Time To Go Back To Driving School

I think I need to go back to driving school.  No, I haven’t had an accident.  There are apparently just all kinds of new laws I don’t know about.  I mean, come on, I turned 16, um, well, let’s just say a LOT of years ago, I shouldn’t be surprised.  Here are a few things I notice just in my journeys today that are different from what I learned:

1.       The left hand being for passing and faster traffic is no longer true.  It is now for:

a.       People who need to turn left 15 miles up the road and can’t drive as fast as the people in the other lanes.

b.      People who need to turn RIGHT 15 miles up the road and can’t drive as fast as the people in the other lanes.

2.       If you are going to turn right at some point, you must drive in the farthest left hand lane until no less than 15 feet from where you want to turn right, especially if there are more than 2 lanes in your direction.

3.       That little bar that sticks out from your steering wheel that makes directional lights work, it is obsolete.  Especially if you plan to turn right in 15 feet and you are in a lane 3 lanes over to the left.

4.       “Do Not Enter” means “This is where you exit the parking lot.”  Hmmm…maybe that actually makes sense.

5.       Those people entering on those on-ramps on the highway, you are supposed to do everything you can to make sure they don’t get in front of you.

6.       You must play your car stereo loud enough to be heard from 2 blocks away.

7.       A yellow light means speed up.  (Ok, so I knew that one, I’m not THAT old.)

8.       If there are orange cones blocking your way, you are supposed to get out of your car and move them.

9.       If you are at an intersection with traffic lights, and that traffic light does NOT have a left hand turn signal, people turning left have the right-of-way.

10.   And last but not least, you are supposed to subtract at least 20 mph from the speed limit posted if there is any sort of law enforcement car within a ½ mile radius.

 

You know, it’s really surprising I’ve never gotten a traffic ticket with my ignorance of all these new laws. I’m really feeling kind of like an inadequate driver right now.  Well, I guess that is why they have wine.

Maybe I should start drinking it while I’m driving.  (JUST KIDDING!)

Have we become too paranoid?

Maybe it’s my age and I remember that everyone was allowed to just innocently play outside and that it was OK to talk to our neighbors.  Maybe I’ve always just had great neighbors.  Maybe I’m just a bad mom.  Whatever the case, I think we’ve become a helicopter society.  You know, you’ve heard of helicopter parents, right?  The term given to those more “protective” parents, the ones that are even more protective than our overprotective society in general?  We're too busy protecting and worrying that no one knows each other.

I let my child play outside.  Alone.  All by himself.  He is allowed to ride his bike.  To go to the river and look for alligators.  To play with other kids in the neighborhood, and even go inside their homes.

When my son was 6, I bought a condo, and last year, when he was 10, I got married and moved into my husband’s home.  In both neighborhoods I heard the exact same quote a few days after being there:  “Thank goodness there is someone that my kids can play with.”  This is not because he is some special kid.  He has no superpowers.  He’s just allowed to play outside.  Apparently, a rare thing.

Again, maybe it’s my age, but when I was growing up my parents knew all my friends parents, and my friends. I follow their example.  I make a point to talk to the parents, and to talk to the kids.  Sometimes I know more about my son’s friends than he does, and many times they’ve come over to show me their awards or tell me about their winning game or sometimes just to chat.  They wave to me if they see me at school. One of his middle school friends called one day on my son’s cell phone and asked to talk to me, to ask if Aiden could have permission to do something with him.  Heck, when we lived in our condo, the kids would come to me for water or to use the bathroom when my son wasn’t even there for the weekend!  I can trust him playing with friends, and their parents can trust them playing with him. 

Have all my son’s friend had ideal parents?  Nope.  I’ve known some children whose mom’s boyfriend dealt drugs, and one whose dad is a convicted felon recently released from prison.  But note that I actually KNOW that.  I am involved enough to know who people are.

Get to know your neighbors, your kid’s friends, their parents.  And then let your kids leave the house and interact with them, making your judgments based on actual knowledge.  You will be doing them a favor.  They can’t live in a bubble forever.

Sometimes it can be hard.  But that’s why they have wine.

Parenting, One Size Doesn't Fit All

Parenting.  I think the definition is “perplexing dilemma.”

There is always someone to tell you what is right, what is appropriate, what proves you love your child best.

I’m pretty sure I do the opposite of most of those.  Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’m doing the right thing.  But then my child says something to me, and removes my doubts.

There are so many choices to make.  I am actually a pretty strict parent, but I have chosen the battles I think are important.

Tonight, my son asked if we were watching TV.  What that meant was “Is there a new ‘How I Met Your Mother’ on tonight."  Obviously, this is not one of my battles.  I had to sadly inform him that last week was the season finale, but on the bright side, on Wednesday there was a new “Modern Family” to watch.  Two shows many parents would look down on me for letting him watch, and they are on his favorites list.  Why do I let him view these programs?  Because sometimes it’s the best way to start conversations with your child.  He asks me questions sometimes, we hit the pause button (thank God for DVR’s!), and talk about things.  I honestly think that is a big part of why he loves to watch those with me.  It’s actually given him a better perspective on what is age-appropriate behavior than some of his peers have, and making things less mysterious takes away a lot of the draw towards it.  And if something makes him uncomfortable, he excuses himself to get a glass of water or use the bathroom for a minute. There is no fascination of the forbidden.

He saw his first PG-13 movie as a preschooler.  “Pirates of the Caribbean.”  He was entranced through the entire thing, and I can’t think of a single negative effect it had on him. I don’t restrict the music he can listen to.  He knows that MOM doesn’t listen to some stuff because she doesn’t like the language, or just plain old doesn’t like the music, but he is not forbidden.   This is a kid who doesn’t use bad language, at all. Ever. He gets on to his peers for doing it.  When I took him to see the movie “42”, he APOLOGIZED to me that there were some bad words because he was embarrassed about it, and when I explained to him it was appropriate in the context of the movie, he actually understood what I was talking about.

When he was a toddler and his favorite color was pink, I gave him a pink blanket.  When his favorite toy in preschool was a baby doll, I bought him his own.  I’ve let him get a Mohawk haircut.  I let him pick his own clothes, no matter how mismatched they may be.  I let him wear temporary tattoos, and have let him wear them to school or to church.  I let him play Teen rated video games, though I sit down with him to discuss them and we often turn off some of the features with his full understanding of why.  I let him spend his money on candy if that is what he chooses.  I let him have a cell phone.  I let him have a TV in his room.  I let him be him, sarcasm and all.  These are not battles to me.

He is not allowed to be rude, to be disruptive, to be dishonest, to be disrespectful.  He has chores and responsibilities and will have consequences for not doing them.  He needs to try his best at everything he does.  He need to keep a positive attitude and be a good example.  He needs to have respect for people, animals, his possessions, his environment.  Those are my battles.  And they are battles I haven’t really had to fight.

I may be the bad parent in some people’s eyes because I don’t  concur with all the rules made up by someone, but I know I have a wonderful kid.  Perfect?  Heck, no.  But wonderful all the same.  We may all parent different, but I know what works with my child.

And when people with different parenting opinions like to tell me I’m going to have a horrible kid, well, that’s why they have wine.  And laughter. 

 

The Joy I Didn't Know Was Possible

When I took a home pregnancy test a little over 12 years ago, I was not happy with the results.  I cried. And cried.  And panicked.  And cried.  For days.

I did not want children.  Though I actually really like children, and they have always been strangely attracted to me, other people’s kids went home, and it wasn’t mine.  I have very little patience.  I don’t like messy things.  I am easily grossed out.  Babytalk makes me gag.  I like to have everything all lined up and know what to expect.  I like to drink wine, and hang out with friends and spontaneously just go places.  I’m not made of the things I thought mothers were made of.

I was also single, with a job and career, athletic, and travel goals, and not a lot of money.  I lived in a 600 square foot apartment with a very clingy, protective dog whom was not going to let some small human too near me.

I went to my OB/GYN, who confirmed my future.  A few days later, I could eat nothing but saltines and water, for weeks.  I was given medication and it didn’t help.  On a subsequent visit, I learned I had gestational diabetes.  No more saltines, they were not on my approved food list.  Neither were potatoes, bread, pasta, fried foods, anything sweet, basically anything I lived on.  Being a runner with a carb addiction for over 15 years at that time, I didn’t know what to eat, and had trouble gaining weight.   

When I was 23-1/2 weeks pregnant, a few days after I actually just started exclusively wearing maternity clothes, I had some contractions.  I looked in my “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” book and deduced they were Braxton-Hicks contractions, perfectly normal.  The next day I was at work and went to the bathroom.  And there was blood.  I called my boyfriend and he picked me up and took me to the hospital.  I had lost my mucus plug and was dilated.  I was having premature labor. 

I was given drugs to stop it, and a steroid shot to help my baby’s lungs grow.  My doctor wanted me to stay in the hospital.  Because of my aforementioned dog, I talked him into bedrest at home.  I was not allowed to work, even from home.  I was not even supposed to get out of bed except to use the bathroom and shower.  I was not allowed to take that dog for a walk, luckily for me I could open my door, he’d run down the stairs and do his business and run right back up.  I had to have people shop for me.  And drive me to doctor’s appointments, of which there were many.  I had to see my doctor and go to the hospital for an ultrasound weekly.  

Really, all this?  When I wasn’t even planning to have a child?  Apparently God was trying to show me I DID have the stuff mothers are made of.  And in that time I started really getting attached to that little baby.

 At my ultrasound appointment at 29-1/2 weeks, the tech got a worried look on her face.  She sent me to the waiting room and told me not to leave, she was calling my doctor.  After 20 minutes, she came out and told me I was to go straight to his office.  She handed me a 3-D image of my son, something that at the time was not the norm.  I later learned she wanted me to have a picture of my child, alive.

The office was a block away, I was there 2 minutes later.  Despite a waiting room full of patients, the nurse ran right out and took me to an exam room.  Ten minutes later there was a room reserved for me at the hospital, I was on my way to be induced.

Family was called, as well as a wonderful friend who prayed with me and held my hand and talked to my doctor in Spanish with both of them thinking I didn’t know what they were saying.

My baby was in distress.  The cord was around his neck.  He was upside down and backwards.  I was so scared that I was going to lose that little child I hadn’t thought I wanted, as was everyone else.

I was given drugs to induce labor, my water was broken, and later was given an epidural.  A room was reserved for a C-Section in case I needed it.  It didn’t have to be used, but the delivery was not easy.  I could see the stress in my doctor’s eyes.

Finally, he was here.  But he wasn’t crying, wasn’t making a sound.  I wasn’t allowed to see and touch him.  The neonatologist was called and he was surrounded by medical people.  Finally, he was breathing, and then he was rushed off out of the delivery room.  I didn’t even know what that 4-1/2 pound little boy looked like.

Tonight, he is a few months from being 12 years old, and is fast asleep in his room, in his little “cave” created in his bottom bunk.  His room is full of his beloved stuff, his stuffed animals, his video games, his baseball memorabilia.  He is an outstanding athlete – he has been an All Star baseball player since the first year he started and has even beat his former college cross-country runner mother in a local road race.  He has the greatest sense of humor and is very entertaining.  He is caring and loyal and sensitive.  He makes a mean turkey burger and homemade lemonade.  I don’t know what I would do without that kid.  I really don't.  He is my joy.  A joy that 12 years ago I never imagined was possible.

No, things are not perfect.  We deal with ADHD and learning disabilities, and are ready to kill each other after its taken 3 hours to complete 20 minutes of homework.  He can’t tie his shoes and has trouble with eating utensils due to fine motor skill impairments.  He has learned sarcasm from, um, someone, and is not afraid to use it, often at not very ideal times.  He is messy and tries my patience and does gross stuff and will talk babytalk just to annoy me. 

But that’s why they have wine.

 

Stuffed Animals, Fast Food, and Wine. Happy Mother's Day!

As I’m sitting here on the chair next to the two Disney stuffed animals my son lovingly picked out as last year’s Mother’s Day present,  I’m wondering if the average Mom has closer to my typical Mother’s Day, or closer to the Hallmark version.

I don’t usually get elaborate presents.  I’ve never gotten flowers.  I’ve never been taken out to eat.  While my son gets very excited about the gifts he has gotten me over the years, they are usually things he wants to use – the aforementioned stuffed animals that he curls up with every morning before school while waiting for me to finish my makeup, candy, Starbuck’s gift cards accompanied by the query of when I’m going to take him.

This year, Aiden had a little help from my husband, and a ring was ordered that I wanted.  It was to arrive by Mother’s Day.  Then, Thursday, I got an email that said because of demand, I would not receive it until mid-June.  I had to get up earlier than I would have liked this morning to let Aiden in the house after he arrived home from spending the night at his dad’s so he could attend his cousin’s birthday celebration.  I spent my afternoon grocery shopping.  My dinner tonight will most likely be some kind of fast food because none of us have the desire to wait an hour to be seated for a meal at some mediocre restaurant, and I couldn’t find anything at the grocery store deli that would appeal to all of us.

But it’s all good.  To me, being a mother isn’t about being treated special just one day of the year.  It’s about cuddling up with my son every Sunday night to watch the Disney Channel.  Taking walks to the river’s edge to look for alligators.  Being the one in the house no one could live without because I’m the only one who has the ability to find the right baseball socks in the drawer and to make the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

I actually had an out of the ordinary Mother’s day this year.  The ring was not on time, but my husband and son went out yesterday and bought me a watch.  When Aiden got home this morning, he told me to go back to bed so he could bring me breakfast, and when I told him I was headed out to the patio to read the newspaper, he agreed he could bring it out there.  Best darn banana and Diet Coke any mom could ever get!  And now, Aiden is playing outside and my husband is out looking for new tires for his car, so I have total quiet and peace.

And I bought 3 bottles of wine at the grocery store.

Happy Mother’s Day!

If You Are a Teacher....PLEASE Realize Your Impact on Your Kids!

My son has always struggled a little with school.  Because of his birthday, right before the cutoff, he is always the youngest in his class.  He also has some developmental issues – ADHD, sensory processing issues and very poor fine motor skills – that make things just a little harder than for the average kid.  Every year I’ve had conferences where we have discussed concerns, most of those years I’ve been promised evaluations which never happened.

His grades through the 4^th grade weren’t the best, he usually had what would be the equivalent of a “C” (in that whole system where they have a number grade but Unsatisfactories, Satisfactories, etc, as if calling it something else meant something different), with a “B” or even the occasional “A” thrown in there.  He wasn’t an honor roll student, but he wasn’t a poor student either.  State tests were another story, he has never done well on those, but in earlier years his grades always pulled him through.  The evaluations that hadn’t happened, I didn’t push, because he was doing OK and was happy, and he is actually a pretty bright kid.

In the last half of his 4^th grade year, parents were informed that his school was becoming a magnet school, and we would need to apply.  My child didn’t get picked in the lottery.  I enrolled him in a brand new charter school a couple of miles from our home, which promised “individualized” learning.  It sounded wonderful, this would be what would finally bring out his potential.  His first quarter, HE MADE HONOR ROLL, for the first time in his life.  We were ecstatic.

Then…his teacher left.  He was put in a class where I got phone calls weekly that my child just didn’t pay attention, etc, and his grades dropped.  Then, another teacher, and his grades dropped more.  Finally, in the second half of the year, he got a new, dedicated teacher, but unfortunately he had really fallen behind at that point and how he managed to pass 5^th grade is a mystery to both him and me.  But that teacher, she encouraged me to get private evaluations done, and she was awesome in getting questionnaires filled out for our doctor in a very short period of time.  I got the documentation I needed to get him a 504 plan.  He started on medication, which has tremendously increased his focus.  I was very hopeful for the next year, it would be the second year of the school and teachers would be more stable.

Ha!

He is on his second teacher of the year for History, 3^rd for Math, 4^th for Language Arts and Reading, 3^rd for Science, 2^nd for Computers (his elective).  How is an AVERAGE child supposed to do well with that, much less one that has huge issues adjusting to change?

He HATES his school.  He would rather I homeschool him and he knows he doesn’t want that!  He’s going to repeat 6^th grade.  Look at his grades each quarter and they vary WIDELY, depending on who his teacher was.  And it’s not all his fault.

You can have the greatest teaching abilities in the world.  But if you don’t realize that taking a job when you know you have a situation where you are going to leave 3 months later to move somewhere else, or that you took a middle school job when you can’t handle middle schoolers, or that you just want an extra $2000 a year and will leave your current job at the drop of a hat for it, YOU ARE NOT A GOOD TEACHER.  I understand there are unforeseen situations.  I understand that people would like the opportunity for better jobs than what they have.  But if you are a teacher, you need to be able to dedicate at least 9 months of your life to it, barring some emergency.  My kid is NOT the only one who is suffering both academically and socially for a teacher’s  lack of dedication.  And it sucks.  Really sucks.  My child’s whole life could be impacted by this.  If you can’t be a dedicated teacher, please turn down the job and let those who can have the opportunity.  For the sake of the children.

I don’t hate teachers, I have an awful lot of respect for what they have to put up with.  I know what they deal with.  My mom just retired from her job as a Special Education teacher a little over a year ago.  She’s left jobs…for money, because she didn’t want to teach at a school who just “taught to the test”, because she had philosophical differences with principals…but NEVER in the middle of the year.  And she agrees with me.  You can’t just leave kids high and dry and expect them to succeed.  They are our future.

I’ve been re-doing my budget, refinancing my mortgage, and doing anything I can to set money aside….I’m determined to send my son to an established private school next year, one for kids with learning disabilities, one where the teachers realize the impact they have on a child’s life. 

I may even have to switch to cheap wine.  But it’s worth it.  If you are a teacher, please realize the effects of your actions.  And for those who don’t, well, that’s why I have wine!

 

Recovering from Vanity

Vanity.  Most of us struggle with it much more than we realize.

I can remember being a teen and looking at people who are now my age. You know, old, in their mid- 40’s.  Or so I thought.  But what I also thought was “I can’t wait for that day when it’s OK to just be me.”  I admired women who could go out without makeup.  Who wore comfortable shoes.  Who could wear something just because they liked it, who cares if it’s in style?

I completely admit to being that person who has to get up and shower and do their hair and put on makeup, even if the only thing I’m doing all day is cleaning my bathroom.  I mean, what if the mailman brings something too big to fit in the mailbox, I have to look human when I answer the door!

This last week and a half, I had the flu.  The real, actual flu, the one with an alphabet name.  The one that makes you wake up at 3 am and pray for death.  The one that made me, for the first time in my life, throw caution to the wind and drop off my son at school not only without makeup or putting my contacts in, but without even taking a shower.  And a couple days, I picked him up 7 hours later the same way.

Did it really take me 45 years of life and a 104 fever to realize life went on if I left the house without mascara?  Yes, yes it did.

And I like it.

On Monday, I got a call from the school that my son was in the clinic and needed to be picked up, he was having stomach problems.  I was unshowered, had no makeup on, hair was greasy, and I was wearing my glasses.  Of course I saw at least 5 people I know in the process of going to the office and checking my son out.  And guess what, they all still recognized me.  None went into shock over my unkempt appearance.  And they still like me.

The next day, still sick as a dog, I needed to pick up milk after I picked Aiden up from school.  I bravely walked into Publix in the same unkempt manner, and actually felt a little powerful.  I hadn’t been in a grocery store without makeup, much less a shower, since I was 12.

I sit here now wondering why the heck I ever worried about this stuff.  I don’t like putting in my contacts.  Because of my allergies, they actually quite often bother me.  And you know something, my glasses actually look pretty darn good.  It was a shame, anyways, to buy $400 designer frames to only wear when I’m at home!

So, the next time you see me, if I’m in my Crocs and yoga pants and a t-shirt, and proudly sporting my glasses over unmade-up eyes, I haven’t gone off the deep end.  I just realized that it’s OK to be comfortable when you go buy a carton of milk.

I wonder how much time I’ve wasted making sure I look OK to walk out to my mailbox in my lifetime?  Hmmm….well, that’s why they have wine!