress under current placement, discuss options for the coming year, and ultimately discuss options for placement. And an appropriate and successful placement in this case might involve a shared aide or shadow during general education subjects to make the day productive for both their child and the entire class.
3. Partner with your child's teacher:
I cannot say enough about how important this is. It is not only our job to advocate for our children but also to support the teacher and learning environment that supports them. For me this is a positive approach that begins at the start of the school year, but it becomes more critical in the spring when placement decisions for the fall are being made. Here are some actions you can take to partner effectively with your teacher:
Everywhere I go, I exchange understanding smiles with other moms as we work our way through our August to-do lists, which includes everything from school supply shopping to staking our collective claim on discounted athletic gear.
If you happen to have a child with special needs who attends public school, this time of year also brings these errands, but along with that carries a mix of hopeful anticipation and trepidation about the coming school year.
What I have learned is that two parts preparation and one part collaboration really combine well to reduce some of the anxiety that a new school year brings. This approach also sets my child up for the greatest possible success. For the benefit of those who may follow down this path, I will share my tips with you.
1. Learn the Law:
If you research the NJ PRISE laws, you will come to understand what you are and are not entitled to under laws for public education. This document includes everything from eligibility for services and support, to the criteria for placement in the Least Restrictive Environment. You need to understand what the school is required to do, so that you can revisit, and perhaps modify, your expectations. Speaking of expectations...
2. Determine Realistic Expectations:
This is one short sentence but it is loaded with a hefty directive - and it is the hardest part for any parent. For example, Least Restrictive Environment laws may prompt a parent to expect that their autistic child in a self-contained classroom be placed in a general education class without a shadow, because they do not want their child stigmatized. A more realistic expectation might be to watch their child progress under current placement, discuss options for the coming year, and ultimately discuss options for placement. And an appropriate and successful placement in this case might involve a shared aide or shadow during general education subjects to make the day productive for both their child and the entire class.
3. Partner with your child's teacher:
I cannot say enough about how important this is. It is not only our job to advocate for our children but also to support the teacher and learning environment that supports them. For me this is a positive approach that begins at the start of the school year, but it becomes more critical in the spring when placement decisions for the fall are being made. Here are some actions you can take to partner effectively with your teacher:
- Seek out regular feedback regarding your child's progress. Be careful to do this without deluging your teacher with requests. I emailed my daughter's teacher once every two weeks to request updates regarding skills and behaviors that we were working on at school and home. I requested feedback for ways that I might support her classroom efforts at home. I always sought out her opinion regarding how her progress might impact the next upcoming challenge. At the close of any email, I always thanked her profusely for her time and expertise. Remember, these hardworking teachers do not get paid any extra money for answering our emails at 10 pm! A little thank you goes a long way.
- Be Sensitive About Sensitive Topics: I occasionally called the teacher when the topic was sensitive. If you have to call the teacher regarding a sensitive issue, it is also important to maintain appropriate boundaries and avoid calling their home or cell directly. For example, I had some difficulty partnering with my Case Manager and needed some advice on how to communicate with her. This would definitely qualify as sensitive, as an email would have been inappropriate. I called the school and requested a call back to discuss the issue. This tip is always helpful as teachers are required to work in a much larger bureaucracy under the school board and can be very hesitant to put in writing what they might directly and comfortably communicate about in person.
- Periodically review continuing challenges and request recommendations for the right support and setup for the coming year.
- Choose the "hill you want to die on". This is a grammatically incorrect phrase said to originate from historical battles on foot. And it's a great analogy, as well. I went through this when a scheduling conflict made adaptive gym impossible unless another therapy was shortchanged. You can't always get what you want - but you must determine what is most important so that you can get what you need for your child (thank you, Rolling Stones).
This overall partnering approach created a solid relationship. When it came time for my daughter's annual Individual Education Plan review, there were no big surprises. In addition, when I requested additional modifications to the IEP, my daughter's teacher was a great co-advocate and helped to push those changes through. Since we had partnered so well from the beginning, the IEP and placement were like the end of a long and collaborative conversation between us.
4. Encourage a Roundtable:
You always have the right to request a meeting, and when it comes to placement of a classified child for the coming school year, a roundtable meeting is quite common, usually scheduled by your teacher or case manager. If discussion of a placement meeting has not taken place by April, then send a meeting request to your teacher and case manager to initiate the process. Whether or not an IEP is due for review, this meeting will and should be scheduled to discuss, agree, and iron out any kinks regarding placement for the next school year. You can brainstorm regarding potential teachers, and request that your current teacher review your child's year and progress with a new teacher so that things can start off comfortably in the fall.
5. Meet the New Teacher:
Do this with your Child BEFORE the new school year: Many parents I know met their child's new teacher at the end May, or in early June of the current school year. This is especially helpful when your child is moving into a less restrictive classroom or a different school that following September.
- If you cannot meet the new teacher before the summer, set up a time to say "hello" for the week before class begins. Most teachers do not mind a quick meet and greet when they are setting up their classrooms, and they usually understand the benefit of this meeting. Encourage your child to write a letter or draw a picture to give to the new teacher. This is a kind gesture and will also give your new teacher a hint about your child's current skill level.
- During this visit, be sure to request a printout or email of the daily/weekly schedule to review later with your child.
- Please remember, this is not a dog and pony show, so try to avoid pressuring a new teacher for too much information or assurances at this time. Ideally, your prior teacher will have prepped this new teacher prior to your meeting, and you are giving your child an opportunity to know where and to whom they will be going when they get off the bus in September.
6. Reacquaint your child with School:
Review end-of-year skills, but limit the time spent, make it fun, and give lots of praise. Visit the school over the summer to play on the playground. Do a drive-by, and point out the cross streets and school buildings. A few days before school starts, review and discuss the new weekly schedule with your child. Attend any open house or event that the school offers to orient your child to a new school or classroom. All children thrive on routine, and these reminders will provide a sense of security to your child.
7. Check in with your child's case manager:
Contact your case manager for a quick hello and review of the coming year's set-up to ensure that everything is in place for that first day of school. This could be a simple conference call to review some of the accomodations on your child's IEP, or your Case Manager may prefer to involve the teacher or any aide or shadow that may assist your child in the classroom. This conversation will provide you with some reassurance and peace of mind, while ensuring that all requirements are covered and taken care of. I usually check in briefly just before summer break and just prior to the start of the school year.
8. Take a Deep Breath:
Avoid transferring any remaining anxieties to your child. Visit the park and garden together in your yard. Try to relax and enjoy this hectic end to your idyllic summer, before that first bell rings!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Sexercise
If you have been married for a while and are like most of us out there with a few children, then you have experienced the the combined loss of energy and fitness that often comes with typical life interruptions. And it is certainly understandable. Mortgage, career(s), childbirth, childcare, sleep-deprivation exhaustion, and family time are all bound to combine and collectively shift our focus off of marriage and personal fitness.
The question is, what to do about it? We love each other, but we are TIRED, and yes, also somewhat out of shape - years of kids, mess, and mortgage, largely in reverse order, has done this to us. We were so tired, in fact, that a few years ago we decided to assign an arbitrary weekday as an obligatory date night so that we would, in fact, have a literal commitment to a romantic evening.
Which weekday, are you wondering, did we choose?
Garbage day, of course.
However pathetic you might find this, consider the following: Recycling is only every other week in our town and equating sexual escapades with the night the girls have kiddie cheer class just seems, well, perverse!
So Garbage Day it is...
This solved issue number one, making time for romance. But it unfortunately did not address our fitness issue.
My dear husband has enjoyed a serious advantage in the weight and fitness department as his nervous energy keeps him at a mostly healthy weight regardless of what he puts in his mouth. He can no longer eat a whole Carvel ice cream cake without consequences, as he did in his twenties, but he can certainly pack it in. However, our intelligent MD was insightful enough to give him the speech during his current check-up about exercise and the desire to avoid a future of hardening arteries.
The only problem with this is that the most exercise DH has really ever had were a few fraternity puke runs in college, and his brief semi-annual liaisons with our trusty high-end under-used treadmill.
I initially tried everything to motivate him, from getting him up early in the morning with a glass of OJ and the news on in front of the treadmill, to giving him that coveted male "alone time" when he first arrived home from work to blow off some steam during his workout. I even researched gyms with company and insurance discount programs, to no avail. Seems TIRED was winning out more often that not. After a while I noticed that when I'd suggest a workout, he'd often reply, "I can't tonight, I have a headache".
The fact is, we both needed some motivation.
One afternoon, on the phone with a girlfriend who shared a similar complaint, I had an epiphany. Why not combine the drudgery of exercise with the promise of a romantic evening? Every night of solid workout equates to one really solid night of romance. Sexercise. Interpret this as you wish.
Try it, and let me know how it works for you!
The question is, what to do about it? We love each other, but we are TIRED, and yes, also somewhat out of shape - years of kids, mess, and mortgage, largely in reverse order, has done this to us. We were so tired, in fact, that a few years ago we decided to assign an arbitrary weekday as an obligatory date night so that we would, in fact, have a literal commitment to a romantic evening.
Which weekday, are you wondering, did we choose?
Garbage day, of course.
However pathetic you might find this, consider the following: Recycling is only every other week in our town and equating sexual escapades with the night the girls have kiddie cheer class just seems, well, perverse!
So Garbage Day it is...
This solved issue number one, making time for romance. But it unfortunately did not address our fitness issue.
My dear husband has enjoyed a serious advantage in the weight and fitness department as his nervous energy keeps him at a mostly healthy weight regardless of what he puts in his mouth. He can no longer eat a whole Carvel ice cream cake without consequences, as he did in his twenties, but he can certainly pack it in. However, our intelligent MD was insightful enough to give him the speech during his current check-up about exercise and the desire to avoid a future of hardening arteries.
The only problem with this is that the most exercise DH has really ever had were a few fraternity puke runs in college, and his brief semi-annual liaisons with our trusty high-end under-used treadmill.
I initially tried everything to motivate him, from getting him up early in the morning with a glass of OJ and the news on in front of the treadmill, to giving him that coveted male "alone time" when he first arrived home from work to blow off some steam during his workout. I even researched gyms with company and insurance discount programs, to no avail. Seems TIRED was winning out more often that not. After a while I noticed that when I'd suggest a workout, he'd often reply, "I can't tonight, I have a headache".
The fact is, we both needed some motivation.
One afternoon, on the phone with a girlfriend who shared a similar complaint, I had an epiphany. Why not combine the drudgery of exercise with the promise of a romantic evening? Every night of solid workout equates to one really solid night of romance. Sexercise. Interpret this as you wish.
Try it, and let me know how it works for you!
Friday, August 8, 2008
Juicy!
I'll admit it, I am more than a little intimidated by fashion.
This is not a surprising position for me to be in considering that we live in a country where style encourages anorexia, and at the same time names fashion products after forbidden foods.
Now, to be fair, I will lay it all out for you. I am a Land's End, solid color, find-it-in-my-size-and-buy-five-at-once kind of girl. I will not pretend to have one iota of true fashion sense. And after giving birth to my second child, I pretty much have resigned myself to the fact the "the girls" are not returning to their original neighborhood anytime soon (my goal has adjusted, and I am aiming for the original zip code instead). And I can, and do, honestly admire without much jealousy, my girlfriends with great fashion sense.
Yet I often find myself perplexed by the current fashion landscape. Here is just one small example:
I was recently at a summer barbeque with my three year old, doing the meet, greet, and yak that we always do at these events. One of my friends entered the room and was nearly mowed down by a mutual aquaintance exclaiming, "Oh my god - your shirt, is it Juicy?!?!?", to which she replied, "No, it's Cupcake", without skipping a beat.
Ladies, we now wear clothing bearing the names of things we wipe off our children's faces and pray will come out in the wash! God forbid we should eat it, but we love to wear it! And many of our fashion and makeup choices now contain names like "creamy mocha", "decadent", and "sinful". Blackberrys have arrived in Raspberry or Chocolate. Even hair dye commercials now boast that you can have your indulgence without the guilt, and mmmmm doesn't her hair look....delicious?!?!?!?!??????????
I long for a place where we can wear our Juicy and have our ice pop! Let's have our Cupcakes and eat them too! Let's Charge these designers and make our demands!
That's it for today. I need to go drink my black coffee and then hop on the treadmill. I'll of course be daydreaming about juicy cupcakes...
Until next time,
Jen
This is not a surprising position for me to be in considering that we live in a country where style encourages anorexia, and at the same time names fashion products after forbidden foods.
Now, to be fair, I will lay it all out for you. I am a Land's End, solid color, find-it-in-my-size-and-buy-five-at-once kind of girl. I will not pretend to have one iota of true fashion sense. And after giving birth to my second child, I pretty much have resigned myself to the fact the "the girls" are not returning to their original neighborhood anytime soon (my goal has adjusted, and I am aiming for the original zip code instead). And I can, and do, honestly admire without much jealousy, my girlfriends with great fashion sense.
Yet I often find myself perplexed by the current fashion landscape. Here is just one small example:
I was recently at a summer barbeque with my three year old, doing the meet, greet, and yak that we always do at these events. One of my friends entered the room and was nearly mowed down by a mutual aquaintance exclaiming, "Oh my god - your shirt, is it Juicy?!?!?", to which she replied, "No, it's Cupcake", without skipping a beat.
Ladies, we now wear clothing bearing the names of things we wipe off our children's faces and pray will come out in the wash! God forbid we should eat it, but we love to wear it! And many of our fashion and makeup choices now contain names like "creamy mocha", "decadent", and "sinful". Blackberrys have arrived in Raspberry or Chocolate. Even hair dye commercials now boast that you can have your indulgence without the guilt, and mmmmm doesn't her hair look....delicious?!?!?!?!??????????
I long for a place where we can wear our Juicy and have our ice pop! Let's have our Cupcakes and eat them too! Let's Charge these designers and make our demands!
That's it for today. I need to go drink my black coffee and then hop on the treadmill. I'll of course be daydreaming about juicy cupcakes...
Until next time,
Jen
Introduction
Hello out there in the blogosphere!
My name is Jen. I am a wife, mother, friend, chief cook and bottle-washer. I live in Randolph, NJ with my husband and two beautiful daughters. My blog is all about the joys, pitfalls, and humor encountered in marriage, parenting, family dynamics, and friendship. I will occasionally write about special needs parenting and may also share my viewpoint on current events when I encounter a juicy topic.
I will be posting every few days, or whenever I can emerge from my ever-growing pile of laundry, whichever comes first. Let's be honest, if I wait until I'm ahead of the laundry, you may never hear from me!
Thanks for reading, and I will welcome all comments.
- Jen
My name is Jen. I am a wife, mother, friend, chief cook and bottle-washer. I live in Randolph, NJ with my husband and two beautiful daughters. My blog is all about the joys, pitfalls, and humor encountered in marriage, parenting, family dynamics, and friendship. I will occasionally write about special needs parenting and may also share my viewpoint on current events when I encounter a juicy topic.
I will be posting every few days, or whenever I can emerge from my ever-growing pile of laundry, whichever comes first. Let's be honest, if I wait until I'm ahead of the laundry, you may never hear from me!
Thanks for reading, and I will welcome all comments.
- Jen
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
