Author Archives: So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

About So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

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I'm a bookworm, nature lover, kick-boxer, candy fiend, sci fi geek, home body, progressive Christian and part-time student. I love my crazy life and the messy, fun, stubborn, silly, brilliant people who populate it.
July 30, 2012

The Evolution of Sexy

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Tonight I find my husband particularily sexy.

He pulled a giant hairball out of my drain yesterday. And no, that is not a euphemism.

That’s just the kind of thing that does it for me.

It got me thinking about the origin of sex appeal. And the movie Magic Mike which was just released in theaters. The trials and tribulations of a male stripper has been cheerfully labelled “Mommy Porn.” It is meant to appeal to women of all ages. Finally, some eye candy for the ladies! But I don’t get it. Not really.

If grown women are going to drool over Channing Tatum, I think his character Leo, in the Vow, would be a better bet. The funny, long-suffering husband who loves fiercely and sweetly. That’s a whole lot sexier than smarmy bump and grind with strangers who paid for you.

I think most of us mature past pointless eye candy. Hopefully. As women, we need more.

Sure, I’ve been known to ogle my man. He has rugged, masculine good looks, deep blue eyes and other physical attributes I will detail for him privately (after all, both our moms read this blog and it will remain PG). Suffice it to say, I think he looks sexy.

But this alone isn’t what has made him irresistible to me after more than 20 years together. He is more than just an attractive physical specimen.

He has snot trails on the shoulders of his black t-shirt. He has a soother and a matchbox car in his pocket. He has a strange clay sculpture on his desk and rainbow scribbles on the wall of his office. He has a sparkly bow in his hair to “make him pitty.” He loves our children without reservation. And THAT is sexy!

He makes me howl loudly – with laughter. He tries to seduce me with lyrics from the Wiggles (I’m Robot number One, flip the switch to turn me on…), and it usually works. He knows all the inside jokes and can deliver a punch line with a single look. And THAT is sexy!

He has perfected his Attentive Listener Face, and is able to contemplate changes to his hockey pool line up while simultaneously allowing me to vent about our latest potty training debacle. He navigates messy family politics and is always on my team, if not always in agreement. He sticks it out to fight through the issues, big and small, though his every instinct screams at him to flee conflict at all costs. He endures hormonal tirades and diffuses teary, self loathing recriminations. And THAT is sexy!

Sexy is strong enough to be gentle.

Sexy is secure enough to respect a woman and want her to succeed.

Sexy is selfless and loves through better and through worse.

So flex and pose all you want, Hollywood. But I’m a grown woman and there is more to sexy than that.

So here’s me, married 17 years today to the cute boy who sat next to me in Social Studies. He gets sexier every year!

2 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in marriage

July 24, 2012

Isn’t That Just Lovely?

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

So, a while back I posted a very snarky, angry post (You Can’t Make Me).

But I’m Canadian. And I grew up in a very conservative Christian culture. And it’s quite important to me to be, well, nice.

So it was actually very polite, with only a slight edge.

But I made it clear that I am in no way a fan of chain letters or the like. I hate the pressure. And I’m one of those uptight, super-conscientious types who has a hard time “letting people down”, so even something silly like this hangs over my head and stirs up all kinds of impolite feelings. Which is hard for me. As a nice, Brethren, Canadian gal.

BUT last week I received an “award” for having a lovely blog. And it’s very much like a chain letter, circulating amongst the bloggers. Except that it’s an award. For me.

Turns out that kind of thing totally trumps all my icky, unCanadian resentment of the genre. I’m thrilled. And honoured to be chosen.

Take that, all you gym class captains who didn’t pick me year after year! Ha!

The best part is, I was nominated by a blogger I really respect. Mrs G at With Wit, Not Leisure is an adoptive parent of teenagers. She blogs about loving children who have been seriously damaged by RAD and FASD; the real behind the scenes story that you won’t see in Dave Thomas’ adoption ad campaign. She writes with honesty and hope and faith. AND she’s funny.

So here it is, the Lovely Blog Award:

THE RULES

Thank the person/people who nominated you and link back to them in your post.

Share seven possibly unknown things about yourself.

Nominate fifteen or so bloggers you admire.

Contact the chosen bloggers to let them know and link back to them.

Seven Possibly Unknown Things About Me

I’m not sure these are things anyone ever wanted to know about me, but no one is making you read this, so suck it up.

  1. I have an outie belly button. Like a cabbage patch doll. If you don’t know what that is, you are too young to read this blog. Go play webkinz or something.
  2. I have had 7 operations in my lifetime. And spent significant time in the hospital over the years. But I’m okay now. Mostly.
  3. I only have 1 kidney (see previous point and note that I had one of my kidneys removed).
  4. I never believed in Santa Clause. Don’t even remember hearing about him until I went to school.
  5. I HATE answering the phone. I have been known to run walk with dignity to the other room when it rings, then yell calmly request that someone else pick it up. But mostly I just let it go to the machine. I look forward to a world that operates entirely via email/text.
  6. I am a dork (this is known). Possibly unknown, I have been known to read fan fiction online. I love reading the continuing adventures of a series that has been cancelled or more background about my favourite character in a novel series. Granted, some of it is terrible, barely readable stuff and some of it is worse than that (I mean come on, if you want to write creepy porn, fine, but don’t pervert my favourite characters to do it!). But some of it is excellent.
  7. I cannot stand whipped cream, cheese cake, pudding, marshmellows… basically anything with a phlegm-like consistency. Blech.

Bloggers Whom I Admire

In choosing some Lovely Blogs to nominate for this award, I am struck by the generic nature of the word (like nice or competent) – hardly narrowing down the field, so I’m including the reason these bloggers are lovely to me.

  • Honest – Maybe it’s cheating, but I pick With Wit, Not Leisure even though she picked me first.
  • Inspiring – Sober Boots often surprises me with lessons about addiction and grace which apply to my everyday life.
  • Sweet – Vita Familiae cost me an entire evening as I read through their entire adoption story. This beautiful family brightens my day.
  • Eloquent – Last Mom on Earth is an amazing writer. I come away from every post feeling like I was right there with her, in the middle of her memory, her truimph, her despair…
  • Funny – Becoming Cliche makes me laugh. Enough said.
  • Practical – Modern Mrs Darcy gives advice, encouragement AND she wrote a whole series of “Lessons from Green Gables” that I love.
  • Fascinating – A Portia Adams adventure is one of the few blogs I follow by people I know. My very good friend from High School is writing a novel series. On her blog we can follow the process and her research along the way.
  • Creative – So I don’t actually scrapbook anymore. But I still love to see what my bestie Marjolaine has come up with at Twelve Stones Scrapbooking. I love looking at the beautiful things, but don’t intend to do anything about it. A lot like Pintrest.
  • Also creative – Along the same lines, but in a whole other way, A Turtle’s Life For Me is full of home-making tips and recipes that I thoroughly enjoy, but rarely do anything about. I consider her my pintrest guru.
  • Kindred – Love That Max is a great blog for special needs parents, not shying away from the hard realities, but celebrating our wonderful children just the same.

So, I realize I owe more recommendations, and certainly I have read many other lovely blogs, BUT life is crazy right now and I’m out of time…

So here’s me, the WINNER!

6 Comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Uncategorized

July 19, 2012

Friday Favourites: Twenty-Something Else

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

So as you can tell by the title, I’ve barely got time to post anything, much less figure out what actual number of FF post this is.

In fact, I wasn’t going to write one at all this week. What with all my complaining about how busy/tired/heroically philosophical I am these days, I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, like, say I’m spending my few precious moments of down time cruising FaceBook to see what fun and weird and sappy stuff my friends post there. Or vegging out in front of silly YouTube videos instead of investing in my family or doing dishes or dealing with the plague of ants that has descended on our household. But who am I kidding, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Quite often that includes a “hey, you just have to see this” and all 6 of us (including the littles who don’t really care but hate to be left out) crowded around a tiny iPhone screen. So I’m wondering, does that count as family time?

In exchange for not judging me too harshly, I will share some of the sappy/silly/weird stuff that has amused me this week.

Quote

I decided I wouldn’t post this quote, because I tend to be so very sappy these days already, but lets face it, this is who I am these days…
Not flesh of my flesh, Nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn’t grow under my heart – but in it.

~ Fleur Conkling Heylinger

YouTube Video

Catchy song + One of the BEST Movie Series of All Times (well, – that first prequel fiasco) =

YouTube Video for the Preschool Cohort

Same song. Different powerhouse series. Never too old for Cookie Monster.

App

My friend Kathleen is a talented children’s author of the Blueberry books. I’d definitely recommend her series and am really looking forward to her new Christmas book (order now for a deal).

It would be so handy to carry her around in my pocket at all times, then I could whip her out to read stories to the kids in waiting rooms, long car rides, shopping trips… basically anytime I need a distraction. So I do.

The Blueberry App from Pic Pocket Books (which carries other titles also) reads through her first Blueberry book on my iPhone when I can’t. Brilliant!

Self Actualizing Quiz

Cause the internet is nothing if not a massive waste of time. But I feel I know myself just a little bit better now, don’t you? Apparently, I’m TOTALLY a hipster.

Oh, wait, except for the part where I took a stupid quiz on FaceBook to measure my level of hip non-conformity. Doh!

Thank you HowHipsterAreYou.com

Teething Remedy

I was devestated reasonably upset to realize that the teething tablets which got us through B’s teething days are no longer on the market. But Foster Mom pointed us to a homeopathic remedy called Camilia and they are FANTASTIC! Melts away irritation and soothes the snarling beast sweet toddler in no time! Plus, you can redose almost immediately if needed. If only I had remembered this at 2 in the morning (by the time 4 am rolled around I finally managed to climb out of the groggy haze and give it to him, and we both went immediately to sleep!).

So here’s me, with Surfin’ USA on Wii dance for the 6783rd time just so I can finish this post. Next up: poopy diaper, leftover lunch feast and packing for family holiday.

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , , , | posted in favourites

July 19, 2012

Birthday Letters for The Boy

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Birthday Cupcakes specially decorated by the Big Sisters

Once again our family tradition is going public. Each year both of us write a birthday letter to our children on their special day. The pitfalls of having two writers for parents…

One day we hope they will cherish the encouragement, advice and wacky memories we recount in these epistles. Or at the very least, their spouses/kids/biographers will appreciate the historical significance and goofy photos.

Today’s guest poster: Daddy!

Dear S,

Welcome to a new family tradition – the birthday letter! You’ll get one of these from both Mommy and I each year on your birthday, as we look back on the year you’ve just finished, look ahead to the year that’s just beginning, and celebrate the boy (and someday, man) that you are becoming.

It seems so strange to be writing a letter marking the end of your second year, when we haven’t even known each other for two months yet. But that’s okay – it only took me about two minutes to love you!

I thought I might never get the chance to write a letter to my son, since your big brothers never got to come home to be part of our family. After 12 years of being surrounded by girls, I wasn’t sure if I had any boy left in me! I feared I may have lost it under a pile of doll clothes, princess outfits and ballet slippers.

But it sure didn’t take you long to make me man up! You’re energetic and fearless in a way that the little girls never were. Before you even came home, we played our first hockey game together, and we haven’t stopped playing ever since. I can’t wait for the day when we can stretch out on the couch with some pizza and a couple of pops, game on the television, and tell the girls to pipe down so we can hear the play-by-play. Which reminds me, it’s about time I gave you your first Canucks sweater….

When we’re not playing hockey, we’re usually wrestling, as manly men like us are known to do. Sure, the girls used to wrestle me too, once upon a time, but not like this – with a fierce growl, and a look of destruction in your eye. This is new to me, and new to you too, since you’ve never had a daddy until now.

Maybe that’s why we hit it off so well, so fast. To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect when we met each other. Would you like me? Would I like you? Would you be afraid of me? Would you even look at me? Would you run from me? Would you annoy me? Would you spend all my money? (Well, yes, probably to that last one.)

After one ear-to-ear grin, I knew the answer. I had nothing to fear. Sure, it may take a while… or maybe not. As I put on my shoes to go home after that first meeting, you reached out and let me pick you up. I may never put you down… at least not for a while. Happy Birthday buddy! (Oh, and have I told you about our cake yet? It’s good.)

Love from,

Your Daddy

And now, a word from Mommy:

Dear S,

I can’t believe that it was only 2 months ago when I first laid eyes on you. You were so much smaller than I expected with big blue eyes and a shy grin that lit up the room. I loved you already. I would have even if you weren’t insanely cute, but it didn’t hurt. I had loved the idea of you for years. Before you were even born we were praying for you and imagining what you might be like. It was thrilling to finally meet you.

You did not have an easy start to life. You came into the world 3 months early. The file they gave us was 4 inches thick and by the time we read through it all, we realized that was only your medical records for the first month! It did not look good for you. But you were 3 lbs of fighter, possessing absolute determination. That hasn’t changed.

Your birth mom loved you and wanted you, but she wasn’t able to take care of you. When you were 2 months old your foster mom started visiting you in the hospital, after 2 more months she was finally able to bring you home with her. She is a very special lady: a nurse who takes care of babies with complex medical problems until they can go home with a forever family (birth or adoptive). You did not like to be touched or held at first, but she taught you how to be loved and to give love back. Soon you were a cuddly little charmer. That hasn’t changed either.

You have officially been part of our family for 1 month. Our lives have been turned upside down, but no one’s more than you. It hasn’t been an easy month, but it has been a very good one. Your Daddy and sisters have discovered that you are the best thing they never knew they always wanted. I wanted you all along, but even I am blown away by how important you are to us all. We are enjoying you so much. You are so much fun: so much mischief-making, full-tilt, maniacal laughing, enthusiastic fun. I’m so glad you are part of our family!

Today you are 2 years old!

Those 2 years have helped shape you into the amazing mini-person that you are now. The tough little trooper who overcomes the odds time and time again. The sweet, loving boy who sticks close to family and has bonded with us so quickly. The smiley monkey who keeps us laughing, and on our toes.
Even though it makes me sad that we have missed so much time with you, I wouldn’t change you for the world!

You have such a bright, happy future ahead of you and we will be there with you every step of the way. Always, always, always…

Happy Birthday!

Love Forever,

Mommy

3 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in adoption, parenting

July 17, 2012

Finding Mommy

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

He’s teething.

It makes perfect sense. The gnawing on his soother, his toys, his fingers, the t.v. remote… The excessive drool, so much so that Daddy suggested “Hooch” as a new nickname. The fussy night-time waking, for the past few nights anyway. The vampiric tendencies: “Mommy doesn’t LIKE it when you bite her shoulder sweetie.”

Except, my notes say he has all his teeth. It’s in his file. I clearly remember that.

“Must be his two-year molars,” says Foster Mom. At his second birthday party – which, you know, should have also been a clue.

Duh.

I am a Mom several times over. I was a daycare teacher, in the two to three year-old class, no less. How did I forget about two-year-old molars? What am I, new?

Ummm…. ya.

He may be number four. And I may have oodles of experience, even special needs experience. But, I’ve only been parenting HIM for less than a month. I’m new. And some days it feels like I’m starting all over again.

Once again, I’m that awkward, but endearing new mom who packs WAY too much in the diaper bag, but forgets the diapers. Or pull-ups in our case, which is how B ended up wearing her little bro’s tiny diapers to church. At least we had pjs, four snacks, a list of emergency numbers and plastic rain ponchos… just in case.

Once again, I’m the eager rookie for whom every decision is absolutely crucial and the subject of endless research. You know the ones, who quote parenting books verbatum, desperate to do things “right.” Except in our case it’s adoption books, but I suspect this is equally obnoxious.

Once again, I’m the anxious helicopter parent who never completely relaxes at a playdate. Humming with a constant, low-level stress the minute we step foot outside the house. So not my usual style, but here I am: sterilizing soothers! The last one was lucky if I licked it off after it fell on the ground.

There are so many firsts these days: first meetings with cousins, first restaurant fiasco (outing, I meant outing), first taste of peanut butter, first trip to the zoo… with so much uncharted territory still ahead.

Despite hundreds of pages of information, hours of discussion with Foster Mom and somewhat stalkerish observation of the boy at all times, we don’t know each other the way most Mother-and-Son teams do. I don’t instictively know what he needs or wants. He doesn’t instinctively know what to expect from me.

But we are finding our way.

On Saturday, we had foster family over for a backyard BBQ and, as B put it, “super-fun-happy-birthday-cupcakes.” He was surprised to see them at first, but soon he was making the rounds, getting hugs from everyone. With a smile so big it MUST have hurt his face. Eyes constantly darting around the yard to make sure that everyone, yes, ALL his family from then and now, was here. He laughed and played and generally put on a charming show for us all.

And every once in a while he would check in for a little cuddle and reassurance. Not from foster mom (whom he obviously still adores). Not from Daddy (who usually gets top billing). From me.

And for the first time I FELT like I was the Mommy. Not by sheer strength of will, because I love him and want this so much. Not by order of the great province of British Columbia. Not in theory or in circumstance, but instinctively, in both our hearts.

I have faith that these moments will come more and more frequently until they melt together into a constant reality. That there will be days when I can’t remember NOT being his Mommy. And it won’t seem surreal and strange to have this little man in our lives, but so normal that adoption and its drama fades to the background.

So here’s me and my boy, slowly, but surely, finding our way into each other’s hearts.

2 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in adoption

July 13, 2012

Friday Favourites: Twenty-something

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Tomorrow is a BIG day in our ongoing adoption saga. It is the first visit with foster family after bringing our boy home. We’re having an early birthday party for our soon-to-be 2-year-old with ALL the people who love him best.

We love them too, so it’s no hardship to have them here. But, it’s a big deal too.

I’m not going to lie. It’s awkward. And unnatural. And weird.

I’m not sure what the happy ending is for an event like this. I want him to run into their arms and hug away all the sadness they’ve been feeling. I want him to cling to us and refuse to let go. I want him to be completely unaffected by the whole affair. I want him to express all the angst and emotion that this confusing change must create. I want to interrogate them about every detail of his life and learn all his stories. I want to live only in the here and now, where WE are a part of his story.

So, I’m pretty much a mess about the whole thing. But at least there will be cake. Everything is better with cake.

Quote

“I like flaws and feel more comfortable around people who have them. I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.”

~Augusten Burroughs

And now, further proof that he’s a brilliant guy:

“Red hair is great. It’s rare, and therefore superior.”

Blog/Twitter Feed

In honour of my son (who pulled out the racks and climbed INTO the oven this morning) I am going to promote a hilarious blog “written by” the Honest Toddler. You don’t need to have a toddler to appreciate this humor, but it helps. The Seven Stages of Night Grief really resonated with me this week.

These days, I pretty much scroll blindly through a twitter feed full of theology, politics and life-affirming, sappy quotes to read the tweets from @HonestToddler. For instance:

  • Stranger in my house.
  • He has a toolbox that should be mine and is looking at the toilet. Watching from behind the door (with my SWORD).
  • HE SPOKE TO ME!! And laughed. Uh…you are not my daddy and we are not friends. We will never be friends.
  • Took refuge in my cardboard box. I’m invisible.
  • What kind of a grown man comes into someone’s house to play in their potty? Supervising him closely again.
  • I farted. He noticed.
  • Farted again. He looks uncomfortable.
  • He asked me if I’d like to go play with my toys. NO I’M FINE HERE THANKS. Farted again.
  • Told mommy I need to use the potty. She’s excited. Asked the hostile to take five.
  • Have fun working where I just pooed, stranger. Three M&Ms!!
  • He just pulled a couple washcloths out of the toilet. Getting out of here before people start pointing fingers.

And on and on and on.

Movie

In the middle of all this toddler-mania we TRY to spend some one-on-one time with each of our big kids during the week. Last week I took the 9-year-old to see Brave.

Girl power. A beautiful Scottish princess with bushy red hair. What’s not to like?

The moral of the story: “Listen to your Mom.” and “Mom is always right.” At least, that’s what I heard. My obedient, submissive daughter tells me I am wrong, wrong, wrong about the point, but it was a decent show with a few good laughs.

App

Speaking of movies, there is no reason, NONE, to waste your time waiting in endless lines at the movie theater, especially on cheap Tuesday when things are crazier than ever. Use Cineplex Mobile to buy your tickets (with an additional scene card discount) from home (or the car, or the parking lot or anywhere your little heart desires), then scan the bar code at the “Mobile Ticketing Booth” on the way into your movie. It prints your tickets instantly; there is no line up, no wait, and no need to bother printing your own ticket. I almost felt sorry for all the poor schmucks lined up out the door last week. But it was kind of fun to zip right past them with a confident swagger.

We also use this app to find theaters, movie times, trailers and ratings.

Splurge

Obviously we are big movie buffs. For our last “date” before we entered the Toddler Zone, Glen and I decided to splurge on a VIP theater. The price tag is enough to choke all but the most decadent at $22.00 per person, BUT if you use your Scene points (which you can collect each time you go to a movie or buy a snack), it is exactly the same as any other movie. We’ve been collecting for a while, so our big VIP splurge cost us $0. And it was well worth it. Don’t waste your free movies on anything but the VIP theater!

These theaters have a restaurant and bar in the waiting area. The seating has tables, foot rests and if you sit in the very front row, full on leather recliners. No waiting in line for snacks like regular folks; the wait staff will seat you, take your order and bring you your meal (that’s right, appetizers, entrees, desserts… this is restaurant food). Even the bathrooms are fancy-schmancy, so be sure to stop by.

So here’s me, did I mention that I’m a red head? Which is rare and therefore superior. Spread the word.

3 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in favourites

July 9, 2012

From Precipice to Poopy Diapers

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

A life hangs in the balance. Literally.

Stretched to the limit atop a precipice, men form a human chain, intent on saving the one who has fallen over the edge. Their strength begins to wane. They are slipping closer and closer to gruesome death. Dangling over the edge, the last man realizes what is at stake. With a sigh of resignation and a look of absolution, he lets go; plunging to his death, rather than risk the lives of his comrades.

“NOOOOOO!” Cut to primal scream of the main character.

I can think of half a dozen movies with this scene. Change a few details, rearrange the sequence, tweak the wardrobe… it’s a classic bit.

Sometimes it’s a bullet. Sometimes it’s a bomb. Sometimes it’s a grizzly bear. Sometimes it’s a burning building.

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends (John 15:13)

We replay it in the media over and over again, because it resonates. These hero stories appeal to us. Like Christ, who sacrificed himself to save us all. We want to believe that sacrifice like this happens. We want to believe that WE would do the same thing.

When push comes to shove comes to the edge of a precipice… I like to believe I would. Especially for my family or my friends, but even for a stranger. In my daydreams, these Messiah moments are bold and dramatic, with a stirring soundtrack playing in the background.

But it’s not a likely scenario. The closest I’ve ever come is the time I fell down the stairs with baby in arms and turned to take the brunt of it on my back while holding her out of harm’s way. That was maternal instinct, and over in a split second.

The really great love, the kind our world needs more of, is not as glamorous and sexy as those cinematic scenes. It is giving up myself to help someone else in a thousand small, everyday ways. It doesn’t feel heroic, but it is.

Not running into a burning building, but listening to that elderly relative tell the same story for the third time in one phone call.

Not fighting off a rabid grizzly, but scrubbing the bathroom, doing the laundry and making dinner.

Not throwing my body on a grenade, but mopping up vomit, changing the sheets and putting on a sympathetic face.

Not throwing myself in front of a bullet, but calmly handling one more screaming tantrum, knock-em-down-drag-em-out fight or weepy confession.

Not sacrificing my life, but sacrificing my time, my energy, my comfort, my sleep, and maybe even my chocolate (gasp!).

In some ways, it’s a lot harder than the big dramatic exploits. I’m pretty sure I could make the impressive gesture, if given the opportunity. But the daily grind kind of sacrifice… mine is not an Oscar worthy performance EVERY time.

I whine. I get frustrated. I am consumed by my own performance. I overlook all the heroes around me. I resent.

But sometimes I love. Sacrificially. Heroically. Not anything they’ll make a movie about. Not anything people will notice or applaud or hand out awards for. But that’s kind of the point of sacrificial love, isn’t it?

Scroll down to the comments section. How many acts of sacrificial love, that will never make a movie trailer, can we think of?

So here’s me, wondering if diaper changes would feel more heroic with the right soundtrack in the background. Next time I’ll play this song:

3 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in home-making, parenting

July 6, 2012

Friday Favourites: Red Eye Edition

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Yesterday I found myself eyes glazed, zoning out on an old episode of Law and Order. I already knew whodunit. I’m pretty sure I watched this one in high school. If I start watching Matlock or Murder She Wrote, I shall require an intervention.

It is two and a half weeks since we brought our new son home and it still feels surreal. He is SUCH a sweet boy and so much fun!

We occasionally sleep through the night. Precious items have been destroyed or moved up even higher. And some days we almost feel normal.

But we are so tired. The after-a-long-day-skiing-or-amusement-parking tired; worn out in a good way.

Quote

Perseverance is the hard work you do after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.

~Newt Gingrich

Sounds like parenting to me…

Book

I needed something easy to read, but interesting enough to hold my weary attention. This quirky, intelligent book really fit the bill. The narrator of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is a 15-year-old boy with Autism. It is fascinating to see the world through his eyes. I enjoyed the strange cadence of the writing. I may have stayed up late to finish it (stupid, stupid, stupid)!

Fake Movie Trailer

I’ll never sing “I’m the map, I’m the map…” again without thinking about this (yes, I sing that; all the cool moms do). Dora the Explorer has grown up and is kicking ass. Warning: this is not a preschool video.

I would totally see this movie.

Graduation Speech

We just got a beautiful book for S from auntie and uncle. It’s about how very special he is. “You are the one and only ever you.” I get all misty and goopy when I read it, and the kids roll their eyes (definitely their father’s daughters).

“You are special.” It’s true. It’s important to hear. I tell my kids so all the time.

Which is why this graduation speech caused such an uproar. It’s not what many parents want their children to hear, but I think it’s just as true and just as important to hear.

“You are not special.” The world does not revolve around you. You are part of a bigger universe. And we are all in the same boat.

Infographic

Infographics are a marvel of the modern world. Because if your educational message has a slick design with computer generated graphics, I’m more likely to listen. Really.

Courtesy of The Simple Dollar: http://www.thesimpledollar.com/burnout/

So here’s me, and the smart part of my brain that just read that infographic says “go to bed early,” but a much louder part says, “there’s a rerun of Stargate Atlantis on and you’ve only seen it twice.” I wonder who will win.

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July 3, 2012

You’ll See…

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Many, many, many moons ago… in the ancient days… B.C. (Before Children) we knew a young couple who had a baby. We had hung out with them before and found them to be interesting, intelligent and fun people.

Our first Post-Baby dinner party was revelatory. Now, I’m a “kid person” to say the least, and am particularly crazy about babies. At this point in time, I was a daycare teacher. Suffice it to say, I considered myself very child-friendly.

But even I can acknowledge that infants, apart from their considerable aesthetic appeal, are somewhat dull in the first few months.

However, our once interesting friends seemed oblivious to this fact. We spent the entire evening looking at the baby, browsing through endless pictures of the baby (and btw, new parents, changing the hat/hairdo/barrette on the exact same angle does not actually make for a new “look”), talking about the baby and generally admiring every little thing the baby did.

But the highest praise of the night was reserved for the earthshaking gas passed by the tiny child. He was lauded for his valiant contribution to the evening. Our hosts proceeded to share with us about his ongoing struggle with constipation, quite exhaustively.

Dessert, drinks and details about baby’s latest and greatest poops. Consistency, frequency, colour… nothing was sacred. I could see Glen turning green as they enthusiastically discussed the benefits of suppositories. Finally, we were given a real life demo, as a particularly rank diaper was changed right there on the floor in front of us, as we ate our dessert.

As their front door closed behind us that night, we had one of those symbiotic marital moments. Turning to look in each others’ eyes, we said in unison, “that will NEVER be us.”

Repeatedly they told us, YOU’LL SEE… Someday, when you have kids, YOU’LL SEE.

It’s something we hear all the time:

…when you meet that special someone, YOU’LL SEE.

…when you’re married, YOU’LL SEE.

…when you get your own place, YOU’LL SEE.

…when you get to high school, YOU’LL SEE.

Because certain kinds of education only experience can provide. Because part of us can’t believe we will ever change like that, feel like that, or act like that. Because life alters us in ways we don’t expect, no matter how many times we are told to expect it.

Sure enough, one day a few years later, Glen walked through our front door, looked over at me and said “Well?” and I immediately knew he was asking if our baby had had a good poop that day. We try not to discuss it with non-parents or over chocolate ice cream, but poop is now a common topic of discussion. Because constipation is a big deal for a baby. Because parental love trumps gross factor. Because living it is vastly different from hearing about it.

This week, we are experiencing a lot of those as adoptive parents. Things we were told to expect, things we had read about, things we knew, but didn’t understand until now, as we are living it.

For instance:

  • Boys are different. Not a universal truth, but in our family the stereotype fits. We’ve never experienced the constant desire to wrestle, the risk taking, the climbing on everything in sight, the tough guy who bounces back immediately from all but the most serious injuries…
  • People don’t really understand adoption. And who can blame them; it is full of strange paradoxes. It is completely different from giving birth. It is the same as bringing home any of my children. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. This is one of the best things I’ve ever done. My experience as a parent has prepared me. My inexperience in parenting THIS child leaves me feeling unprepared.
  • Adoptive parents feel isolated. Some of the people you expect support and encouragement from do not “get it,” and often adoption is treated as “less” than giving birth. Which would probably seem like a mild disappointment, if we weren’t so tired and overwhelmed.
  • Rejection is hard to take. Whether learning to build attachment for the first time, or transferring from the old caregiver, this is a difficult time, and quite often during toddler adoption, one parent is “rejected” in favour of the other (usually Mom). I had read about this. I had heard of it from friends. But I was sure that my Mommy-love was strong enough and rational enough to take it on the chin, and look beyond it to the big picture. And it usually is. Except when it’s not. Those rejections are fewer and farther between these days, but they still prick.
  • Toddlers grieve. We have seen flashes of it this week – the yearning, the sadness, the frustration… it passes quickly, but it is heartbreaking.
  • Adoption draws our family together. We are closer than ever. Even with the grumpy times and the crazy times, our family time has been closer, more fun and more meaningful than ever. We’re being stretched, but we’re pretty short, so we could use the growth.

So here’s me, and if you’ve ever wondered about adoption I can tell you all about it, but most of it… YOU’LL SEE.

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June 28, 2012

Teacher, Teacher, Can You Teach Me?

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Petty Tyrants. Jaded Clock-Punchers. Half-Assed Retirees in Training. Sexual Predators.

There are plenty of reasons to worry about the kind of teacher your child has. I can never forget that it was my Grade 2 teacher who taught me that grown ups can be mean, really mean.

Three years ago, we traded in our home school lifestyle. It was daunting delegating some of our children’s education to perfect strangers, especially our (then) nonverbal and sometimes challenging youngest. We went a bit overboard researching schools in the area – and got mixed reviews for every single one.

I’m not such a Pollyanna that I don’t realize the frustrated/disappointed/outraged stories are often true, or at least have some element of truth/hurt/miscommunication to them. I’ve had my own scuffle over speech therapy in our school district.

But we have good stories to tell too. And too often those are ignored or downplayed. They aren’t nearly as entertaining as the Bad Teacher tales, after all.

We are very happy with our little country school. The teachers there are the good sort. And we think they can teach us something too.

The Gentle Encourager: The Grade 6 teacher is a quietly enthusiastic, fun-loving and genuinely sweet lady. When I close my eyes, this is the kind of woman I imagine my eldest will be someday. It’s a good daydream.

The Challengers: We’ve seen a sharp increase in homework and level of difficulty in Grade 4. There has been complaining, muttering and foot dragging… so I gave out stern talks: “Christie, you are the Mom. Set a good example and just make it happen.” This teaching team has won us over with their great communication and creative projects. Our dinner table has been awash with interesting facts about whale blubber and pirate ships and the antics of Ramona B Quimby. C has never been so engaged!

The Supporters: We call them Special Education Assistants, and they are the hands and feet of inclusion. This year we had a great team. They consistently go above and beyond and are more friends than staff to us. Mrs. H is always reading and learning and sharing her ideas. The resource teacher and her daughter raised money and joined our run for Down Syndrome. Mrs. A is a kindred spirit, an extension of our own nurturing and parenting. Her whole family has taken B under their wing.

The Advocate: Every morning B runs into the classroom, throws her arms wide and yells, “Smelling!” This is her version of “Ms. Fleming,” and it earns her a hug and an enthusiastic greeting. Kids can tell if you really enjoy and appreciate them, especially B. Which is why she has continued to blossom this year. She has always been loved by her teachers, and in turn by her classmates, which is no coincidence. It’s not because she is all sunshine and gumdrops, but even in her difficult moments her teachers have seen HER beneath it all – especially Smelling.

The biggest gift this year has brought has been Ms. Fleming’s choice of thesis for her Masters degree: Teaching B to Read.

I’m sure it’ll have a long complex academic title, but for us it means that next year B will participate in the reading program (newly developed by the Down Syndrome Research Foundation):
the one we couldn’t afford
daily
one on one
with her favourite teacher.

She asked if we would be okay with that. If we would mind her basing her project on B. If she could spend several days training with DSRF to know how to use it. If she might be able to establish it in our school and district.

Ummm… duh.

Today we will add our Thank You notes and gifts to the pile and pray that somehow they will adequately express our gratitude. We’ve entrusted them with the most precious part of ourselves: our children. This is why the outrage is so fierce when we feel betrayed, and this is why that coffee shop gift card seems so paltry when we feel so amazingly well supported.

So here’s me: school’s out for summer and I’m going to miss the help. What are the chances that we’ll have so many good stories next year?

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