Archive for the ‘happy’ Category

The Ice Prevails

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It snowed another 5 or 6 inches last week, and I dreaded going out to clean off my car. The fact that I waited until the day after to clean it promised that an icy mix would be glued to the car, almost impossible to get off. Leaving the house 10 minutes early, all bundled up in winter coat, boots and gloves and brandishing a broom, I made my way through the glistening snow still piled untouched on the front lawn. Taller than my boots, the snow crept in over the top, slid inside and coated my socks, causing instant panic in my feet. I hate to be cold!!

Daringly approaching the car, I pointed my broom expecting ice and frozen snow to be waiting. With one swish of my oversized weapon, the snow fell to the side like tiny cotton balls, sliding off the car with gleaming ease, taunting me with the juxtaposition. Who ever heard of fluffy, lightweight snow, especially the day after a storm? The car was cleaned in a record 4 minutes, including getting all of the snow off the top of the car. A full 6 minutes ahead of schedule, there was plenty of time to stop at Dunkin Donuts for a tea!

Later in the week, frozenness returned as though we were surely visited by Elsa (from the movie Frozen.) I walked taking tiny steps like a ballerina in training, careful not to hurry and slip. Holding my granddaughter’s hand to cross the street, she looked at the street and exclaimed, “Look, Mimi, the street is a big ice cube!” Although her laughter was catchy, I had to be careful not to let mine cause unbalance. Too late…laughing caused me to change my center of gravity and…boom…I plopped right down in the middle of the street. Not injured, I crawled on my hands and knees towards our front yard while worried Rosy repeatedly asked me if I was okay. Because the rule was she had to hold my hand when crossing the street, and she couldn’t due to my positioning, she dutifully placed a hand on my head, grabbing onto my hair like she was grabbing onto a horse’s mane. I was very glad to reach our front door, for several obvious reasons.

Living on a small pond, we have had a long winter of frozen ice. Hockey skaters regularly played their favorite game, and fisherman somehow enjoyed sitting in the cold catching fish. It seemed like a lot of work just to catch one and throw it back, but I am probably minimizing the joy of it.

One thing I learned in Science was that ice expands as it freezes. (The ice in my ice cube trays always used to overflow, causing more difficulty in finagling them out of the old metal ice cube trays.) The ice in the pond is no different. Very often at night, awakening me from a sound sleep would be a loud, guttural groan coming from the pond, unlike any other earthly noise.   Although intellectually I knew it was from the expanding ice, my rapidly awakened brain would immediately think it came from an underworld, (much like the one depicted in the Netflix show Stranger Things.) I would then stay awake, alert, listening for any additional noises that might be supernatural, until drifting back into a troubled sleep.

Looking out the window today, my granddaughter gasped that the ice in the pond was melting, represented by many areas of open water. Typical toddler, she thought it was hilarious. Myself, I was relieved…relieved that maybe the cold weather was abating and the eerie groans from the ice and the ice cube streets were history for 2018. That is, until I caught a glimpse of the weather forecast. Freezing temperature and more snow was yet to come.

 

 

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My Children Are Just Like Me

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My children who are adopted are of mixed races, which has instigated a lot of joking over the years about how much we are like each other. I remember shopping at Walmart with my daughter, Dinora, when she was about 6 months old.  Sitting in the infant seat, she exhibited every characteristic of a child of Mayan Indian heritage.  The woman in front of me turned around and looked at her, then looked at me, then looked back at her. “She certainly must look like her father!” she said, in kind of a huff. Incorrect, of course, she was just like us.

Three of my children have brown eyes, just like me! Two have blue eyes, just like their dad! Amazing, just like each other!  All of us love ice cream, especially cookie dough, which was hard to keep in the freezer, even though I would hide a carton way in the back under the pork chops, figuring the children hated pork chops.  They didn’t hate them enough to look behind them to find our special treat.

Swimming is something we have in common, (mostly because we live on a lake.) Dinora was able to swim by the age of 18 months old. She used to jump off the side in the deep end of the community pool with me. Everyone was shocked, saying it was dangerous for her to be so deep. But she was so tiny that even if she jumped off the lower end she still wouldn’t be able to touch the bottom, so what was the difference? My son, Francis, was on a swim team, and won a medal for the fastest swimmer.  Steven spent most of his time by the water, pretending to be the Crocodile Hunter with the ability to swim quite far if he saw one of his prey. Angel was a great swimmer, as was Marie.  Many a time Marie and I would take floats and swim back and forth across the lake.  (Okay, so using float was cheating, but the comradeship was worth it.) Hubby, I, and all of my children,  are natural swimmers, just like each other!

Three of my children are creature lovers, anything from earth worms to boa constrictors to the every day dog, cats and bunnies. It is as though any living creature is a fascination to them, handled with care and put back into their “natural environment”, a special expression of Steven’s. One day, while camping at six years old, he found a common garter snake, hunting it down as only Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, could do.  On his haunches, he followed the snake through the rocks and eventually wrangled it onto a stick. By then, a crowd of children had gathered, squealing, “A snake!  Yeeeewww.  A snake! Steven gently showed the snake, saying “Isn’t she a beaut?  Look at that great color that can hide in the forest. Nature is amazing!”

With the exception of me and their dad, everyone loves scary movies. Okay, so maybe they aren’t like us in this manner as hubby turns away anytime he sees blood or monsters on tv and I hide under a pillow anytime I hear eerie music. We can’t ALWAYS be the same!

We all love to go apple picking, to see the colored leaves in the autumn, to watch a sunset at the beach, to swim in the waves, and to help those less fortunate.  Francis was building houses with Habitat for Humanity despite his blindness and Dinora raised money for a soup kitchen in her native Guatemala.  We all worked on making sandwiches which would be delivered to Cross Rhodes. With all of these similarities, of COURSE we are related! And so we have built MY family…

Now they are building theirs. Francis has a three year old daughter who physically looks JUST LIKE HIM, (minus the vision impairment!) Dinora has a young daughter and son who physically looks JUST LIKE HER. And Steven has a three year old who physically looks JUST LIKE HIM, massive head of kinky, curly hair and all! Angel is in touch with his biological family who physically look JUST LIKE HIM. All of the similarities we fostered as a family cannot compare to the fact that their flesh and blood look similar to them. But that is not what they focus on. They bond over similarities…Steven’s daughter really loves animals and strawberries, she MUST be his daughter! Dinora’s son is great at drawing and her daughter is a little diva, enjoying make-up and nail polish, (so much like her diva mom.) Francis’s daughter loves vanilla pudding and swimming in the waves in California! Go figure!

The truth is, family is not what is built by flesh and blood, but by common interests, tastes, morals and a whole lot of love. Of COURSE we are all related, we are a family!

 

‘Twas Once a Child

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My daughter, Marie, has reached adulthood, having graduated from a residential program that had services for both her deafness and her mental health issues. This is the age of worry for any parent, especially one with so many challenges.

When she came to live with us at the age of seven and we were told she was “just deaf”, we could not have properly prepared ourselves for the roller coaster ride of a life she, and we, would have. She was a wild child, blonde hair askew, eyes angry, mouth so hungry she would hoard food under her mattress. She was very angry she had been removed from her mother, (for doing unspeakable acts which shall remain unspoken.) Despite providing her with a healthy, well cared for childhood, Marie’s disposition had been preformed. She would lie, steal, beg strangers for money, and reject all of our efforts to parent her. A hug and a kiss would throw her into a fury. Discussing our parenting situation and our need to show her love, she reluctantly let us “fist bump” her. Years later she apologized and told us her birth mom made her promise not to hug or kiss us, and that we really wouldn’t be her parents. It took us many years of fist bumps before she would accept a hug, and many years more before she would let us kiss her. She is now a young adult, and freely hugs and kisses us if the mood suits her. She shows genuine affection and appreciation, the highest reward any parent could expect from an original wild child.

Although Marie can be very capable, she has been unable to live in a non-structured setting because of her unstable bouts with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. For those unfamiliar with this life altering condition, it is experiencing horrific memories so acutely that one becomes “in the moment” of prior abuse, crazed eyes staring back as though at her accusers, ready to defend herself with flailing arms and legs and gnashing teeth. An ambulance ride to the hospital and sedation was the only thing that could bring her out of her experience. It has always been especially tear inducing, (for me,) when at the hospital, with her hand in restraints, she would wake from the sedation, look around, and finger spell (ASL) asking me where she was, having had no memory of the event. Next she would say her throat hurts, (from screaming, no doubt,) and ask for a Popsicle, which she would skillfully eat while still in restraints.

Marie is now formally an adult. A lot of planning has gone into finding an adult home for her, one that would be staffed 24 hours. My calling all possible supported living programs in our state began about a year and a half ago. With the dual diagnosis of deafness and mental illness, no program would accept her. Many of the programs who may have had prior experience in working with her, never even returned my calls.

After working closely with the Department of Developmental Disabilities, whose frustration and efforts equaled mine; they were able to establish a placement for her that has far surpassed our expectations through a program used to dealing with adults with more severe developmental disabilities. They had no prior experience with a young adult with both of Marie’s difficulties, but once they learned there was someone in such need, they stepped right up and took on the challenge.

Marie now lives in a cute, little house on a nice residential street. As described by those on the show “House Hunters”, this one would be described at “Retro”, with bright yellow tile, a front door carved with circles, and a front porch with wrought iron table and chairs. Neighbors bring over cookies and wave to each other on the street. There are three bedrooms in the house, and she is hoping that a housemate will join her soon. She insists that her house buddy like to watch scary movies, (VERY scary movies,) and, most of all, must not be allergic to pets. Marie has a guinea pig that is usually perched on her chest with both of her hands gently stroking the lucky animal, a calming activity that works for both her and Oreo, who is black with a white center, of course.

Marie is thrilled to be able to go shopping for food she likes, not necessarily the food I have cooked for her. She is no longer in school, so work activities will happily replace the classes with which she used to have such frustration. She has directly chosen the things that she would like to do during the day, throwing out suggestions I would have thought unobtainable.

Marie has always loved to ride horses but gets frustrated that when we go, her horse needs to be tethered to another due to her deafness. She recently began an activity at a horse farm that facilitates riding for children with disabilities. For such children, the riding is therapeutic, but the horse walks slowly. Marie’s job is going to be to trot the horses at the end of the day because the horses themselves get bored walking slowly. What better job than that for someone who loves to ride horses?

Marie’s penchant for all animals has earned her a spot working with “disenfranchised” cats and kittens, that is, homeless felines. She will clean the cages, feed them, and then “show them off” like Vanna White highlights the letters on “Wheel of Fortune”. Oreo will be jealous, I’m sure, so Marie will have to wash the cat scent off before she returns home.

At this point in her life, Marie is feeling very good about herself and her care for others. She has signed up for a Meals on Wheels route, and all of those hugs she didn’t give in her early years will undoubtedly be dispensed ten times over among her lunch recipients.

As a mom with a daughter for whom life experiences didn’t start out well, I am so thrilled that in her adult life she will be doing the things she enjoys with people who will support, encourage and appreciate her. What more could any parent ask for?

 

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To read our story raising Marie and her four siblings, please purchase my book, The Apple Tree:  Raising 5 Kids with Disabilities and Remaining Sane. It is on sale on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Thank you for your support!

Come On, Friend!

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One of the joys of being a grandparent is spending fun time with my grandchildren. Sometimes on Saturdays my granddaughter, Rose, and I go to the Play Place at Burger King. She has so much energy that the climbing, jumping, crawling, swinging, hiding and chasing meets her activity level head on. However, the most amazing behavior coming from this innocent little tot is her ability to consider everyone her friend.

Rose, whose speech is delayed, is very large for her age of three, chunky and sturdy, but not overweight. She has a head of wild, curly hair that overwhelms her face. When other children talk to her, she cannot answer questions about her name, how old she is, or other ordinary questions children ask. Instead, she will gleefully look them in the eye, motion to them, and say, “Come on, friend,” as they inevitably run off to play together.

Rose adjusts her behavior to the age and temperament of her friends. Older boys, who would not generally want to play with a toddler, will play “tag” with her, thinking they can outrun her. Giggling, she runs beyond their speed limits with her long legs, chasing them into a corner where she tags them, and she steps back so they can run off and the game can begin again.

If Rose is playing with someone smaller than herself, her whole demeanor changes. She smiles and gently motions them along, skillfully helping them up to the next level, patting them soothingly on the back, and encouraging them with “Come on, friend.”

Rose has the most fun playing with someone her own size. They generally take turns playing “follow the leader”. Laughter streams from the Play Place as everyone is having fun.

Rose does not discriminate between friends, and merrily plays with anyone. One day a boy with obvious ADHD was running, skipping and jumping in a disorganized manner throughout the play area. Rose joined him, step by step, copying the same things he did, laughing uproariously.

Another day, an older girl who was non-verbal with an obvious developmental delay, became her friend. Rose joined her, playing on the outskirts. She copied her; jumping and twirling like her new friend. Every now and then, this girl would make a pleasant noise and Rose would repeat it in a singsong manner, taking her friend’s hand and saying, “Come on, friend,” as they did their dance.

Anytime one of her playmates leaves, Rose runs over to wave and say “Bye, friend,” then looks around for another friend to call her own. If no other children are in the Play Place, she will come and sit with me to have a drink of water and relax a little bit. Sometimes she will stand up and look into the Burger King dining room to see if any potential friends are eating their lunch. “Friends?” she says quizzically, putting both hands up in asking the question. As soon as another child enters the play area, Rose jumps up, runs to them, pats the child on the back saying, “Hi, friend!” as they go off to play.

This past Saturday, I heard screaming coming from the upper level of the play area. Not screaming as though she were hurt, but screeching that affected everyone’s eardrums. The boy with her was screaming also, in unison. Standing on my tiptoes, I saw the boy hit Rose, and Rose hit him back. This screaming and hitting went back and forth a few times before Rose heard me calling her to come down. Generally obedient, Rose was soon by my side where I reminded her that she should not hit or scream. She looked at me with her innocent, big brown eyes, pointed up and said “Friend?” who had continued screaming while his dad sat nearby and played on his cell phone. Reinforcing my rule for Rose that SHE could NOT scream or hit or we would leave, she wasted no time in darting her eyes around the room to find another friend, and soon ran off to play with someone else.

I learned two very important life lessons from Rose that day. She could learn proper behavior, and choose not to engage in misbehavior, even if it was hilarious fun for her at the time. More importantly, she was accepting of all children, and modified her behavior to deal with their differences. What a wonderful society we would have if we all could accommodate those different than ourselves; not just “accepting” them, but actively interacting with them and providing a positive relationship.

Come on, friends, we wait to greet you!

Why Is It That…

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 My morning commute to work should be 17 minutes according to the GPS. That time is based on the average number of red lights along the way, as well as traffic slow ups in a few areas. I generously leave myself 20 minutes of drive time. Most days, my body is in my chair at work, computer turned on, by 9 am. On those more important days, such as an early meeting with a patient or a work committee, every traffic signal along the way glares “stop”. They turn red JUST as I get to them. Every one. Some of those red lights at the big intersections seem to be several minutes long, adding precious time to my commute. Why is it that on the most important days, traffic seems to be heavier, more acutely elderly are driving at a snail’s pace, and there are an abundance of red lights?

     Eating out is a wonderful experience Hubby and I get to do once a week. Saturdays are especially important because many local restaurants serve Prime Rib, a favorite of mine, especially while on a low carb diet. There’s nothing better than eating a huge, Flintstone size, piece of meat. (I apologize to all vegetarians, but I am what I am….) Hubby and I settle into a comfy booth with the seat still warm from the couple sitting before us. We leisurely chat a little bit, telling the scurrying waiter we are in no hurry, mentally savoring the meal that is about to come. Except it doesn’t. The restaurant is out of Prime Rib. OUT? How can that be? My patience is tested when I am told they had a “run” on this mouth-watering hunk of meat and none was left for me. Why is it that when I am most looking forward to a meal, the restaurant is out of it?

     The days of nice summer weather have been a delight, and I had splurged on a few summer dresses for work. Ah…the warmth of the sun on my skin, the sunlight making my eyes squint, a dress swishing around my legs and a bounce in my step. Except for that one day last week, where the temperature was in the 60s and it was rainy and glum. I wore my favorite dress that day to add something positive to the dreary atmosphere. It would have worked out fine except the dress was sleeveless and I shivered all day. Why is it that we are tricked into wearing summer clothes when the temperature is more of autumn?

     Why is it that…

…when you wear sandals, there are socks a-plenty, but when you wear regular shoes, there are no matching socks to be found?

…when you meet someone from your past and you try to introduce him/her to Hubby, you can’t remember his/her name?

…you can be happily playing the penny slot machine at a Casino for an hour, and when your $20 runs out, you leave the machine, only to observe someone else sit in your spot and win the jackpot?

…when you search and search and can’t find your glasses, they are right on top of your head?

…when you need to sign a check, the only writing implement in your purse is a Sharpie?

…when you are just getting into an interesting article, it ends….?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time Flies in New Hampshire

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We went to New Hampshire a lot when the children were younger, staying in a tent and sitting around a blazing fire, roasting marshmallows and laughing. I loved poking at the fire, which I favored when traveling with my family. Finding a big “poking stick” was mandatory, a green one so the wood wouldn’t burn too fast.

Francis and Dinora were fine with a tent, but when Steven and another foster baby or two joined our family, we had to move up to renting a small “cabin in the woods”. We had tried tent camping with Steven, who displayed symptoms of ADHD from the moment he started to walk. A campsite was too inviting for him, and we spent the entire time chasing him from among and in the trees. Either that, or he would sit motionless, fascinated at wildlife, watching an ant hill for hours on end.

Our conquests of nature were invigorating. To see Ellis Falls, we had a spirited hike down into the woods to view the magnificent wall of falling water, sunlight brightly sprinkling off the cascade. Hiking back up was just enough to make us “feel the burn”. Even though it was a short distance, to us it simulated a hike up a long mountain, including the sense of euphoria when we reached the apex, (the parking lot with our car.)

The children liked Lower Falls best, an area where the water gushed over large rocks, smooth from the years of abrasion. It was fun to crawl among the rocks, often falling into the river, a cold and a welcome respite from the warm sun. When the children aged, they dared fate by sliding down the natural water slide into a small pool of water at the bottom. Hubby and I would bring a cooler of lunch and sit in webbed lawn chairs on the side, closely watching the antics of the children. Steven especially loved this area, as there were many potential wildlife attractions to keep his attention. One year, we hit it right at pollywog season, and Steven and his net were kept busy all day catching the amazing little squiggles of black, (which were, of course, set free before we left.)

We would often take the children out into the lake in our small motorboat. They would go tubing off the end, as Hubby would drive the boat back and forth forcing the tube to repeatedly cross over the wake. They would fish; catching huge, squirmy, samples of fish, which would be released back into the water. It was so funny if they caught a similar fish, thinking it was the same one, as though the bounty of fish in the water sat by just so that the worm could trick that same fish again. There was a small island where our boat would stop and tie up, allowing the children to enjoy a huge rope swing which would send them flying into the water. Joyous fun would be had by all.

The years have gone by and last weekend Marie came along to NH. Did she want to go out on the boat, go fishing, catch frogs from the nearby pond, or swim in the lake? No. Her choice, as was ours, was to lounge around and watch old DVDs. She and hubby especially like The Three Stooges as their brand of slapstick humor requires no ASL interpretation. I never heard so much laughter as last weekend, including a chuckle or two from myself. Then, having withdrawal from Wi Fi and “talking” to her friends, we drove Marie to Starbucks where she could order a smoothie and use the free Wi Fi while sitting in a comfy chair. As we drove away and left her there to go grocery shopping, I had a strong urge to join her instead of schlepping things around the grocery store. Keeping Hubby in mind, however, I was reluctant to say anything, knowing that he would be hurt if I chose Wi Fi over spending time picking out the gourmet ingredients he would use to prepare meals.

We were too lazy to start a fire at night, using the excuse that the mosquitoes would be awful and who wanted to put on the foul smelling spray to keep them away? Instead, we watched more Three Stooges and ate s’mores made in the microwave. Ah…New Hampshire never fails to entertain us. What a great family weekend!

 

Best…day…EVER

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I was fortunate to be chosen to do a presentation at the National Foster Parents Conference in Orlando last week. Sponsored by my employer, two hours were spent educating professionals on the importance of recognizing and treating mental health issues in children as early as possible, including facilitating school support services such as Individual Education Plans. In an attempt to try to prevent additional mental health issues for undiagnosed teens, (such as depression, anxiety, suicide ideation, and eating disorders,) support and services for mental health issues need to start as early in childhood as possible.

In order to be able to socialize with other foster teens, I brought my daughter, Marie, with me, as it also coincided with her birthday. My presentation was well received, and Marie’s time went swimmingly; the teens congregated in the pool for volleyball, basketball and movie night. (They would have also played Marco Polo, but deferred to Marie’s deafness.)

The day after the conference was Marie’s birthday so she got to choose which Theme Park she wanted to go to, The Magic Kingdom. The last time I had been there was 20 years ago when we had a tragic visit with Steven for whom the park was a sensory nightmare. Since that time, and with 5 children, we had never been able to afford a trip back and the conference offered us the perfect opportunity.

Despite the fact it was Memorial Day weekend, one of the busiest days, and a bright and sunny 98 degrees, we had an amazingly awesome day. Marie was like a young child, soooooo excited about the sights. With a broad smile on her face all day, and lots of laughing and pointing at things she found especially funny, we had the BEST DAY EVER! With the use of the Fast Pass, (free) we were able to book the attractions so we generally only had a 5 to 10 minute wait. (It was astonishing to see how many people were willing to wait in the “stand by” line of 2 hours.)

Marie took pictures of EVERYTHING, including each and every country represented in “It’s a Small World”. (Being deaf, she wasn’t affected by the constant repetition of this song, which is cute for a few verses, but by the end of the ride can be almost unbearable.)

It was our lucky day because an ASL interpreter was provided for those attractions where listening was important; Country Bear Jamboree, Jungle Cruise, Monster’s Inc Comedy Show and so forth, making the attractions much more “attractive” to Marie.

In addition to the rides, Marie was super excited to see the Disney characters all over the park; Mickey and Minnie, Goofy, Cinderella and so forth. (She has pictures of each and every one of them.) She wanted to get pictures of the characters from The Incredibles, but they were leading dances in a dance area and people walking into the crowd to take pictures were not allowed. I told her she had to dance her way in, which she scoffed at. However, with the beats of the song flashed in bright lights all around, and desperate to take their pictures, her body started moving to the tune and she danced her way toward them. She soon was able to snap many “incredible” pictures of the characters as they interacted with her. She was so happy that when the dance ended, her body kept dancing, and danced all the way down Main Street.

Nothing was more amazing to her than the nighttime electric parade. It was comical to see her reaction to the brightly lit floats boarded by all of the Disney characters. As the characters waved into the crowd, Marie enthusiastically waved back, as though they were waving directly at her. “Wow! Look at THAT!” she kept signing to me, giggling.

Fireworks topped off the evening. Although Marie has seen fireworks before, none were as spectacular as when seen over the spires of Cinderella’s castle. Splashes and configurations of color decorated the sky. Even Marie went “ooooh! ahhhhh!” along with the crowd, and clapped heartily when they were finished.

On the ride back to the hotel, Marie gave me the biggest hug and kiss. “I am so lucky to have you for my mom. That was the best day of my life. Thank you for adopting me!” she signed. Yes, definitely the best day EVER!

 

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