Powerful

I've done a lot of thinking lately, and I've come to a rather obvious revelation, an oxymoron if ever I heard one. You know the kind, it suddenly pops into your mind, usually after rolling around in there for some time like a marble finding a place to finally rest, and you think, Wow! That is so incredibly true! ...Wait, why didn't I ever realize this before? Of course that's the case.

So here it is. Get ready:

I absolutely have the power to change things I don't like about my situation.

That's my obvious revelation. Now, the details of it remain much more complex. The change may not (probably won't) come quickly or easily. Perhaps it won't come about in the way I'd prefer or even in the way I expect. But I am not helpless. I have intelligence, I have resources, I have people who support me, and I can and should use all of these if I want to get out of my current situation. It goes along with my guiding word for the year. I will try to remember that every day; as a habit, I'm more productive when already busy, so I have to work to make sure this gift of time doesn't work against my natural inclinations.

With all of this as well comes the Serenity Prayer: While I have that power, I must remember there are things I cannot change, and I must work to recognize the difference. I can do that.

All of you can do it, too, just in case there's anyone out there who doubts it. What routes have you taken to figure out your own situations? I'd love to hear from you. Or just think about it for yourselves. I think I'll list a few here just to remind myself and come back to:

1. I have the power to get myself employed. I have people I know; a college degree that, despite what the news and cynical people claim, isn't a handicap; the Internet to learn new skills and find possibilities; and the drive to do so.

2. I have the power to control my health. I know what to eat and in what amounts. I've chosen to use funds to go through an online boot camp with a friend who's a registered nutritionist and a certified personal trainer. I have the desire to live a long and active life for myself and those I love.

3. I have the power to improve my happiness. I'm not saying I'm unhappy. I just have things in my life that I want to make more of, like cultivating friendships and doing things that truly enrich me. Easy to do.

I've been reading the latest Stephen King lately, and the main character, Dan Torrance (it's a sequel to The Shining, in case you didn't know), deals with alcoholism and a lot of AA meetings. King, having gone through addiction himself, writes well about the tenets of living a life of sobriety and AA's various steps, sayings, and methods for staying sober. I'm finding a number of them coincide with my recent thoughts. There's a part of me that believes I'm meant to read this book right now, at this time in my life: I haven't devoured a book like this in a long time, and I find myself more introspective than usual lately. Perhaps King's writing about the ability to connect with others through, shall we say, less-than-conventional means rings true for me lately in its own way, if that makes any sense. I just feel this book wasn't on the library shelf by accident. Lately I've had an inexplicable flow of positive going through me, so I'm not going to question it; I'm going to ride it. Even the form email I received today from the University at Buffalo stating I wasn't chosen to move on to the next round for a job I truly wanted and knew I'd do well at didn't entirely deter me. I'm bummed, definitely, but I know those jobs often get filled internally or by someone with connections. So it wasn't mine to have. Some other one is.

And a job encompasses just part of who I am, really. So I'm off to harness this positive energy, wherever it comes from, and see what happens.

2013 wrap-up

Yes, here we go, the re-evaluating of a year. In years past I've done this by looking at old blog entries, but there aren't so many of those for various reasons, so I'll rely upon my memory. 2013 brought my family a number of ups and downs, including job loss, grandma loss, ear tube surgery for J, glasses for J, job frustrations (for T and me), re-budgeting, various fears.

It also brought continued health and weight loss for T and me, language leaps and bounds for J partially due to the surgery, visits from Papa, a growing cousinly love between J and C, new opportunities and career paths for me, a new nephew, a future new niece or nephew, growing and renewed friendships, kindness from all corners during a difficult time, a new car (I always hear Don Pardo from The Price is Right saying that), a chance to sing in a choir again, a fun recurring ladies' potluck, and lots of other things.

So while some major events may have overshadowed the last quarter of my year, most of it really went pretty well, and I need to remember that. R, I didn't fill in my Simple Abundance Journal of Gratitude as diligently as I could have, and I think that's symptomatic of how I approached some of my year. But when I remembered, it definitely reminded me that even in dark days we have small points of light.

I try to make New Year's Resolutions, as everyone does, and I read today that only 8% of people keep them. But that same reading pointed out that if we focus on goals, which help us aim for something to change our current situation, as opposed to resolutions, which are about changing something about ourselves, we have a better chance of making them happen. The article also made two points worth mentioning:

1) State everything in the positive. For example, don't focus on saying you want to lose weight; think about it in terms of becoming healthy (and having weight loss as a side effect of that) through eating and exercise.

2) Come up with a guiding word for the year. Instead of a resolution, think of a word that can guide your actions and lead you to your goal. That way, you can apply it to everything you do throughout the year. It's not nearly as constricting as a resolution.

I have a tendency to sometimes think in negative terms, unintentionally. For example, I'll want to take a trip to see friends out-of-state and think of all the reasons why it can't happen. Part of me wants to convince myself that I do this in order to list the negatives in order to figure out how to overcome them, but I don't always work in that last part. It can be something as simple as, "I want to renew my friendship with X!" and then I think, Well, but we're both so busy; she rarely answers her phone; T's out that night and I don't want to spend money on a sitter....and then I don't do it. I don't mean to beat myself up; this line of thinking doesn't comprise my overall M.O. It just happens too often.

So in keeping with that, my choice for my guiding word is POSSIBLE. What can I do to make something work? What are the possibilities? If one route won't work, will another? And so on. So I want to make 2014 the year of what is possible and what I can do to make that happen.

Because, really, the -- you know -- are endless.

Still here

Heyyyy, folks. I figure that now that I'm pursuing a more writing-based career, I should really...write. There's just so much that has gone on, but I'll try to recap the big events since April:

• 6th wedding anniversary for DH and me
• J turned TWO at the end of June and I still can barely handle it
• On August 28, in the morning, J got tubes in his ears because it turns out that the grandparents' suggestion of actually getting an ENT to look at them proved vastly important because...he needed tubes
• On that same day, in the afternoon, my former employer let me go. Quite the day, although T pointed out that he'd rather J had a good day and I had a bad one, and I couldn't disagree
• Almost immediately after the surgery, J had a major language explosion. Roosters that formerly said "dat-dee-dooo!" now say "cock-a-doooo!" or even "cock-a-do-doooo!" Funny enough, we parents miss the first one, although we're ecstatic that he's come so far. He speaks more in full sentences and knows how to ask for things properly, although he'll still try, "Milk? Milk? Milk" on repeat.
• He also now has glasses and they look pretty cute, plus he realizes they help him see, and it's en entirely new world.
• I've started to look once again at my career path and where it will take me

That last part has remained pretty daunting for so many (obvious) reasons. As of January 1, we have to find money to pay for day care ($1000/mo) and health care -- I have supported Obama thus far, but from what we've gleaned for ourselves, "affordable care," my ass. It's all very real and very frightening. I'm fortunate to have a few nibbles as of late, and I'm hopeful that if I keep plugging and networking, something will come up. Never have I realized so fully that I'm simultaneously the master of my own destiny and at the mercy of other people: Nobody's going to give me a handout -- although we have had tremendous generosity thrown our way -- I need to reach out to anybody who can help and keep up my skills and learn new ones. Maybe I'll end up somewhere different than I had expected, but so many of us take only one path in life, that it's a bit exciting, even while it's frightening.

And I know I can do it.

Proud

I apologize for the unintentional hiatus--my friend Rachel sent me a sweet message asking how I was doing and mentioned I hadn't updated the ol' blog in a while, and I thought I'd get on it. It actually coincided with a recent thought that I, indeed, had something I felt like blogging about. Life has moved at a rather hectic pace lately, and I just didn't feel inspired/like I had the time to update, but I realized I have some very worthwhile points to throw out to my readers.

Pride has so many layers. Religion/society/your mother/yourself all tell you not to be prideful in terms of boasting. It goeth before a fall and all that. I think that's mostly with tooting your own horn--and if you've done something that's truly terrific and worthwhile, toot away. That's the other side of the coin: Pride gets such a bad rap that too many of us duck our heads and stay quiet about our accomplishments. Today I want to gush about my boys because I think they deserve it. I'm going to play the role of proud wife and mama.

To start, T has done so much, so well over the last seven months. From when his Transitions Life System program started in September, he's lost almost 90lbs. He looks fantastic and feels even better. Thank goodness for consignment shops--we have an entire wardrobe's worth of clothes to give them, and he's found some great pieces that actually fit right since his old clothes practically fall off. From that he's gained health and a self-confidence that I always knew hid somewhere inside him, waiting for the right catalyst to come forward. I find it so gratifying when T looks at himself with this expression of pleased awe; as he told me recently, he still doesn't recognize his own reflection. But he will because this is who he is. He's even signed us up for a 5K in June, something neither of us has done on foot (as opposed to a rowing machine, which is where we did most of them) in a loooooong time. I see a new light in his eyes, and I'm just so proud I could burst.

Now onto Mr. J. Sure, parents sing their kids' praises, but I truly do think J has earned them even with my significant bias. In February he had a major speech therapist diagnosis where it came out that his expressive (spoken) speech indicated a "moderate" delay (he was behind by about five months), but his receptive (understood) speech was actually ahead for his age, which told us that he understood plenty but just didn't say much. Had it been the other way around, we would have had cause for worry. He works with a speech therapist at day care twice a week, and he's made significant progress--even the therapist said so, so it's not just Mommy projecting her hopes. He's reached that stage where if one us points to something and ask him to repeat it, most of the time he'll try...and most of the time he'll come out with something recognizable as what we said. I never thought the word "waffle" could give me such excitement.

Yesterday also gave me a big reminder of how far J has come: Another boy in his class, P, on his second day there, had the sudden realization that yes, he was going to be in this new place ALL DAY and Mommy and Daddy weren't coming for him. First day was fun; second day was the reality check, poor guy. When I came in, I saw the little guy sobbing in the teacher's arms, wailing for "mama," and it reminded me of J's extremely rough transition to day care. We had two weeks where he'd cry for almost half the day and freak out when other kids touched him. Now when I drop him off, he barely has time to say "bye-bye" because he's busy with his toys or the books or his buddies. I wanted to call the parents up and assure them that their little P would make the adjustment. While of course I have that part of me that feels bad that I can't be with him, he truly has flourished from spending so much time with other kids and his teachers. Again, my heart fills with pride.

So I think I've successfully acted as cheerleader for my boys.  I've supported them and done what I could from my end, but ultimately they've done all the work.

(Secret?) Identity

Last week at work I noticed one of my younger co-workers (she's in her early 20s) anxiously looking at a bottle of salad dressing, wondering just how long it had sat in the refrigerator and whether she could safely put it on her lunch. I asked to take a look at it and reassured her it hadn't gone bad and that she could safely use it. She replied, "Thanks, I just needed a mom to tell me it was OK to eat."

That struck me and gave me a huge smile. Of course, I'm still trying on this mantle of motherhood and feel like a complete newbie at least half the time. I haven't done it with my own child for too long, although I've always tended to mother my former students, my friends and my younger sisters (in both loving and hectoring ways, truthfully). Yet this marked a first, probably because this co-worker has only ever known me as somebody's mother. She didn't know me before I had J; to her, my identity has always included that of a mom. And because of that, I have the power to accurately and safely gauge condiment edibility. I could have told her that the dressing was safe, had I known her two years ago, but this whole motherhood gig gives me added cache.

I thought about it, and I believe, to some extent, that rings true with me. For example: I need to get my engagement ring fixed. Who will I ask about the best place to take it? My mother and my mother-in-law. Whom do I call when I get sick (aside from dear T, of course)? Mom. When my sister M had her daughter five months before I had J, I tended to call her first with my newborn questions--after all, she knew what to do. And she probably felt about two steps ahead of me in her own Mom Knowledge, if that.

I'm not saying in any way that women without children don't have authority. Some of the most motherly women I know don't children of their own and give excellent advice, and I know some mothers I wouldn't trust to tell me water is wet. But for good or ill, me having J has apparently imbued me with an invisible badge of Experience and Knowledge. I'll do my best to earn it.

Now, wear your hat--it's cold outside. Yes, I can fix that; I just need some string. And don't worry--a little baking soda and vinegar should get that stain right out.

Type-A Woes

So I'm trying to streamline my Pinterest boards with regard to food. So far, I've created "Slow Cooker Recipes", "Soups and Stews", and "Desserts". I think I also created something about "Sides".

But where to go next? Vegetarian/Chicken/Beef? Salads and Appetizers? Make that two categories? Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner? Just how narrow do I make this? I will take suggestions, people.

How on earth do you organized folks do this all the time? I find myself getting actually concerned about this, and slightly paralyzed. I'm only half-joking. And yet, I do love the feeling of organizing. It's sucked me in. Hell, I've even tried to do CleanMama's routine of cleaning: Bathrooms on Monday, dusting on Tuesday, vacuuming on Wednesday.... Except I got home yesterday at 6, ate with my dad who's in town, and then plopped down on the couch because I just did not want to vacuum (or exercise) at 8pm. I had a sore throat, a lot on my mind, and zero motivation. So I sat down, started the DVR (Once Upon a Time--it's a little silly, but I love it), and crushed a bunch of Goldfish, which do not fall anywhere on good food for my eating plan.

I guess I have to forgive myself and take a day off, and recognize that organizing a bit at a time actually takes time to set up, but once in place, it works.

As Others See Us

I put this together for my company blog, so I thought I'd post it here as well.

Every day we wake up, rub the sleep out of our eyes, and make a decision about...what to wear. Some of us plan ahead and lay out the clothes the night before in order to avoid that last-minute rush that can end up surprisingly agonizing (and time-wasting): Khakis or cords? Dress or pants? Why is it that the ONE SHIRT I want has disappeared from my closet?!? Don't even get me started on shoes.

Some simply throw on whatever's right at hand and...cleanish. But for others, that choice can inform the entire day. We base it on weather, mood, places to go that day (meeting? yoga? lazy Sunday?), who we'll see. Clothing is an extension of how we view ourselves and how we want others to view us. More than once I have looked at strangers walking by and wondered, "What process did he use to put that exact outfit together? What went through his mind?" This question arises for choices that range all the way from gorgeous to spectacularly bizarre.

I have just entered the world of advertising and marketing as an insider and not merely a consumer. Yet I realize that I've asked those same kinds of questions of certain ads I've seen, although it often goes along the lines of, "If they chose this ad, what on earth did they leave on the cutting room floor?" That, combined with the sheer volume and quality of work my colleagues put in to make sure their clients get exactly what they want, makes me realize anew just how much stock we put in perception. Whether it's choosing the color of one's socks or what font to make a tagline in an advertising campaign, each resembles a specific choice made by someone (or many someones) to promote a certain look. With clothing, sometimes we only focus on how we perceive ourselves; with marketing, a firm creates something for an entire, often very specific audience. 

As a proofreader and editor, I have the privilege of fine-tuning what my colleagues have successfully created, going over not just grammar and copy but also graphics and style so the vision--the desired perception--matches what the client wants. It's both exciting and daunting, as I often have the final say before it goes out into the world. So whether it's my own shoes or a new campaign for the Bills, I get to have a tiny bit of control over how others see that. And that's pretty amazing to me.

Grandma

On January 3, my grandma M passed away. She was 97 years old with a birthday coming up in April. Every year for as long as I can remember, I've gone to her house on Christmas for the afternoon, and this past year was no exception. But this year was different. I knew as soon as I saw her that this would be the last Christmas with her, the last time I saw her. She was alert enough to receive my kiss and give me one of her own and to see her great-grandson wave at her. I unwrapped our gift to her, a framed piece of J's artwork, and put it on her dresser where she could easily see it, placed in front of the brilliant red amaryllis someone had given her. She commented on how lovely it was and how she'd never had one before. When we had to go, I hugged her goodbye and told her I loved her. She did the same. A little over a week later, she closed her eyes at home in her own bed, which was what she wanted.

As I said at her funeral, as a kid, I didn't appreciate her. What did I know; I thought she was kind of fun but old. But as my mom reminded me, she regularly took me to the art gallery: as an artist herself, she wanted me to appreciate the colors and shapes and various forms that art took. I realize now that my love of that art gallery started with her. I also remember going to lunch at a little place near where I used to live that had land and a pond in the back, and we'd always take our Saltines to feed the ducks.

Growing older, I began to see that Grandma, while still old, had a razor-sharp mind and a quick wit, which she often used to tease my father with. I didn't call or visit as often as I should have, but when I did, we always had fun and good conversation, and I knew I better brush up on current events because she certainly knew and had an opinion about what was going on in the world. She read avidly, even teaching literacy classes to adults, and we discussed books often, a trait that I believe has been passed down to J as he grabs a book and plops himself down in my lap with increasing frequency. Before I met T, I had a relationship with The Wrong Guy. At the time, we lived together in Kentucky, I had no job, and I was trying to make something work that I really just needed to walk away from. I know Grandma worried about me and wanted me to break it off, but she never quite said that. What she did say, almost every time she talked to me, was that I needed to look in the mirror every day and tell myself, "You're a good person." Although my parents might argue with me, at the time she was my biggest fan and advocate. I'll never forget that.

She raised three children alone from 1963 on, never remarrying after her husband died of a heart attack (yes?) at 42. They met during WWII in North Carolina, and as a veteran, she received a beautiful and powerful military send-off at her burial that will remain etched in my memory: The sunshine, the cold, and the silence as we watched two young men in dress blues solemnly and properly fold an American flag and hand it to my father along with three bullet casings representing Duty, Honor, and Country. The three-volley shots echoing on a January day.

At her funeral everyone spoke about Grandma's intelligence, her interest in and love for others, and the fact that she had absolute principles that didn't waver. And she'd let you know: She would always support but sometimes say, "Just so you know, I don't approve of this." I suspect I may find myself saying the same one day to my own child...and I'll have to try not to smile as I realize Grandma adds one more part of herself to me.

I will always miss her, but I will make sure to follow in her footsteps in terms of the life she lead: Unwavering principles, love of art and literature, and support of her family. Right around the time of her death, I came across something stating that instead of fearing growing old, as our culture seems to, we should embrace it: It is a gift to live long enough to grow old. It means a long life, hopefully filled with many experience and memories and loved ones to share in it all. Grandma had that in spades, and she recognized that gift every day.

Christmas will be different next year, but I know we'll spend it remembering her and making new traditions, which she would have loved and appreciated. As long as we celebrate together, she'll be a part of it all.

2012: A Year in Review

I want to try to do this without looking at old posts so I'll focus on what really stood out. 2012 certainly gave me quite a bit to ponder and look back on. In a scant 365 days,

• J turned one, began walking fully, learned to sign, and started to make a few noises that sound like "mama" and "dada"
• He started speech and physical therapy, which have legitimately helped him
• I'm also VERY proud to say that if you ask him what sound a duck makes, he will indeed respond with a recognizable "quack quack quack"! 
• He knows where his tummy, hands, and head are and understands quite a lot.
• He made a great transition into day care, going from crying for half the day to barely registering when I drop him off
• After months of searching, networking, and resume variations, I got a job...in a field other than teaching. I learn something new every day, including the fact that I don't really miss the classroom. Had I not lost my previous job, I wouldn't have known that. Yet I still get to use my skills as a lover of English, grammar, and words. How lucky that I was able to wait it out and find something that suits me.
• I learned that you can, indeed, function on one salary and unemployment and still go out to the occasional movie, with help from very generous parents
• My niece and nephew each turned one, another set of twin nieces and nephews turned two, and my youngest sister married the love of her life in a gorgeous outdoor ceremony, perfect for them
• My sister M started a new job 
• My grandmother made it through one more year when we all doubted that she would due to illness and sheer age (she's 97 with a birthday in April) and got to see her great-grandson smile and wave at her
• One cousin started college and another is a junior in high school, earning top grades
• With the help of a new eating plan, T and I have lost over 60lbs and 25 lbs, respectively. We feel healthy and more energized than we have in years.
• T and I grew as friends and in our marriage in so many good and healthy ways
• We finally made it to Tadoussac after four years and introduced J to that gorgeous, special place
• I made some new friends and reconnected with old ones
• On that note, I began to do more for myself outside of my family and realized that that's not selfish; it's good and necessary for me
• I read more books
• I found a system to help me and my family become more organized, and I've discovered there might be something to this Type-A way of living
• I got to spend time with J, teaching him and watching him grow in all ways
• I learned to knit
• I changed my hair
• I learned a great deal about the ins and outs of health insurance, more than I'd ever want to know, yet not enough to truly understand it
• I fell in love with cooking and finding recipes that work for us (thank you, Pinterest!)
• I came into my own as a person, understanding more about who I am and what I can do to be the best, healthiest, strongest version of myself. It's still a work in progress, but that's the best way to be, I believe. And I thank you all for reading this blog and sharing some of your responses with me. It truly means a great deal to me.

I've always made resolutions, but I feel that that word leaves no room for error. If I "resolve" to do something and then it doesn't happen, I feel guilty (and boy, am I still learning that lesson--to stop beating myself up because it accomplishes nothing) for not doing it. So instead, I want to make some *goals* for 2013. Maybe I'm nitpicking with words, but hey, it's my job. So I have a few goals:

1. Stay with my eating and exercise routine...but recognize that missing an occasional workout or eating a decadent dessert every so often does not make me a terrible person who fell off track.
   
2. Continue reading books, either in paper or electronic form
   
3. Stay with that organization--all it does is make my life less frantic in all aspects, particularly personal and work
   
4. Continue to communicate well with my husband
   
5. Reach out to friends I've lost touch with because they help enrich my life

I can come up with more, but let's stick to five for now. I think that makes it more manageable, and if I want to add more, I can. When I look back, yes, I had a tough year financially, but it made me truly focus on all the other riches in my life, and I am fortunate enough to have many.

So here's to 2013 and what it may bring. Happy New Year, folks. May it bring you much love and happiness.

A Brief Reflection, Useless(?) Information

First of all, to briefly address the recent terrible events in Newtown, CT, my heart aches for the 20 children and 6 adults who lost their lives. I suppose if this means actual, productive discussion about gun control and how we treat mental illness (although autism is not a mental illness, and it gets me fired up when it's treated as such), that's something good. Focus on "actual, productive": Tragedies like this produce way too many knee-jerk reactions and bring out a lot of bile and finger-pointing, which accomplishes nothing. I'd also like to see the names of the victims used a little more instead of the media un(?)intentionally glorifying the name of the shooter. In my little opinion, if we let the name of the person pulling the trigger fade into obscurity, perhaps others wouldn't try to imitate him later. The victims seem way more important to memorialize. I also like the idea of the 20 random acts of kindness that have sprung up--a positive coming from such an awful negative. For now, I hug J a little tighter and wonder where and when this kind of thinking will end or what we can do to lessen it a bit.
But on a different note (and I need to do this for myself, this blog, and anyone reading it), I got this idea from another blog and figured I needed a lighter post than my previous one and as a counterpoint to the great sadness that's weighed so many of us down recently. So here goes:

Five Facts You May Not Know About Me

1. I still choke up a little every time the Christmas tree grows after Linus wraps it in his blue blanket and tells the rest of the gang the story of the nativity
2. I can't stand for labels in a cabinet to face in/away from me.
3. Goldfish crackers are my biggest food weakness. I'm taking that on one fish at a time.
4. I've never read any novel by Ernest Hemingway.
5. I sometimes talk to myself in the bathroom mirror, just vocalizing the thoughts in my head. I realized this when I caught myself doing it at work recently and wondered just how loudly I was talking and whether my co-workers could hear me.

300 more hours of school: THIS! IS! EDUCATION!

...or is it?

I read an article recently about how certain states, including New York, plan to add 300 more hours to the school year as of next year. As a former English teacher, I have a lot of strong feelings about this idea and several questions. This may come off as a bit disorganized; I wrote from my heart and less from my paragraph-organized, can't-bear-to-abbreviate-a-text-message head.

1. What exactly will this 300 hours be used for? Can we use some of it to get recess and gym back for elementary school kids? They desperately need that run-around time to get their energy out and stimulate their litte minds. Can we use some of it to get arts and music and the other "extras" back for middle and high school students? I see from the article that the intention actually is to use that time for those extras, including possible internships, so I suppose I could get on board with that. Look at the jobs of today and consider the ones that don't even exist yet--so many of them require some form of creativity that those "extras" help reinforce. If this 300 hours will consist of more time for testing and test prep, forget it. Our students are being tested to death; no wonder so many of them don't like school. And I can tell you, good teachers can't stand taking time away from learning to prep for these stupid tests.

2. With the teaching workforce getting steadily cut every year, how will adding on time benefit the students or the teachers? Already teachers for the past few years have been asked to "do more with less." The money isn't there is the cry. Somehow, these 300 hours need funding: More supplies, higher utility bills...all right, apparently government funds and grants will help support this. So if we can find money for it, why couldn't government find it to hire back some of that cut workforce? Teachers can only give so much of themselves and their time to the students when they have to deal with six classes of 30.

3. Why do we insist on the One Best Way for all students? On some level, the administration and bureaucracy understand that students learn differently; everyone has strengths and weaknesses, and so teachers must (and do) try to differentiate education so all students are reached. Then they throw these standardized tests at them again, and some students simply don't do well on them because their brains don't work that way. So they get pigeonholed and held back, and the fact that that kid who scored poorly on his math and English is an amazing artist or a gifted engineer or incredibly intuitive with animals doesn't mean anything because there's no room for those talents to blossom. I hope this extra time will help with that.

4. If we add time to the school day, something has to be done about homework. As a teacher, I didn't give homework every night--I tried to give it only if it reinforced something we would cover the next day from the lesson learned that day. I did this partially for the kids and, frankly, partially for myself because the sheer volume of assignments to grade could get pretty overwhelming. If we're putting kids in school for longer each day, let's please give them a break once they get home instead of bombarding them with hours more work. There has to be time to do other activities, to play, to rest, to eat a relaxed meal, to spend time with the family.

The entire American educational system needs a major overhaul, and it's about time that the people making the decisions had some better knowledge of the classroom itself and the students in them. I don't pretend that I have the answers, but when decision are made from on high for a large number of people without consulting those who work with those people, a disconnect occurs. If New York and other states insist on adding these hours, I truly hope they do make those hours enjoyable and educational for the students. I want students (and parents and bureaucracy!) to understand that those two terms are not mutually exclusive. More time spent grinding kids into the ground with testing will not help them enjoy school or learning, nor will it make life-long learners.

What do all of you think? Feel free to disagree; this is, of course, my opinion, and I'm glad to read others' thoughts who give me a different point to consider or add to one of my own.

Patience

I try. I try to have patience. Most of the time, I do. When I taught, my phrase was that I needed about eight oceans of patience to deal with the students and all that went with them. Now I have my own child, and he's the dearest darling of my heart. He is smiley and gives hugs and sturdy and climbs all over everything. He shrieks with laughter at the dog and when we tickle him.

I just wish he could tell us some of that.

I feel selfish and terrible for even writing this. He could have so many other problems that I don't even dare *think* about, and I know that every child progresses at his own rate. I *know* in my heart that with guidance and time, he will form words and one day T and I will look at each other in wonder and say, "God, remember when he didn't say anything? Now he won't stop talking!"

But I get scared. And frustrated. And impatient. He's learning sign language, so that's been HUGE. Currently he only knows the one, but "more" covers an awful lot of territory. It gets hard on some days to focus on what he *can* do rather than what he *can't* because the latter include things we've been waiting for and seeing other kids do. We don't always concentrate on the former enough.

I feel as though we should play with him more, that if we find the right combination of toys and gestures, maybe something will connect. That's it, though, really, keep trying different methods until he makes that leap (baby step?) in his little mind. And then the questions: *Are* we doing enough? Should we do something different? More? Should he have more therapy? Should we just relax, considering we've heard all sorts of stories about kids not talking for a while and then suddenly coming out with full sentences? How long will this lack of words go on? Is he OK????

We'll just keep doing a little, every day, and I will work my hardest at not letting the what-ifs and the uncertainty get to me. I, unfortunately, can be a champion worrier; combine that with my first-time motherhood and the overpowering love I have for this child and my feeling that I would do anything to help him, and...yikes.

So I will say the Serenity Prayer more often and do what I can from my end, and I'll wait for J to be ready. That's really all I can do. And I'll remind myself that it's enough.

New Perspective

I now work in downtown Buffalo. If you have never toured that particular area, you truly should. Every day I get to walk down Main Street right into the heart of downtown with its award-winning architecture  all around me. Granted, it's an urban area, so it also has its share of ugliness and unsavory characters. I don't have any illusions about staying aware of my surrounding when I leave every evening. But right outside my window and just down the street, I get to marvel at some gorgeous buildings every day. Immediately outside my window I see the the Electric Tower (formerly the Niagara Mohawk Building). Designed by James A. Johnson and completed in 1912, every holiday season the top tiers light up once the sun goes down in red, green, and white light on the top level. It brings me back to childhood: Every time I saw that tower lighting up in those colors, I knew it meant Christmas wasn't far behind. Just beyond that is the Buffalo Savings Bank with its beautiful top, formerly (appropriately) the Gold Dome building. Look as well at the clock tower and surrounding facade for the detail. Right now the sun has lit up that dome, making it seem warmer outside than it really is, thanks to the biting wind. Directly in front of me, my window looks out on the old Olympic Tower, commissioned in 1901 as a  new facility for the second oldest YMCA chapter in the United States and built in an English- Flemish Renaissance style. I love looking at it after I've focused on small print for a while--quite a  nice contrast for my eyes. Even the Hyatt Regency manages to keep some of the old-style architecture with its brick facade and pale green roof, also a stone's throw from my building.  If I walk just a little ways down, I get into the Theater District with Shea's Buffalo, one of the old theaters. I've added the photo gallery for the inside because...just look. You'll understand. Shea's also evokes Christmas memories of donning my prettiest velvet dress to go see The Nutcracker and gaping in awe at the ceiling and other details. I still do.  (detail of the arch on top of Shea's...you can just see it in the top-hand right corner of the picture above) I love the old-style lights. And just a few more random Theater District pictures for you: Tent City! This is a place that sells tents and other Am Vet-type gear...talk about repurposing. Cepa Gallery (photographic art center) There's so much more that I could show you...and I haven't even done a walking tour, which they have many of. I even love the old millinery factory behind me, although it's one of too many buildings downtown that sits vacant, waiting to be repurposed or used in a different way. Too much of Buffalo is that way, but that's an entirely different post. I just wanted to show off my city a bit and express my gratitude that I get to see a little bit of it as I go through my day.

Baby Steps

Last week, J began speech therapy. I've mentioned things a bit before, but the long and short is that he's almost 17 months old and really doesn't say any real words. He sort of says "mama" and "dada", and he makes repetitive noises ("babababababa", etc.). He understands quite a bit, but those actual words have yet to really form. So we had him evaluated, and the conclusion came out that he has some delays and would benefit from some extra help. Last week he met with his two therapists (one every other week so he has someone working with him once a week), and he responded to them very well, even hugging the one at the end of the session. He just knows people come to play with him; he doesn't realize he's getting help with his speaking. My mom also sat in on the one session: He has to meet his ladies at day care, so we don't get to see what they do, unfortunately (we trade notebook entries back and forth), so it was terrific for mom to observe and take copious notes. We have a little "homework" to work on with him, mainly repetition of just a few words and signing.

Well, two days ago at dinner, I repeated the word "more" numerous times and did the sign for it before I would give him more mac & cheese (always helps to use a much-desired food!). I showed him what to do and put his own little hands together to make the "more" sign. Lo and behold, he did it himself and after a brief explosion of delight on my end, I passed out the desired mac. He seemed to begin to comprehend the connection, but I figured it would come slowly. Next morning, before he even came downstairs, he began signing "more" to T for his morning Cheerios! The kid has picked up the sign with a vengeance.

This makes me so incredibly happy--he's realizing he can communicate with us to get what he wants. The words will come (we still say "more" about a zillion times when we sign and talk to him) next and when he's ready, with a little help. J may not take the "usual" trajectory of talking that other kids do, but he's making progress a day at a time, going at his own pace, and, again during this holiday season, I am so utterly thankful.

Oh, and he knows where his tummy is: Just ask, and he'll yank up his shirt and slap his round little toddler gut. It's the best.

First Week

Made it through, and I truly like what I'm doing. I work with creative, dedicated, passionate people, and while I don't have 26 students whipping into my classroom every 42 minutes, it still has that same pace sometimes, which I realized I actually missed. I do much better with stricter deadlines, so even the fact that I missed out on birthday cake today (which I wouldn't have eaten anyway) because I had to get something proofed by 3pm didn't bother me; I appreciate the fact that my input is needed and valued. This weekend and morning I helped on a major project as well--it felt great. I feel so grateful that I found a job that fits me, and that I managed to hold out and not settle for a position just to have one. I'm also getting used to the different ages--I got used to working with people primarily my age and older, and in this field, I work with (and for) people young enough that I could have taught them. However, at this point that really doesn't matter, and they all know more about this business than I do, so I'm perfectly willing to have them teach me and have the shoe on the other foot. Really, it's a mix of age ranges when I look at it, and everyone here has that same combination of passion, dedication, and a fun spirit, a great fit for someone like me. Plus I feel like I just got out of college again, considering I'm in a new career and learning the ropes every day, which I find invigorating. It's pretty amazing to function as part of a team that helps determine just how the public receives certain businesses' messages...so much goes into this that I never even considered. I love learning about all of it. Plus I have business cards--I'm legit. 

It's taken some adjusting with the new schedule, but we've made it work so far. J has had a few late days at "school", as I call it with him (he learns so much; I'd call that education), but thanks to helpful grandparents, a compromising husband, and an understanding office/Internet capability (if I have to leave early and get work done), I think we'll manage. He finally has settled in and seems to enjoy playing with his friends and his care providers, so that makes T and me happy beyond what we can express. Plus he gets his speech therapy and OT (more on that later) there, so we have our bases covered.

So life has changed for the Frau family, for the better, I believe. Any change brings a little chaos, but I know we'll make it work for us, just as we always have. In the meantime, the boy is happy and learning every day, the husband and I continue to kick butt on our eating plan, and I've rediscovered the beauty of downtown--we have some amazing architecture here that I now get to view every day. Sixteen months after the initial wrench in the works, and we've come out stronger than before. What a long list of things I get to be thankful for on Thursday.

Relief

If you readers have followed this blog with any sort of regularity, you know that I haven't posted as much as I wanted in the past because every time I did, I felt as though I should be looking for work instead. Blogging seemed like way too much of a selfish luxury, and I didn't want to do it once T got home because then I wanted to focus on family time, or we were watching our shows together...I didn't want to shut myself off and blog because that seemed too...self-involved? (I'm working on the martyr bit.) And, honestly, I've felt as though I didn't have much to say. I could regale you with tales of J's cuteness and my improvements at housekeeping, but I wanted to have something more to share. So I stayed quiet. Maybe that was a mistake; maybe I should've made this more of a sounding board for myself, but for whatever reason, I chose not to.

However, that may well change. After sixteen months of unemployment, sixteen months of revised cover letters and resumes, of penny pinching and worrying, of figuring out just what the hell I could do for work and could accept as potential salary, of applying and not hearing or receiving generic e-mail brush-offs, of networking and reconfiguring my expectations...after all that time, I...got...a...job.

I HAVE A JOB. My official title is proofreader and copy editor.

I cannot begin to express the sweet flood of relief upon writing those words. In typical fashion, I had the interview, had a second interview, and then waited for about a week (which felt like ten years) for The Call with my phone attached to my person at all times. Tom Petty put it well: The waiting was the hardest part. I figured no news was good news, but that old chestnut had burned me before, so I tried very hard not to think about it. As a matter of fact, I ended up quite productive that week, so I got something positive out of it. Honestly, when I hung up the phone after receiving The Call, I screamed (J was playing in the other room, thankfully--how ironic to have a moment of happiness marred by scaring my child) and then burst into tears for a good ten minutes. As I said to T, I'd had this feeling of...worry? doubt? fear? a combination of all three (probably)? in my stomach for so long, I'd forgotten it was even there. It just sat there for months, sometimes driving me to do more, sometimes leading me to brief bouts of frustration with various sides of more worry, doubt, and fear. But we made it, we made it through and I plan to work my ever-lovin' butt off to prove my employer made the right decision.

I don't have illusions that this will solve all of my worries, but it sure as hell will help allay them. We still plan to live simply because that suits who we are, but at least we can start saving and look at various house improvements without the additional sigh and thoughts of "someday...". Interestingly, the fact that I've moved away from teaching doesn't make me sad. I'll miss the kids and the classroom. I always loved that, for the most part, reaching whoever I could and imparting some wisdom, humor, and kicks in the tush along the way. I'll miss the energy the students can bring and the questions they ask, whether serious or silly. But I can always tutor if I feel a need tug hard enough, and I have my own little man to teach every day. This place I'm going to work at seems to have that sort of intense energy as well; I have a feeling the pace will match some of what I'm used to. I work better under extremely defined deadlines, and having a colleague say, "I need this proofed for a meeting in two hours" fits well with the way I work. So I've managed to find a field where I can still use my skills but in a different venue. The agency, according to who I spoke with and what I gathered, seems dedicated, slightly frenetic, and passionate about what they do--a good fit for me.

More importantly, this year away has shown me that I truly value my time with my family. Time to cook and talk and spend a Sunday playing with my son or doing yoga with a friend. I have always struggled with time management, and having endless piles of grading did not play to my strengths at all. I've realized where my priorities lie; I never wanted to have to look at J and say, "Sorry, sweetie, Mama has to grade quizzes, but I'll play with you as soon as I'm done." I'll miss the vacations and the summers (and the snow days), but my day-to-day is more important to me. I'll have days where I have to stay late and only see J for an hour, and that will make me sad, but once I'm home, that time is  mine. I value that tremendously, and I have nothing but respect for the teachers I know who manage to have families and get everything else done, what with lesson planning and correcting and having a life outside of that.

Part of me wanted to give my former employer a bit of a kiss-off now that I have employment again, but had I not had this time, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to come to that conclusion. I also wouldn't have had the time with J, which I consider one of the greatest gifts possible. He would have gone into day care at eight weeks (and don't get me started on the backwards joke that constitutes the American maternity leave plan).  Instead, I got to stay with him, watch him grow, and take time getting to know him and myself as a parent. I'll never regret that. So maybe I should thank my old establishment instead, at least in my head. I'm a good person, but I'm not a saint.

What I know is that we made it, T and J and I. We had so much love and support and help from our family and friends, and it brings tears to my eyes to think of the many kindnesses, large and small, that others have bestowed upon us during this time. And we found strength within ourselves that we didn't know we possessed. We got angry and frustrated with each other, yet we came to understandings and talked and grew closer. This hasn't been easy, but our little family weathered the storm and persevered. I think I'm prouder of that than of my even getting the job.

p.s. I'm keeping this off Facebook until I get permission to bugle it to all and sundry, or at least those in my network. I read about people making that mistake, and I want to make the smarter play. I haven't even started it yet; no sense making silly mistakes before I walk in the door.

Bringing Up Bebe-- my thoughts

Just finished the book Bringing Up Bebe on the recommendation of Scarlet Lily, and I must say, I found it pretty eye-opening. It's not that I think One Best Way exists to raise a child; it seems foolhardy to think that way. However, I do agree that we as Americans have adopted a rather stifling way of over-parenting, being there at every turn, cushioning every surface, holding the kid's hand literally and figuratively for way, way too long. As a former teacher I saw it all the time, and I hear more and more stories of parents calling up college professors and job interviewers demanding to know why certain decisions were made and defending their children's actions. As new parents, we know we make mistakes, but we try to present a united front and not get too caught up in developmental milestones and what J "should be" doing, although, as I wrote before, we're a bit concerned about the lack of speech at his age. But we're getting him checked out and we'll see where that goes, so we feel much more even-keeled.

This book made me focus more on a few points, particularly the idea of having a few hard-and-fast, core rules but freedom within those rules. I also like the idea of using a very firm tone of voice instead of yelling--if you say something with conviction and zero doubt, the kid will learn that you mean business. She points out that in France, the magic words include "hello" and "good-bye", not simply "thank you" and "please", because simply saying that to a person acknowledges that person's humanity. I truly like the idea of that, that we recognize each other no matter whether it's the waitress at the greasy spoon or an adult walking into the room for the first time. Those small gestures go a long way.

Most interesting for me was the chapter on food and eating. According to Druckerman, the French encourage their babies to eat vegetables first instead of bland rice cereal, and they keep feeding those veggies and mix them up with other food. I took from it that children are encouraged to develop their palates with fresh and varied food. Feed the child what you eat, as long as it's applicable. If a kid won't eat a vegetable, try it again later in a different form or add it to something else. Eventually, he'll learn to like it (or at least eat it). I've tried to start this even before I read the book; I realized I had begun to take on the role of short-order cook for J and, while I do give him the Kosher all-beef hot dogs, they're still hot dogs. That's part of what T and I want to accomplish with this Transitions eating plan--we want to create a house where J gets good, unprocessed food as often as possible with not a ton of sweets; eat the latter at a party or a special occasion. Sure, he's going to get his fair share of junk, but not at our house and not with us whenever possible. I don't know if I'll start turning out four-course meals that the French regularly do, but hey, if the first course is vegetables that I give him while I prep the rest, and then some fruit or cheese for dessert, doesn't that sound reasonable? It does to me (as does the idea of an afternoon snack of crusty bread with good, dark chocolate).

I think I enjoyed this book because it put a lot of my nebulous ideas of parenting in a form that made sense to me. None of us is perfect as a parent, nor is any system. And, really, as long as we stay consistent, let J explore and fall sometimes (in the literal and metaphorical sense), give him lots of love and reasonable boundaries, and don't overburden him with activities or expectations, I think we'll all turn out fine.

OK, round two. Last weekend we went to a pumpkin farm with my sister M, her husband C, and their darling daughter, C. We took them for the two main reasons you take toddlers to a pumpkin farm: 1) to buy pumpkins, and 2) to take tons of pictures because, really, who could resist?

                                                  Answer? Nobody. 

 

That's not distorted perspective: the place had gigantic pumpkins the size of small car tires. We loved seeing the kids examine them.

 

C adores J and won't stop hugging him. As you can see, he's not quite as enamored. Perhaps it has to do with her rather aggressive hugs, which still knock him over.

 

This picture may seem a bit unfair to J, but it's only because we know that one day he'll either hug back or finally get bigger and defend himself against her loving embrace.

 

The farm had white pumpkins called "ghost pumpkins"--I'd never seen that before. Very nice contrast to the bright orange of the others.

 

I just love the haphazard shapes and varied colors of little gourds. 

 

 

Happy fall family!

In other news, we're finally getting J tested for his speech, or lack thereof. He's a bit behind as compared to others his age, and he doesn't point very much, which I've found out also correlates to talking because it's a form of communication. After speaking to Feather Nester (she has expertise in this area) about it, we decided to get Early Intervention involved. Either they'll tell us to relax and see where he is at 18 months or they'll suggest something more to do, either one of which works for T and me. We just need some guidance. If it turns out we've made a First-Time Parenting Freak-out Move, that's fine, too. We just want to make sure J can communicate with us and others. He seems to understand quite a bit, so that makes us wonder if it's that he can talk but won't, for whatever reason. Mercifully, because we live in the school district, everything is free and they're very accommodating. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, he seems to be settling in to day care, slowly but surely, and he's getting molars and growing and just a happy guy, which is all we want.

Good food, good folks, good fun

This past weekend I had a few friends over for a Fabulous Females Night--specifically my busy mom friends. I asked that they each send me a copy of their favorite easy, go-to, weeknight meal and bring some to share. The result was five of us around my little kitchen table eating and talking about cooking, kids, and just about everything else under the sun. We all remarked how great it was to eat something we might never think of ourselves and how nice it was to get out of the house and chat, just the ladies. Truly, that's exactly why I did it: I don't give myself time with other female friends--sans kid--often enough. T actually encourages me to do so more frequently. I too often fall into the Teri Hatcher mode of metaphorically "eating the burnt piece of toast", taking the bad for myself so others can have the good. She wrote a book of a similar name...who knew a former Desperate Housewife could hit certain aspects of motherhood on the head so well? But I do--I take the scraps to make sure everyone else has what they need. That puts me in danger of the martyr role, and I do not want to go down that road. Fortunately I have T, who will never let me do that, and, as I wrote, he reminds me to get out of the house and have my own fun. And why wouldn't I want to have more nights like the one I just did? Do any of you do that? How do you avoid it (or do you)?

Additionally, feel free to pass along any of your own go-to, quick-and-easy meals. I've posted mine below, which I got right off of Pinterest. By the way, have you heard of AllRecipes' Dinner Spinner? It's an app for a smartphone that lets you find a recipe by using a few categories (Type of meal, main food, and length of time). For example, the other night I had tilapia and no recipes, so I chose "main meal", "fish", and "20 minutes and under", and the site came up with numerous choices. I also read the comments on my chosen recipe selection for additions and suggestions, several of which enhanced the meal. Having started this new diet/way of eating with T, we've chosen to get creative, and we value each bite, so I want to truly enjoy what I eat...while sometimes whipping it together quickly. You understand.

Greek Turkey Burgers
(linked to the source for copyright and picture purposes;
my comments in italics)


2 cups extra lean turkey (99 Percent Fat Free)
1/2 cup Panko bread crumbs (we can't do grain/bread right now, so I used ground flax seed)
1 tsp Garlic Powder
1/2 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp dried basil
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
1 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup roasted red peppers, chopped (if you use a jarred kind, make sure to get the type that is in water, NOT oil)
1/2 cup artichoke hearts, chopped (Again, water, not oil. I used canned.)
1/4 cup Feta cheese
pinch of salt and pepper
4 low calorie whole wheat muffins (100-110 calories) (We didn't use the English muffins--no grain--but we didn't feel at all deprived)
4 T fat free sour cream

In a bowl, add the turkey, Panko, garlic, oregano, basil, 1/2 tsp salt, and egg. Using your hands, mix until combined. Split into four equal portions and form into patties. 

You’ll need  a skillet that has a lid. Place it over medium high heat and spray with cooking spray. Allow to get hot but not smoking. Cook the patties for about 3 minutes, or until browned. Turn over and cook for another 3 minutes. Add the chicken broth to the pan, cover and allow to steam for about 10 minutes or until the internal temperature of the patties reaches 165 degrees. Remove from pan and allow to drain on a stack of 3-4 paper towels. 
In a bowl, add the artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, feta, and a pinch of salt and pepper. 

Lightly toast the English muffins. Spread the English Muffins with 1/2 T fat-free sour cream on each side. Place the turkey patties on the English muffins, add the artichoke/red pepper mixture.

WHAT THE...

I just somehow lost an entire post. It had pictures, a little J update, that sort of stuff. I have no idea what random button I pushed to lose it, nor do I understand why it wasn't saving as I went along, which it USUALLY DOES.

So I'll re-post it soon. Now I'm just annoyed. Sorry for the delay. GRRRR.