Welcome to My World

Regardless of where we are, life comes at us. If we want to cherish the moments, they tend to pass us by faster than we can savor them. If we would rather skip a day, it seems to linger endlessly. But life is what it is, and we have to make the most of what we have and focus on the good aspects, large or small, to truly relish our life.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

A Family of Sorts

What is it about the family unit that everyone strives to have?  I live in a society that is filled with a myriad of family types, too many to name.  It seems that every person longs for a connection with others, a common something that we can share.  Even when we do have a family, we long to reach out and become a part of a different family; we long to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.

For a while now, I've been a part of a gaming community, Pet Society.  Within that community is a group of people with whom I trade on the Pet Society Trading Post.  We trade for beds, food, wallpaper, clothing, basically anything and everything to decorate our pets' houses.  I first got started with the group shortly after my youngest daughter was born.  It kept me busy on those long nights when I was up feeding her, but it grew into something more.

I started to get to know some of these people.  It started out with a group of other ladies that were night owls in similar positions as I.  Then I realized there were others on the group who were all around the globe.  Now I know people from across the USA, Canada, Philippines, Denmark, Switzerland, Japan, China, Sri Lanka, England, Thailand, Hong Kong, Indonesia, and Australia, to name a few.  We all have two major things in common:  we love playing this game, and we love being a part of the pet society family.

Now that my daughter is older and no longer keeping me up at odd hours, I am not on it as often as I used to be, but I still keep in touch with the gang, including one of the founders, Michael.  You may recognize him as the one who told me to duct tape my children.  Obviously he does not have children of his own, but he does have a family of sorts with this group, which he protects with every thing he has, and with his whole heart.

There's also another friend of mine, Danielle, who has formed a wishing group, the World Of Wishing Pet Society Group, for us.  Dani's goal is to have a family that helps one another out by just granting wishes for pet owners.  We have newbie prizes, poor pet prizes, give away threads, and such.  There are no strings for the most part, except for the wish list alone, which is made effective by use of the Golden Rule.  We grant a single wish and make four more to be granted by others.  She's learned the true joy is in giving, and give she does! 

These may seem like odd examples of families, but we do watch out for one another.  We try to watch out for each other, we talk with another, cry with one another, lean on each other, and laugh together.  If one is suffering, we send out our condolences or lift up prayers for them.  If they are happy, we join in the jokes, but to each others' enjoyment, and not at their expense.  We stick up for one another and surround each other with love.  There is the family commeraderie....I even have a few calling me "Mama."

It started out as just a game, but it has become much more.  Because now I have a global family that I never would have known were it not for these two groups.  It is a family who truly cares for one another and looks past our faults and failures to look for the best in all of us.  We all want to be part of something bigger, and we are.  We have discovered that our family works, with all our idiosyncrasies, and with all of our strengths and weaknesses.  It's because we long for it; we crave to belong to a family who accepts us for who we are.  After all, when you come down to it, we all go way back, back to the beginning.  And we actually get a chance to meet some of our "relatives" and realize that we DO belong to something bigger than ourselves; we are all part of the family of the human race.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Afraid to Miss Out

Sometimes I see life as it seems to pass me by.  I have so many interests that there is no way on earth I could dedicate as much time as I wished to every single one of them.  I love languages, seriously; if I had the time, I'd dedicate 4 hours a day to learning them.  I love singing to music and imagine myself singing in front of thousands of people.  I was a drama major in college, so naturally it would be a dream come true to be a lead in a Broadway musical.  I love drawing and painting, though, admittedly, I'm not very talented in either of those two.  I simply cannot go more than two days without writing something, a blog, a song, a poem, anything.  But I know there is no way I can become a master in all of these areas.

My oldest daughter, Nyssa, is 6 years old.  She is smart as a whip and wants to be in on absolutely everything.  She loves ballet and gymnastics, she's an avid reader, and she enjoys writing scripts and performing plays for the family.  Sometimes she even talks the boys into becoming part of her talent show.  She is the most precocious, curious child I know.

Most things seem to come to her easily, and, if it doesn't, she attempts to forgo that activity.  Of all things she does on a regular basis, though, sleep is the most difficult.  She can't turn off her brain at night.  Those are her words I'm using here.  She's tried the whole routine aspect and we still have one for her.  But often times, she just can't stop. 

Last night was such a night.  She actually went to sleep around 8 o'clock, which is a miraculous feat for her.  But she had to wake up at 11 to go to the bathroom.  That did it.  She was awake, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.  I tried rubbing her back.  I tried reading to her, I tried leaving her alone in her room while she attempted to read herself to sleep.  It was all to no avail.  She crawled in bed with us and was too mobile to stay.  So she played quietly in her room, or so I thought. 

Benjamin awoke around midnight, wet, so I had to help change him and get him back to sleep.  I crawled into bed only to have Nathaniel wake up with a bad dream.  So I held him for quite some time before he fell asleep.  By then it was 2am and I was completely wiped.  But before my feet were even in the bed, Gabriela let out a loud howl.  I tried to let her go back to sleep, but 15 minutes later she was still going strong.  So I went to check on her.

When I did so, I discovered the little tent in the girls' room, but it's constructor, Nyssa, was nowhere to be found.  I brought the baby with me downstairs to see the family room light on, a computer game going, and my sleepless child hiding behind the recliner.  After putting Gabriela back to bed, I tried all the things you do to get Nyssa to sleep with no results.  She was still awake at 8:00 when we got everyone up for the day.  Her mind was going so strongly that in spite of the melatonin and the chamomile tea, she couldn't shut down, because she didn't want to miss anything, even though the world around her lay sleeping.

I can relate to that.  I go to bed at night and my brain just goes into overdrive.  All the days' events flood my mind, all the things I wanted to accomplish, all the things I would like to accomplish with my life.  And I watch all my hopes and dreams being constructed and apparently knocked down before my eyes.  And I don't want to miss any of it.  But by worrying about it, I'm not able to enjoy what I have. 

I could dream away every day wondering what could have been.  What could have happened if I had chosen to go to Hollywood or New York the first time I came to Georgia?  Would I be on Broadway or a movie star by now?  Or what if I had finished writing that book I started a couple years ago?  Would I be a published author?  Or what if I had recorded those songs in a studio, would my voice be good enough to get me a record deal?  If I had enough hours in the day, could I learn to speak a different language for every day of the month?

But that would be such a waste of my time, because I'm not there.  I'm not in the parallel world of "What if," I am here, at home, beside my computer.  My children are all (YES!!!) nestled quietly in their beds, and the love of my life is in the next room.  I made choices, and those choices led me here, by some amazing twist!  Life didn't pass me by...I walked this path.  I love this path!  I wouldn't change my family for anything in the world, and that would mean that I wouldn't change any of those decisions that brought me here now.

I'm journeying in this life.  I'm walking the path.  Sometimes it leads me around a bend where I see something familiar, like singing with my choir buddies.  Sometimes it leads me to a new beginning, like this blog I'm writing.  And sometimes it leads me beside the still waters where I can drink, where I can look and see the tree that is planted firmly in the ground, unshakable in spite of what storms it may weather, where I can lay myself down and sleep in peace.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

When are We Truly Revealed?

I'm amazed at how life can take its twists and turns and, in the end, can bring us back where we began.  There are certain common courtesies we should learn, certain manners and behaviors we should follow.  We grow, we learn, and we think we've got it all together, so we go on our merry little way and are surprised to find that we have managed to get ourselves caught with our pants down, stuck in a tree, and confused as to what we are supposed to do next.

My 5 year old Nathaniel, the one with Autism/Asperger, is, for the most part, potty-trained.  He still wets the bed several nights a week, but during the day, he pretty much usually goes to the bathroom.  He does usually, when he's inside, and when he's not distracted by something else.  Usually.  Did I mention it's when he's inside?

I was straightening up the family room today while the children played outside.  It was a glorious day, actually, with perfect weather.  It was neither too hot nor too cold, and the kids wanted to jump, run, hoot, and holler.  I could look out the windows and check on them every so often and still be able to get some housework done.  So I figured there was no harm to be had.  Right?

I looked out the window and saw something I have seen before, what I have hated to see, and I wish I no longer would see.  On that side of the house is a little tree that is perfect for climbing, especially for my children at their current age.  For that reason alone, it is their favorite tree in our yard.  What I saw there was nothing short of horrific, although when I described it later to my husband, he did not even attempt to stifle his laughter.

There, up on a limb, sat this darling little apple of my eye.  He was wearing his shirt.  I repeat.  He was wearing his shirt...not his pants, not his underwear, but his shirt.  The lower half of his clothing lay on the ground beside the tree below him.  Nathaniel was squatting.  He wasn't just sitting there on the tree with his pants off, he had this look on his face.  It was the look of a child grunting and pushing.  He had climbed up the tree, taken off his clothes, and was sitting there pooping.

How often have I tried to get him to come inside to go to the bathroom?  How often have I tried to teach him that it's not acceptable to run around outside, or inside anymore, for that matter, without clothes on?  I sat there and wondered, what in the world is it going to take to get him to understand?

There was nothing I could do to change what had already happened.  I got up, and went to the window, tapped on the glass, and motioned for him to come inside.  He had the audacity to give me the biggest grin of his life and wave at me before slowly descending from the tree.  He finally worked his way down and headed around the back of the house where I assumed he was coming inside.  I waited.  And I waited.

After a few minutes, I determined that he had either disobeyed me or gotten sidetracked on his way in, so I started out after him.  When I got to the kitchen, I looked out on the back deck only to see him standing on the top of the wooden rail, happy as can be, and, save for his shirt, naked as a jail bird.  Did I mention his shirt was orange striped?  Go figure.

I tapped on the glass door and once again reminded him to come inside only to see the poop.  It was on his leg, on his bottom, and, yuck, on his hands.  We went directly to the bathroom where I promptly gave him a bath.  I turned on the water, put in the bath wash, and handed him his elephant loofah sponge.  I must say he was so pleased at his ability to bathe himself and clean himself off, and he did a wonderful job at it.

I really don't like looking out the window and finding him in that situation, and I really do wish he'd learn.  He does so well with his "please" and "thank you," but he has trouble with the social behavioral aspects of life.  I want him to be able to adjust to the proper way to act around others, even around members of his own family, so that he can have the respect of others.

Now, I know that not everyone sits around on tree limbs and poop on things, but we do have a habit of dropping our guard when we think nobody is looking.  We do not always act the way we should toward life.  We look around, examining our situation, and think, nobody's watching so I can do what I want without getting caught.  The only fault in that logic is that someone is always watching. 

I heard it said that one day, all the things that we do in secret, whether good or bad, will be brought to light, and we will be held accountable for our actions, and receive our just rewards for them.  We all have skeletons in the closet that need to be taken out and dumped.  We all have those things that nag at us which need to be ignored or nailed in a coffin so they can't rear their ugly heads.  We all have those temptations that would lead us astray.

The true nature of each of us is shown not in what we do when we think everyone is looking.  Our true nature is revealed in how we act in private, when we don't know that someone is looking, or rather, when we feel confident that nobody else is looking.  There is no parade, no known recourse for doing what is acceptable.

That is when we are at a true crossroad of life, and when we decide which turn we will take.  There is only the silent voice inside each of us that whispers what is that good and acceptable, and perfect thing to be done.  That is when who we truly are shines through, and when we heed that voice, that is when we know that we are willingly walking in the right.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Time to Make Up My Mind

Everything boils down to attitude.  Everything.  Am I having a good day or a bad day?  Is the glass half full or half empty?  Am I content with what is or do I want more?  Do I look on the bright side or do I let the rain clouds darken my day?  It's all about perspective.

I know I wrote about an aspect of this in a different way just yesterday, but it's just on my mind right now.  And, yes, it all boils down to my house once again.  I'm obsessed with it, and rightly so, for the time being, so I can get it in tip top condition...or at least as close as I can with four wonderful, challenging, gifted, curious children from the ages of 1 to 6.

I want to be able to have a clean house that's nicely organized for myself, my husband, and my children.  I really do.  But I've always been worried about having the time to manage it.  I have a great time straightening up until I look at the clock, realize what I have left to do and then click: attitude flip.  I go from enjoying the rhythm of the dance to a chaotic discord in the time it takes to register how much longer I have.

I was washing the dishes on Monday and just thinking, this feels so nice to have the kitchen all cleaned up.  And I wondered why I seem to go from hope to sheer desperation at the tick of a tock of the clock.  I realized that I get afraid.  Of WHAT???  Of not being able to finish what I start...I get afraid that this time is going to be just like all the other times I started to get the house under control only to get lost in the maelstrom of life once again.  But WHY do I get lost?  Why do I panic?

Because I look at the clock and realize there are 20 gazillion things left that I want to get done.  Then in less time than a blink of an eye, I think of the 20 gazillion things that I need to get done.  Then, it flips to 20 gazillion things that I have to get done.  And the ultimate nail in the coffin comes with the thought that there 20 gazillion things that I won't get done, can't get done, will never get done, will fail at, will be ashamed of leaving undone, will disappoint Richard in not getting done.

Um, did I ever mention that I was a drama major in college?  You can see I have a natural flair for it.  But I stood there in the kitchen, braced myself for looking at the clock, and saw the time.  I took a deep breath and forced those thoughts away.  It took almost every ounce of acting to start the process, and every ounce of my imagination to continue those thoughts, but I did!  For that moment, I succeeded, and the drama became life.

I imagined keeping the kitchen clean.  I imagined having a straightened living room that had been vacuumed.  I was aware that I have four active offspring, but instead of thinking of all I hadn't done yet, I looked and realized all I HAD accomplished.  And I thought, I get to look at a clean table.  I get to set my daughter on the floor without needing an eagle eye to see what objects on the floor she'll put in her mouth.  

I get to clean my house, not I have to clean my house.  I have a house and I get to clean it.  It's a blessing.  I get to do the laundry, because I have been blessed with clothes.  All the things I clean and straighten are evidence of what has been given to me, for I am just a steward of what I have anyway, even my children.  One day it will all be gone.  One day I will be gone, and I don't want to have wasted my life thinking of all the I have to's.  I want to use it dwelling on all the I get to's.

I want to spend my life thinking on what is good, what is pleasant, what is lovely.  It's not something I can choose to do today, snap my fingers, and forever have that mindset.  No.  It is a daily choice, sometimes hourly, or even more often, to look at that which surrounds me and consider how I have been blessed.  As I make this choice, the negative will slowly melt away.  I heard it takes 7 positive things to counteract 1 negative, so it will be a continuing process.  So I choose to remind myself daily what a blessing it is to have a house and a family and that I get to be a part of making my home a safe haven.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Learning to Walk

Sometimes I think we are most alive when we are learning.  We want to achieve a goal, we strive for it, but there are certain aspects we must master before we can attain that which we desire the most.  If there is no stimulation to improve, then the quality of life begins to suffer, along with our spirits.  Regardless of whether or not we like the learning process itself, it is the only thing that will make us better.

Gabriela is learning how to walk.  She's been pulling herself up on the furniture since she was 9 months old but has not yet striven for the solitary step.  You know the one I mean.  It's the step she takes without holding on to furniture or my hand.  But she enjoys the freedom and loves practicing it.  I can see the longing in her eyes to take off after her siblings to join in the fun.

It's a process for her.  First she pulled herself up and started cruising the furniture.  Then, just a couple weeks ago, she stood up by herself without help, all 15 pounds of her.  It is always the cutest thing to watch!  She positions herself into a squat, sticks out her little bottom just enough to shift the center of gravity, and then slowly stands up straight.  Then she beams!  Light just radiates from her entire being like it shone from Fiona near the end of Shrek when she was lifted up and transformed into her natural permanent shape. 

Lately, Gabriela has even swayed from side to side, testing her balance.  The day before yesterday, she started dancing the twist all by herself, giggling with glee.  After she dances a few moments, she'll pat her hands to her thigh as if she's clapping to the joyous melody playing in her head.  Then she'll clap her hands a few times and, if she hasn't already fallen, she will tentatively go back down into the squat and, with a smile on her face, chatter about what she has just accomplished.

But of all the preparation, what she loves best is to take my hands and walk with me.  She'll walk across the room, out the door, into the hallway, and as far as she can go.  Then she'll turn around and walk back to where she started.  Most of the time, she doesn't care where she's going; she just knows she's moving and she's enthralled with the journey.  She knows she's learning how to walk and she giggles and chatters and prances her way about, without a care in the world.

She could go on for hours.   After a few minutes of this, however, my back starts hurting so I will slowly let go of her hands.  When she realizes I've let go, she sits down and cries because she doesn't want to stop.  She wants to go, go, GO!  She wants to experience as much as she can and knows this is something she can't do on her own.  But still she presses ever onward.

My husband told me it takes 10,000 times of practicing something before you are considered a master.  I thought about that in regard to my daughter.  She's been cruising on furniture, she's cruising with me, and she'll shortly be walking on her own.  But she'll still take a few spills before she really gets the hang of it.  But in order to be able to walk, she's got to get there literally one step at a time.

In the school of life, we have a long journey ahead of us.  We may get to some uneven bumps in the road.  We may trip over our own feet in the process.  But are we going to complain along the way about how hard it is or are we going to look at life the way my Gabriela does, by thinking of it as a wonderful adventure with new things she gets to learn to do?  I think I'll try her way.  It looks much more fulfilling and joyous.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Sorting it All Out

When you have young children, you are suddenly faced with a lot of responsibilities.  You have to learn how to juggle.  When you have four children, you have to learn your math, too.  You have to divide your attention between the children and your husband.  You have to learn to somehow multiply your time in order to get everything done.  You have to add more cleaning and straightening to your schedule.  You have to subtract those things that are not important.  And you may have to learn some simple algebraic equations by moving things around in order to solve for N.

As I've mentioned before, I am really trying to get my house in order, but my children are experts at creating those mathematical problems for me!  I find bottles of shampoo in the kitchen and stuffed animals in the bathroom.  I find crayons in the garage and tricycles headed up the stairs.  Hmm...which one of these things are where they belong?  I'll give you a hint.  The answer is none.

A couple of days ago, Benjamin came down the stairs after the older ones had gone to school and he was determined to bring his toys with him.  On his way, I heard a thumpity-bumpity-bonk-bunk sound coming from the stairs and my heart raced as I momentarily worried that he had fallen.  Thank goodness that wasn't the case.  He had tossed down one of the red and black cloth zip-close boxes I purchased from Ikea while getting the boys' room nicely organized.  The box was filled with stuffed animals.  Since he felt that wasn't enough, he also brought sown some wooden sort puzzles.  I suppose I should be grateful, and I am, that he wanted to play near me, because he just wanted to be where I was.

Later in the day, I was putting clothes away in my room while he played quietly in there.  Before I knew it, my floor was one huge Hot Wheels track loaded with enough cars to make the traffic jams in Los Angeles look like scenic routes that were all but deserted.  I tripped my way through the course he had created as I finished my task and was grateful he was playing where I could see because with my kids, if one is out of view, there's a big chance I won't like the scenery when I get there. 

Now there is nothing wrong with him having these stuffed toys and cars and playing with them.  The trouble comes when he doesn't put them back where they belong.  If he gets away with a single day of this, let alone a week, then the rooms are already full of toys.  Multiply that by four children and you may get the idea that a couple things here and a couple things there out of place make for a BIG mess.  I'd probably die of embarrassment if many people saw my house these last couple of weeks when I was sick.  I have a friend, Michael, who insists that all I need to do is to duct tape my children to the wall while I organize the house so they're not getting into things faster than I can clean up after them.  Then, I can free them to play and  can do the things I enjoy.

As tempting as that thought is, I think I won't give the children any ideas on how to torture their siblings, so I will just let them play and learn by my example how to put things in their proper place.  It will take more time than just doing it myself in the present, but it will be a valuable lesson to them for the future.  I've learned in my quest for having a clean house that clearing out clutter means more than just tossing out the garbage.  It also means taking what you have and putting it in the right place.  If I have a bottle of shampoo on the kitchen counter, it's not going to do any good sitting there.  It needs to be taken to the bathroom so that it can be used for its intended purpose.

By the way, I didn't do so hot my first semester of algebra.  In fact, I failed the first quarter with a 69.5 with the grading scale of 70 being the lowest passing grade and, yes, my teacher rounded UP to that.  Fortunately, sometime in the beginning of the second semester, it clicked and I ended up passing the year with an 80.  In college I surprised even myself by making an A+ in the class.  Somewhere along the line, I got it.

All I have to do is figure out how to keep the focus where it needs to be.  I may need to throw out the garbage and then again, I just may discover that I have a talent for something but it just needs to have the right outlet.  I just need to sort everything out and put it in the right room.  That way, when I need strength in an area, I'll know right where to find it.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Throwing out the Garbage

It's a simple enough concept: if you have trash, just throw it away.  What else needs to be said?  But what if you can't tell if something is garbage or not?  We are bombarded by things on a daily basis and sometimes a little bit of this and a little bit of that add up to a lot of junk.

Step two of my journey to The House that Cleans Itself is choosing a room and looking at everything that is in there.  I literally had to take a camera and take pictures in the room.  That lets me see not only what things belong in there, or what belongs in another room, but also what I may have that simply needs to go out the door.  In my kitchen, I had milk bottles, diet soda bottles, newspapers, shoes, and unsorted junk mail. 

There are obvious trash items and recycling items, things that we know have to go out the door.  But what about the mail?  I have to sort out what is mine, what is Richard's, and what is simply another recyclable donation. I'm in charge of paying the medical bills, and he takes the household bills.  Then there's everything else.  What isn't important is garbage.  Even so, the junkmail itself has to be sorted.  What if there is a coupon in there for something I buy regularly?  How much of the mail literally addressed to me goes into the trash?

Generally, out of 5 things that are addressed to me, maybe, just maybe one of those items is something that is relevant.  There are ten credit card offers a week at a minimum.  Then there are the non-profit organizations asking for charitable donations.  Now I agree with them, but I can't personally give every one of those companies thirty-five dollars a pop.  There are too many.  I have to pick and choose carefully what needs to be addressed and what simply needs to be tossed out the door.

I've found that the real world is kind of like sorting the mail.  There are certain constant responsibilities I have that cannot be ignored.  I have to pick and choose what recreational activities and volunteer work in which I allow myself to be involved.  I have four children and I stay at home with two of them.  If I am the room mother for both of my school age children and volunteer for every single thing in their classes, then I'm ignoring the younger ones.  If I volunteer for all the scout troops and charity companies that want me to send out letters to my friends and neighbors, then I will have no time left to care for my home.

Don't get me wrong.  For those supermoms and superdads, I am grateful, and I applaud their tenacity and ability to keep up with all the schedules.  But I'm not built that way, and if I don't learn how to say, "No," to some things and put it out of my mind like I toss out the trash, then I'm left with a life that is so cluttered with doing that I have no time to do what is most important for my family.  Perhaps when I've got my own home in better order, I'll be available to do more activities.  But for now, my biggest job is to be there for my children, cook for them, wash their clothes, clean the house and get it uncluttered; and that means taking all the other offers of duty that bring more burdens of responsibility and tossing them out the door.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

The Flow of the Matter

Go with the flow.  It is an expression that is easily understood and used by many.  It is defined as following the path that has already been made and just following the direction of least resistance.  It's like taking an inner tube to a moderately paced river, climbing in, and allowing the current to take you where it will.  But before you can just go with the flow, you have to find it.  How can you follow the current if you're not even in the water?

I'm learning a lot about that right now.  That book I'm focused on, The House That Cleans Itself: Creative Solutions for a Clean and Orderly House in Less Time than You can Imagine, starts out by helping me determine the flow of my house.  When I enter a room, where do I go?  What patterns have I established?  What debris do I leave in my wake? And not only myself, but it has me focus on my entire family's habits.

All I have to do to see a flow in the family room right now is to observe the evidence left by Gabriela, who just went down for a nap.  She awoke early as usual and sat down and played in here while I got her brother and sister ready for school.  First, she sat in the middle of the room where I sat her down with her bottle, now emptied and dropped right where she finished it.  Next she crawled near her exersaucer where I see a little yellow plastic bowl surrounded by star cereal where she dumped it out.  Afterward, she wandered over her swing where she decided to pull out a couple of baby wipes to let me know she needed a diaper change.  And finally, there is a little trail of toys where she played dutifully for a bit next to her daddy's chair.  She left a trail in her wake, and I am left to observe and to clean it up.

What does all this say about my precious one year old?  She likes to be on the move.  When she is done with something, she sets it down and doesn't think twice about it.  She picks out what she wants of her food and leaves the rest behind.  When she has a need and she can use objects to express that need, she will.  She feels safe playing beside her daddy.  She wanders about, holding on to the objects of her affection, and dropping them when she sees something more tantalizing.

That got me to thinking.  I go through the rooms, or periods of life, and leave something there.  What does that that mark say about me?  What impression do I leave on those around me or with those who follow behind?  How do I express myself to those around me?  Do I attempt to express that which is most important?  Do they fathom what I am trying to convey to them?  Do I leave behind evidence of security with where I have been or am I so fretful that I don't enjoy the life that I have?

This is especially important in regards to my children.  Do they see that I take the risk and jump into the water with an inner tube and enjoy the flow of life or do they see me sitting on the sidelines too fretful to enjoy the scenery around me?  I'm taking off my shoes and theirs, and bringing them with me on an adventure, because the water is refreshing and there is so much to see!

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Stopped up Drains

I've noticed that things can get stopped up rather quickly in life, and that every now and then we have to muddle through all the mess to get it cleaned up.  It's like a drain.  As long as the water keeps flowing and whatever gets poured down it stays small enough, then the water takes the debris and carries it away from the house.  Sometimes, though, something happens and the flow is interrupted.

 We have a garbage disposal in our kitchen sink.  I know it's not really a big deal these days, as many homes in the USA have them.  I crack eggs, toss the shells in the disposal, and let the kids know I'm about to run the disposal.  I have to be careful to count before I do, or else Nathaniel will come unglued from the sound it makes, due to his hypersensitive hearing.  So I turn on the hot water, count to three, and I flip the switch.  Then I hear the loud whir of the garbage disposal as it churns loudly and grinds the egg shells and what not into tiny shards and then carries them away.  I turn off the control switch, and my sink and drain are clear again.

But sometimes lately I have flipped the switch and nothing happens.  There's no sound, no movement, no power.  Nada.  Zip.  I have to remember to turn the switch back off again, reach down into the pipe and pull out what I was going to send down the drain, grab it, and toss it into the trash can.  If I don't, then as I run water, the sink gets all clogged up, and I can't get anything cleaned.  Instead, the water will get stagnant, nasty, and smelly.  Those little ingredients that are stuck in the disposal will cause havoc if they're not taken out.  The disposal is giving out slowly, and eventually we will have to replace it.  For the time being, however, we play "will it or won't it" with the switch and hope it clears out the debris.

Every now and then we have to take stock in our lives.  Do we have anything clogging up the flow of the matter?  Do we have resentment, unforgiveness, or fear backing up our hearts and minds?  These are things that can keep us from living productive lives, from living our intended purpose.  Can we let those situations that hurt us go through the grinder where it shreds them into little debris that can flow away without harming our pipes?  Or do we cut off the power of forgiveness from doing its job?  Eventually, all the crud has to go through our pipes or be dug out if we want to be able to function properly.  Though sometimes it seems hard, almost impossible, I'd rather flip that switch and let everything be shred into nothing of consequence so I'm not hurting from my own actions as well as from the harmful circumstances.

Oh...did I forget to mention that I also have a compost container?  Evidently, all that organic trash matter eventually degrades and becomes wonderful organic soil for plants.  In fact, it is all that "trash" which can make the most fertile ground.  Where there is forgiveness, there is dissolution, and that which seemingly caused so much damage in fact, in the end, is what causes us to bear the most fruit...if we give it the chance.

Monday, September 13, 2010

What Does it Take?

What does it take to be good at something?  What does it take to be great in an area of your life?  What is the difference between being really talented at something and plain hard work?  What does it take to be the Albert Einstein of photography?  What does it take to be a Martha Stewart of one's own home?  The last one is probably the question that haunts me the most.

Anyone who knows me knows that cleaning house is not my strong suit.  It is, in fact, probably my weakest area of all times.  That does not give me the excuse to sit around and just let the dirt pile up; it does, rather, give me a greater responsibility to learn how to keep a clean house.  I want my daughter to be able to invite her friends home from school.  I want my husband to be able to bring a co-worker home without having to call to see if the house is presentable or not.  I want my house to be transformed from a mere house to a home.  Does anyone out there understand what I'm talking about?

I didn't grow up learning how to keep a clean house.  My mom was busy working, trying to help support the family, so she wasn't able to really teach me.  We're both natural pack rats, so I never learned how to throw things away.  Plus, when I married, my husband and I were both over 30, and we both brought our separate apartments' worth of items to the house.  So here we were in the first few months of marriage with double almost everything already and we had to try to condense into a molded family.  Oh, and did I forget to mention that I got pregnant within the first couple of months?  And I had morning sickness.  Strike that, I had sickness from morning until night until I was 6 months along.

Once our bundle of joy came along, I was placed on bed confinement for 2 weeks.  The doctor was livid that I had gotten out of bed to go to my daughter's first check up.  When he said bed rest, he meant I was NOT to get up!  It was slow moving for a while there, then before I knew it I was pregnant with Nathaniel, then Benjamin, then....As you can see, life just kind of took over and suddenly, here we were with a house full of stuff.  Some stuff we needed, and some stuff we just needed to get rid of.

Here we are, 7 years later, and our house is stuffed to the gills with stuff.  And I would love to be a natural born organizer who can say, "of course, this is where all the sheets go, and this is where all the plastic containers go," etc.  But I just look at the rooms and wonder where in the world I am supposed to begin!  This clutter started to prove to be too much for me, yet I didn't know what to do.  I've tried all these websites and cleaning books and all that jazz and was getting more and more hopelessly lost.

Then, a dear friend gave me a book.  This book absolutely changed my life as far as the cleaning aspect is concerned.  It gave me a realistic view on cleaning.  It made me evaluate what I know from what I need to know in order to have a house in good working order.  I cringed when I scored a 5 on a scale from 1 to 30 on housekeeping know-how.  But it also explained why I have always struggled.

I never knew I would say this, though always hoped I could one day, but I am actually starting to get a foothold in the clutter in my house.  It's been so time consuming, worrisome, and chalked full of self-degrading thoughts, and yet it is starting to come together.  Now, mind you, I don't expect to have a dinner party in a month or anything like that.  I was warned, as the old adage goes, "You didn't get yourself in this mess overnight; you won't get yourself out of this mess overnight."  But it won't take seven years!  In fact, I've put a time limit on it.  Next May, the High School National Academic Quizbowl Tournament Championship is going to be held in Atlanta, and I am planning on having some people over then.  That gives me eight more months to get this place together.  The joy of it is that I was able to have some friends over a couple weekends ago.  There was still some clutter in those rooms, but it was nothing like it's been the last few years.

I'm by no means a natural at  keeping house, and I have a very long way to go.  But I am determined to get there.  I will have a clean house.  I will have a house to which my daughters and my sons can bring their friends over to hang out and maybe spend the night.  I will have a place where I can have my girlfriends over for tea.  Sometimes it's not about the talent, the natural abilities.  Sometimes those are deficiencies that have to be overcome.  Sometimes it's all about sheer hard work, the right tools, determination, and time.  Martha Stewart I'm not, but a good housekeeper and home maker I will be!

Sunday, September 12, 2010

In Light of Everything Else

I guess we all have our share of troubles now and then, some more than others.  There seems to be a whole lot of darkness in the world right now, and people are going through tough times all around.  I have been struggling with this respiratory infection that refuses to go away, but I am not the only one having a difficult time.  I have heard many other things that could be worse.  I have many friends and aquaintances that are struggling all around me.  I have friends whose husbands who have lost their jobs in this economy, friends with marriages in shambles, friends with physical ailments such as fibromyalgia or undergoing chemotherapy.  I have several friends with sets of twins who needing better housing.

Other than my health troubles, I have worms in my pumpkins.  These are the very pumpkins that we planted as seeds back in March.  Nathaniel loves pumpkins and has been enthralled every time a new pumpkin starts growing on the vines; but we keep battling worms.  Just this last week, the kids have been all excited because we have two little pumpkins growing.  But when I checked on them yesterday, my heart sank, for there, digging holes and crawling on the small gourds, were worms and caterpillars.  There will be no eating these pumpkins for us.

The children were dismayed.  They were hoping to finally get to eat a precious homemade pumpkin pie!  But these little garden creatures have ruined the treat for them.  These little worms had made holes in the fruit of the vine and ruined them.  They were damaged, no longer edible for human consumption.  How can something smaller than the width of a pinkie nail cause so much damage?

I've heard a wise saying, "it's the little foxes that ruin the vines."  It's the little things that add up that cause so much trouble.  It's all the little said and unsaid things that bring trouble to a marriage.  It's the little cells that mutate and cause cancer.  It's the little dollars and cents that add up that cause economic problems.  It's all about the little things.

Life is full of little things, and we have to be diligent to be after them, to keep them from taking hold and totally destroying us.  Sometimes it may take preemptive measures, like a little pesticide, or exercising right, or just saying, "I love you," every day.  And sometimes, no matter how much we try to protect against them, the worms still come at us.  That is where we gather with one another and fight against them.  We pick one another up, pull those little life suckers out, and throw them far away, so they can't get inside any more.  We hold someone else's hand just to show that we care, that we are here for each other.  And we REJOICE when the little invaders have been defeated!

In light of the friends, the supporters, the loved ones I have, those little worms are nothing.  Trivial?  No, for they must be dealt with so they don't cause larger problems.  But with those around me helping me to overcome and being my rear guard, we can toss them away, so far that they can't come crawling back to hurt us.  My exhaustion, the coughing, the headaches....are still here, but I can smile anyway and hold my head up high because I know there are others out there enduring...and we hold on to each other and smile, for we will overcome!

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Getting to the Top of the Mountain

Getting over a mountain can be pretty tricky.  Sometimes you can go straight up and sometimes you have to work your way around the obstacles, but if you've got it in you, you eventually make it to the top.  You may be exhausted and sore.  You may have gathered some bumps and bruises along the way, and you may be famished by time you reach the pinnacle, but you're there.  When you get there, you can yell out, "Look, Ma, I'm on top of the world!"  Funny thing about that climb, though...you find that you're not there alone.

This has been quite a week for me.  From my own physical struggles to Nyssa's breathing difficulties, from Nathaniel's diarrhea to Gabriela's earache, and from Bejamin's whiny voice to Richard stepping up and staying home to help me out today, it's been a long road.  Without a voice I've had to continue instructing the children.  Without any strength, I've had to climb up and down the stairs over and over again.  Without a clear head, I've had to continue making decisions for what was best for my family.

But I did not travel this road alone.  For the most part, on the worst days when I had no physical help, the children were calm and soft spoken.  They helped in the best manner of all, which was to be well behaved.  On the days I continued to go downhill and felt I couldn't function any more, Anita came to watch the children and help me keep the house straightened.  She even took over completely when I fell asleep on the couch with Nathaniel on top of me and Benjamin at my feet.  And today, when I was still drained of energy, Richard stayed home to take over when I could no longer stand.

Even at dinner, which Richard was so sweet enough to cook, Nathaniel came over to me, put his head against mine and said, "Mommy.  I love you.  Mommy, I like your dress," trying to make me feel better.  He never comments on what I'm wearing unless it's, "What's that, Mommy?  Why d'jou wear that?"  Sweet Nyssa, finally able to go to school today came home with a mound of make up work and sat at the table and whipped out over half of it in less than an hour.  Benjamin was less stubborn than usual, and Gabriela continued to smile and talk in her little cute voice, in the most charming way.
 
Having a family means not leaving anyone behind, but working together as a unit to make it up that mountain.  When one member gets hurt, the others find an open space on the precipice and sit down patiently waiting for the one to be able to move.  Or, if one grows weary and loses the strength to carry on, the rest all rally around the weary one and help carry that person a little further.  It means being considerate of one another and helping each other overcome the obstacles by moving the obstacle out of the way or by moving away from the obstacle.  Sometimes it's a literal family that helps one another, and sometimes it's a hodgepodge of friends and supporters, but it's a family nonetheless.

I realize not everyone is fortunate to have that kind of a family, am I am so grateful for mine!  They make climbing the insurmountable mountain not only easier, but more bearable, and even perhaps quite a bit more adventuresome.  When we finally get to the top of the mountain, we can look at each other and say, "Look!  See that view?"  This is the only place on earth where we get this vista.  And I never could have gotten here...and I never will get there.... without them!  Sorrow and Suffering may go with you, but in the end, when you look around, they are turned into Joy and Gladness.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Laying Down on the Job

I confess I've been laying down on the job the last couple days here.  I'm not just talking about blogging, either.  I'm talking literally at home.  But sometimes, you do what you've gotta do, even if what you're doing equals to nothing.

Sunday I did end up taking Nyssa to the urgent care satellite facility of Children's Healthcare of Atlanta, and I am very grateful for them.  She had to have oral steroids and another breathing treatment, after which they pronounced her well enough to not have to go to the hospital overnight, and sent her home with Prednisolone and a ton of more Albuterol. 

Then, when I was already sick, feverish, and exhausted beyond compare, I got her strapped into her carseat and attempted to drive away only to find that the passenger side door of the minivan wouldn't close.  We have a 2004 Toyota Sienna which I truly do adore...but I wasn't happy about it that night.  It was an automatic door and absolutely refused to close.  Something had broken.  So I had to wait for a friend to drive over (thanks, Greg and Ellen), put Nyssa in her car seat in their auto, and follow me as I drove the van home with the beep beep beep sound alert with an open sliding door. 

Now before anyone gets to wondering, my beloved husband was at home watching the other three because I thought I could handle one sick child better than 3 well ones around bed time.  And he couldn't come get me because I had the vehicle that would fit the clan for the ride.  So he was stuck at home helping me decide what to do...and he was my prince as always! 

We got home and everyone went to bed, looking forward to the next day, a holiday...Labor Day!  It's the day you take off work, right?  No work on Labor Day!  Well, let me just put it this way.  I was awakened early the next morning by poor Richard needing a towel because there was poop on the stairs and he had stepped on it.  If you're easily grossed out by poop, I advise not reading the next couple of sentences, by the way.

Nathaniel had diarrhea...and had it bad... Every step on the staircase had it, all across the hallway floor were traces of it, and on the bathroom carpet were blobs of it where my poor son tried to get to the bathroom.  So here we were.   I was sick, I had no voice, and I could barely breathe and move; Nyssa was having breathing treatments every 4 hours; and now Nathaniel had some sort of virus that had him squirting all over the place.  Benjamin wasn't sick per se, but he was fussy and actually took a nap.  And what did I do?  I lay on the couch all day long with the exception of occasional kitchen and bathroom runs when I had the energy to get up, and giving Nyssa her medications.  My poor knight in shining armor had to go to pick up prescriptions, cook, and help with the kids instead of being able to rest on his day off.

Last night, I was up because Gabriela was fussy.  Now this is a child who has never been clingy, but she was holding on to me for dear life and clutching at her ear.  So I gave her some Ibuprofen and rocked her back to sleep a few times and went to bed knowing nobody was going to school today. 

I awoke and called the doctor's offices, both for myself and three of the children.  I'm so thankful to Anita for helping with the kids and the house while I went to the doctor.  I was declared contagious with a virus and given Hydrocodone syrup, Zantax, Mucinex DM, Sudafed 30 mg, and nasal spray...all to be used together.  Richard met me at the pediatrician, where Nyssa had to have 2 more breathing treatments, Gabriela was diagnosed with an ear infection, and Nathaniel was declared to have a virus that had to run its course.

Twelve hours and three more prescriptions later, everyone else is in bed except for myself, because Gabriela awoke again with ear pain and only just went down again.  I'm tired.  I'm so ready for bed, but the window of opportunity for sleep has passed and I'm waiting for it to come by again.  What have I done the last couple of days?  I've been laying down on the job.

How often do we have things in life that we simply must get done and we simply cannot take the time to do otherwise?  I know I am constantly battling the clock, and this time I battled against my own body.  I tried to fight it but I couldn't.  I couldn't get up and feed my children.  I couldn't care for them the way I'm supposed to care for them.

How often do we try to do things in our own strength and succeed in getting nowhere because we simply have none?  It's okay to be able to admit that the strength is gone.  It's okay to admit we are weak.  It's okay to say, "Yes, I need help."  It's okay to let someone else step up and take care of things.  Why is that?  Because it gives someone else a purpose, as well.  It gives us a chance to heal, and it gives someone else who loves us the chance to be needed.  And sometimes, we need to do what is best for ourselves, which is also best for those around us, which is to just lay down on the job so that tomorrow or the next day, we can pick back up again with greater strength.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

And the Day's Not Over Yet

Life can bring situations that are agreeable to us.  It can also bring circumstances that we would prefer to sleep away.  In the USA, I live in a society that seems to stress a life of self-centering.  All forms of media, newspapers, magazines, movies, and television, stress that we must be concerned with ourselves alone and not worry about others.  And, sometimes, we can be led into that trap. 

It's been a rough day.  I went to bed last night with a scratchy throat.  Nyssa woke up around midnight with a sore throat and trouble breathing.  Though she held out through the night decently, neither of us were in any shape to go anywhere this morning.  I helped Richard get the others ready for church and out the door, then proceeded to care for Nyssa.

She has Respiratory Airway Disease, otherwise known as RAD.  It's not exactly asthma, though it acts like it.  Whenever her allergies act up, there is the chance that her body will respond with asthma-like symptoms.  Her breathing gets shallow, her airways start to close, a raspy sound comes from deep with in her chest as she works hard to breathe, and her little heart beats so fast I am alarmed.  I am ever so grateful that she doesn't panic when it happens, as that would make it even worse.  And so far, she has yet to be admitted for the symptoms after an additional 3-4 treatments at the hospital.  She does, however, get a regular regimen of QVar twice a day and she has an albuterol inhaler in case symptoms arise.

This morning, I already knew when the rest of the family left that she would need such treatments, as the albuterol inhaler did not relieve her symptoms.  I had to give her three breathing treatments, after which time she was breathing well enough to avoid the emergency room.  After that, we were both completely exhausted and gave way to sleep.  I've been keeping an eye on her all day and I am already giving her another treatment as I write. 

To tell the truth, I'm still not feeling too great myself today.  I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest, my hands and feet have not quite got complete feeling in them, and my sinuses feel like clogged drains.  My head pounds with every beat of my heart and I'd like nothing better but than to fall back into an oblivious sleep.  But it's not always about me.

That's what it boils down to, isn't it?  If we were to follow the advice of all those newspapers, magazines, and television shows, then we would miss out on the most important part of being a human.  Any living thing can have the instinct to protect themselves...but even a dolphin or a dog knows that when someone else is in greater trouble than they, to act upon it.  There has to be an intentional disregard for our own discomfort in order to help one another if we are going to survive, and not only survive, but to thrive. I've also found that, during those moments of crisis, when I am caring for her, my own needs seem forgotten in the shadows until she is better. I realize there has to be a balance...but right now, I can breathe a whole lot better than my daughter, and her need outweighs mine at the moment.

Look around...everyone has needs, it's a fact of our existence.  But we all also have the ability to care for each others' needs.  One person cannot fill every need, and we are all needed...and, ironic as it sounds in the midst of our neediness, we all need to be needed.

Please pardon me as I must go care for my daughter, who, even in the midst of trouble breathing, is attempting to sing through it.

Plan of Attack

There are days when I seem to have everything under control.  The kids get up easily and go sweetly on their merry little ways on their buses.  I get a few things done on my list done before the younger ones greet the day, and I have everything lined up for the afternoon.  Then, there are the other 4 days of the week.

The older ones have a hard time getting up because they fell asleep late or awoke in the middle of the night.  Nyssa whines until five minutes before her bus gets here and Nathaniel whines and fights while he's put on the bus.  I'm exhausted because the kids fell asleep late or awoke in the middle of the night and one of the younger ones waken to the sound of the older ones whining.  Nothing gets done because by time I get whichever child was so rudely wakened by their sibling back to sleep, I'm exhausted and crawl back in bed.  Of course, that means that I have not taken the time in the morning to accomplish anything or get things set up for the rest of the day.

When I was a teacher, there was a saying they grilled into my head.  "Make sure you have a plan.  Because if you don't, the kids will."  How true that is!  And though their plan is to thwart your plan, they secretly want you to stand firm in your plan.  It gives them a sense of security.

Growing up, I used to listen to a story on some character building tapes my mom bought for us.  The story was called Tanny the Deer.  It was about a deer who had been wounded, so a family took her home to care for her.  They kept her in their back yard while she mended.  When she healed, even though she could easily jump the fence, she remained faithfully in that yard.

One day, the boy in the family who had adopted Tanny came outside to see an 8 point buck in the yard with Tanny.  They had seen him around before, but he actually jumped the fence to be with Tanny.  From that day on, he lived there, as well.  Time went on and they had a fawn.  Other fawns would come up to the fence to play with her and she acted like she wanted to leave.  One day, she did.  But she came back a couple days later with a bullet wound in her leg.  Her parents had already learned what she had to learn the hard way.  The fence was there to keep her safe.

We live in a fence.  This fence is the set of laws and moral codes by which we live.  So many people think the fence is there to ruin their fun, to keep them from living the good life.  But the fence which keeps us in is a security agent.  It protects us from the hunter in life that would seek to maim and destroy us, who would have us for lunch if he could.

I want to teach my children this lesson, so I have to be vigilant about keeping them busy and teaching them how to act in this world.  I need to have a plan of attack to help them learn how to cope and how to have that security, because they aren't the only ones who have a plan.  There are others out there who have a dastardly plan.  But through preparing them through the mundane things in life, like learning how to pick up after themselves and being polite, respectful, and obedient, I am also teaching them that the safest place to be is under that authority and under those rules of conduct that govern their protection from the enemy.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

It is What it Is

I'm having one of those days.  It's Saturday and I want to sleep it away.  I don't feel depressed and I don't think I want to hide; I'm just tired and I want to sleep.

I look at the mountain of laundry that needs to be washed, dried, and put away, and I wish I were Mary Poppins, who could snap her fingers and let the nursery clean itself with a song.  I see the dishes and the toys everywhere and wish I could open the window and call out in a beautiful song to all the animals like Giselle in Enchanted.  But, alas, that is not to be my fate.  Neither is going back to bed, for I woke up this morning to the children who were already downstairs.

Nathaniel was at the computer, playing a game with the help of Nyssa.  She was, incidentally, sitting on the desk naked as a jaybird.  Benjamin was playing quietly near them on the floor.  He had a green marker, and he was writing...on his hand.  He had already written on his arms, his shoulder, and around his eyes.  I think he's getting ready to audition for the Incredible Hulk in DC Comic's new movie, Superhero Origins: When They Were Young.  He had papers strewn across the floor, along with crayons, markers, scissors, and stencils.

Fortunately, with the system I've been incorporating lately, we were able to get things back in order very quickly compared to times past.  We had all the art supplies picked up in a few minutes, Nyssa took a bath, and the girls and boys were changed and dressed in less than an hour.  This is saying a lot, since before I uncluttered the family room, it would have taken about 3 hours to clean up if my precious tornadoes had awakened even 5 minutes earlier than I.

All that being said, I am tired, but not as weary as I have been in times past.  The older ones went outside to play, and I got about 4 loads of laundry folded, and I will hopefully put it away in a few minutes.  Gabriela got some one on one time with Mommy while I gave her a bath.  Oh! I forget to mention that she has finally decided to say, "Mama!"  That in itself at her age is like new energy poured into my bones.

There is still much to be done, but it won't all be done today, or tomorrow, or the next.  What will be done is what I can accomplish in one day while still giving my children love and attention.  What will be done is the mini goals I set for myself each day.  And if I don't meet every one of them, I will not beat myself with some emotional whip in some twisted punishment as I used to do.

I'm still learning that it all boils down to a choice.  Do I get upset at the children for being children or do I just help them clean up the mess and direct them on appropriate attire?  Do I chide myself over having 13 loads of dirty laundry or do I pat myself on the back for washing 3 and putting away 5?  Do I complain about the endless cycle of dishes or just do them without a negative word? 

I don't always win the battle, but I do want to win the war.  And part of that is forgiving myself for the decisions I've made that were wrong, and starting over every day.  It means that when I have a week of 2 steps forward and 3 steps back that I accept what has happened and strive to take 2 steps forward again next week.  It means pushing forward, in spite of what I see, towards what I hope and trust will be.  And eventually, it will be.

Two months ago, there wasn't a clean room in the house, seriously.  Now, I have two of my bathrooms under control, the hallways, the boys' room, and the family room.  I'm half way there!  Right now, the house is still half cluttered; in six months, I hope to have every room presentable. It is what it is, but I can picture what it will be!

Friday, September 3, 2010

What Do I See?

Hope is a fountain!  It bubbles forth and dances about, bringing life and refreshment to all who are gathered near enough to enjoy its presence.  It stands in the middle of life's garden, and the best spot for it to be placed is in the dry, parched ground, surrounded by a flowerbed of dreams that have all withered and nearly died away. 

Not again.  Those words, when spoken, can have a couple different meanings.  There's the emphatic, "I won't let it happen, not again."  There is the frustration, "The baby wrote on the walls." "Not again." And then there's the feeling of despair.  "I won't get my hopes up.  Not again."

Why do we so easily fall into hopelessness?  It's like there is a cloud hanging over the earth sometimes, over individuals as a whole, of hopelessness.  Of course life is full of frustrations and circumstances beyond our control, but why do we have to let them dictate our emotions?  We don't have to, but...we do.

On Tuesday I got a note from Nyssa's teacher asking for a parent teacher conference.  Now she's only been in school for 8 days!  It appears she's still not getting her work done.  We went through this last year and I didn't want to have to go through it again.  I let it get me down.  I see so much potential in my little princess, and she is so smart!  I didn't want her to be crushed by her own doing.  But then I remembered that at least now we have some sort of logical reasoning for it.  It's a small sprinkling of hope.

I had to pick Nathaniel up from school Wednesday because he got sick for the second day in a row, even though he exhibited no ill feeling when he got home Tuesday afternoon or Wednesday morning.  I had to load up the other two at lunchtime and they were fussy and whiny.  I couldn't sleep last night, and I was tired and really didn't feel like listening to them.  In my mind I thought, not again.  Please, please don't fuss!  I knew it would mean going out AGAIN to get something to eat and I am trying desperately to feed them very healthy foods.

Not again.  Here we go again.  Why is this happening?  All of these phrases are very dangerous when we allow them to remain.  When I let a thought mill around in my mind, it grows, like a weed that takes over the yard and consumes all the good nutrients.

The other day, my daughter picked all the little marigolds that were in our garden.  She must have brought me twenty marigold heads, and she was so proud of herself.  Outwardly I smiled, knowing she picked them with love, but inside I confess I did cringe a bit.  I couldn't even put them in a vase of water.  But I stopped my selfish thinking.  She had given them to me from her deepest heart and there was no way I was going to rain on her parade.

So I reached down and made myself think of her, not of myself, not of my garden, and not of my flowers.  I remembered something I had read in Better Homes and Gardens back in the days I had time to actually read it.  She was so proud when I took one of my wedding gifts, a crystal bowl, and filled it with water.  Then, I placed all those beautiful yellow orange marigold flower heads inside.  It was a beautiful array that filled the entire bowl.  And when you looked at it from the side, it gave an illustrious kaleidoscope effect because of the cut of the crystal.  It was there..the beauty of hope.  These precious flowers had been stripped of their life source, but they seemed to dance happily along in the waters of hope. 

Sometimes all that surrounds us goes barren.  The ground is dry.  Every circumstance shows a desert wasteland under the burning sun.  We feel ourselves shriveling up like there is nothing left.  We harden ourselves and become too weak to even try to open our faces toward the sun because it seems to only bring us pain.  But something is always there..

Deep inside there is a reservoir that we don't know is there, and we can access it.  Someone turns open a valve and we feel it.  Life's saving grace!  Something changes, slowly at first, maybe even undetectable, but a trickle begins.  And even if we don't have the strength to turn our face towards it, it still touches us.  And we feel that glimmer of hope.  We drink it all in and we find ourselves refreshed!  There lies a secret waterfall of grace that begins to pour over us and wash away all the hopelessness and leave a sense of determination to stand. 

And we reach out and realize we're not alone.  There is a desert around us but we have been filled, and have been given the strength to reach out to the next flower.  We begin to see those around us in a different light, and we let the hope flow from our own lives into that of another, and another, and another..and then we begin to see it, the garden of hope.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Time to Get Rid of the Box

I sit at the keyboard wanting to write something, anything, that might be of some value.  But all that comes to mind is mindless rambling, or so it seems to me.  I think about the past week and think, "Has it really been that long since I last blogged?"  What have I been missing?  Has life been so uninteresting that I have nothing to say?

Well, with my family, life is always interesting.  They all keep me on my toes on a non-stop pace.  I feel like I am surrounded by Energizer bunnies that have no off switch.  They are boundless balls of energy that, I am sure, would be able to light up the entire state of Georgia, if it were possible to hook them up to some sort of electrical current conversion gizmo.  Even more interesting to me at this very moment is that the word gizmo is still not recognized by the computer speller...I keep getting a red line under gizmo.  Gizmo, gizmo, gizmo.

That is life sometimes.  It's all sorts of gizmos that we know exist, that are out there, but for some reason, do not translate into the "acceptable" form of everyday living.  We are expected to fit into a nice, neat little mold, and when we don't, we get this big red line under us telling us that something isn't right.  We mustn't  consider the outlandish, too simplistic idea that some things, and some people, just don't fit inside the box.  I think it's because we think that if we box it all neatly together, it will just fit, somehow, and we don't know how to adjust to something different.

My daughter, Nyssa, was in kindergarten last year.  She was so excited to go learn and be around a group of children her age.  She was thrilled in May 2009 to get her testing done.  You see, we decided to do it then rather than in the coming August just before school began because I was due to have a baby at that time.  When she came out of the testing area, the teacher was shocked.  It hadn't taken Nyssa nearly as long as we thought it would.  That can either be a good thing or a bad thing.

It was good.  She could already read all the sight words they were expected to read at the end of kindergarten.  In fact, I already knew she could read all the required words through the middle of second grade.  But she did everything so exuberantly and quickly that she finished in half the expected time.  She was so excited to start school.

But then August came.  Within two weeks the teacher asked for a parent teacher conference.  When we met, she commented on how bright my daughter was, but that she just didn't seem to fit in well.  She was immature.  Of course, her birthday was in June, and she was the youngest in her class.  The fact that she barely weighed 30 pounds was a definite sign that she was also the smallest.  She had no attention, couldn't do her math, and was ever so slow when it came to writing.  Her teacher's recommendation was already to consider holding her back at the end of the year so she'd have time to grow into school.

Hold on, I thought, "But you said she has already proven that she has learned all the things she needs by the end of kindergarten...and you want her to do it again...and again?"  After some much needed discussion, she agreed to have a Student Support Team work with her and asked permission to have Nyssa tested, to which I immediately agreed.

Time passed, the testing was done in November, and we met in January to discuss the findings.  Everyone involved was there: psychologists, physical therapist, speech therapist, educational adviser, special needs program leader, you name it.  Oh, and her teacher and myself were there.  As we sat down and all the papers with the test results were passed out, the teacher commented that she had not had a chance to see the results herself, and she was in the same boat I was.

Speech therapist:  according to the testing, she had superior rating on vocabulary, understanding of vocabulary, and receptive language.  Translation:  she had superior use of words and understanding of them and knew how to communicate more effectively than 90% of children her age.  No problem there, check.

Aside from some minor typical issues, Nyssa did fine on her testing, well within the limits of her age group.  The psychologist listed definite attention span difficulties, possible autistic tendencies, but noting that Nyssa had an autistic brother, he said she may just be mimicking some of Nathaniel's attributes.  She showed some social awkwardness and some immaturity issues, but borderline, so advised testing by a professional outside of school.  The special needs teacher said she didn't have any and so didn't require services.  She advised to just let Nyssa grow into her own, that she'd be fine.


The educational adviser opened with comments on testing.  That began with math and fluid reasoning.  At this point, before seeing the page, the teacher commented how this was Nyssa's weak point.   She didn't know how to do her math.  She was too slow and couldn't get it.  Everyone looked at the page and looked at her, for we had already seen the result that she had not yet discovered.  The educational adviser continued, somewhat awkwardly, to state that Nyssa not only had superior fluid reasoning, but that she scored in the 98th percentile!  That means, for all of us that have never before known what that represents, is that she has the ability to figure new things out on her own, without any prior instruction on a subject.  It's the ability to analyze new problems, identify patterns, problem solve using both inductive and deductive reasoning.  It's abstract reasoning combined with puzzle solving..and only up to 2% of the entire population tested could do better than she.

Didn't I write about her being able to figure out chain locks and childproof locks before she was 30 months?  Yeah.  I thought so.

Back to her much surprised, gaping mouthed teacher.  Nyssa had never shown her this side of her abilities, it seems.  At any rate, we learned that math and language were by no means her weak points.  So evidently, she didn't need any special ed help.  I want it noted here that I greatly appreciate all the work special ed teachers do.  They have helped many children who need it, including my son, who has come a long way thanks to their patience with him.

All in all, it appeared Nyssa's only real problems lay in her immaturity and her attention.  Though she continued to progress through the year, she continued to have trouble when it came to keeping focused.  Her teacher was at a loss when it came to my daughter.  She saw the potential in her but didn't know how to bring it out.  It wasn't her fault, Nyssa just didn't fit the mold in which children are supposed to be formed.

Jump forward to this past Monday when I sat in the psychologist's office where we had gone to have the additional testing done for Nyssa.  I listened carefully to the results that showed borderline ADD and how it affected Nyssa.  I was half expecting that.  What I was not expecting were the rest of the results she showed me.  You see, part of the testing was for her IQ.  It was ADD and her IQ...and therein lies the rub.

Her IQ  was a high superior at 131 and, as I was told, may have been higher but that she may have been adversely affected by the fact that she couldn't stay focused on her test.  Nyssa took the Wechsler Preschool and Primary Scale of Intelligence test.  She scored in the 99th percentile for her perceptual reasoning.  That speaks for itself.  The psychologist said you almost never see that high of a score and she had never seen it herself in her own years of practice.  Everything Nyssa sees she absorbs.  But because she sees everything so minutely, she is distracted by the slightest movement.  The psychologist said you almost never see that high of a score and she had never seen it herself in 20 years of practice in one of her own patients.

Her verbal reasoning was lower as there were portions where she just had to listen and answer.  She doesn't process auditory things as well because she gets distracted by what she sees.  Still it was above average, as was her working memory, another weak point.  In her weakest point, she still scored above average.  The psychologist noted that both her IQ and attention deficit problems are probably higher than indicated on the test because she compensates.  She's a smart girl; she adapts.  All in all, Nyssa doesn't fit into the box of the typical school child her age.

A part of me wanted to think, here we go again.  Another child that doesn't fit the mold, and, I confess, I was a little disheartened by it.  Then it hit me that quite a few people haven't fit the mold.  Hey, I never fit the typical mold.  In fact, my teachers always said I had an "interesting" and "unique" way of looking at things.  I don't pretend to compare myself to the likes of  Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison, but they didn't fit in the tidy little box, either.  Einstein didn't like to add 2+2 because it was too simple.  Edison failed school...only went for 3 months because his mind constantly wandered.  He was self-taught by his environment and by what he read.

Where would the world be without these two box jumpers?  When something doesn't make sense, we try to cram it where it doesn't fit, but it doesn't work.  You can't fit an elephant into a refrigerator box.  It's simply too big and only the foot would fit anyway.  So then why are we so baffled when the box is demolished when we try to force it to fit?  

Some things are just too great for comprehension.  Some things will never fit, nor should they.  When we open our eyes and realize that they truly are larger than life, larger than we can even imagine, then hope springs eternal.  We can stop struggling to make it work, because then we realize that a greater destiny awaits us. 

So here's my question for all of us.  Is there a spark that is burning deep inside, no matter how small, that keeps coming to the surface every now and then?  I'm sure there is.  Whether it's someone sitting at a blank keyboard with a blank mind or someone connecting a key to a kite string, we all have our quirks that others don't understand, and that if truth be told, we don't understand ourselves.  I am determined to think that there is a greatness that lies dormant inside everyone of us, and if we have the right environment, it can grow.  It was Einstein that said, "Success is 10% inspiration, 90% perspiration."  We all have the ability to tap into it.... go ahead.  Hook up and fan into flame that spark...you never know what may show up!