Posts tagged ‘inspirational’

“All she does is screech and say No! No! No!”

 

The above description fit me perfectly.

Yes, me… perfectly.

Marie came to live with us at the age of 6.  She had been picked up off the street at 4 in the morning, barefoot, in her underwear, looking for food.  We took her in as an emergency foster placement because I knew American Sign Language and Marie was deaf. She looked like a wild animal…disheveled, matted hair, flaming eyes of distrust, so filthy everywhere that even an hour in the tub did not wash off all the grime.  Her teeth were dingy yellow, and her body was emaciated.  Being the “good” middle class mother that I was, I cleaned her as best I could and then I took her to buy some clothes.

In the store, she immediately disappeared.  I impulsively called her name, (as though she could hear me.)  When I finally found her, she was in the candy aisle, shoving candy bars into the pocket of her pants.  I screamed,  “No! No! No!”  She looked at me and ran in the other direction.  I finally tracked her down in the pet aisle, just as she was about to open the cage to the hamsters.  I screeched and said “No! No! No!”, and proceeded to grab her, pick her up, empty the candy bars in her pocket, and tote her back to the car without buying anything. If I thought this would teach her a lesson, it did not.  She was not used to buying anything, so she could not appreciate something she never had.

We ate out for lunch at McDonald’s.  Marie ate her sandwich and drank her milk and threw the wrapper and container on the floor.  No! No! No!

library_escalator

The next day I gave her a stern talking to (“signing to?)  and told her that we were going shopping for clothes and that she needed to stay with me. As though THAT was going to work!  As soon as we got into the mall, a place she obviously had never seen before, she skirted UP the DOWN escalator, laughing with glee.  Mortified, I screamed and said No! No! No!  and then watched in horror as she slid down the banister of the escalator.  Big scream! No! No! No!  Home we went. 

Once at home, she got an orange to eat.  She grabbed the butcher knife to cut it and I screamed and caught her hand just as it was about to demolish the orange. No! No! No!

The next day we were going to take a walk to the library.  She broke free from the grip I had on her hand, and ran across 4 lanes of traffic. Scream! No! No! No!

Later in the evening, while watching television, Marie climbed onto my husband’s lap, where she attempted to rub his “private parts” and kiss him.  SUPER BIG SCREECH!  No!  No! No! Oh!  This child was so “bad”!  WHAT was I going to do with her?

At the end of the week, I went to Marie’s school where she was part of a dance performance.  I was glad to be able to be there, as her birth mother had never been seen at the school before.  I watched with pride as she danced and twirled, often sneaking a peak at me to see if I was looking.  When the dance was over, I saw her talking (signing) with another student who commented that Marie had a new mom, and how did she like her? Marie looked over at me for a minute and crumpled her nose, telling her that all I ever do is scream and say No! No! No! I was shocked.  I had never thought of it before, but she was right!  I was so busy chasing and correcting her that it would seem like all I did was scold her.  And what was I scolding her for?  For what I, as a middle class mother, think is wrong.  I had never taken into account that Marie had been raised to do all of those things…to steal food, to take what she wanted from stores, to litter, to be sexually promiscuous (at the age of SIX!) and to have no worries about safety, thinking she was invincible.  This young child, who had lived on the streets and managed to survive without any parental care, just parental abuse…WAS invincible! She did what she needed to survive.

I was so embarrassed. Embarrassed because I was judging her by my standards and not stopping to think of what her standards were.  I vowed never to scream No! No! No! again, but to explain things in a loving manner to her.

We do not steal.  If you want something, I can probably buy it for you.

We do not run into streets with cars, use butcher knives, or slide down escalators.  It is not safe.

We do not just throw garbage on the ground, but in our family we pick it up and put it in a garbage can.

And, most of all, there is no need to make money by being “friendly to men”.   We have plenty of money so you don’t have to do that.  And it is not fair that you had to do that instead of just being a little girl. And you never have to do that again.

Marie did not change overnight, but each time she would fall back onto old habits such as stealing or being unsafe, I would lovingly explain why she no longer had to do that.  She had a family that loved her and it was our job to keep her safe.

Then there was the time when, walking in the mall with a soft drink in her hand, she unwrapped the straw and threw the paper on the ground. My eyes widened, and she laughed when she saw my reaction.  “I was just teasing you” she signed.  “I know I don’t litter in this family….” 

No more screaming from me…

 

 

Link to my book  The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane

Link to the Readers Digest review of my book:  http://www.rd.com/recommends/what-to-read-after-a-hurricane/

 

 

 

 

Dinosaurs, Diet Coke, and Driving ‘Round in Circles

Yesterday was my brother’s birthday, so as treat, I took him on a trip to the Museum of Science.  My brother turned 51 years old, (while I am not admitting my age, I can’t deny that I am older.)  For those new to my blog, Curtis is legally blind, profoundly deaf, and severely developmentally delayed.  He can also be a joy to be around!  He is fun loving and enjoys just about anything.

My son Angel came with me on this adventure.  I picked Curtis up in the afternoon and he was so excited about the trip that he actually came dancing out of his group home, wearing a non-stop grin that was contagious.  We drove to suburban area of the city where the museum is with the plan to take the Metro into the city the next morning.  Before we went to the hotel, we stopped at a mall for dinner. Curtis’ LOVES malls, especially the food court, where we all had our choice for dinner.  After eating, Curtis wanted to walk around the mall independently.  I gave him $20 to spend and agreed we could meet back at the food court in an hour.  Off he happily went, thinking he was alone.  All the while, Angel played “spy” and followed him.  He thought he was on his own, and we didn’t want to spoil that illusion.  Off he went to, predictably, get a diet coke.  He pointed to the diet coke sign and handed the cashier his $20 bill.  She handed him his soda and his change, which he attempted to put in his pocket, (with half of it falling out on the floor.)  As he turned away to sit at a table, Angel scooped down and picked up his change to give back to him later.  Angel sat a few tables away so he could keep an eye on Curtis.  After finishing his soda, Curtis was up and moving…with his nephew as a tailgater.  Curtis then started his quest to fine every single elevator in the mall.  He knows that stores like Macy’s, JC Penney’s, Sears. and Lord & Taylor have elevators and he has the nose to sniff them all out.  In his mind, the elevators are transporters, taking him to level of the space station on Star Trek.  He has a mission to complete, to find every elevator in the mall, and after he completes his mission he can get another diet coke.

After the mall, we went to the hotel and checked in.  Curtis was so excited that he didn’t sleep well.  Every hour, ON the hour, he woke me up to see if it is time to to get up. (He learned this hourly ritual from my mother, who used to beg him to let her sleep “just one more hour”.)  I awoke at 7:30 to see him wide awake in the next bed, waiting for 8:00 am so he could wake me up and ask me if it is time to get up!  I moved to get out of bed and my movement announced that it is time to get up.  Curtis jumped up happily. He had all of his clothes on for the day. (He must have dressed during the night.)

After a quick breakfast of yogurt and bananas that I had brought, we drove the car to the parking garage for the Metro.  This happens to be his favorite parking garage in the whole world:  it has a spiral driveway all the way to the top.  As we drove, we sang and sway back and forth.  “Around and around and around and around” all the way to the top floor.  We then made our way onto the subway, which he also loves.  He asked me where we were going, as I had kept it a surprise.  Having recently lost his hearing completely, he does not yet understand that he cannot hear, so the conversation goes something like this:

C: “Where are we going?”

Me: “To see the dinosaurs.’

C:  “The aquarium?”

Me:  “No, the DINOSAURS!”

C:  “The movies?”

ME:  “NO THE DINOSAURS!!!!”

C:  “You’re taking me back home?” he said as his body melted in disappointment.

ME:  “NO!!!  WE ARE GOING TO SEE THE DINOSAURS!!!”

Realizing I was not going to get anywhere with telling him, I grabbed a piece of paper and drew a large picture of what I think was a pretty good imitation of a dinosaur.  “Oh!” he said happily, “we’re going to see Fred Flintstone?”  I sigh and shook my head yes…

I am the type of person who can sleep anywhere, any time.  Exhausted after being woken up all night long, I curled out across 3 seats in the back of the subway car, and Angel and Curtis sat across from me. It is about an hour’s ride into the city and I asked Angel to wake me up when we got closer to the city and it started to get crowded.  I was sure people would NOT appreciate me taking up 3 seats.  I fell fast asleep.  I woke up only when Angel was tugging on my sleeve because we were at our stop.  I was MORTIFIED!  I looked like a homeless person! I have “bed head” and drool coming down the side of my mouth. The subway car is full of people, many people standing up.  “I told you to WAKE me,” I reprimanded him.  At least it sounded like I was scolding him for the sake of the people standing up.  Secretly, I was grateful I was able to get an hour’s sleep in.

We had to change from the Red Line to the Green Line.  The seats in the car we entered were completely full, so Angel and I each grabbed a vertical pole and Curtis grabbed the horizontal pole above him and was kind of hanging like a monkey.  Angel and I put our arms around his waist to steady him.  The car swayed back and forth and we swayed back and forth.  Curtis thought our fingers were tickling him on purpose, so he started to laugh.  Angel and I started to laugh, and pretty soon the 3 of us were laughing hysterically.  Several of the passengers offered their seats as they could tell our predicament was precarious.  “No, thank you,” I said, “We are the adventuresome type.”

When we get to the museum, Angel, true to his nature, went to check out the museum store.  (One of his female “peeps” is a shopaholic who believes in the “shop til you drop” motto.) Curtis, true to HIS nature, wanted to eat first.   It’s not so much that he wanted to eat as he wanted to get a soda.  He is obsessed with soda.  We went through the cafeteria line and he picked out macaroni and cheese and I picked out a chicken caesar salad.  With him hanging on my arm, we payed and I looked for a seat. It was very very crowded. I was trying to do sighted guide technique with him on one arm, carrying the tray with the other, and steering him towards the one empty table I saw all the way across the room.  He spotted the sign for Diet Coke.  He wouldn’t move, just pointed at the sign.  I tried to tell him that first we needed to get a seat, that I couldn’t possibly stop for soda with a tray full of food and him on my arm, but of course he couldn’t hear me.  He continues to point at the Diet Coke sign like ET pointed to home.  He kept trying to drag me closer to the soda machine and I pulled him towards the table. The tray of food was unbalanced, and I was afraid our $35 lunch was going to drop on the floor, or, worst yet, on top of the head of one of the many children in strollers nearby. Finally I won the tug of war and we reached the empty table where I plopped the tray down, grabbed the soda cups and headed with him back in the direction of his  beloved soda. His face immediately burst into a smile as he realized what we were doing.   He was a happy camper!

We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the museum.  The dinosaurs were  big enough for him to see, and he really enjoyed them, although he did keep asking where Fred Flintstone was.  (The Flintstones were our favorite cartoon when we were growing up.  Every Friday night.  Channel 6.  8:00 pm.)  When we finished with the exhibits, Curtis bought another soda “for the ride home” .  He perked up again when we got to the parking garage and had to go “around and around and around and around” in the car to get out.

Bringing him back to the group home was uneventful.  When the staff asked how his weekend was, he answered “GREAT!  I had diet coke and we got to drive around and around in circles.”  He didn’t even mention the hotel or the mall or the subway or the dinosaurs.  The next time I take him, I think I’ll save the money and just park at the Metro parking garage and buy him all the diet cokes he wants.  It would sure save me money, (and anyone who has read my blog before KNOWS that I like to save money!)

Who Cares What I Look Like…I Saved Money…

Okay, I am officially “crazy”.  I know that is not a politically correct term, but yesterday I did something so obsessive that I realized for the first time in my life that something is seriously wrong with me…I bought make-up that did not match my skin color BECAUSE IT WAS ON SALE!!!!!!

I have always been a “frugal” person, coming from a long line of “frugal” relatives.  (Alright, actually only one, my dad, but he goes way back to my childhood so it is considered a long line to me.) My father was so “frugal” that is retrospect I realize he obviously had obsessive compulsive disorder.  Although we were a middle class family, we NEVER went out to eat.  (Well, there was that ONE TIME we did go out to an ice cream restaurant on their 25th anniversary, but other than that we did not eat at restaurants.)  He did not want to spend money on heat, so we used a wood stove. (We live in NEW ENGLANG!)  He did allow us to have electric blankets, but we could only turn it on to warm the bed, shutting it off when we went to bed.  So, I’d fall asleep all warm and cozy with happy dreams and wake up in the middle of the night dreaming of Antarctica. He also did not want to spend money on hot water, so he devised a type of solar hot water heater by threading water pipes on the roof and then into an unplugged water heater.  If it was a very sunny day, we could have a warm bath at night, but only once a week because he didn’t want to waste water.  We were fortunately to live on a lake so I did a lot of swimming to get clean.

We ate only what was inexpensive and on sale:  lots of rice, pasta, mashed potatoes and canned vegetables.  Not so much fresh vegetables, fruit or meat.  My father was not a vegetarian because of moral concerns, but because of the cost of meat.

For the beginning of school in September, I would be able to choose 2 outfits at the nearest discount store.  I would wear them alternate days during the week…all year! If I happened to grow during the year, (as of course often happened,) they would get a little tight.  Fortunately, my mother planned for this by buying them extra big at the beginning of the school year! She loved buying her and my father’s clothes and shoes at the Salvation Army.  In fact, everyone got a good laugh at my wedding when my mom came up and knelt down for communion and there was $1.99 written in black marker on the bottom of her shoe.  (You’ve GOT to laugh at stuff like that…)

My mother would cut my hair, usually crooked. When I became a teenager,  I tried to let it grown. I put it up in a “bun” like Audrey Hepburn in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”, but it was so thin and uncontrollable that I usually ended up looking like Pebbles from the Flintstones!

We did go to the drive-in every Friday, and I was allowed the 25 cents to get popcorn, which was a huge treat for me.  During those days, you had to pay per person for the drive-in.  My father had me scrunch down low in the back seat so they would think I was under 12.  One day, when I was about 15, the person in the admission booth questioned my father about my age.  Because he would never LIE, he told them I was 15 but that he would not pay for me, and what difference did it make if he paid for 2 or 3 because they would still get some money.  The man in the admission booth dug in his heels…and so did my father.  To my huge embarrassment, my father made the long line of cars behind him waiting to pay BACK UP so that he could leave.  That was the last time we went to the drive-in.

Of all of the effects of economic frugality, the biggest one was that I never got a real Barbie doll.  I yearned for a Barbie doll!  I asked for one for birthdays and Christmas, but I always got the cheap plastic imitation Barbie dolls.  When I went to play with friends, they would take pity on me and let me play with their Midge doll, (Barbie’s “friend”,) but it was never the same as playing with my own real live Barbie. I think it is ironic that this is the one memory that has caused permanent harm to my psyche!

In retrospect, except for the doll, I did not know anything different.  I did not feel cheated or poor or economically deprived.  I learned to live with what I had and be happy. From an early age, probably because I had a brother who was severely disabled, I was empathetic with people with disabilities.  Although I did not see many children with physical disabilities in those days, there were many developmentally delayed students in the schools.  I would go out of my way to be friendly and helpful.  I had little tolerance for ignorant people who would fun of these valuable human beings, and I was known for my protective nature. I was fortunate to have had many friends in school.  They were not necessarily the most popular or the most fashionably dressed friends, but they were down to earth, friendly, and they appreciated their friendship with me. I was confident with myself, and I thought nothing of going up to a bully and telling them to stop picking on someone. Just like that, I’d have a new friend!  Sometimes I’d even make friends with the bully! I had a great time in school! My values were vastly different than other teenagers. This difference actually led into what I think is my best quality, the unwavering caring and acceptance of others.  Without this trait, I would not have become a social worker, and I certainly would not have adopted 4 children with disabilities!

Although one would expect I would rebel in the other direction, the one thing that could not help but rub off on me is frugality.  I started working at the age of 14 and paid 1/2 of my pay to my parents as room and board, (of COURSE.)  I finally had some disposable income and you would have thought I would spend it on clothes, haircuts and such.  NO.  I was a compulsive saver.  I saved to buy my own car at the age of 16 and I saved enough to pay for college at the age of 18. I am definitely not as frugal as my father, (who, by the way, died and left my mother with several hundred thousand dollars with which she happily used for the next ten years to travel to exotic locales.)  I do, however, get a big thrill buying things on sale with deep discounts!  I’m the type who would go to JC Penny’s or Macy’s and buy the seasonal items on sale at 80% off with an additional 20% off coupon.  Who can resist shirts for $3 or pants for $5?  I clothe my 5 children in this manner, always buying the year before for clothes they would need the next year.  Once, when a local department store went out of business, they were selling children’s clothing for 50 cents each. Who could turn THAT down?????  I bought 4 RACKS of clothing!  Fortunately, I was in the process of adopting our daughter from Guatemala, so my mother and I stuffed all of the clothing in 8 large suitcases which we took with us to Guatemala.  We each put our own clothes into backpacks which we carried.  The orphanage which had so tenderly cared for my daughter was thrilled to get such an assortment of new clothes.  The director actually cried because she said all they ever got were dirty and ripped hand me downs.

I no longer do the grocery shopping in my house because, like my father, I would only by items which were deeply on sale.  My husband is not a canned vegetable kind of guy.  In fact, I was lucky enough to marry a cook, so he does all of his own shopping, regularly visiting the local farm for fresh produce or the local meat market for fresh meat or fish.  My cupboards and refrigerator are always full of great food and I never have to worry about how much it cost!

Which brings me back to my drugstore sojourn yesterday when, browsing the aisles, I noticed that some of the make-up items were 75% off.  (PLUS I had a $5 off coupon for the store!  What could be better?)  I picked out the marked-down items and proudly brought them to the register.  I was happy!  I was frugal!  I was an idiot!  When I got the items home and tried to use them, I was horrified to learn I had bought powdered make-up such an ugly color that when I put it on I looked like I had pancake make-up on my face. (I’m not talking about pancake make-up they were in the movies, I’m talking about make-up that actually looked like I was wearing pancake flour on my face!)  I tried the blush and it was so red that my cheeks looked like a clown.  The lipstick was brown.  (UGH!)  The mascara was not waterproof, (something I HATE because by night time I being to look like a raccoon.)  And WHY hadn’t I noticed that the nail polish was green???  For the first time in my life I looked at my white powdered, red cheeked, brown lipped self in the mirror and I thought “I am officially crazy!”  Oh, well, its a good thing that I think I am pretty on the INSIDE!

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