You Can't Just Spank It Out Of Them

Now that elections are over, and political articles and posts are dying down, it seems like the judgmental parenting one’s are again taking over.  Specifically, I have seen no less than 4 on children with ADHD or Autism in the last 24 hours.  While most of the articles and blogs are positive, there is always a barrage of negative comments, or sharing of the articles with a negative post.

As anyone who regularly reads this blog, or those that have known me for a while, knows, my 15 year old has ADHD. He has a couple other side diagnoses too, which is typical for kids with neurological disorders.  Fighting the ignorance on these disorders is something I will do till I’m dead, because I know first hand how that ignorance can affect a child’s life, well into adulthood.

The biggest fallacy that people cling to in this area is that ADHD is not real, and that parents just don’t discipline their children.  Let me talk about that for a moment.  People that have met my son in the last few years, they looked shocked if he mentions he has ADHD.  Some of those people may be shocked right now reading this, they see a polite, somewhat shy, smart, sensitive, caring, athletic, disciplined, amazing teenager.  Why?  Not because I am a lazy parent who sits on the couch eating bon bons and watching TV while my child runs wild, but because as a parent of a child with ADHD, I have invested huge amounts of energy in finding resources, treatments, and strategies that help him cope with his symptoms and frustration. 

For us, one of those is medication.  Medication that gets him through the school day and wears off in the late afternoon or early evening.  He doesn’t take it so that I can drug him into submission and not deal with him (though it is nice when it’s still in effect and he isn’t a constant chatterbox), it has worn off by the time I am around him.  It is so that he can focus in school and learn.  It is so the stimuli isn’t all hitting him so hard he can’t filter through it.  It is so he has a chance to process his feelings and thoughts without something else interrupting.  It is so he can practice the strategies we’ve worked on for years.

When my son was younger, before anyone would listen to me that something was wrong, I was more of a disciplinarian than I am now.  He was grounded, he was spanked, he had toys taken away, and privileges revoked.  Yet, he still was not reaching his potential in school, I got notes and calls from teachers, he was actually suspended once in the 3^rd grade, he would hit me, throw things, destroy his belongings, lie constantly.  We did sticker charts, behavior contracts.  When I pushed, teachers told me they were going to get him tested through the school system, and none of it ever came through, and many of those same teaches treated me very condescendingly at conferences, as if I was to blame for everything.  I spent way too much time hiding in the bathroom crying out of frustration.

For my son, a turning point came at the end of 5^th grade, when a new teacher (I think he had 4 different teachers that year, which definitely wasn’t a help!) had a conference with me, and to my surprise agreed with everything I said about my son, because she actually saw his full potential.  She encouraged me and helped me to get private evaluations done because it would be much quicker than going through the school system.  She filled out paperwork in a very short time frame for the neurologist evaluating him, and the summer between 5^th and 6^th grades he started medication.

Because we don’t really just drug the children of our society, the doctor started him on a very small dose.  It can take a while to find the right medication and dosage that works for a child.  While we worked everything out with the medication, he still struggled, and ended up failing 6^th grade.  However, about that time, we found the right medication treatment and I enrolled him in a private school for children with learning disabilities.  The child he always was, was finally visible. 

He excelled in school, getting all A’s but for ONE B in the next three years, and now in a regular high school he is still getting all A’s and B’s.  There were not nightly fights about homework.  I no longer had to ask him for a 5 minute break here or there, because he discovered how to entertain himself.  He still hates grocery stores, noisy restaurants, and crowded events because of the amount of stimuli, but he can handle them without a meltdown.  We still technically have a behavior contract, but the only part of it we look at anymore is the part about school grades, specifically the rewards he earns for them.  He now has an “off switch” that he can control. As a hormonal teenager, he can get loud and rude and obnoxious when I ask him to do something or not do something, especially after his meds wear off, however I have learned to tell him he is being unacceptable and walk away, and wait the 10 minutes for him to calm down and inevitably come and apologize to me for it and then talk about the problem and he follows through on my requests. And, well, I hand it to the naysayers, I rarely, very rarely, discipline my child anymore.  I don’t need to.  Those lessons that I tried to teach when he was younger, they actually did sink in, it was just hard for him to find them before.  If he does get stubborn, all I have to do is give the look or, at the worst, start to pull the cord out of his PS4, and there are no more issues.  He has really come to recognize his symptoms and is in control of telling his doctor if he needs a medication adjustment, as well as learned how to recognize them in others.  We often give each other that knowing, our heart feels for them look when we see a child struggling with his own issues.

A neurological disorder is not something you can just spank out of your child.  It takes a lot of hard work, education, rethinking how you deal with your child.  And it takes TIME. Time in which both the parents and the child are frustrated and working hard. The next time you see a mom in the grocery store who looks like she is about to burst into tears because her kid throws a box out of the back of the cart on the floor AGAIN, try picking it up for her instead of giving her a dirty look.  She might just think back on it at the end of the day and feel encouraged, instead of having to cry in the bathroom.

That’s why they have wine.

It's The End Of The World As We Know It....And I Feel Fine.

On the way to school this morning, my son, a high school freshman, asked, “Tuesday is election day, right?”

“Yes”

“Ok.  Then Wednesday is the end of the world.”

Election time.  Isn’t that kind of how we tend to react?

8 years ago around this day, that same son got in the car after school and said, “Mom, you are a racist.”

“Um, what?”

“We did mock elections at school.  If you don’t vote for Obama, you are a racist.”

I tried to teach him his first lesson about voting.  “You don’t vote for someone because of what color they are, you vote for them if you feel they represent you.  You vote for a President based on if you think they will be a good representative of our country and you have the same kind of opinions they do.”

“Well, according to school, you are a racist.”

Ok, then.  Apparently he was not ready to learn politics.  He was 7.  Unfortunately, there were people who were old enough to vote that weren’t ready to learn that either, so, I resigned myself to being labeled a racist, I was still going to vote for who I felt was the best candidate for me.

4 years later, my son was much more interested in what was going on.  I told him the candidate I was voting for, and why.  I explained differences between beliefs of candidates.  He followed the campaigns.  He went in the voting booth with me and read everything, and we discussed the amendments. He watched the election results all night. Again, in school, they had lessons revolving around politics, and had a class President election.  He introduced his grade to the Libertarian party, and subsequently became their Libertarian President-elect.  I’m pretty sure, however, that his promise of “Fun Fridays” appealed to all, regardless of party.

During this time my son actually APOLOGIZED to me.  He now understood why I voted for who I do, and he couldn’t believe he ever called me racist.  He’d learned a true lesson, not only that you should vote for who you feel would be the best President, but that sometimes politics are really ugly, and we try to influence people by calling names, a tactic most 11 year olds can tell you is pretty counter-productive.

This year, he didn’t have to ask me who I was voting for, he knows me well enough by now.  And, well, that Johnson/Weld sign in our front yard kind of gives it away.  We still talk about politics.  He actually got me back into listening to talk radio a few years ago due to his interest, so we hear a lot of things in the hour and a half or so we are in the car together every day (thus his sarcastic doomsday comment this morning).  He laughs when I yell at the radio and tell them they are wrong.  He asks questions if he wants to know more about something.  He’s formed his own opinions on the candidates.  I’m pretty sure he’s glad he’s not old enough to vote.

Most importantly, he’s gotten to see what the third party movement actually is, and he has learned that our choices in life aren’t really as narrow as the majority would have you think.  He’s learned that being successful doesn’t necessarily mean winning.  He’s seen that getting excited over the small stuff can be a big deal.  He sees parents who don’t back down on expecting our leaders to have integrity and be someone we can be proud of, and none our discussions have had to be why it is OK for Presidential candidates to do and say things that he would be grounded for life for.  

I don’t expect Gary Johnson to win the election tomorrow.  Gary Johnson doesn’t expect Gary Johnson to win tomorrow.  But we’ll be watching the results, not to see who wins (after all, Wednesday is the end of the world!), but to see if history will be made in Johnson getting 8%, which will give the Libertarian party equal access to state ballots and funding that the major parties have, thus the beginning of the end of the era of the two party system.  Some people will consider it success if we have our first female President.  Some will consider it a success if we build a wall.  I consider it a success if just one more person did some research on the other candidates.

Revolutions can start small, but they can have a big impact.

Make sure you vote, for whoever you feel best represents you.

That’s why they have wine.  Here’s to successes, not matter how small!

Be Not Ashamed

Shame, it’s a powerful weapon.  One that seems to have become quite popular, especially on social media.

And one that is often misused, sometimes even unintentionally.  We’ve somehow found ourselves in a time where we have decided our dislike of “political correctness” gives us justification to treat other members of society in demeaning ways, to not give a second thought to how they feel, to write off anyone else’s opinions, or, sometimes, even facts.  We have decided our opinion must be the only way, the right way, because we’re the only ones to speak up and call out the other opinions as politically incorrect.  In reality, we are just trying to get them to not voice their thoughts, to make them feel ashamed of their opinions.  We are actually just being mean.

There is a place for shame, but, ironically, it’s often missing from that place.  Shame should serve to stop us from actually doing things that are inappropriate, immoral, illegal.  It is the emotion that helps us to feel remorse when we have crossed those lines.  It’s not something that is supposed to be used to make others feel at fault for something they have no responsibility for, and to justify our behavior in making them feel that way.

Some of our shame is very ingrained in society.  I grew up in a home with an alcoholic parent, it was a very dysfunctional environment.  I’m not even supposed to say that out loud.  Shame is supposed to make me keep those facts hidden.  Ironically, most of my memories are actually of the shame.  That shame, while I, myself, am no longer ashamed, is keeping me from writing any details because it could trigger shame in family members who read this.  This isn’t how we are supposed to live.  I shouldn’t feel some kind of blame for things that I didn’t even do.

Things I didn’t do.  That seems to be what we like to shame, actually.  We like to kick those that are already down.  Maybe it makes us feel better about ourselves, about our own shame, to shame others.

Children are often shamed, particularly those with disabilities.  What kind of cruel people are we?  Read through your Facebook feed.  There might be a post about a horrible, horrible 6 month old that had the audacity to cry when their diaper needed to be changed, ruining someone’s trip to the grocery store for a carton of milk.  There might be a complaint that someone couldn’t send in peanut butter cookies for a class party because a child in the class had a deadly allergy.  There might be several memes suggesting a child with ADHD just needs to be spanked.  There might be comments on all of those that suggest that the child and the parent’s should be ashamed how much inconvenience they cause, just by existing.

I have a child with ADHD.  I’m not supposed to say that either.  I’m supposed to keep that secret, or else everyone will know what a terrible parent I am, how ill behaved my child must be, and that I’m just perpetuating a myth that striking a child with a belt doesn’t solve all problems .  I’m not supposed to say that he takes medication, or else people will think I am just drugging him like a zombie.  I’m not supposed to let him talk about it for all the same reasons.  I’m not supposed to let him know it is no one’s fault that he has a neurological disability, that it even IS a neurological disability, that it is something that neither he nor I caused, that there are actually some benefits that it gives him.  I’m not supposed to let him feel OK with it, I’m supposed to tell him to keep it secret, to be ashamed. To be ashamed for something that is not his fault, that does not make him inferior, that only gives him a few obstacles in life just like we all have.   I’m not even supposed to say that he’s actually one of the most polite, well behaved boys you will ever meet, because that doesn’t fit the narrative.

A recent news item has brought the treatment of women into the limelight, from catcalling to misogynistic statements, to name-calling, to inappropriate workplace behaviors, to actual assault.  I am a victim of all those things, but, again, I’m not supposed to say that either. I’m not supposed to have any sort of emotion whatsoever when someone calls other women derogatory names or judges their abilities on their looks. I’m supposed to feel like anything that is directed at me is/was my fault.  I’m supposed to feel like “boys are just boys.”  I’m supposed to believe that I don’t really understand what sexual assault is.  I’m supposed to think that if any woman ready a particular book, that no woman is allowed to speak out.  I’m supposed to believe that I can’t tell the difference between someone whistling at me and someone raping me, that I think it is all “assault.”  I am supposed to be too ashamed to say when something happens, and then I’m told if I don’t tell someone right away that I can’t possibly be telling the truth.

Shame.  I’ve decided to not let it be used against me anymore.  When I first became very public about my son’s ADHD, you have no idea how many other moms, and even some adults, told me in private messages and whispered conversations, relieved to have someone to talk to, that they were dealing with the same issue.  The same shame.  It was almost as many as have started to speak out on the issues that affect women.

And I’ve only touched on the tip of the iceberg of the things we shame people for – religious beliefs, physical appearance……even what kind of food someone chooses to eat - I could probably write a book.

We’re all in this life together.  Have some understanding, have some respect, realize that many problems are not just something made up to advance political correctness, but that they are real and can cause hurt.

That’s why they have wine.

What That Meme Tells Me

That meme.  That one.  You know, the one that appears to be mandatory to post for every supporter of a particular candidate.  The one that accuses people of being offended by a subject or words, while feigning ignorance to what the context means.  Yeah, you know it.  The one that tells me I’m a hypocrite for finding something despicable when I’ve bought or read “50 Shades of Gray.”

Except, I haven’t.  

So I guess I have your approval to write this blog.  Not that it matters, because I don’t need your approval, I am lucky enough to live in a country that gives me the right to express my opinion, whether you like it or not.

Let me start with a disclaimer, to stop the other talking points that everyone finds so factual.  I don't plan to vote for Clinton.  I condemned what Bill Clinton did and still do.  If this kind of fact comes out about who I do plan to vote for, I will be writing in Mickey Mouse.

Let me tell you what I hear every time I see that meme:

• As stated above, I’m not allowed to have an opinion if I read a book.  A fictional book.  One that has no possibility of having an impact on my life for at least the next 4 years.2.      

• I’m obviously a hypocrite.  Because ALL women have read the book, and that the book about a consensual sexual relationship is an indicator of our morality.  Well, maybe I should read it, because I do support consensual sexuality.     

•  You don’t get it.  You really don’t, or you think it’s better to feign stupidity.  It’s not about the “dirty words.”  Pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy….look, I can say that. (And darn, now my cat thinks I’m calling her.)  It’s about those words in context.  It’s about what the context means.

• You don’t think I can understand the context, and that I’m going to fall for the accusation that I’m just offended by words.  Guess what, women are not stupid, at least not all of us.

• You think all people need a tic-tac so that they can go kiss some unwilling person, that’s what you all talk about with your friends.

• You think that women are dying to kiss that man or be groped by him.  Or you.  It’s just a fact.

•  You are so enamored by a charismatic person that you don’t care what they do or say.  That is actually just downright scary.  His wife, running mate, and even himself can say it was offensive, but you will defend it as harmless locker room talk….   

• YOU THINK THAT A MAN TOUCHING OR KISSING A FEMALE JUST BECAUSE HE WANTS TO IS OK

I’m not a person who is offended by much. I have male friends, I roll my eyes at their actual “locker room” talk, but I’m not offended by a man finding a female attractive.  I’m actually not OFFENDED by what this candidate said, I am saddened.  I am saddened that there are men who still think women are nothing more than objects for their pleasure.  I am saddened that it’s so widespread that we find that to be acceptable.  I am saddened for anyone who has actually endured some type of sexual assault (including myself, sadly, millions of women have been), I am saddened that there are a number of friends that I will never see the same way again, and really unsure if I want to associate with them if they think that those of my gender only have the worth of their “pussy.”  Especially when they themselves are female.

I don’t have issues with people for voting for a particular candidate because they think they are the best choice.  I don’t let politics get in the way of friendships.  You vote for who you think is best in your opinion, I will vote for who I think is best. But I do have standards for those I choose to call friends, and one of those is that they don’t condone sexual assault, or the vocalization that it is OK.  I’m hoping some of you, those who really think they are just somehow being patriotic, will rethink what you are telling others.

That’s why they have wine.

I've Got This

In the last month or so, my son has started high school, started playing baseball for school, and has been given house keys.  And he is handling it all like a champ.

Those that know me, know my son, like his mom, can be an anxious kid.  This mom, however, has always had a goal to not let him suffer from it the way I have at times.  My many years of “You’ve got this” have now turned into “I’ve got this” and I couldn’t be prouder.

While anxiety is a struggle, understanding it personally does really help when dealing with it in someone else.  When my son is uncomfortable with something new, I instinctually know why, and can give him the tools and the coping mechanisms, and, most importantly, the security, which I wish someone had given me.

He likes to know the details:  What time are you going to be here to pick me up?  Where will you be? What time will you get to the game?  What if it rains?  Where do I store my equipment bag during the day?

Having the plan is key, and having a cell phone for when the plan goes astray is a wonderful thing.

In this last month of changes, a month that has made me an anxious mess, he’s been prepared.  I was a lot more nervous about the first day of school than he was (he played summer baseball for the school so he would know some other kids before going).  Anxiety about going out for fall ball was quickly alleviated by some answers I got from some of my fellow alumni about the program.  Realizing he could do those things, he’s really started to not need me anymore on anything else.  He’s got this.  He has taken things to the office for me, found out information about downloading text books we bought online, figured out software he needed for school, and a million other things, all on his own.  When I told him another player’s mom would be picking him up to drive him to Away games, he was fine with that, no complaining and no questions asked, though he used to not even want anyone but me, not his Grandma, not his Dad, no one, picking him up from school at all.  He does his homework without prompting, and WANTS me to look up his grades so he can gauge how he is doing. 

When we gave him house keys last week so he could stay at his friend’s house after we left for some errands, I let his friend’s mom know what we were doing.  He got mad at me, “Mom, I’VE GOT THIS!”

When I left to meet a friend yesterday evening before his dad got here to pick him up for the weekend, I told him his bag and keys were on the kitchen table, and didn’t worry about it.

He’s got this.

It makes me so happy to have a confident teenager.

That’s why they have wine.

The Gift of Confidence

Confidence.  It really is an important thing in life.

I’ve always been strong willed and independent and marched to my own beat, but I didn’t always have the confidence to show it.   I remember both high school and college fondly, I really did enjoy my life, but there are things that when I think about them, I want to slap myself for.  Things I should have done, not done, stood up for, had influence on.  Things that I was just too shy and not confident enough to do.

Right now, at the age of 48 and ¾, I consider myself a confident person.  I still have some things that make me uncomfortable (talking on the phone, attending events alone, public speaking….), but that is more because I’m just an introvert.  Now you can’t get me to NOT express my opinion, to not take the action I feel is right, to not feel like the most important person to make happy is myself.  It took a long time and a lot of work to actually make it here though.  Having a child was actually a big help, when the only way you can make it through the grocery store is to sing along with the song playing on the speakers, LOUDLY, to appease your toddler, you have no choice but to let go of a lot of that pesky self-consciousness.  Having people actually finding my sarcastic wit to be funny when posting online was actually another big help, technology has been my friend.

I am proud of who I have become.  I am proud because I really, truly LIKE myself, and I really, truly, don’t care if anyone else does.  That, to me, is really what confidence is.

I know that in some political opinions, making sure your child has self-esteem is considered some kind of crazy notion, but, really, I think that is the biggest benefit you can give your child to get them through life.  Real self-esteem, that which comes not from just telling them they are great all the time or spoiling them or especially not teaching them that they are better than others, but that which comes from realizing we all have strengths, that we all have flaws that we have the capability to overcome, that we are worthy of love, especially love that comes from within.  That is what builds confidence.  It took me years of therapy and surviving bad choices that got me there, I’d rather try to give my own kid an easier road.

What made me even think about all this?  Blow drying my hair this morning.  Yep.  I’ve always hated my hair.  Its baby fine and easily gets split ends and ties itself in knots once it reaches a certain length (which is not even to my shoulders).  I listened to people who told me I should have longer hair, even though I felt it looked terrible and was really a pain to do anything with.  I usually just pulled it back in a ponytail because I couldn’t stand it.  I didn’t have the guts to try to find a style that might actually work with my hair.  A couple of months ago, I decided I wasn’t going to worry about what anyone else thought.  I got my hair cut short, and not just short, but cut in a rather alternative style.  AND I LOVE IT.  I’ve gotten negative feedback on it.  I don’t care.  This is the first style I’ve ever had in my life that I actually think looks good on me and works with my hair.  I feel good every day when I leave the house.  I feel confident.

It’s a great feeling that no one, no one, should have to wait until they are almost 49 years old to experience.  I am thankful for all that happened in my life because that is what got me to exactly where I am right now, but who knows what else I may have accomplished. Make sure you do all you can to give your children the gift of confidence.

That’s why they have wine.

The Days of Princesses and Chicken Nuggets

As this was a holiday weekend, everyone in our home had a 3 day weekend.  The teen, he got even more, as he got a “hurricane day” on Thursday (his school, in the next county, was actually open, but I kept him home, the schools in ours were closed), and Friday was a scheduled day off for a Teacher Work Day.  On Saturday, my husband asked the teen if there was anything he’d like to do, anywhere he’d like to go this weekend.  Nope, nothing.

You’ve got to know what to ask.  I asked him yesterday if he’d like to go to Disney Springs, as I knew he was intrigued about a new store there, Trophy Room, affiliated with Michael Jordan.  He said yes, as long as he could “relax” on Sunday.  Relax? I’m not sure I’ve seen him leave his room since Wednesday after school, but at least he agreed to put on shoes and leave the confines or our property for a while.

We are Disney passholders, I can’t even count how many times we’ve been there over the years.  Today, however, I was a bit amused by the differences between when my son was younger and now.

At 5 years old, he would be awake at sunrise, ready to go.  At the parks, we HAD to wait in line to see Mickey, and even more importantly, Minnie and Daisy Duck, and perhaps a princess or two.  Every gift shop that had stuffed animals was a must do, and I’m pretty sure we never left without a new one.  Ice cream and popcorn and candy called his name at every possible location.  When at Disney Springs (which was then called Downtown Disney), we spent most of our time in the toy store, the pin store and carts, and the water fountains that the kids could run in.  I’ve even had to buy him new expensive Disney clothes in one of the shops (hmm, perhaps that was his plan), because his wet clothes from the fountains he spent HOURS in would irritate him to the point of tears.  When he got hungry, we’d get chicken nuggets for him at McDonalds.  He spent the day saying “I love you” and hugging me because he was so happy.

Today, he had one goal, to go the Trophy Room.  I had to wake him up at 9:30 this morning, and he slept in the car all the way there.  Though he has a good bit of money still left from Christmas and his birthday and for getting all “A’s”, he bought nothing there. He wanted nothing to eat, and when I got lunch, which was a bigger portion than I could eat, he wouldn’t even eat half (though he did eat my entire side of homemade pickles).  I couldn’t tempt him with cupcakes or candy.  As far as McDonald’s, it’s no longer there, and that is alright as he hasn’t eaten at McDonalds in years, because it is “not real food.”  As we walked through the new part of Disney Springs, with which we are not familiar, I asked him if he wanted to look at the directory to find his store.  He said no, that I should just pick a direction, only for him to tell me 5 minutes later that I picked the wrong one.  He spent our time telling me I was blind because I didn’t notice that there were a lot of people in FSU shirts, and that I didn’t notice a selfie stick.  He didn’t want to go in the toy store at all, and about the time we reached that far, he asked if I was ready to go.

At least he still enjoyed smelling the soap with me in Basin, and getting his free chocolate sample in Ghiradelli.

Kids grow up so fast, take advantage of every moment. That’s why they have wine.

*And I do know he still actually had a good time, because when we got in the car to go back home, he said “I love you, Mom.”  That is Aiden-code for “Thanks, I had fun.”  That, and he was a little taken aback when I told him when he and I go for an overnight at Disney next month, after I drop him off at school in the morning, I’m going back to Disney Springs to do some shopping while he’s in school.  A mom needs a little quiet shopping time sometimes, where she doesn’t have to worry about what team’s jerseys people are wearing!*

The Rise of the Bullies

You have to be nice and you have to be respectful.

Those are the rules my now teenage son has had since he was a toddler.  That’s it. When you follow those, you don’t need a lot of other rules.  You don’t lie, you don’t be mean, you share, you listen to authority, you do as your parents say, you do your homework on time, you follow through on promises….it all falls under that umbrella.  Does he break them sometimes?  Sure, he’s human, but on the whole, he’s a pretty nice, respectful kid.

I tell him that people don’t have to like us, and we don’t have to like them, but we need to be nice and be respectful to them, even if they are not to us.  It doesn’t mean never expressing our opinion, never disagreeing, or letting anyone use us as a doormat.  You just do those things without being a bully.

Bullying has started becoming out of control, specifically on the internet.  And I’m not just talking about kids, I’m talking about adults, many of which would never speak the same things in person.

It is completely possible to share parenting ideas, discuss politics or religion, or post something funny while still being both nice and respectful. Some days, reading through my Facebook feed, you’d never guess that however.  There is a huge difference between saying “This is what I believe” and “Anyone who doesn’t believe this is an idiot.”  You can express your political opinion without commenting on the attractiveness of the politician.  And when you call anyone judgmental for disagreeing, tell them they are not allowed to feel offense, or that they can’t be your friend if they say anything that slightly opposes you, that is the icing on the bully cake.

A lot of bullying seems to be done through memes.  Maybe we feel that if it’s not actually our quote, it isn’t so bad?  I often read these things and wonder, if you were chatting with me at our kid’s baseball game, would you say to me that I’m just a simpleminded person who believes in sky fairies and thinks I can just pray to win the lottery?  At a birthday party, would you tell my 15 year old his disability is made up and he’s just a brat with horrible parents?  At work, would you tell me you are obviously smarter than me because I didn’t vote for the candidate you did?  No?  I didn’t think so, so why are you doing it on the internet?

There really is something to the idea that people are often too easily offended, but the key word there is "easily."  Sometimes we are truly being offensive.  Those being offended by your post have the right to be, just as much as you have the right to say what you want, or excuse it as "just being honest."  Do you really need to be purposefully hurtful to express yourself?

I enjoy discussion on various topics.  I have online connections with people of various backgrounds and beliefs.  I am offended by little, and I not only recognize, but appreciate good sarcasm.  I will often read your posts and links that reflect a different opinion than I have with great interest and sometimes learn some new stuff.  However, I am really getting tired of the bullies.  I start reading something that sounds very intelligent, and then it ends with “and you are stupid if you think otherwise.”  Even if I agreed with you up till then, I’m just completely turned off by the post after that. 

I’ve started quietly hiding certain people’s posts, unliking pages, and in some cases even “unfriending” online the bullies – not someone who has a bad day and says something they later realize they shouldn’t have, but those that continually put down others in their posts.  It makes you feel again like there might still be hope for humanity when you aren’t bombarded by the negativity every day.

Just be nice and be respectful.

That’s why they have wine.

What Happened To Compassion?

As I sit here online applying a Passholder discount code to our reservations this fall at Disney’s Yacht and Beach Club resort, I can’t help feeling a little guilty.

Guilty because Disney is my happy place, my escape, the place I can go and actually not think about anything going on in the rest of the world or the rest of my life.

Guilty because my son recently listed Disney on a school project as his favorite place to go on vacation.

Guilty because we are Florida residents and passholders who have been to Disney more times than we can possibly count and have always had a good experience.

Guilty because we’ve sat on the resort “beaches,” at night, on various bodies of water, goofing around and having a great time, since my son was a toddler.

Guilty because my now teen and I have joked about alligators being on the shore trying to scare each other.

There is a family who went to the Walt Disney World Resort this week hoping for fun, happiness, and a lot of great memories.  That family had something very tragic and random and heartbreaking happen.  This will never be their happy place, their favorite vacation, happy memories.  They have to go home without a member of their family.  Their little boy will never be a teen like mine is. This wasn’t supposed to happen.  They are filled with grief, anger, sadness. 

And they have all the perfect people, parents and non-parents alike, judging them and scrutinizing their actions, and having to place blame somewhere.  They were just spending time having fun as a family, drawing closer to each other, and relaxing.  This was a freak act of nature. They deserve our prayers, our understanding, and our tears.  Can’t we even do that?

That’s why they have wine.

We Are ALL In This Together

A terrorist attack happened on US soil, a terrorist attack, A TERRORIST ATTACK, on the early morning hours of June 12.

It is scary.  It is sad.  It’s difficult to process.

When this happened on September 11, 2001, we united in shock as a nation.  We didn’t know what to think.  We didn’t know what to do.  We didn’t know how to react.  We said we would never forget, but, somehow, we seem to have forgotten.  We’re not a country united, we are a county torn apart.  In the last 36 hours or so, my social media feed is filled with posts scolding people for not reacting “correctly.”

So what is the correct reaction?  If I read through those posts, I am to presume it means to hate all religions.  To not understand that being Muslim and of middle eastern descent are not the same thing.  To ban all “machine guns” and “automatic weapons” which already are prohibited to be bought by your average American and were not used in this attack (nor any other mass shooting that gets referenced).  To not find this to be an attack on Americans or our country, but that it was an attack solely on gays (because somehow they don’t fit in the American group?) To not, God forbid, go to your kid’s soccer game or be proud of an accomplishment they had or stress out over your job or make dinner….or any other normal activity in your life.  To feel guilty for not changing your profile picture to show support, because, hey, that just makes everything better. To not dare post a fact, because then you are not thinking of the victims.  Even to find this to be a great reason to blame all Christians, especially if they are Republican, for our issues.

I’m sorry, I can’t make my world all rainbows and unicorns again by changing my profile picture, pretending that people would not still be able to find a way to kill if guns didn’t exist, and dressing in black (or should that be rainbow) and do absolutely nothing but mourn for, well, how long is the correct reactionary period anyway?

This is an event that obviously touches a lot of people.  We all react to fear and grief and shock differently.  I write, I talk.  I, as with any other hard issue, don’t react emotionally.  I try to gather details, try to make sense, try to think of what might be the most practical solution.  And I do that while I’m watching my son play baseball and folding the laundry and doing errands and getting the stuff done I need to get done at my job.  Other people may react differently.  And that is OK.  It doesn’t make us enemies.  We are all victims of this attack, and our real enemy is likely laughing at us for making their job easier as we tear our own communities apart.

I pray we can realize we are ONE nation, we are all human beings, we are all in this together, gay, straight, liberal, conservative, black, white, religious (even Muslims!) or atheist.

And I’ll do that while I’m continuing to live my life and being proud to be an American.

That’s why they have wine.

The Small Things Can Mean a Lot

Tomorrow my son graduates from 8^th grade.

I’ve heard people my age talking about how we didn’t graduate from anything until high school, that we didn’t have dances, that we didn’t get gifts for finishing what we then called Jr. High, and that it is crazy that we make a big deal out of it now.  I admit, I have had some of the same thoughts.

Is 8^th grade supposed to be that much of an accomplishment?  Do we need to buy fancy clothes our kids will never wear again to watch them go up on stage somewhere the school shelled out big bucks for to hold the event?  Does the 8^th grade dance take away some of the specialness of high school homecoming and prom?  Are we making our kids expect gifts for every little thing they do?

I’m still very excited that my son is graduating. 

His school doesn’t have dances.  Graduation is in the lunch room, they won’t be wearing caps and gowns, and parents donated money to have a cake and sodas afterward.  My son goes to a school for children with various learning and neurological disabilities.  For us, yes, this is a huge accomplishment to be celebrated, especially because he is not attending there for high school.  We were told he is ready for, and needs to, attend “regular” high school, that they cannot provide him with the more advanced resources that he is ready for.

He went to a normal public school for all of elementary, and his “first” year of 6^th grade.  I can’t even begin to count the number of conferences I’ve had with teachers, principals, and ESE staff over the years.  Not the projects that caused severe meltdowns, the homework cried over and then never turned in, the tests failed, the being taken advantage of by other students, the notes and calls from teachers, the lies, the tantrums.  He was actually even suspended once in the 3^rd grade.

I seriously had days, tearful days, when I couldn’t imagine that he would ever make it this far.

When he came about 2 percentage points from failing the fifth grade, I started pushing.  Pushing teachers, pushing his doctor, aggressively pursuing anything I could find that might help him.  He is bright, funny, sensitive, caring, he is a GREAT kid, but all of that was getting lost somewhere, and that’s not who people saw, sometimes even me.

He started on medication.  It helped a lot at home, but at school he was still having issues, both socially and academically.  He wasn’t developmentally ready for middle school.  He failed sixth grade.

That is when I moved him to his current school.  There, he has had peers at the same developmental level as him.  There he has had individual attention to teach him in the way his brain works.  He has made a lot of friends his own age, and has had some extra time to catch up to what it is to be a young teen.  He has gotten all A’s for THREE years, with the exception of one B+.  His behavior issues have disappeared.  He recently got the student of the month award for the month that celebrated integrity.  He does his homework without prompting and in the last year, even with very little help.  He doesn’t lie to me, argue with me, and in fact he goes out of his way to help me and show he cares.  He is a pleasure to be around the majority of the time (he IS still a teenager!).  I don’t have to hide in the bathroom and cry anymore.

And I am so proud.

While we still always have to deal with some issues, he has worked so hard to overcome his obstacles, and I think he has even exceeded his own expectations.  So, I took the day off to not only attend his graduation, but to take him to do something special afterwards.  And we got him a gift.  

Graduating from 8^th grade IS an accomplishment.

That's why they have wine.  You need something to toast with.

I Don't Want Him in the Bathroom With Me

I don’t want him in the bathroom with me.  I never will. 

It’s not that I think he is a bad guy, that he is going to leer at me, or that he is going to hurt me. I don’t care what he is wearing or looks like.  I just don’t want him there.  It makes me uncomfortable.  I have a difficult enough time using the toilet if I think someone, anyone, can hear me, there is no way I could do it if he were in there with me.

I’ll hold it and wait until he is gone.  I’ll even wait till he is nowhere near the door.

Right now, some people are thinking I’m ignorant.  Or bigoted, prejudice, or hateful.  Some even construe that to mean I’m also obviously a bad parent and even racist.

No one wants to listen to my reasons, nor cares about my comfort.  My comfort is not important to anyone.  Apparently I’m so used to my privilege, that I feel persecuted when someone else is being treated equally to me, and it’s his right to go into any bathroom any time, and I just have to deal with it.

It doesn’t matter that we’ve both been using the bathroom all along without any issues, suddenly our feelings about bathrooms are everyone’s business to judge.

But, I’m sorry, I will never change my mind.  He’s not going to be in there when I’m peeing. He is just going to have to accept the fact that we will never use the bathroom together.

If you’re still with me, still reading, still think I’m an OK person, your reward is knowing that I am talking about my husband.  Those that didn’t because you assumed I was talking about something else and are writing me nasty comments and unfriending me, well, sorry you couldn’t hear me out.

There is so much division in society, so much “us versus them,” so much hate and anger and so little true caring and compassion.  We can’t even listen to each other.

Your neighbor, your coworker, your family member that isn’t just like you – invite them over and talk.  Listen. Care. Learn to understand their viewpoint.

Share a bottle of wine.  That’s why they have it.

A Shout Out To Working Moms

I don't usually give a crap about the "Mommy Wars," probably because I'm too worn out to worry about it, but today I read a blog today where the author, a stay at home mom, was "tired of being judged" because some working mom's said they envied her, and it really rubbed me the wrong way.

First, envy and judgment are not even close to being synonyms.  If someone says they envy you, how in the world is that an offense?  I'd like your life, and that makes me a terrible person?  Makes you a victim of something?  If so, I guess I'm also guilty of victimizing women with flat stomachs, anyone that doesn't suffer from acid reflux, and anyone who has hair that is not so baby fine that the only possible "style" you can have is pulled back in a sparse, pathetic pony tail.

Second, because I can afford a weekend getaway or a $300 baseball bat for my kid, is because I have a job, but that is not what all of my salary pays for.  When I say I NEED a job, it is because I have bills to pay.  Because I choose to use my college degree (the one that the students loans that paid for it were just paid off recently, when I was in my 40's) instead of working at McDonald's to earn that money, therefore make a little more of it, does not mean I'm lying.  You can't look at my new car and decide that I don't need my job.  You have no idea what actual bills I need to pay (like those pesky student loans or expensive medication for my child).  When you write a blog acting like anyone who can do more than you doesn't need a job, guess what, you're actually creating that bubble of judgment that you are claiming to be a victim of.

And lastly, yes, I do understand your job as a stay at home mom.  I understand it very well.  Why? Because I do it too, it just has to fit around that 8 hours a day I have to do my other job.  I still do laundry, buy groceries, cook dinner, clean, help with homework, take care of the pets, sew the stray button back on the school uniform, get up in the middle of the night with a vomiting child, take my kid to doctor's appointments, to sports practices, to tutoring.  I don't magically get granted a housekeeper and nanny because I work.  And you know what? I'm not going to feel guilty about that because you feel judged if I am honest about my life.  This is actually why I envy you, because that extra 8 hours a day might mean my bathroom stays cleaner or my family doesn't have to eat fast food because I have to spend that evening cleaning the turtle tank, and my son might not ever get annoyed with me because he has to wear baseball pants to his game that I pull out of the hamper.

I actually feel very blessed because my company allows me to work from my home office, so I do have the time to spend 2 hours a day in the car driving my son back and forth to school, and I can throw a load of laundry in real quick when I get up to take a bathroom break.  Most working mom's don't have that opportunity.

I have no issue with someone who is a stay at home mom, again, I would love to be one.  But for my fellow working moms, I feel your pain.  That's why they have wine, and sometimes we might need an extra glass.

Anxiety: Sometimes Its More Than Just Being Nervous

Anxiety.  We all have it from time to time.  Speaking in front of a crowd, job interviews, getting married, having a child, all of these tend to cause anxiety in most people.

Some people, however, they have anxiety about much more.  Talking to strangers, or even those familiar, can render someone speechless.  Going to a new place can cause nightmares.  Talking on the phone is something to be avoided.  Physical symptoms illnesses can actually occur as a result.  Other people often view those with extreme anxiety as weird, incompetent, stupid, rude, or “bitchy.”  All of this can cause even more anxiety.

I have Anxiety Disorder.  I was diagnosed as a young adult, though I can assure you I developed it much earlier.  Anxiety is more common than you would think in children, but even parents, not knowing it is possible for this kind of thing to happen to a child, tend to label it as being a brat.  My own child has anxiety also, and has from a young age. He is not specifically being treated for it right now, though he is treated for other issues, but if it becomes unmanageable, I will not hesitate.  A close friend recently told me that I’m probably just really good at helping him deal with it because I understand it on a personal level.

Some of the things to recognize that your child or teen or an adult close to you might have anxiety include a sudden loss of interest in their favorite activities, not wanting to leave the house, not wanting to attend social activities, not wanting to learn to drive, bad test grades (especially if they obviously know the material), unexplained stomach and headaches, extreme stubbornness, argumentativeness.  Anxiety also often occurs hand and hand with depression.  If your child or loved one appears to be exhibiting these symptoms, especially if it is diminishing their quality of life (and probably even yours), please speak to them and their doctor about it.

None of these things can be helped by yelling at your child, grounding him, or taking away items, and you can’t “guilt” your loved one into changing.  They aren’t being bad or rude or uncaring, they are truly suffering.  They need understanding, reassurance, structure, coping skills, and sometimes medication.  Yes, medication.  We don’t question taking Penicillin for a sinus infection, but we shame people for taking medication for a problem in their brain.  I have a prescription bottle in my purse I was prescribed almost 2 years ago to the day for 10 Xanax.  I still have 2 left.  When I take one, I don’t feel a “high”, I actually just am able to feel normal. We’re not just looking for drugs.  There was a time where I took 2-3 per day just to get through (and was actually prescribed 4 per day), but that was when I was still in therapy and hadn’t mastered my coping skills yet. Those same coping skills I’ve taught to my child in the hopes he will never need medication for it. 

Anyone who is a parent of a child on a baseball team Aiden has played on has heard me yell “Deep breath!” when I see the look on his face that tells me he is not feeling so great, especially when he is pitching.  That one works so well even coaches have picked up on saying it, not only to him, but other players. I don’t question him when he says he wants to eat at a table outside even when it’s 95 degrees, because I know the loud, crowded, hectic environment inside the restaurant is aggravating to him.  I try to map out our plans for the week and stick to them, because the structure and knowing what to expect is comforting (this one is not hard for me, because I need it too). This doesn’t mean I don’t try to help him overcome his anxiety, I just know what battles to fight.  There have been several occasions where I’ve told him he has to do something he obviously wants to but is afraid to do (birthday parties, joining a new team, etc), and I tell him it is because he is stronger than the anxiety is and I refuse to let it beat him.  It’s a struggle sometimes, and he may temporarily hate me, but in the end it always turns out for the good.  And he’ll be the first to tell you that. I know it works because I often have to force myself to do the same sorts of things.  

Ironically, having a child has helped me to overcome a lot of my own anxiety, because I am forced to do things for him and consult with people about him.  The discovery that singing out loud to my child in public would help to calm him was absolutely horrifying to me, but I had to face my fear and do it for him.  That one thing alone dissolved most of my self-consciousness.  As he’s gotten older, the mutual understanding between us has done both of us a lot of good.  He knows to turn the radio down and be quiet when I’m in a stressful driving situation, I know the right questions to ask when he suddenly decides he’s not going to do something he’s been dreaming about for years.

I apologize for the lack of usual humor in this blog, but to me this is a very serious topic that often gets ignored, if not slammed as something that is just a discipline or character problem.  Please take it seriously in your loved ones.

Life isn’t always perfect or easy.  That’s why they have wine.

Ironies of Life

1. Having to deal with wrinkles and pimples at the same time

2. After you finally think you understand toddlers, your child becomes a teenager

3. White wine does not necessarily come from white grapes

4. Windows that don’t open

5. Friends who think you are not accepting enough but don’t want you to be friends with someone they don’t like

6. Your kid can’t tell when the trash is full, but they are the only one in the house that can turn on the surround sound system

7. The Happiest Place on Earth makes you cry when you see your credit card statement

8. Exercise that causes arthritis

9. As soon as you feel like you’ve achieved the perfect body, standards change

10. Self cleaning ovens still require your involvement

11. Using your cell phone for hours and never speaking to anyone

12. Having 500 TV channels and nothing to watch

13. No one is alarmed when a car alarm goes off

14. Diet foods can still make you fat

15. Daylight Savings Time does not increase the amount of daylight or time.

That’s why they have wine.

I Want To Stand FOR Something

You go to a restaurant with 10 friends, when it’s time for dessert, 5 order ice cream and the other 5 order pineapple upside down cake.  You have sensitive teeth and ice cream causes pain, and you allergic to pineapple, so what do you order?  Of course you order the apple pie, I mean, really, is there even a second thought?  

Why do we put less thought process in who we exercise our right to vote for than we do in picking our dessert?

While we are not yet nearly done with the primary elections, the country seems to already moved on to the general elections with assumptions of who will be nominated.  From what I can tell, neither of those people are supported by the majority of their own party, much less by Americans in general.  In fact, many people really abhor them (for good reason, if you ask me) and don’t want either as President.  However, even more, they just don’t want the other one to win.

One of the candidates is running with a campaign with talking points about making American great again and getting our country back.  I’ll skip over, for now, the fact that our country still IS great and, um, it’s still here, under American control, but you know what is not so “great” about our country right now?  That our choices are so poor that the majority of people aren’t voting FOR someone, they are only voting AGAINST someone.  Is this the best we have to offer?  Have we as Americans become so jaded and determined to tear everyone down that we’ve scared off the good people from running?

Many people think this is the election that will make some big, mostly undefined, changes for good or for bad in our country and think this will be some kind of turning point.  Those same people, they are trying to convince you to vote for the candidate with the “R” so the “D” won’t win, or to vote for the one with the “D” so the “R” won’t win.  They don’t tell you why should vote FOR that candidate, only that you can’t let the other letter win.  We’re playing middle school playground mean girl politics.

If you really do stand behind one of the main party candidates, vote for them.  If you really want to make a change the landscape of our government, and not just exact revenge on the people you blame for your misery, quit ordering the ice cream or the pineapple upside down cake just because that is what everyone else is doing, or because that friend who talked behind your back ordered the opposite.  There are 3^rd party candidates.  Look into them.  You might find that one is everything you are looking for.  If people quit analyzing what the person sitting next to them is choosing, the apple pie just might be the most popular dessert on the menu.

We’re told that voting for a third party is a “wasted vote,” but if you ask me, voting for someone you can’t stand just so someone else doesn’t win is wasted freedom. 

Stop giving your freedom away.  I know I won’t.  That’s why they have wine, because a glass tastes even greater after you’ve done something you can feel good about.

Shades of Gray

Life isn’t black and white.  I think that’s why they made color TV, so we could see all the nuances.  If only we could train our brains to see the colors.

Politically, I’m a bit towards the conservative side, but I don’t always agree with the conservative view (as my conversations tonight could certainly attest to).  I consider myself Libertarian as that is the political philosophy that seems to most align with my beliefs, but even then I don’t always agree.  I look at issues, and decide for myself what I think of them individually.  I don’t care if there is an R, a D, or neither next to the name of the person proposing a bill or running for office.  I have MY beliefs, and I really don’t care what organization endorses them.

Tonight I was discussing the elections with friends, friends who for the most part share most of my beliefs.  On a few issues, however, we certainly are far apart.

One of those issues was immigration.  I do believe that we need to control who comes into our country, and stop illegal immigration.  I do understand that most people come here because they are looking for a better life.  I do think that if you chose to come here illegally, it is not right to have you stay here ahead of those that went through the legal processes, in fact it is insulting to those who came here legally.

But I also believe that there is space between the black and the white.  Every rule has an exception, and we need to be able to account for those.  We may cheer at the notion of building a wall and somehow miraculously rounding up thousands of people in a few days and sending them back to where they came, but we’re not actually thinking about reality.

What do you do with the child who came here as an infant with parents that came here illegally, and obtained illegal documents, who 40 years later has no idea they are an illegal citizen?  Yep, you can be like some people I talked with today and deny that scenario ever happens, but that doesn’t help the thousands of people that the situation likely actually applies to.  Yes, some people come here for “handouts” or because they are criminals, but most people, just like your ancestors, came here because they wanted a better life than they could have where they came from.  So that child who is now 40, with a family, friends, job, and productive member of society, who only knows what it is like to be an American and has no life  their native country, what do you do?  Do you just tell them, “Too bad, so sad, you will be out of here tomorrow,” or do you give them a chance and a window of time to gain citizenship?  Sure, there is bureaucracy involved in helping them stay, but there is in kicking them out too.

And don’t even get me started on how we supposedly need to keep out all Muslims because a handful of them might be bad.  Wasn’t freedom of religion one of the things this country was founded on?  Should we make sure to ban all people from countries that have any Muslim citizens, wouldn’t that make us stop immigration altogether?  Yes, I understand that there are terrorists, and some of them are Muslim.  Some of them, however, are the sons and daughters of lily white people who have lived here in the United States for 5 or 6 or some number of generations.  Yes, we should vet people who choose to come here, but banning entire nations of people also bans the people who are escaping persecution from the same people we are trying to protect ourselves from.  And maybe I shouldn’t mention that a certain charismatic, egomaniac leader already tried this with another religion.

Things aren’t always black and white.  Building walls is only an attempt to hide from our problems and pretend they don’t exist.

If you really want to make a difference in how your country is run, choose a leader who will let all American’s have a voice by allowing our government to work as it is designed, and not someone who will dictate by executive order to only represent either their party or just themselves.  And when you have an opportunity to vote locally, for local and state government and your representatives in the house and the senate, take an hour and Google, see what your candidates stand for, and vote for those who represent what you think.  If you want to see real change, the congressional level is key.

In the mean time, I’ll listen to people explaining why they are voting for a President because they don’t like Congress, or because there is a certain letter next to their name, or because they believe our Constitution is something to be ignored if it gets them what they want.

That’s why they have wine.  

I Just Don't Get It

I feel like we’ve gone backwards.

When I was a little girl, no one ever made sure I felt “pretty.”  Concerns about what I ate or what I weighed were for health purposes.  My hair was cut to a style to make it easy to take care of my baby fine hair with no one having to gently pull out the knots at the ends each morning that otherwise occurred from sleeping . No one worried about when I would finally get a boyfriend or when I would get married.  Clothes were purchased based on quality, comfort, and, for me, if they were purple.   The only makeup I was allowed to wear in high school was pressed powder and neutral eye shadow.

In other words, I was never taught that what I looked like was important.

Rather, I grew up learning to embrace my athleticism, my passion for reading, my ability to do complex algebra problems in my head.  I was taught that I deserved respect, and also to respect myself.  I learned to be choosy with my friends, to look for people with good character and integrity to keep in my circle.  I was raised to see everyone for what was on the inside, especially myself.  I was taught to love myself for all my strengths, and despite any flaws. I was never told I needed to prove to be equal to a man, I was shown I already was and to live as such.  

I knew that attention from a man was not what gave me worth, that one that wanted a relationship with me needed to deserve to have a relationship with me, and that “me” was not what I looked like,  how much skin I showed, or my breast size.  Me was my perfectionism, my ever present sarcasm, my love of cooking, my tightwad qualities, my need for alone time, my drive, my propensity for using words you may not know in everyday conversation, my love of art and Disney and animals and knowledge….

I was taught to be so much more than a sexual object.

Perhaps what you learn really does color your world, because today I’m supposed to be happy that a “curvy” woman is on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition, and I just don’t get it.  I am supposed to feel empowered over the fact that it is now acceptable to objectify more body types, and even more ecstatic that women are now proud to be objectified.  I am supposed to be joyful that this is just the beginning and maybe one day a 48 year old woman like me can get naked and pose on all fours for a national magazine cover so men will think of me when they are with their significant other, because that is now what gives you worth as a woman.

Call me when everyone else feels good about themselves with their hair in a messy ponytail, their feet in their favorite Crocs, in jeans and a sweatshirt that keeps them from being cold when everyone else thinks it’s hot, sitting next to their family who loves them for their witty insults and their ability to do the income taxes, not caring if some stranger finds their body type to be “hot.”  To me that is what empowerment is, being respected for your soul.

In the mean time, that’s why they have wine. 

We're Running Out of Time

My son, Aiden, has played baseball since he was 6.  He is now 14.  Officially, fall season ended in November, and Spring starts next week.  In reality, there has been no break, with practices 3-4 times a week, and they even played a practice game on Thursday.

Yesterday morning, one of my rare days to sleep in, I was awoken by a text telling me he was supposed to have been at practice 9 minutes earlier.  Yep, I know, and I had left a voice message for the coach the day before letting him know that Aiden wouldn’t be at practice, which apparently wasn’t checked.  You see, Aiden would be at his dad’s house for the weekend, and they had plans, and tickets, to go to a college softball game.

Right now there are some sports parents aghast that I find that to be a reasonable excuse to miss practice.  And honestly, for 8 years, he probably only missed practice less than a handful of times, only for being sick or because there was a school event he needed to attend, even when he was playing on two teams one season, because I had that attitude too.

This year, however, in the midst of him getting taller than me, needing shoes 4 sizes bigger than the year before, and figuring out what high school he would attend next year, it hit me.  We’re running out of time.  Running out of time where he is going to still want to do things with his family instead of friends.  Running out of time before he leaves for college.  Running out of time to enrich his life with things other than baseball.  Running out of time to just spend time together.

There are so many vacations we have wanted to take and haven’t because of baseball – because there wasn’t time due to the All Star season, because there wasn’t money or spare vacation days from work because he played in Cooperstown, because sometimes we don’t know the game schedule till the day before the game.  There are so many weekends with his father, who he is only with every other weekend, that were spent completely at baseball tournaments, rarely having the chance to do the other things fathers and sons like to bond over.

There are times when, though it is his passion, he gets burnt out and hates baseball.  I used to make him tough it out.  This year, we’ve missed practices and even a game to go to Disney World for a few days and refresh.

While for some families, baseball may be their whole world and they like it that way, for ours it is not. For my son it is his passion, he wants to take it as far as he can, but he still wants to be a regular kid.  I suspect there are other kids who feel the same way, and are afraid to tell their parents.

Don’t miss out on opportunities to share the rest of the world with your child.  Life, childhood, time goes by really, really fast and we can’t get any of it back or do any of it over.

Soon our kids will be all grown up.  That’s why they have wine.

Some Things Never Change. Sometimes They Have To.

Some things never change.  Sometimes they have to.

I just stood there filled with anxiety, heart racing, face turned, eyes squinted, spoon pushed against the seam, just like I did the first time 40 years ago.  Yes, I was opening a can of crescent rolls.  To make probably the same thing I made that day, crescent roll wrapped hot dogs, the gourmet food of the 1970’s.  And of course I jumped when the can popped, the same way I have a hundred times.

Today, however, instead of a package of mystery meat hot dogs that cost less than $1, these were $5 organic turkey dogs.  Turkey dogs because those are the hot dogs my 14 year old likes, and if you give him other than that, he makes that same face you make when you take a sip of milk when you were expecting a Coke when he takes his first bite, because it is not what he was anticipating. 

Some things stay the same, some things don’t.

Three years ago, I found a school for my son where he truly fit in and could prosper.  Three years of middle school filled with great friends, little peer pressure, and where he went from failing a grade to being a straight “A” student.  Three years of no crying over homework, no drama with classmates, no negative calls or emails from teachers or the principal, no meetings about 504 plan accommodations.  Three years of a happy kid.  Three years that flew by in their pleasantness.

Three years later, however, that kid who was ecstatic at orientation that there was another boy shorter than him is now taller than me.  He buys his own expensive sneakers.  He eats more than anyone else in the house.  The last of his toys are in a couple boxes next to me, to be posted to sell on EBay. He wore cologne to school today.

This week I have to fill out paperwork indicating if he is returning to his school next year.  I am almost finished with the application for the school we intend to send him to instead.

He’ll be starting high school.

Sometimes things have to change.  While he could remain at his current school for high school, it is not college prep oriented and there is not a sports program.  Some things don’t change, he still has his neurological issues and learning disabilities.  Finding the balance between the two is scary, maybe even more for me than for him.

The school we found to be the best fit is in a different city.  On days I don’t have meetings, I’ll likely be working from the public library to save myself some gas and driving.  While he has a scholarship from the state for children with disabilities, the tuition is twice his scholarship amount, thus the boxes of stuff we are selling on EBay and the changes that have to be made to our budget.  While we know what to expect at his current school, next year is a mystery.  He doesn’t know any of the other students, any of the teachers, what his day will be like.

It’s a change, however, we need to make.  That’s why they have wine.  I’ll just have to remember not to expect it to be in my glass when I have milk instead.