Dear Pregnancy,
I would like my body back, please. Sure, it wasn't perfect, but I really, really miss it. I want back the breasts that were enviably plump, not sloppily, reminiscent-of-African-tribal-women huge as they are now. I want back the slim-lined hips that allowed me to walk, not waddle. I want back the stomach that, while not perfectly flat and certainly not "washboard", didn't require an additional 13 inches of clearance to maneuver through narrow spaces. So, if you could be done using my body for your own sick amusement as soon as possible, it'd be much appreciated.
Sincerely,
The warped, disfigured creature formerly known as Liz
Monday, March 21, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
suzyo photography blog
I'm going to be helping pretty Miss Suzy keep up her photography blog. So, in case you weren't sick of reading what I have to say yet in the media forms already offered, here's more!
suzyo photography blog
suzyo photography blog
Monday, January 17, 2011
Goodbye, Security Blanket
I was going to start writing this blog post last week, when I didn't know anything for sure but I could see the writing on the wall. In the end, I decided to wait until the news was official. Which was yesterday. However, as it turned out, yesterday I was just too emotional to talk about it. Or write about it, as it were. All day when asked "so, how do you feel about it?" my answer was a very blunt "Not good, new topic." But I'm glad I didn't blog about it then, when my perspective on the whole thing was very pessimistic, no 'bright side' in sight. Today is better. Today I can see a silver lining. So today I will write.
What is 'it', you might ask? What is this news that has me being all melodramatic? Well, our ward split, which is a good thing. And I was released from my calling. Which is not.
There are a lot of reasons why I'm going to miss being in the Primary Presidency. For one thing, it's a fun calling. Kids are fun. Primary is fun. We play games and sing songs and have a legitimate reason to be silly for two hours on the Sabbath. It's a unbelievably hard calling sometimes, and a reasonably hard calling all the time, but it's still probably the best calling anyone could ever get. But beyond that, I feel like I really became a member of the ward in this calling. I've been in the presidency for over two years, and it kind of feel like that's who I am. Primary Liz.
Before I had this calling, I struggled with feeling like I didn't belong in the ward, and in the neighborhood. I felt like a nobody. I knew no one, and no one knew me. For the first year in our new house, I was invisible and incredibly lonely. I looked around and saw a lot of great people, and it seemed like everyone was friends. It looked like a really great ward, I just wasn't a part of it. And I knew this was 99.9% my own fault. I have a hard time meeting new people and adjusting to new situations. I'm horrible at small talk and I feel very awkward at social events. I know that 'to have a friend, you must be friend', I get this. But knowing that my own social nervousness was the reason why I didn't feel included in the ward didn't really solve the problem. Simply being aware of one's own shortcomings doesn't just make those shortcomings go away. I wish it did, because if anything I can say that I am very self-aware. Anyway, long story short, when I was called into the Primary, I feel like it gave me a connection to the other members of the ward. For one thing, it put me in a spotlight. I was suddenly someone for people to turn to with questions about their children. It also let me get to know other moms in the neighborhood through their children. But I think mostly, it gave me something to talk about. Small talk hasn't been a problem at church for 2 years. "How are things in Primary?" is a natural conversation starter. This calling has made me confident, and it's earned me a nice community of friendly acquaintances. I feel like I know people now, and people know me. I don't want to go back to being a nobody again. (and yesterday that's what I felt was going to happen. Today, I'm more optimistic)
The other thing I really loved about my calling was that I was good at it. For three years before that I had struggled with being a stay-at-home mom with a particularly difficult special-needs child, and feeling every day like I was absolutely failing at the only job I had. I can't even put into words how much personal fulfillment I have gotten out of having a calling that I feel like I actually succeeded at. Was I a perfect 1st counselor? Heck no! But I did a good job. Not all my Sharing Times were as successful as I thought they would be, but I've had quite a few that I really nailed out of the park, if I do say so myself.
My friends and family members keep saying "Oh, you're about to get another really great calling, just wait", but I don't see that happening. Another one I've been hearing a lot is "the Lord has another big plan for you, that's all". Not so sure about that one either. Don't get me wrong, I would love nothing more than to get a new, fabulous calling right away that I really love and end up being super awesomely good at. But the realistic part of me feels like that's kind of selfish, and a bit narcissistic. I'd love to think that the Lord has something even better planned for me, and that's the only reason I was released, but that kind of makes it seem like the world -- or at the very least, the ward -- revolves around me. I think I'm grounded enough to say that, basically, I've had my turn. I really needed that calling at that time in my life, but it's been two years and now that time is over. Time to move on, which probably means just simply being a member of the ward in no extra special terms for a while. If I want to get all "He's got the whole world in His hands" about it, maybe now the Lord has really big plans for someone else that involves that calling. I had my time in the sun, I had my opportunity to get some extra blessings when I really needed them. Now it's someone else's turn. I don't get to be coddled by Him for the rest of my life, and I shouldn't expect to be. I get this. I don't necessarily like it, but I get it. 'You can't always get what you want'. 'What you want isn't always what you need', that's probably appropriate here as well.
If I had written this yesterday, the post would probably have ended there. Yesterday, I was reasonable enough to see that my time was up and I needed to accept it, but I couldn't see any positives in the situation. Today, there are positives. Don't get me wrong, I'm still really upset about it. My breakdown during Sacrament meeting was neither the first nor the last time I've cried about this. But today I think I can just get a little teary-eyed and move on. For one thing, this may be an opportunity to actually make some "friends" in the neighborhood. You might have noticed that earlier in this post I said that I've made a large amount of "acquaintances" over the past two years, and this is true. But I still don't really have any "friends" here. Being in Primary has helped me 'get to know' a LOT of people, but it has also isolated me enough to make it hard to actually get close to anyone. My hope is that I can break out of my own awkward shyness enough to get some shopping buddies, or movie pals, or lunch mates. We really do have a great ward, a great two wards now, and a great neighborhood with a lot of awesome people I would enjoy hanging out with. The positive side of me is saying that this is my opportunity to do just that. And Optimistic Liz is also hoping that Heavenly Father actually does have big plans for me, even if they are not connected to the ward. This calling has helped me feel more confident that I have some teaching skills. I'd like to move past the "staying exclusively at-home with very little children" part of my life, which is why I'm having this third kid and getting it out of the way so I can move on sooner than later (I know that sounds awful, but... eh). This past calling has really solidified in me that I'd like to work in the schools, either as a Special Ed teacher's aide, or an actual Special Ed Teacher if I can go back to college first. I'm going to have a little faith that if the Lord put me in a calling that showed me I could do it, He'll create a path for it to happen, someday.
But despite the positive outlook of today, this is still really hard. I'm very, very sad about the whole thing and even now as I type this I'm getting a little verklempt. I'm going to miss this calling. I'm going to miss the women I worked with. I'm going to miss having something to do and prepare for on Sunday. I'm going to miss being Someone. And I'm going to miss the kids. Oh man, am I going to miss the kids. I'm going to miss knowing them, really knowing them and being a part of their lives. I'm going to miss interacting with them each week, and and all the weird and funny things they say and do. I'm going to miss seeing that extra special little 'something' in each kid that you don't always notice until you get very very still and look real close. I'm going to miss the way their faces light up when they see me at church or in the neighborhood and wave because I'm someone they recognize and I'm someone who is 'cool'. They'll remember me for a while, yes, but soon I'm going to fade away into the sea of faceless adults that surround them. We won't be connected anymore, and I think, out of all of this, that may be the saddest part of all. It feels like something warm and precious is being yanked away from me, and now I'm not just verklempt, I'm full out crying so I should probably stop typing before I put myself into early labor.
I am sad. I don't like this. But I am hopeful. And at the end of the day, I am mostly just very, very grateful for the two years that I've had.
What is 'it', you might ask? What is this news that has me being all melodramatic? Well, our ward split, which is a good thing. And I was released from my calling. Which is not.
There are a lot of reasons why I'm going to miss being in the Primary Presidency. For one thing, it's a fun calling. Kids are fun. Primary is fun. We play games and sing songs and have a legitimate reason to be silly for two hours on the Sabbath. It's a unbelievably hard calling sometimes, and a reasonably hard calling all the time, but it's still probably the best calling anyone could ever get. But beyond that, I feel like I really became a member of the ward in this calling. I've been in the presidency for over two years, and it kind of feel like that's who I am. Primary Liz.
Before I had this calling, I struggled with feeling like I didn't belong in the ward, and in the neighborhood. I felt like a nobody. I knew no one, and no one knew me. For the first year in our new house, I was invisible and incredibly lonely. I looked around and saw a lot of great people, and it seemed like everyone was friends. It looked like a really great ward, I just wasn't a part of it. And I knew this was 99.9% my own fault. I have a hard time meeting new people and adjusting to new situations. I'm horrible at small talk and I feel very awkward at social events. I know that 'to have a friend, you must be friend', I get this. But knowing that my own social nervousness was the reason why I didn't feel included in the ward didn't really solve the problem. Simply being aware of one's own shortcomings doesn't just make those shortcomings go away. I wish it did, because if anything I can say that I am very self-aware. Anyway, long story short, when I was called into the Primary, I feel like it gave me a connection to the other members of the ward. For one thing, it put me in a spotlight. I was suddenly someone for people to turn to with questions about their children. It also let me get to know other moms in the neighborhood through their children. But I think mostly, it gave me something to talk about. Small talk hasn't been a problem at church for 2 years. "How are things in Primary?" is a natural conversation starter. This calling has made me confident, and it's earned me a nice community of friendly acquaintances. I feel like I know people now, and people know me. I don't want to go back to being a nobody again. (and yesterday that's what I felt was going to happen. Today, I'm more optimistic)
The other thing I really loved about my calling was that I was good at it. For three years before that I had struggled with being a stay-at-home mom with a particularly difficult special-needs child, and feeling every day like I was absolutely failing at the only job I had. I can't even put into words how much personal fulfillment I have gotten out of having a calling that I feel like I actually succeeded at. Was I a perfect 1st counselor? Heck no! But I did a good job. Not all my Sharing Times were as successful as I thought they would be, but I've had quite a few that I really nailed out of the park, if I do say so myself.
My friends and family members keep saying "Oh, you're about to get another really great calling, just wait", but I don't see that happening. Another one I've been hearing a lot is "the Lord has another big plan for you, that's all". Not so sure about that one either. Don't get me wrong, I would love nothing more than to get a new, fabulous calling right away that I really love and end up being super awesomely good at. But the realistic part of me feels like that's kind of selfish, and a bit narcissistic. I'd love to think that the Lord has something even better planned for me, and that's the only reason I was released, but that kind of makes it seem like the world -- or at the very least, the ward -- revolves around me. I think I'm grounded enough to say that, basically, I've had my turn. I really needed that calling at that time in my life, but it's been two years and now that time is over. Time to move on, which probably means just simply being a member of the ward in no extra special terms for a while. If I want to get all "He's got the whole world in His hands" about it, maybe now the Lord has really big plans for someone else that involves that calling. I had my time in the sun, I had my opportunity to get some extra blessings when I really needed them. Now it's someone else's turn. I don't get to be coddled by Him for the rest of my life, and I shouldn't expect to be. I get this. I don't necessarily like it, but I get it. 'You can't always get what you want'. 'What you want isn't always what you need', that's probably appropriate here as well.
If I had written this yesterday, the post would probably have ended there. Yesterday, I was reasonable enough to see that my time was up and I needed to accept it, but I couldn't see any positives in the situation. Today, there are positives. Don't get me wrong, I'm still really upset about it. My breakdown during Sacrament meeting was neither the first nor the last time I've cried about this. But today I think I can just get a little teary-eyed and move on. For one thing, this may be an opportunity to actually make some "friends" in the neighborhood. You might have noticed that earlier in this post I said that I've made a large amount of "acquaintances" over the past two years, and this is true. But I still don't really have any "friends" here. Being in Primary has helped me 'get to know' a LOT of people, but it has also isolated me enough to make it hard to actually get close to anyone. My hope is that I can break out of my own awkward shyness enough to get some shopping buddies, or movie pals, or lunch mates. We really do have a great ward, a great two wards now, and a great neighborhood with a lot of awesome people I would enjoy hanging out with. The positive side of me is saying that this is my opportunity to do just that. And Optimistic Liz is also hoping that Heavenly Father actually does have big plans for me, even if they are not connected to the ward. This calling has helped me feel more confident that I have some teaching skills. I'd like to move past the "staying exclusively at-home with very little children" part of my life, which is why I'm having this third kid and getting it out of the way so I can move on sooner than later (I know that sounds awful, but... eh). This past calling has really solidified in me that I'd like to work in the schools, either as a Special Ed teacher's aide, or an actual Special Ed Teacher if I can go back to college first. I'm going to have a little faith that if the Lord put me in a calling that showed me I could do it, He'll create a path for it to happen, someday.
But despite the positive outlook of today, this is still really hard. I'm very, very sad about the whole thing and even now as I type this I'm getting a little verklempt. I'm going to miss this calling. I'm going to miss the women I worked with. I'm going to miss having something to do and prepare for on Sunday. I'm going to miss being Someone. And I'm going to miss the kids. Oh man, am I going to miss the kids. I'm going to miss knowing them, really knowing them and being a part of their lives. I'm going to miss interacting with them each week, and and all the weird and funny things they say and do. I'm going to miss seeing that extra special little 'something' in each kid that you don't always notice until you get very very still and look real close. I'm going to miss the way their faces light up when they see me at church or in the neighborhood and wave because I'm someone they recognize and I'm someone who is 'cool'. They'll remember me for a while, yes, but soon I'm going to fade away into the sea of faceless adults that surround them. We won't be connected anymore, and I think, out of all of this, that may be the saddest part of all. It feels like something warm and precious is being yanked away from me, and now I'm not just verklempt, I'm full out crying so I should probably stop typing before I put myself into early labor.
I am sad. I don't like this. But I am hopeful. And at the end of the day, I am mostly just very, very grateful for the two years that I've had.
Monday, December 13, 2010
The One Where I Get Squishy
I wonder if I'm the only one who gets extremely emotional when in Toy Story 3, Woody mentions that Bo was gone. Maybe I can just relate to Woody, and I think I would be really really sad if Wayne was ever donated to the DI.
That's my quirky and Lizzie-esque intro to a very non-Lizzie-esque blog post.
I don't like to think of myself as a cold person, but honestly, I think I'm sort of a cold person. I'm not warm and fuzzy. I'm very anti-PDA (as in, Public Displays of Affection. I have no problem with iPhones or Blackberries). I've recently realized that I never say "I love you" unless someone has said it first, and even then it's a very quick and reflexive "love you, too", and I'm not even good at little mentions of adoration. I don't know why I'm like this. I was hugged as a child. But I'm not all that concerned with delving into my own emotional framework. I do, however, feel a little guilty that my non-squishiness results in my husband not getting the kind of payback for his awesomeness that he really deserves, and I have a pretty awesome husband.
So I think perhaps it's shout-out time. Here are just a small handful of reasons why I know my husband is super awesome and extra rad and way way more than I deserve:
Wayne never wins a fight. Ever. Ever. Both of us are very mellow, so we hardly ever fight, but when we do, I can say for myself that it's because I know I'm right and therefore cannot and should not back down. If I'm not 100% committed to my side, it's not worth the effort to argue about it, which is why we never fight. But, still, if I look at this from Wayne's point of view, he probably only fights when he's 100% committed as well, and yet the argument never ends until he backs down. That's how awesome he is. He's willing to be the bigger person. Every time. Because clearly I'm not.
Wayne has never raised his voice to me. He's had to do this with the kids occasionally, to be heard over the noise of two fighting children ravaging each other, and the sound of him yelling honestly freaks me out a little bit, because I never hear it. I wish I could say the same about myself, that I've never raised my voice to Wayne, but that's so not true. It only happens once in a blue moon, but it happens. Especially when I'm pregnant, sore, and tired.
Wayne never nags me about anything. I'm pretty close to perfection, but even still, I'm not quite there, so you'd think there were some faults in there he could point out, but he doesn't. Yeah, he puts up with a lot.
And probably the best thing about Wayne is that he lets me think I'm smarter than he is, when clearly I'm not. I forget about his fact, of course, and every now and then -- as I'm walking around with my head held high filled with thoughts that I'm the cool, smart, sophisticated one in the house -- something comes up that reminds me how intelligent Wayne is, and how incredibly good he is at his job. I honestly don't know what his job actually is anymore, he's been promoted so many times, and at this point, what he does is so intricate and technical, it's all way above my head. All I know is that he works very very hard on a whole variety of computer-y, program-y, technical things that keep the company running, plus a whole lot of other stuff and that apparently they couldn't live without him. That's a pretty big deal, and I don't think I give him enough credit for it.
So, long story short, even though I don't really say it and probably don't show it enough, I really really really love my husband. And if he ever gets thrown in the Charity Box, I'll probably jump in there with him.
That's my quirky and Lizzie-esque intro to a very non-Lizzie-esque blog post.
I don't like to think of myself as a cold person, but honestly, I think I'm sort of a cold person. I'm not warm and fuzzy. I'm very anti-PDA (as in, Public Displays of Affection. I have no problem with iPhones or Blackberries). I've recently realized that I never say "I love you" unless someone has said it first, and even then it's a very quick and reflexive "love you, too", and I'm not even good at little mentions of adoration. I don't know why I'm like this. I was hugged as a child. But I'm not all that concerned with delving into my own emotional framework. I do, however, feel a little guilty that my non-squishiness results in my husband not getting the kind of payback for his awesomeness that he really deserves, and I have a pretty awesome husband.
So I think perhaps it's shout-out time. Here are just a small handful of reasons why I know my husband is super awesome and extra rad and way way more than I deserve:
Wayne never wins a fight. Ever. Ever. Both of us are very mellow, so we hardly ever fight, but when we do, I can say for myself that it's because I know I'm right and therefore cannot and should not back down. If I'm not 100% committed to my side, it's not worth the effort to argue about it, which is why we never fight. But, still, if I look at this from Wayne's point of view, he probably only fights when he's 100% committed as well, and yet the argument never ends until he backs down. That's how awesome he is. He's willing to be the bigger person. Every time. Because clearly I'm not.
Wayne has never raised his voice to me. He's had to do this with the kids occasionally, to be heard over the noise of two fighting children ravaging each other, and the sound of him yelling honestly freaks me out a little bit, because I never hear it. I wish I could say the same about myself, that I've never raised my voice to Wayne, but that's so not true. It only happens once in a blue moon, but it happens. Especially when I'm pregnant, sore, and tired.
Wayne never nags me about anything. I'm pretty close to perfection, but even still, I'm not quite there, so you'd think there were some faults in there he could point out, but he doesn't. Yeah, he puts up with a lot.
And probably the best thing about Wayne is that he lets me think I'm smarter than he is, when clearly I'm not. I forget about his fact, of course, and every now and then -- as I'm walking around with my head held high filled with thoughts that I'm the cool, smart, sophisticated one in the house -- something comes up that reminds me how intelligent Wayne is, and how incredibly good he is at his job. I honestly don't know what his job actually is anymore, he's been promoted so many times, and at this point, what he does is so intricate and technical, it's all way above my head. All I know is that he works very very hard on a whole variety of computer-y, program-y, technical things that keep the company running, plus a whole lot of other stuff and that apparently they couldn't live without him. That's a pretty big deal, and I don't think I give him enough credit for it.
So, long story short, even though I don't really say it and probably don't show it enough, I really really really love my husband. And if he ever gets thrown in the Charity Box, I'll probably jump in there with him.
Objects in Mirror May Be Smarter Than They Appear
Sometimes I wonder if I come across on Facebook as a total idiot. I may come across this way in my regular, everyday life, but that I'm not quite as concerned with. Maybe I should be, but that's a post for another day.
I'm starting to notice a trend in my FB posts where I start out saying "Does anyone know...". Maybe you've noticed this as well. I'm constantly asking the general public (um, consisting of my friends, family, and neighbors, I suppose) the best way to do this, the best best stores to find that, the easiest way to accomplish this, the cheapest brand of that.
I'm a little worried that these constant requests for help make me seem a bit... well, helpless. Like a fragile baby bird sitting in a nest with her mouth open, patiently waiting for someone to regurgitate me a nice meal of workable real-world knowledge. It's sort of a cute image, but also a bit pathetic for a grown woman.
The truth is, I'm perfectly capable to finding the answers to all my questions myself. I could search the Internet for a half hour and then spend two hours in the car driving from store to store to find the best place to buy a Whosey Whatsit. I could go through countless trial and error tests to find the best way to accomplish a Thingamajiggy project. I have an IQ high enough to accomplish all this, yes.
But then what would be the point of having a plethora of knowledgeable, crafty, and talented friends?
Yes, that's right. That's the reason I am Facebook friends with you. Because you are smarter than me. I have surrounded myself with a group of my superiors for a reason. So I can slowly siphon off their knowledge and skills and use them for my own. That's my special skill. I'm like the majestic leech, or the noble tapeworm. I love getting a good deal, or getting a project done in the snazziest, easiest way possible, but I find no pride nor joy in actually being the one to come up with this knowledge. And that is why I am a very fat, happy, well-fed baby bird (just couldn't let that analogy go quite yet).
Being the leech that I am, I am very fortunate to have quite a few very talented and knowledgeable family members and friends to leech off of (because being a leech is pointless if you have no one to suck).
We visited Wayne's brother in Oregon for Thanksgiving this year, just in time to benefit from my sister-in-law's love of finding a good deal. I put quite a tight budget on Christmas this year, because we're working on being smarter with our money, as well as the fact that I wanted to set a precedence for the kids that we don't go crazy-bananas with presents for the holiday (when I think about how much my parents must have spent on my Christmases growing up and how little I truly appreciated it, it makes me sick with guilt). But because of my amazing s-i-l, who knew what toys were on sale where and when, I was able to get the kids everything I had planned on for WAY less than I budgeted (which meant I could get them a few extra things that I wanted to get them but didn't think would fit in the numbers). It's going to be a great Christmas, and I really think the kids are going to enjoy what they are getting and put them to good use for the entire year.
I also have two photo collages in my house that I'm sure would never have been hung if not for the helpful tips from my Facebook friends, not to mention the myriad of project ideas I have waiting to be done for my home that I have craftily stolen from friends and neighbors.
But the person that deserves a special mention is definitely Bethany. Not only is she just generally awesome (this post, with a few details changed, would be exactly how I would describe my feelings about being a stay-at-home mom. Practically the words right out of my mouth. Except, you know, it's better written), Bethany is also super smart and creative (I love this idea for face-out book shelves and plan on doing that in our toyroom one of these days) and a SUPER deal finder. She has a Facebook page called Screamin' Deals, and if you don't already subscribe to it, I highly recommend you get on that as soon as possible. Again, I like deals, but I'm uber lazy. I think Bethany must scan around 2 thousand deal sites a day to find the best offers (and the ones most applicable for moms like her), and those deal sites must get their info from around 2 billion-trillion webpages... So, basically, all I have to do to learn about the best deals from all over the entire internet (yes, I'm being dramatic. It makes this post more titillating) is subscribe to Screamin' Deals, and read my Facebook page. Which I already do. So, technically, all I have to do is live my life normally, and the deal info just falls into my lap. I love it. Today I scored 3 awesome deals for things that I actually wanted/needed to buy anyway, and I didn't even have to get up out of my chair.
In conclusion, to all the friends and family whose knowledge and know-how I am constantly sponging off of, Thank You. And I promise I'm not as dumb as I seem.
I'm starting to notice a trend in my FB posts where I start out saying "Does anyone know...". Maybe you've noticed this as well. I'm constantly asking the general public (um, consisting of my friends, family, and neighbors, I suppose) the best way to do this, the best best stores to find that, the easiest way to accomplish this, the cheapest brand of that.
I'm a little worried that these constant requests for help make me seem a bit... well, helpless. Like a fragile baby bird sitting in a nest with her mouth open, patiently waiting for someone to regurgitate me a nice meal of workable real-world knowledge. It's sort of a cute image, but also a bit pathetic for a grown woman.
The truth is, I'm perfectly capable to finding the answers to all my questions myself. I could search the Internet for a half hour and then spend two hours in the car driving from store to store to find the best place to buy a Whosey Whatsit. I could go through countless trial and error tests to find the best way to accomplish a Thingamajiggy project. I have an IQ high enough to accomplish all this, yes.
But then what would be the point of having a plethora of knowledgeable, crafty, and talented friends?
Yes, that's right. That's the reason I am Facebook friends with you. Because you are smarter than me. I have surrounded myself with a group of my superiors for a reason. So I can slowly siphon off their knowledge and skills and use them for my own. That's my special skill. I'm like the majestic leech, or the noble tapeworm. I love getting a good deal, or getting a project done in the snazziest, easiest way possible, but I find no pride nor joy in actually being the one to come up with this knowledge. And that is why I am a very fat, happy, well-fed baby bird (just couldn't let that analogy go quite yet).
Being the leech that I am, I am very fortunate to have quite a few very talented and knowledgeable family members and friends to leech off of (because being a leech is pointless if you have no one to suck).
We visited Wayne's brother in Oregon for Thanksgiving this year, just in time to benefit from my sister-in-law's love of finding a good deal. I put quite a tight budget on Christmas this year, because we're working on being smarter with our money, as well as the fact that I wanted to set a precedence for the kids that we don't go crazy-bananas with presents for the holiday (when I think about how much my parents must have spent on my Christmases growing up and how little I truly appreciated it, it makes me sick with guilt). But because of my amazing s-i-l, who knew what toys were on sale where and when, I was able to get the kids everything I had planned on for WAY less than I budgeted (which meant I could get them a few extra things that I wanted to get them but didn't think would fit in the numbers). It's going to be a great Christmas, and I really think the kids are going to enjoy what they are getting and put them to good use for the entire year.
I also have two photo collages in my house that I'm sure would never have been hung if not for the helpful tips from my Facebook friends, not to mention the myriad of project ideas I have waiting to be done for my home that I have craftily stolen from friends and neighbors.
But the person that deserves a special mention is definitely Bethany. Not only is she just generally awesome (this post, with a few details changed, would be exactly how I would describe my feelings about being a stay-at-home mom. Practically the words right out of my mouth. Except, you know, it's better written), Bethany is also super smart and creative (I love this idea for face-out book shelves and plan on doing that in our toyroom one of these days) and a SUPER deal finder. She has a Facebook page called Screamin' Deals, and if you don't already subscribe to it, I highly recommend you get on that as soon as possible. Again, I like deals, but I'm uber lazy. I think Bethany must scan around 2 thousand deal sites a day to find the best offers (and the ones most applicable for moms like her), and those deal sites must get their info from around 2 billion-trillion webpages... So, basically, all I have to do to learn about the best deals from all over the entire internet (yes, I'm being dramatic. It makes this post more titillating) is subscribe to Screamin' Deals, and read my Facebook page. Which I already do. So, technically, all I have to do is live my life normally, and the deal info just falls into my lap. I love it. Today I scored 3 awesome deals for things that I actually wanted/needed to buy anyway, and I didn't even have to get up out of my chair.
In conclusion, to all the friends and family whose knowledge and know-how I am constantly sponging off of, Thank You. And I promise I'm not as dumb as I seem.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
I Am No Longer Impressed With All You Losers.
This is the post where I talk a little about what it's like to have lived in Holland, and then to fly over to Italy for two years. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, read this.)
I think it would be an outrageous understatement to say that Lexie was a "late talker". But, she also didn't take to signing before or after she got her Cochlear Implant either, so I think it'd be accurate to say that she was a "late communicator". In fact, at five years old, it's still something we're working on. But to put it in perspective for you outsiders, when Lexie was 3-yrs-old, her teacher wrote in her end-of-the-year report that she was "nonverbal", and had only 3-4 signs that she would actually use. At 4 years, she could say a small handful of 1-2 word sentences. It's been a long, slow road.
Now, throughout this long, slow road, I would watch all my friends and neighbors raise their normal, typically-functioning children with great envy. There were a lot of things that I coveted, but the big one was speech. It was like a knife in the heart every time someone would recall something funny their two-year-old would say. A two-year-old talking?! That was totally unheard of to me. And the stuff some kids would say... it was incredibly impressive. I couldn't believe all these children had such an impressive vocabulary.
Now, it should be noted at this point that the way Lexie learns speech is completely different from how a typically-functioning child does. Lexie is only now just starting to come up with her own sentences. Up until maybe the last couple months (she is 5 1/2 now), every single word, phrase, and sentence in her repertoire is something that was specifically taught to her. She does not soak in the language around her and come up with her own words to communicate her thoughts and feelings. Her brain has been more like a computer program, where you can input certain phrases and tell it when it is appropriate to use them, but the program cannot create it's own content from the inputed information. With a child like this, the only way to help them communicate is to work nonstop every second of everyday inputing as much data into them as you can, over and over and over.
I was told, many many moons ago, that typically-functioning children (unlike most deaf children) soak up the language all around them like a sponge, but I totally forgot about this fact. So, all those years, when I would hear my friends' children say things like "I didn't poop, I just burped in my bum!" (someone's kid said this recently, I just can't remember who. But it's hilarious), I would think "WOW! That mom must be a really good parent if they've worked on speech long and hard enough that they've reached a point where that odd phrase is in their lesson plan". I mean, it took me months of hard work to get Lexie to say "I want milk". I looked at all you parents with your crazy talking children, and figured you must be working even harder than I was. And then I felt like a bad mother, like I wasn't good enough, no matter how hard I was trying. (This is something you may or may not know about moms of special needs children. We need very little encouragement to feel like we're doing a crappy job. We ought to give ourselves more credit)
And now I have a typically-functioning child. OH. MY. GOSH! It is SOOOOO freakin' easy! I had no flippin' idea! I do NOTHING, and Seth is talking up a storm. Okay, so maybe I don't do nothing. I have a lot of speech therapy techniques that are just so ingrained in me after so many years that I'm sure I still do them unconsciously. But still... I tell him "that's a giraffe" one time, and he knows the word 'giraffe'. And he can use it in his own sentence. Or sentences. Wayne and I are always cracking up over the stuff that Seth says, most of which isn't even funny, just because we didn't specifically teach him that phrase. In church on Sunday as I was passing Lexie the sacrament Seth said "There you go, Lexie, have some water", and I had a hard time keeping reverent because I laughing so hard. That's not even funny, but it's just SO different than what I'm used to. I didn't have to sit down for three weeks and repeat "have some water" over and over as I passed him a cup before he said that. He just came up with it on his own from the words and phrases he's heard around him.
I had no idea it was so easy. All those years I thought you suckers were way better moms than I was, I was so wrong! Okay, honestly, you're all probably better moms than in me in a lot of other areas, but when it comes to teaching speech, I am so totally on par.
I think it would be an outrageous understatement to say that Lexie was a "late talker". But, she also didn't take to signing before or after she got her Cochlear Implant either, so I think it'd be accurate to say that she was a "late communicator". In fact, at five years old, it's still something we're working on. But to put it in perspective for you outsiders, when Lexie was 3-yrs-old, her teacher wrote in her end-of-the-year report that she was "nonverbal", and had only 3-4 signs that she would actually use. At 4 years, she could say a small handful of 1-2 word sentences. It's been a long, slow road.
Now, throughout this long, slow road, I would watch all my friends and neighbors raise their normal, typically-functioning children with great envy. There were a lot of things that I coveted, but the big one was speech. It was like a knife in the heart every time someone would recall something funny their two-year-old would say. A two-year-old talking?! That was totally unheard of to me. And the stuff some kids would say... it was incredibly impressive. I couldn't believe all these children had such an impressive vocabulary.
Now, it should be noted at this point that the way Lexie learns speech is completely different from how a typically-functioning child does. Lexie is only now just starting to come up with her own sentences. Up until maybe the last couple months (she is 5 1/2 now), every single word, phrase, and sentence in her repertoire is something that was specifically taught to her. She does not soak in the language around her and come up with her own words to communicate her thoughts and feelings. Her brain has been more like a computer program, where you can input certain phrases and tell it when it is appropriate to use them, but the program cannot create it's own content from the inputed information. With a child like this, the only way to help them communicate is to work nonstop every second of everyday inputing as much data into them as you can, over and over and over.
I was told, many many moons ago, that typically-functioning children (unlike most deaf children) soak up the language all around them like a sponge, but I totally forgot about this fact. So, all those years, when I would hear my friends' children say things like "I didn't poop, I just burped in my bum!" (someone's kid said this recently, I just can't remember who. But it's hilarious), I would think "WOW! That mom must be a really good parent if they've worked on speech long and hard enough that they've reached a point where that odd phrase is in their lesson plan". I mean, it took me months of hard work to get Lexie to say "I want milk". I looked at all you parents with your crazy talking children, and figured you must be working even harder than I was. And then I felt like a bad mother, like I wasn't good enough, no matter how hard I was trying. (This is something you may or may not know about moms of special needs children. We need very little encouragement to feel like we're doing a crappy job. We ought to give ourselves more credit)
And now I have a typically-functioning child. OH. MY. GOSH! It is SOOOOO freakin' easy! I had no flippin' idea! I do NOTHING, and Seth is talking up a storm. Okay, so maybe I don't do nothing. I have a lot of speech therapy techniques that are just so ingrained in me after so many years that I'm sure I still do them unconsciously. But still... I tell him "that's a giraffe" one time, and he knows the word 'giraffe'. And he can use it in his own sentence. Or sentences. Wayne and I are always cracking up over the stuff that Seth says, most of which isn't even funny, just because we didn't specifically teach him that phrase. In church on Sunday as I was passing Lexie the sacrament Seth said "There you go, Lexie, have some water", and I had a hard time keeping reverent because I laughing so hard. That's not even funny, but it's just SO different than what I'm used to. I didn't have to sit down for three weeks and repeat "have some water" over and over as I passed him a cup before he said that. He just came up with it on his own from the words and phrases he's heard around him.
I had no idea it was so easy. All those years I thought you suckers were way better moms than I was, I was so wrong! Okay, honestly, you're all probably better moms than in me in a lot of other areas, but when it comes to teaching speech, I am so totally on par.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Just Checking In
((Author's Note: I have been trying to post this for DAYS, but blogger won't let me publish it for some reason. Groan of annoyance...))
I have many blog posts planned in my head, but I've had little time to actually write them. But, they are coming. In the meantime, I just wanted to let everyone know that, based on the feedback, I will be offering my amazing babysitting skills for service exchange. Unfortunately, Wayne is now in the middle of a few of his own pet projects, so it will be a while before a cool fancy website is up to organize everything. So, if you need someone to watch your kid(s), the best way to get a hold of me is through email (let me know in a comment if you don't have it), or through Facebook. I enjoy cookies. : )
I have many blog posts planned in my head, but I've had little time to actually write them. But, they are coming. In the meantime, I just wanted to let everyone know that, based on the feedback, I will be offering my amazing babysitting skills for service exchange. Unfortunately, Wayne is now in the middle of a few of his own pet projects, so it will be a while before a cool fancy website is up to organize everything. So, if you need someone to watch your kid(s), the best way to get a hold of me is through email (let me know in a comment if you don't have it), or through Facebook. I enjoy cookies. : )
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