At first glance, most people would assume that any relationship between my husband and I would be doomed to failure. On the surface, we were different....I was a "country" girl and he was a "city" boy. I was Protestant and he was Catholic. My family was blue collar and his family was white collar. And so on and on it goes. Under the surface, however, we are quite a lot alike. We are both stubborn, loyal, and value the family unit as we saw it growing up. John's parents were very different from my parents but they also put family before themselves. John's father was one of seventeen children and his mother was one of eight children. John never knew his grandmothers because both died at a young age...can't imagine why. I say this with the utmost respect, but his paternal grandmother probably only wore one none-maternity dress in her adult life and that was her wedding dress. Though several of the children didn't survive infancy and there were a couple of sets of twins, that poor woman was pregnant, had just given birth, or was taking care of a baby most of her marriage. My father-in-law was one of the elder children and helped support his family through the "Great Depression" and even through his adult life, he helped support his younger siblings.
John's mother was the youngest child until her family adopted a baby when my mother-in-law was a teenager. Both families took care of their own during the tough and not-so-tough times. It would not be incorrect for me to say that there were a few family members who were a little "off"...some enough to be sent away for care and some just enough to be odd. John's dad was 20 years older than his mom...he was actually of my grandfather's generation while his mother was about the same age as my parents. They married in 1957 and John was born in October 1958. When he was about 18 months old, his parents bought the house next door to his father's family. Though just a toddler, John's mom told the story of how he cried and cried when he had to leave the apartment for his new home....hmmm...he didn't like change. John has a younger sister and brother and they are all close in age. From what he remembers, they had a wonderful childhood...mostly spent within the few blocks surrounding their home. Their life revolved around home, school, family, and their church which was just around the corner. Once John started Kindergarten at age 4, his life was very structured. He attended a Catholic elementary school, a Catholic Boys High School, and a Catholic college all within a bus ride from his home. Weekends were spent with his Godfather and his aunts who also lived in the same small city. His Godfather was also his uncle...his mother's brother who was closest to her in age. Uncle Alvin was seriously injured in the Korean War and this changed his entire life. He was paralyzed and eventually lost both his legs and lived with his sisters until he passed away in the 1970s. John learned to appreciate how fragile life was and how to make the best of any situation from his uncle who had many interests chief among them was keeping little "Johnny" occupied. John knew from a young age that he wanted to be a dentist and he never deviated from this goal. Following his college graduation, he enrolled in a dental school two hours away from home and spent the next years driving back and forth on the weekends. After that, he joined the USAF in 1984 from which he retired after a 20-year career. He now works at the same place in the same job slot he held while on active duty only now he works for the VA.
I love my husband dearly and would not change anything about him but I do have my suspicions that he also has Asperger's Syndrome...he just copes better than most people because of the tight structure that he had in his early days. He is extremely intelligent, compassionate, and very good at his work. He also prefers to stay at home rather than socialize and most definitely has OCD. He never throws anything away if he can get away with it. The military was a good fit because of the structure and because he was a medical officer, his life was different from that of a line officer. He is still doing what he has always wanted to do...practicing dentistry on patients who serve their country.
John and I met during his senior year of dental school. We met in October, were engaged by December, and married by June right after his graduation. The day after our wedding reception, he went on active duty and we left for Texas for his version of basic training. I couldn't have asked for more in a partner...we got to have experiences within a structured lifestyle and while I tolerate his idiosyncrasies, he also tolerates mine...and I have a lot! The early years of our marriage were spent getting to know each other better and finding our way in the world as a couple. It was 3 years before things would change and we were enjoying every minute of what life was offering us. It's not so much that we went anywhere or did anything particularly exciting but that we decided early on that we would face life as an adventure and make the best of what opportunities we were given. We have always tried to instill that way of thinking into our children as well. You can either accept what comes your way and enjoy what is there to be enjoyed or you can be miserable. Life is too short to be miserable....And now on to the arrival of the elephant......
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
Before The Elephant Called "Autism" entered the room...
You know the "thing"...yes, that "thing" that decides what you and your family can do each day. It decides where and when you go places and it decides how long you can stray from your usual routine. That "thing" determines the family dynamics and social interactions. I'm talking about that "thing" called "Autism" or "Autistic Spectrum Disorder". We have wrestled with it for years now and just when we think we have a handle on it, it changes and we are back to square one again. Well, I am calling it out. Yes...you over there in the middle of the room...you "ASD" thing. You better get ready because I am taking some control back! You will NOT be holding my family hostage anymore. My sword is drawn and I am a mother bear protecting her cubs! You'd better not turn your back on me!
Before I begin this battle, though, I'd like to talk about life before. Before the elephant came to live in my house...you know, back when Ozzie and Harriet and the Cleavers showed us how to be "perfect" parents. Back in the days when I was growing up (I am old. I was born in late 1958 and my childhood was spent in the Sixties.), life was different. Most people lived near where they had been raised and families were big...lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins. It was like that for me, too. My mother's parents not only helped raise a niece, but also opened their home to my grandmother's parents. In fact, I can't remember a time when my great-grandparents didn't live with my grandparents. It was wonderful for me but I suspect it was a lot harder on my grandparents than they let on. I had two full sets of great-grandparents until I was in high school and I thought that was normal. My parents made sure that my sister and I spent a lot of time with our great-grandparents and I learned a lot from them. I learned what true love really was back in those days. My great-grandfather treated his wife with tender care even when her mind diminished. He took her to her favorite place...a campground where they had a trailer on a lake...and he took care of her. He took such good care of her that while they were driving home and he felt a heart attack coming on, he pulled over into a parking lot as he died. A kind stranger helped my confused and frightened great-grandmother, called an ambulance (all in the days before cell phones and 911), and stayed with her until help arrived. That was the kind of world it was then...a stranger helping an elderly couple and then disappearing without leaving his name.
It wasn't just my mother's family, though, it was my dad's family, too. My dad was a young man in his twenties who worked hard to support his young family. He and my mom had lost a son in the year before I was born...a newborn who suffered from "Rh Incompatibility" which could have been treated had they but known that he was at risk. I was born the following year and then my sister was born a little more than 2 years after that...we were both at risk, but my parents made sure we were born in a hospital that could treat the disorder. When I was 3 years old, my dad's father died in his sleep. He was young...only in his 50's. He had a wife, my dad, and two daughters who were much younger than my dad. My parents gave up their little family life and moved into the small township where my father's family had land. My dad not only worked full-time, but he took care of the family business and worked as a Deputy Sheriff. Money was tight, but we didn't know it...we had fields to play in and barns and buildings to explore. My youngest aunt was like an older sister to me...only 10 years separated us. We had a trunk full of old dance costumes to dress up in, old-fashioned roller skates and cement pads to skate on....life was good.
Here's what I'm getting at...back in the "Good Old Days", families took care of themselves. We all had that relative who was slightly "off" or maybe just socially awkward and we accepted them, loved them, and kept them with us in the family home. I know not everyone was able to do that...there were people who had to be "Institutionalized" or put in a "Nursing" home. Our family had to do that, too, and it was painful. But, what I am awkwardly trying to say is this...back in the day, our options were limited. We did what we had to do out of love as we still do today, but back then it was either home or institution. Institution really meant warehousing...no real treatments, no social interaction, just a place to keep them. Even though the world today is much different, we have options that weren't available back then.
Stay tuned, friends, for more on the story of the elephant and what I am doing to get it out of my living room.....
Before I begin this battle, though, I'd like to talk about life before. Before the elephant came to live in my house...you know, back when Ozzie and Harriet and the Cleavers showed us how to be "perfect" parents. Back in the days when I was growing up (I am old. I was born in late 1958 and my childhood was spent in the Sixties.), life was different. Most people lived near where they had been raised and families were big...lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins. It was like that for me, too. My mother's parents not only helped raise a niece, but also opened their home to my grandmother's parents. In fact, I can't remember a time when my great-grandparents didn't live with my grandparents. It was wonderful for me but I suspect it was a lot harder on my grandparents than they let on. I had two full sets of great-grandparents until I was in high school and I thought that was normal. My parents made sure that my sister and I spent a lot of time with our great-grandparents and I learned a lot from them. I learned what true love really was back in those days. My great-grandfather treated his wife with tender care even when her mind diminished. He took her to her favorite place...a campground where they had a trailer on a lake...and he took care of her. He took such good care of her that while they were driving home and he felt a heart attack coming on, he pulled over into a parking lot as he died. A kind stranger helped my confused and frightened great-grandmother, called an ambulance (all in the days before cell phones and 911), and stayed with her until help arrived. That was the kind of world it was then...a stranger helping an elderly couple and then disappearing without leaving his name.
It wasn't just my mother's family, though, it was my dad's family, too. My dad was a young man in his twenties who worked hard to support his young family. He and my mom had lost a son in the year before I was born...a newborn who suffered from "Rh Incompatibility" which could have been treated had they but known that he was at risk. I was born the following year and then my sister was born a little more than 2 years after that...we were both at risk, but my parents made sure we were born in a hospital that could treat the disorder. When I was 3 years old, my dad's father died in his sleep. He was young...only in his 50's. He had a wife, my dad, and two daughters who were much younger than my dad. My parents gave up their little family life and moved into the small township where my father's family had land. My dad not only worked full-time, but he took care of the family business and worked as a Deputy Sheriff. Money was tight, but we didn't know it...we had fields to play in and barns and buildings to explore. My youngest aunt was like an older sister to me...only 10 years separated us. We had a trunk full of old dance costumes to dress up in, old-fashioned roller skates and cement pads to skate on....life was good.
Here's what I'm getting at...back in the "Good Old Days", families took care of themselves. We all had that relative who was slightly "off" or maybe just socially awkward and we accepted them, loved them, and kept them with us in the family home. I know not everyone was able to do that...there were people who had to be "Institutionalized" or put in a "Nursing" home. Our family had to do that, too, and it was painful. But, what I am awkwardly trying to say is this...back in the day, our options were limited. We did what we had to do out of love as we still do today, but back then it was either home or institution. Institution really meant warehousing...no real treatments, no social interaction, just a place to keep them. Even though the world today is much different, we have options that weren't available back then.
Stay tuned, friends, for more on the story of the elephant and what I am doing to get it out of my living room.....
Thursday, April 25, 2013
A Kick in the Rear to Get Moving Again....
I've been absent from blogging as I struggle with several issues in my life...it doesn't take much to push me into the "what-do-I-do-when-there-is-too-much-to-do" zone. I've kind of been stuck there since last fall. Nothing gets done as I am overwhelmed with a long list of things that I should do before there is no time left to do them. These things range from the emotional to the physical but they all share one thing...they force me to shut down. I worry about my father who lives about 8 hours away and is the only member of my "original" family that I have left now. I can't continue to take his health for granted and I don't want him to think that I don't care because I am not with him more often. I worry about my husband who works too hard and doesn't get as much rest as he needs. I worry about our son whose journey has so many roadblocks and hazards because of his Asperger's and other related health issues. I worry about our daughter who is away at college and is sometimes so stressed and overwhelmed that she calls me in tears. I worry about our beloved pug, Ginger, whose time on earth is coming to an end as she slowly becomes paralyzed. I worry about myself and all the health issues I face because I am not taking care of myself. I worry about my extended family and friends and how this world is changing so rapidly and becoming so dangerous. It seems there is so much for me to worry about and that I am limited to some extent in what I can do to change things.
I don't know how I got stuck so hard in this place...it just seems like one thing came upon me after another so fast that I couldn't process and act in response. It's an excuse...I know that...I guess I'm good at excuses. But, I am going to change that....I am, really. This week I attended an informational meeting for a project that gives me much hope and I am inspired by the dedication of the individuals involved in starting up this complex but desperately needed project. If these people can do this with all the "I"s to dot and "T"s to cross, then I can overcome what I face and help them.
So...I am going to try to get myself motivated in these next weeks. It will be hard, I know, because the easiest thing to do is to keep doing nothing. I will find a way to let my dad know that I love him and he is important to me even though I can't always be with him when I want to be there. I will find a way to reduce the stress for my husband so that he can rest and recharge. I will find a way to help our son negotiate a world that doesn't always understand why different is good. I will find a way to help our daughter enjoy this interlude in her life. I will find a way to love Ginger with all the love I have to give her so that her last days are good to make up for the bad days before she came into our family life. I will still worry about my extended family and friends but I will remember that they know I am praying for them. I will try to help to create a safety net in this crazy and dangerous world. And by doing these things, I will be helping myself.
If you are interested in helping me change, a good place to start is with the project that has motivated me to change....go to Touchdown Communities.com or go their Facebook Page for more information. What is starting as a local initiative will go national and international as people begin to share the vision....I can't wait to see what's going to happen!
I don't know how I got stuck so hard in this place...it just seems like one thing came upon me after another so fast that I couldn't process and act in response. It's an excuse...I know that...I guess I'm good at excuses. But, I am going to change that....I am, really. This week I attended an informational meeting for a project that gives me much hope and I am inspired by the dedication of the individuals involved in starting up this complex but desperately needed project. If these people can do this with all the "I"s to dot and "T"s to cross, then I can overcome what I face and help them.
So...I am going to try to get myself motivated in these next weeks. It will be hard, I know, because the easiest thing to do is to keep doing nothing. I will find a way to let my dad know that I love him and he is important to me even though I can't always be with him when I want to be there. I will find a way to reduce the stress for my husband so that he can rest and recharge. I will find a way to help our son negotiate a world that doesn't always understand why different is good. I will find a way to help our daughter enjoy this interlude in her life. I will find a way to love Ginger with all the love I have to give her so that her last days are good to make up for the bad days before she came into our family life. I will still worry about my extended family and friends but I will remember that they know I am praying for them. I will try to help to create a safety net in this crazy and dangerous world. And by doing these things, I will be helping myself.
If you are interested in helping me change, a good place to start is with the project that has motivated me to change....go to Touchdown Communities.com or go their Facebook Page for more information. What is starting as a local initiative will go national and international as people begin to share the vision....I can't wait to see what's going to happen!
Monday, September 3, 2012
Redefining myself.....yet again.......
A new milestone has been reached...one that I am not entirely sure I am ready to acknowledge. My "baby" has turned 20 years old today! Where did the time go??? While I am proud of the young woman she is becoming, I mourn the loss of the girl she was. I have been trying to prepare for this day for months now...no more "kids" but "young adults" in my posts. I thought it would help ease the transition but I was wrong.
My adult life has been one of transitions...the first being "Before John" and "After John". My world was turned on its axis when I met John...for the good that is. He has taught me so much about myself, love, and life that I can't even describe the way my world has changed. We met in October, became engaged in December, and were married in June. We left for a new "military" life hundreds of miles from home and our first year together was one spent getting to really know each other and how different the world is when you have someone to share all that is out there. It was a year for adventures as mundane as learning to manage time, money, and resources. It was also a year for adventures like moving across several states, making new friends, and setting up our own household.
The next transition in life was "Before Patrick" and "After Patrick". How naive we were to think that adding a baby wouldn't change our life that much! Having had a miscarriage before becoming pregnant with Patrick (and another one when Patrick was only a few months old), we enjoyed every minute of this new life! Even though exhaustion became the norm, we marveled at this little person we created. Surely no baby was as smart, as beautiful, as special as this little fussy boy! Talk about adventures...having this baby/toddler took adventures to a whole new level! Reading well before he was two, Patrick kept us hopping to stay ahead of the game. Some of our best and happiest years were while we lived in Texas with our little blond guy!
While we lived in Texas, the next transition in life came knocking...."Before Elizabeth" and "After Elizabeth". An unexpected blessing wrapped up in an angel wrapped up in a baby girl! My sister had passed away unexpectedly in September and my extended family was mourning her loss. Just before Christmas, I had a urinary tract infection that would not clear up....turned out that it wasn't just an infection but a baby! Calculating out the date of her birth, we were blessed to find she was due almost exactly one year to the day of my sister's death. I know it wasn't a coincidence. We weren't trying to get pregnant and I almost lost her nine weeks into the pregnancy. She was a fighter, though, and held on until September. She was such an easy, happy baby. There never was EVER a baby as beautiful, sweet, and loving as this little girl with the long, long name!
When Liz was 8 weeks old, we moved to New Jersey and I settled into what became "normal" life for us. Patrick was five years old and in nursery school and I became "Mom of Preschooler and Baby/Toddler". Such hectic years and they were gone in the blink of an eye! I became "Elementary and Preschool Mom" and then just "Elementary Mom". Years of volunteering and play dates, birthday parties and parent conferences...it's a blur now but I know that I was where I wanted to be.
I had no trouble adjusting to being the Mom of High School Students because I was so busy with "Team Mom" and "Driving Mom"...the years flew by in a myopic blur.
This transition, though, is difficult. My "kids" no longer need me like they did when they were young. Liz is off at college most of the time...new friends that I don't know, experiences that I am not a part of. Patrick is still living at home, but he is working and has vast parts of his life that don't need me around. I'm not saying this is bad because it means that John and I did something right. Our young adults don't really "need" us even though we do all enjoy being together. It just leaves me wondering what to call myself now...how do I see these next years?
I guess now is the short window of time for me to do what I want to do for me...but what is that exactly? All those years of doing what I had to do to keep our family running left me time to do a lot of things but now I have hours of empty time....what now??? I have a few things that I used to wonder if I would ever have time to do...but nothing as important as raising my family. I'd like to do some organic container gardening, exercise more, maybe learn to play the celtic harp, and maybe start volunteering again. When we were first married, I was a Red Cross Volunteer and I helped in the Base Thrift Shop. I would really LOVE to rock babies in the hospital, but I don't know if I qualify. I would also LOVE to foster pugs but that has to wait until Ginger is no longer here...something I am in NO hurry to experience.
So this transitional time I guess I will call..."Growing" time. I am going to try to become a better person, a more productive person, and maybe get to know my husband again...just the two of us for the first time since 1987. This may just be one of the most challenging parts of my life.....
My adult life has been one of transitions...the first being "Before John" and "After John". My world was turned on its axis when I met John...for the good that is. He has taught me so much about myself, love, and life that I can't even describe the way my world has changed. We met in October, became engaged in December, and were married in June. We left for a new "military" life hundreds of miles from home and our first year together was one spent getting to really know each other and how different the world is when you have someone to share all that is out there. It was a year for adventures as mundane as learning to manage time, money, and resources. It was also a year for adventures like moving across several states, making new friends, and setting up our own household.
The next transition in life was "Before Patrick" and "After Patrick". How naive we were to think that adding a baby wouldn't change our life that much! Having had a miscarriage before becoming pregnant with Patrick (and another one when Patrick was only a few months old), we enjoyed every minute of this new life! Even though exhaustion became the norm, we marveled at this little person we created. Surely no baby was as smart, as beautiful, as special as this little fussy boy! Talk about adventures...having this baby/toddler took adventures to a whole new level! Reading well before he was two, Patrick kept us hopping to stay ahead of the game. Some of our best and happiest years were while we lived in Texas with our little blond guy!
While we lived in Texas, the next transition in life came knocking...."Before Elizabeth" and "After Elizabeth". An unexpected blessing wrapped up in an angel wrapped up in a baby girl! My sister had passed away unexpectedly in September and my extended family was mourning her loss. Just before Christmas, I had a urinary tract infection that would not clear up....turned out that it wasn't just an infection but a baby! Calculating out the date of her birth, we were blessed to find she was due almost exactly one year to the day of my sister's death. I know it wasn't a coincidence. We weren't trying to get pregnant and I almost lost her nine weeks into the pregnancy. She was a fighter, though, and held on until September. She was such an easy, happy baby. There never was EVER a baby as beautiful, sweet, and loving as this little girl with the long, long name!
When Liz was 8 weeks old, we moved to New Jersey and I settled into what became "normal" life for us. Patrick was five years old and in nursery school and I became "Mom of Preschooler and Baby/Toddler". Such hectic years and they were gone in the blink of an eye! I became "Elementary and Preschool Mom" and then just "Elementary Mom". Years of volunteering and play dates, birthday parties and parent conferences...it's a blur now but I know that I was where I wanted to be.
I had no trouble adjusting to being the Mom of High School Students because I was so busy with "Team Mom" and "Driving Mom"...the years flew by in a myopic blur.
This transition, though, is difficult. My "kids" no longer need me like they did when they were young. Liz is off at college most of the time...new friends that I don't know, experiences that I am not a part of. Patrick is still living at home, but he is working and has vast parts of his life that don't need me around. I'm not saying this is bad because it means that John and I did something right. Our young adults don't really "need" us even though we do all enjoy being together. It just leaves me wondering what to call myself now...how do I see these next years?
I guess now is the short window of time for me to do what I want to do for me...but what is that exactly? All those years of doing what I had to do to keep our family running left me time to do a lot of things but now I have hours of empty time....what now??? I have a few things that I used to wonder if I would ever have time to do...but nothing as important as raising my family. I'd like to do some organic container gardening, exercise more, maybe learn to play the celtic harp, and maybe start volunteering again. When we were first married, I was a Red Cross Volunteer and I helped in the Base Thrift Shop. I would really LOVE to rock babies in the hospital, but I don't know if I qualify. I would also LOVE to foster pugs but that has to wait until Ginger is no longer here...something I am in NO hurry to experience.
So this transitional time I guess I will call..."Growing" time. I am going to try to become a better person, a more productive person, and maybe get to know my husband again...just the two of us for the first time since 1987. This may just be one of the most challenging parts of my life.....
Friday, August 10, 2012
Packing for Paris, Arriving in Amsterdam
Liz reminded me the other day about a story that you frequently see in reference to raising "atypical" children. I don't know the author but the gist of the story is that having an "atypical" or "disabled" child is a lot like preparing for a trip to Paris...you study the language, pack the essentials, get your passport and board the plane (pregnancy). Upon arrival, you disembark
(labor and delivery) only to find that you are in Amsterdam (atypical) rather than Paris (typical)...things are almost but not quite what you expected them to be...just enough difference to cause difficulty and frustration. I love this story because it really is true...but not only of "atypical" vs. "typical" but of life in general.
I had a great pregnancy with Patrick...I was so healthy it wasn't even funny. (With Liz, I had one difficulty after another and was, at one point, bedridden.) John and I had absolutely no experience with babies...and I mean NONE! We were clueless which, in a way, was good. We were also on our own...no family nearby to bail us out which, again, turned out good. I guess our expectations weren't "normal" because we didn't know what that meant. So there we were in Amsterdam and we didn't even know it! Patrick was, for us, the perfect baby...colicky and sleepless at first, but generally a happy, healthy baby. And smart...did I add that? He figured out how to stop his swing at 5 months, how to stand up in his high chair even with an extra safety belt before he was a year old, and he stacked his toys in his playpen to make steps and climbed out onto the coffee table when he was 11 months old. He studied everything intently and was very social...especially to the ladies. Everyone who met him, loved him. He taught himself to read at 18 months on our trip from Indiana to Texas where John was newly stationed. In 3 days, he was reading...I kid you not. We thought, at first, that he was just recognizing logos, but he was actually reading. He spoke in full sentences most of the time and the more complex the toy, the more he loved it. Before preschool, he was able to read cursive as well as books and picture books, puzzles, and mazes bored him. We were told that he was reading but not understanding...yeah, right. He was bored in Kindergarten and I had to fight to get permission for him to take books from the nonfiction section of the library because "Kindergarteners only like picture books". Patrick wanted to read about the solar system and computers...He won his first video game when he was 4 years old...within weeks of getting a system. We thought all of this was "normal". Apparently, we were wrong...at least according to the school.
I remember the day he started Kindergarten...I will never forget it. We put him on the bus...a happy, excited little boy...."I finally get to learn!". That little boy never came home...and I mourn him every day of my life. He was bullied, teased, and told that he was "bad". No one ever defended him except us and the principal told John that I "was too involved in Patrick's life". By middle school, he was miserable and we were finally able to get the school to okay testing. Long story short (too late, I know), Patrick was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome also known as High Functioning Autism. He was book smart but unable to react appropriately to social cues from his peers. He was comfortable with adults, but not with his age group.
The reason I tell this story is because we didn't know we were in Amsterdam until Patrick was 13 years old...you would have thought we would have figured it out earlier, but he was so good at adapting and covering. But in my mind,
Amsterdam isn't that much different from Paris. Here's the thing...every person...every family...has a burden to bear that others may or may not be able to see. That burden may seem like nothing to someone else, but it can be huge to that person/family. I always joked that we weren't a "normal" family because that would be boring and I know that I am anything but normal in any sense of the word. I'm proud to be different and to be raising my young adults to be different. Because of what we have faced in our journey as a family, we are all better for it...we are aware of the limitations people place on others and the barriers that are tossed in front of us. My young adults are able to see beyond face value when they deal with people. Not all the time, they would have to be saints to do that and they aren't saints.
EVERY person/family has issues...some big, some small. How we deal with them is what makes us who and what we are in life. I like to think that the four of us are strong individuals who are compassionate, thoughtful people. We usually give the benefit of the doubt...at least the first time!
So, for my money, Paris isn't all it's cracked up to be...a lot of it is just a facade that makes it harder for people to live in the "real" world. Amsterdam, however, is interesting, challenging, and life-changing and I'm kind of glad that we landed there instead.....life is good when you take it with a grain of salt and a lot of laughter.....
(labor and delivery) only to find that you are in Amsterdam (atypical) rather than Paris (typical)...things are almost but not quite what you expected them to be...just enough difference to cause difficulty and frustration. I love this story because it really is true...but not only of "atypical" vs. "typical" but of life in general.
I had a great pregnancy with Patrick...I was so healthy it wasn't even funny. (With Liz, I had one difficulty after another and was, at one point, bedridden.) John and I had absolutely no experience with babies...and I mean NONE! We were clueless which, in a way, was good. We were also on our own...no family nearby to bail us out which, again, turned out good. I guess our expectations weren't "normal" because we didn't know what that meant. So there we were in Amsterdam and we didn't even know it! Patrick was, for us, the perfect baby...colicky and sleepless at first, but generally a happy, healthy baby. And smart...did I add that? He figured out how to stop his swing at 5 months, how to stand up in his high chair even with an extra safety belt before he was a year old, and he stacked his toys in his playpen to make steps and climbed out onto the coffee table when he was 11 months old. He studied everything intently and was very social...especially to the ladies. Everyone who met him, loved him. He taught himself to read at 18 months on our trip from Indiana to Texas where John was newly stationed. In 3 days, he was reading...I kid you not. We thought, at first, that he was just recognizing logos, but he was actually reading. He spoke in full sentences most of the time and the more complex the toy, the more he loved it. Before preschool, he was able to read cursive as well as books and picture books, puzzles, and mazes bored him. We were told that he was reading but not understanding...yeah, right. He was bored in Kindergarten and I had to fight to get permission for him to take books from the nonfiction section of the library because "Kindergarteners only like picture books". Patrick wanted to read about the solar system and computers...He won his first video game when he was 4 years old...within weeks of getting a system. We thought all of this was "normal". Apparently, we were wrong...at least according to the school.
I remember the day he started Kindergarten...I will never forget it. We put him on the bus...a happy, excited little boy...."I finally get to learn!". That little boy never came home...and I mourn him every day of my life. He was bullied, teased, and told that he was "bad". No one ever defended him except us and the principal told John that I "was too involved in Patrick's life". By middle school, he was miserable and we were finally able to get the school to okay testing. Long story short (too late, I know), Patrick was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome also known as High Functioning Autism. He was book smart but unable to react appropriately to social cues from his peers. He was comfortable with adults, but not with his age group.
The reason I tell this story is because we didn't know we were in Amsterdam until Patrick was 13 years old...you would have thought we would have figured it out earlier, but he was so good at adapting and covering. But in my mind,
Amsterdam isn't that much different from Paris. Here's the thing...every person...every family...has a burden to bear that others may or may not be able to see. That burden may seem like nothing to someone else, but it can be huge to that person/family. I always joked that we weren't a "normal" family because that would be boring and I know that I am anything but normal in any sense of the word. I'm proud to be different and to be raising my young adults to be different. Because of what we have faced in our journey as a family, we are all better for it...we are aware of the limitations people place on others and the barriers that are tossed in front of us. My young adults are able to see beyond face value when they deal with people. Not all the time, they would have to be saints to do that and they aren't saints.
EVERY person/family has issues...some big, some small. How we deal with them is what makes us who and what we are in life. I like to think that the four of us are strong individuals who are compassionate, thoughtful people. We usually give the benefit of the doubt...at least the first time!
So, for my money, Paris isn't all it's cracked up to be...a lot of it is just a facade that makes it harder for people to live in the "real" world. Amsterdam, however, is interesting, challenging, and life-changing and I'm kind of glad that we landed there instead.....life is good when you take it with a grain of salt and a lot of laughter.....
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Nettlesome Neighbors.........
We purchased our "old" home in four hours...start to finish with the sellers coming down significantly on the price and offering to pay fees and points. We thought we had a good deal...a great location (new part but still in same neighborhood as we had rented in for 6 years so no change in schools for the kids), excellent price from the original owner, etc. Our "first" home rather than renting....we should have wondered why the owners made so many concessions and so quickly. Now after 13 years, we know why they were so eager to sell and why we are so eager to sell this albatross and move on with our lives in a different neighborhood. In a word...NEIGHBORS. We had wonderful neighbors on one side and when they moved, wonderful people moved in, but those people are now long gone and while I speak to several of the neighbors who live further down the street, the glow of home ownership is long gone. We have a neighbor...I know a lot of people have one of these but I honestly think that John and I could get along with just about anyone except the guy across the street and his wife. They have mistreated and disrespected us from the day we moved in and, quite frankly, I can't take it any more.
He considers himself the "Sidewalk Mayor"...if you want to do something, you have to run it by him first. Well, that didn't fly with us because WE pay the taxes on our home and WE pay the bills at our home. His constant harassment has really taken a toll on our health. He is a coward....he never comes right out and says or does it to our face, he goes behind our backs or cons someone else into doing something. He says he is "afraid of him (John) because he is in the military and has a gun"...well, guns aren't standard issue for periodontists as far I am aware. The police have become regular visitors to our home because he continues to "Nuisance" calls about us. This summer alone, he has called the police about an "abandoned vehicle" in our driveway...a car that we don't drive often. After proving that the license, registration, and insurance is current, the police apologize and leave. Not getting what he wanted, he called the township zoning office and reported the "abandoned vehicle" again. We received a letter from the township and after I called and explained the situation AGAIN, the guy apologized and the situation was over....or so we thought. It turns out that our lovely neighbor called the County Board of Health concerning our "abandoned vehicle" and voiced his concern about his "Elderly Neighbors"....given that this guy graduated from high school before John and I were even IN high school, I find the call ironic. The inspector came, I explained the situation, let him into our home with all the packing boxes and associated mess, and AGAIN received an apology with a statement that the case was considered closed. I have to wonder what he will do now...Homeland Security??? State of New Jersey Health Department??? How many times does he get to call without being charged with false reporting??? How many times do I have to stop packing, or fixing a meal, or taking care of my family so that I can deal with these people by phone or in person???
I used to get really, really angry but I have meditated and prayed about this situation and I decided not to let my anger show because that is what he wants. He is a bully....you play by his rules or he makes your life as miserable as he can. No one in the neighborhood wants to be his next victim, so they either go along or try not to commit one way or another. He must be a miserable person if all that he can find time to do is try to make us miserable. Well, he gets his way....we are moving, but Mom always said, "Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it"....the next people may be harder for him to bully....maybe not, but karma has a way of evening things out.
As for me, I'm just going to pray for him and his family...they obviously need all the positive thoughts and energy they can get..........
He considers himself the "Sidewalk Mayor"...if you want to do something, you have to run it by him first. Well, that didn't fly with us because WE pay the taxes on our home and WE pay the bills at our home. His constant harassment has really taken a toll on our health. He is a coward....he never comes right out and says or does it to our face, he goes behind our backs or cons someone else into doing something. He says he is "afraid of him (John) because he is in the military and has a gun"...well, guns aren't standard issue for periodontists as far I am aware. The police have become regular visitors to our home because he continues to "Nuisance" calls about us. This summer alone, he has called the police about an "abandoned vehicle" in our driveway...a car that we don't drive often. After proving that the license, registration, and insurance is current, the police apologize and leave. Not getting what he wanted, he called the township zoning office and reported the "abandoned vehicle" again. We received a letter from the township and after I called and explained the situation AGAIN, the guy apologized and the situation was over....or so we thought. It turns out that our lovely neighbor called the County Board of Health concerning our "abandoned vehicle" and voiced his concern about his "Elderly Neighbors"....given that this guy graduated from high school before John and I were even IN high school, I find the call ironic. The inspector came, I explained the situation, let him into our home with all the packing boxes and associated mess, and AGAIN received an apology with a statement that the case was considered closed. I have to wonder what he will do now...Homeland Security??? State of New Jersey Health Department??? How many times does he get to call without being charged with false reporting??? How many times do I have to stop packing, or fixing a meal, or taking care of my family so that I can deal with these people by phone or in person???
I used to get really, really angry but I have meditated and prayed about this situation and I decided not to let my anger show because that is what he wants. He is a bully....you play by his rules or he makes your life as miserable as he can. No one in the neighborhood wants to be his next victim, so they either go along or try not to commit one way or another. He must be a miserable person if all that he can find time to do is try to make us miserable. Well, he gets his way....we are moving, but Mom always said, "Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it"....the next people may be harder for him to bully....maybe not, but karma has a way of evening things out.
As for me, I'm just going to pray for him and his family...they obviously need all the positive thoughts and energy they can get..........
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Stepping off that Judgement Train
I recently had an "encounter" with someone that I once sort of knew in another time of my life and it has led me to some serious thinking about judging people. This person, who shall remain nameless, has very liberal views and is very adamant about her views. This is all well and good except that she chose to "attack" me on my views which tend to be conservative. It really doesn't matter to me how anyone feels about a great number of issues...everyone has had a different life experience and that will shape his/her opinion. For the life of me, I just don't get why it is okay to "attack" someone for having a different viewpoint. Yes, I am conservative in my views most of the time...I don't believe I am "led" by journalists since I don't really watch television, listen to the radio, or read news magazines. I am conservative in my views because I was raised in a conservative household. I married a conservative man who proudly served in the United States Air Force for 20 years and now works for the Veteran's Administration providing the exact same health care that he provided while on active duty. I am a Catholic convert (when I was almost 30 years old), but I don't agree with everything the Catholic Church advocates. There are things that I wouldn't do in my personal life that I believe is the right of others to choose to do in their personal lives. I truly try to live my life without judging or lecturing others about what is "fair/unfair", "right/wrong", etc. Everyone, even liberals, can be misled by the powers that be...it isn't just those of us who are conservative in our decisions that can be manipulated.
So, please don't judge me for my rather conservative opinions and I will not judge you for your more liberal opinions. Let's focus on making positive choices for ourselves and leave the negativity at the side of the road.
So, please don't judge me for my rather conservative opinions and I will not judge you for your more liberal opinions. Let's focus on making positive choices for ourselves and leave the negativity at the side of the road.
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