Archive for the ‘deaf’ Category

That Disability Line Looked Awfully Tempting!

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Needing to get a picture ID, Marie and I went into the black hole named the Registry of Motor Vehicles. Despite many years of revamping, that place can still take 4 hours to navigate. It was with this background that I bring up the option of the line for people with disabilities. Actually, there WAS no line. Tempting. MMMMMMMM. Marie has a disability. Teaching her to be more independent, I was actually only accompanying her while showing her that SHE can maneuver through the system. Without parental assistance, she really DID have a disability. But I have raised my children not to see their disabilities but their abilities. She may not talk or hear, but, armed with all of the appropriate paperwork filled out and the certificates of existence she needed, (birth certificate and social security card,) she has the capabilities of writing what she wants to say and reading back what the other person writes to get her ID herself. She can function as fully as a non-deaf teenager in the registry. And that meant she was fully capable of waiting in line like everyone else.
There have been many times in life that a disability line looked tempting, especially handicapped parking. What parent of a child with a disability hasn’t dreamed of getting that front row spot. Granted, many parents of children with disabilities DESERVE that front row spot, but not us. My kiddos can walk fine. No need to park there, even if the only other spot was a half mile away. But it certainly was tempting…
Just like that line at the registry. After about an hour of snaking through the regular line, the disability line looked awfully lonely. Marie could just zip in there and be done with it. But Marie isn’t disabled. She can communicate fine, just differently than others. She does not need a special line.
And such is our life. To let the children think they can use a disability line to get through life would be unfair to them. They have been raised to know they can do everything anyone else can do, they just may have to do things differently. No disabilities here!

And I was WORRIED about My Daughter’s First Date; Silly, Silly Me!

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Marie is a teenager who has had her eye on both boys and girls for a possible boyfriend or girlfriend for several years, with no actual luck finding anyone. We had “the” talk a while ago when she asked me if she should like boys or girls. Knowing her proclivity to try to dress like a boy due to her early childhood abuse, I told her that whether she had a boyfriend or a girlfriend would depend on who she wanted to have sex with when she was an adult. SEX? She looked at me in astonishment! She didn’t ever want to have sex with anyone!!!

Even though she vehemently denied ever wanting to get intimate with anyone, I still had a knot in the pit of my stomach when she went off on her first date with a guy she knew from a previous school. She wore her bright orange Kool-Aid guy t-shirt, which I had suggested she change. (She is quite stout, and actually looked like the Kool-Aid guy in that shirt!) She felt she looked fine, taking no interest in looking good for Carl. When he came to pick her up, they easily chatted in sign language, having not seen each other for about 3 years. She told me they were going out to dinner and I asked if she needed any money. She looked at me incredulous. Of COURSE she didn’t need money, Carl was going to pay! I asked them what time they would be home. They looked at each other quizzically and Marie finally signed “11”. And off they went.

Being the opposite of a night owl, I plopped myself on the couch in the living room with lots of caffeinated Diet Coke to keep me awake. Because I don’t have a lot of free time to watch tv, it was nice to enjoy Netflix and The House of Cards. After only an episode and a half, home came Marie! I asked her if she had a good time on her first date. She was non-committal. She said she enjoyed eating dinner and talking to him, but they didn’t know what to do after that and it became boring, so she came home. That’s my girl, Marie!!!!

Quick…Tell Me Where to Turn

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Marie and I attended a baby shower for a cousin today, and had a fabulous time. For an activity, they decorated baby onesies. Marie, who is very artistic with fabric paint, designed six. Each one had a fabulous design and appropriate wording-for HER. My favorite was a picture of the dad. She perfectly captured his beard, big, bright smile and curly hair. His blue eyes actually had a gleam in them, and his cheeks were pink with excitement. On it she wrote: “Happy daddy, baby boy yes”, replicating how the words are signed in ASL. This for a new dad who did not yet know the sex of his child!

Driving the 45 minutes to the restaurant, Marie was in charge of the GPS. She loves it when I give her this “job” because it keeps her active during the drive. Previously when riding in a car, Marie would try to sign to me, but I have to keep my eyes on the road and taking my hands off the wheel is problematic. The problem was solved by making her my navigational guru. She takes her job very seriously. She motions me into the proper travel lanes, and tells me when and where to turn. It is especially tricky when driving in a city as we were today. “In 2 tenths of a mile take a left.” Left here. she points. “In 4 tenths of a mile take a right”. Right there, she motions. We efficiently executed the twists and turns to perfection, and she was very proud of her directional skills when we arrived. Should I ever tell her that the GPS was also talking to me?????

Bring the Fattened Calf; The Prodigal Son Returns

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The holiday season joyously reunites my family! Although Francis is not entirely a Prodigal Son, he is the one son who moved out of state to seek his fame and fortune. Having his Ph.D. from Cambridge specializing in Human Computer Interaction, he has found a fruitful niche among the computer conglomerates in Silicon Valley, California. He has purchased a modest half-million dollar home, (very much similar to the small ranch style homes back east, only less yard and much costlier.) He married an amazing woman who can DRIVE and for whom his vision impairment is not an issue. They recently had a one of a kind baby; a baby so pure and white and bald that she resembles an Alien. (Ooooops! I didn’t just say that, did I?) The best thing is, he comes home every Christmas!

Preparing for his arrival takes a lot of work. Being somewhat of an advocate for letting dust live out its life where it lay, I spend the month before his arrival cleaning; the usual spots, of course, but also those spots not generally covered in a regular cleaning; washing and waxing the cabinets, washing all of the walls so they look as clean as the day they were painted, cleaning under the soap dish in the bathtub, pulling out every speck of dust hiding under the radiators, and cleaning “his” bedroom so clean that it could be considered a sanitary room for a person undergoing a bone marrow transplant. I’ve added a rocking chair for baby to feed lovingly and comfortably. The sheets with flowers are washed with “spring” fabric softener, giving them a sensational floral scent, perfect for a multi-sensory feel. (Yes, sniff in the scent. It is a happy, welcome home scent!)

The decor of my home is generally early mishmash, but when Francis comes home, the walls are decorated with a multitude of photos of all of our children, hastily put together from photos from Facebook. (It is something I mean to do all year but never get around to doing.) The Christmas tree and house decorations are pulled from the bowels of the cellar, decorated and placed in traditional places. Same candles in the window as when Francis was a child, same tree, same decorations including the nativity scene that Francis enjoyed rearranging when he was a child. (He loved to put the donkey in the manger and lay the Wise Men down for a nap after their long hike.) All reminiscent of Christmas’ past.

Hubby, who is generally an excellent cook anyway, also prepares for the special visit. He makes seafood casserole, baked stuffed lobster, “stuffies”, prime rib (sorry fattened calf,) lasagna,and baked ham. For Christmas, we have a traditional turkey dinner, with Marie leading us in saying grace in sign language, joined in by all, (except Francis’ new wife who has not yet caught up in communicating with Marie.) The week is a gastric feast like no other, and poundage is added to us all.

For this one week of Francis’ visit, “normal” life is put aside for a week of conversation, a clean house, a joyful present exchange, visits to nearby sights of interest, (the ski area with the tubing hill, the amazing number of Christmas lights on houses that spend thousands of dollar on decorations, the local breweries, the wild, ravaging waves of the ocean, and, of course, Dave and Buster’s.)

Francis and his little family will be leaving tomorrow and life will be back to normal. I will miss him. And I will be waiting for his return next year!

Do any of you have prodigal children who return for the holiday? How is it for you?

We Had a Rockin’ New Years Eve with the Three Stooges!

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Celebrating New Year’s Eve with the children has always been a challenge. They have different tastes and interests. It is especially difficult with Marie because she is deaf. Movies are okay for her with closed captioning, but she only has a first grade reading level, so most of the words are beyond her understanding.

On Christmas day hubby hit the jackpot. Our oldest son, Francis, bought him the entire collection of the Three Stooges! We took advantage of this thoughtful gift on New Year’s Eve. The whole family sat around the television, gourmet pizza in hand, and apple juice as our simulated alcoholic drink. And we watched the Three Stooges. For HOURS. From 2014 to 2015. Their slapstick humor, so completely socially inappropriate now, was so funny that we doubled over with laughter and tears ran down our cheeks. THE WHOLE FAMILY! ESPECIALLY MARIE!!!!! Near the end of the evening, Marie, who had been sitting on the couch next to her dad, leaned over and put her head on his shoulder and her arms around his robust body. Almost afraid to move lest he scare her away, he gently put his arm around her, and looked at me and smiled. This child, who has a serious attachment disorder and from whom affection has been doled out in minuscule doses, was cuddling with her dad!

Afterwards, when we were all laughed out and the morning was near, one by one we reluctantly sauntered off to bed. While hubby and I were cuddling before allowing sleep to take over, hubby began to cry. “Did you see how Marie cuddled with me?” he asked. “It was the best night of my life.”

Yes. Yes it was!

She LOVES me! She really LOVES me! (not…)

Anyone who is raising a child with reactive attachment disorder knows that love and caring is not always reciprocated. In fact, often the children are so hostile that we wonder what we are doing wrong and what have we gotten ourselves into? Raising Marie has been like that. Coming to us from living with a mom who allowed unspeakable abuse, Marie was not ready to love anyone. Not letting me touch her, in fact, shoving me away or hitting me if I tried, it took six months for me to reason with her that I needed to have a way to show her that I loved her. She graciously allowed us to fist bump. Our fists met with a minimal amount of touching as I signed “I love you” in American Sign Language with the other hand. As a mom, I desperately needed to be able to share my love with her, whether she accepted it or not.

Through the years, she allowed me to hug her. I would put all of my love forth in that hug, deep, sincere, emotional… Whether she actually got any of that through osmosis, or whether she just tolerated my hug, I never knew. But I felt better doing something to demonstrate my love.

When she was about 14 years old, we were at a carnival and she spotted a photo booth. She had always been fascinated with these contraptions, and she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me over to it, sticking her other hand out for the money to put in it. As we sat inside the booth and the camera clicked, a miraculous thing happened…she turned and KISSED me on the cheek. Whether it was her excitement over the photo booth, (and the demonstration photos on the side of people kissing,) or whether she really felt an emotion and wanted to kiss me, I’ll never know. But I choose the latter. In the picture below, you can see the emotion on my face as she does so. After SEVEN long years!

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Well, a couple of years have gone by, and she and I regularly hug and kiss (she offers me her cheek.) Not much had changed in that department. UNTIL I went to the open house at her school. She saw me walking down the corridor while she was standing with a group of friends. She came galloping towards me, wrapped her arms around me with such force that I almost fell over, and gave me a huge kiss ON THE LIPS! Then she proudly told everyone that I was her mom. SHE LOVES ME! SHE REALLY LOVES ME!

I Didn’t Know Cats Could Swim Redux

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I am very crabby today…went to the dentist. Dentists conjure up very bad memories of pain. Living with a “crazy” dad who loved to eat candy, cookies and pies, along with limited encouragement for good dental hygiene, I had many cavities as a child. When having the cavities fixed, the dentist did not use Novocain. (Either that or my parents would not pay the additional expense for Novocain because my dad was obsessively cheap.) At any rate, I equate going to the dentist with torture. Even though I am grown now, and the dentist DOES use Novocain, the experience in general is very stressful and causes me much crabbiness. Needing a boost out of my bad mood, I tried to think of something that would make me smile. Thus, I am repeating a post I did more than a year ago. One that made me giggle. One that I will share again with you…

Because my youngest daughter, who is deaf, goes to school out of state, I sometimes rent a hotel room for myself, my oldest daughter and her son, Alley (Alejandro) to visit together.  Last weekend was one such weekend.  I love to see the interaction of the three of them, Dinora signing in ASL to Marie and Alley trying to copy the signs with his small hands.  (He explains that Marie can’t talk because her ears are broken, so she has to use her hands…)  His favorite sign, “swimming”,  is used often because he wants them to spend all of their time together in the hotel pool.  It was during one of their swims, while I was sitting in the lounge chair by the pool, sipping a nice tall plastic cup of Diet Coke, and smiling while the three of them frolicked, that I was overwhelmed with a feeling of joy in my heart. They were beaming with laughter and exuding a happiness that one could not overlook…a deep, profound happiness which doesn’t often come to Marie. Seeing her eyes glint with laughter, tears stung at the back of my eyes, then slowly slipped down my cheeks.  To think that a child who had been so severely abused as she could come through all of that darkness and  despair to ultimately be able to experience such joy made my heart want to explode with love for the three of them.  I could not remember ever having been so content in my life, but my reverie was soon disturbed, but not unpleasantly…

My tears of joy were soon replaced by tears of laughter.  Alley came out of the pool and looked around…  “Where’s the cat pool?” he asked.  “The CAT pool?  There is no cat pool!” I replied.  “Yes! Yes!  In hotels there are sometimes CAT pools!” he argued, frustrated that I could not understand what he was asking. “You know, the pool for the kitties.”     Ah!  The KIDDY POOL!

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To read about Marie’s early childhood, here is a link to my book:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-apple-tree/id538572206?mt=11

The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane

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