I feel like you’ve all gotten to know my sweet A. so much this year, thanks to the “My Story… ” series. I’ll actually be wrapping up his story (at least for now!) in the next few weeks since the loose end are pretty well-tied for the moment. Still, it’s been fun sharing the whole journey of parenting a child with a severe language delay, diagnosed on the autism spectrum, and, ultimately, evaluated to be severely gifted. Quite the ride!
Today? That sweet boy is seven. And, in honor of that and Finer Things Friday, here are SEVEN things I am so blessed this child has taught me:
- Size matters. To men, especially, it would seem. From infancy, my precious boy, you have been kind of “super-sized.” Now? You’re really just tall. But you’re really tall. And kind of broad-shouldered. From the first day of preschool, fathers have asked me how big your daddy is as they attempt to stand taller. It amuses me. And today, on your seventh birthday, you already come to the top of your 5’7″ mama’s chest. Before I know it, I’ll be looking up to you.
- Chivalry is not dead. It is positively charming to watch you go through your days, my child. You’re the only boy on the bus who hangs back because the neighbors are all girls and, as you quietly remind the driver, “Ladies first.” You hold the door for me, and your sisters, and random people at restaurants. I hope you raise your sons to do the same.
- A diagnosis is not set in stone. It was a year ago that we convened for the meeting where that PDD-NOS diagnosis was essentially dismissed. What had rocked our world three years prior was simply no longer relevant.
- There will always be people who underestimate you. It wasn’t all that long ago that I would have to sign papers every six months documenting your severe delays. I now have regular phone calls about how excited the entire district is about you. Go figure.
- Hard work pays off. So much comes so easily to you, my son. Athletics? Take some effort. And you give it. You work consistently and methodically and you meet the goals you set. Congratulations on earning your apprentice purple belt last month!
- There’s more than one way to solve a problem. How many times do you set out to calculate some complicated math equation and, as I listen to you talk it out, I have to bite my lip from telling you you’re on the wrong path? So many. But every time– EVERY TIME– you arrive at the correct solution. It’s been a good lesson for me. And I’ve learned to hush.
- Being the biggest or the brightest would mean nothing if you weren’t also one of the kindest. You are, quite honestly, a sweetheart, my beloved only son. You are sensitive and loving and cuddly and you show such compassion. Your love for your little sisters is obvious and your tenderness toward other people and animals is admirable. There are people in this world who tell you how amazing you are– how superior your intellect is– and, yet, you shrug it off and just keep on keepin’ on. You were as happy to be partnered with a little girl in your class struggling through a level 2 book as you are to be paired with one of the other level 20+ readers in there. All you said was, “It was a good story. About a horse. Not many words, and that was good. She did a good job working through them. She’s a good friend.” So are you, little guy.
Happy 7th Birthday, A. I look forward to all the lessons you’ll teach me in the coming year!
It can be so hard to believe when you’re dating or engaged or newly married that you might, one day, fall into a rut. But, alas, it happens to the best of us. It’s not that we MEAN to do it but, all of sudden, there we are… same ol’, same ol’. A rut.
Let me tell you briefly about our latest rut:
Daddy would read stories to the girls. I’d go in their room for singing and good nights. I’d retire to the living room while he finished reading to our son. I’d check email. Facebook. Twitter. He’d come out and sit on the other couch. He’d pick up the remote. We’d maybe watch something together. Eat some snacks. Talk a little bit about our days or pressing issues. I’d fall asleep on the love seat. Eventually, we’d go to bed. The end.
I think it’s important to realize that there’s a very good reason we wind up in ruts– by definition, a rut is a well-worn groove. So, face it. It’s an easily travelled path with a fairly guaranteed destination. Ruts? Are comfortable. It’s really that simple.
Ruts can also be boring. And you don’t learn much or discover many new things as you roll along in a rut. Oh, but they’re comfy. Did I mention that? There’s something so appealing about predictability, particularly after a long, stressful day. So what’s a girl (or guy) to do?
The key is to retain the appealing parts of the rut (consistency, contentment) while ditching the unappealing parts (boredom, lack of connection). So how do you do that? Well, for starters, you redefine “rut” into “routine.”
There are many benefits to having a good, solid routine. This is why it is so often emphasized in terms of parenting! In general, we human beings like having an idea what to expect. We crave some semblance of order and feel more at peace if we’re not constantly flying by the seats of our pants. Having a routine doesn’t need to preclude spontaneity… but it should give you a good general framework for the “average day.”
A couple of months ago, I decided I was sick of our “rut.” We were fine. We certainly got along. We still loved each other, of course. I was happy enough to see him come home. He greeted me with a kiss and a “Hi, Hon.” Ours was certainly not a marriage “in jeopardy.” But somehow, I knew– it could be better.
In an effort to make my marriage sing, I tweaked a few things.
And so we ended up with the new, improved routine:
We still read to the kids and do good nights the same way. I still check email, Facebook, and Twitter, but I am ALWAYS done with the computer before he comes back out. If I’m not “technically” done? I make myself be done. There’s nothing on that screen as valuable as the man in front of me.
I sit on “his” couch with him. Instead of sprawling on the love seat, I sit next to him. We are, literally and physically, together and that makes a difference in how we interact with one another. Conversation is easier and more natural. We can hold hands, lean on one another, tangle up, or, quite frankly, I can fall asleep ON him. Actual physical closeness truly does impact emotional connection– for both genders.
We cut cable. Now, I’m going to be honest. We did NOT do this in an attempt to fix the rut. We did it in an attempt to fix the budget. Just want to be clear there. ALSO, we are not in any way opposed to watching TV together. In fact, we still do. Rather than stare at a directory screen or watch so-so shows (just because they fall in between two good ones), we now seek out shows we both truly love. We dig into a series together and truly look forward to chatting and laughing about it. Instead of munching chips and yawning my way through some sitcom, I’m sipping a glass of wine (or Sprite or water or whatever) and waiting eagerly for the next episode of an adventure.
As I mentioned earlier, sometimes I still fall asleep. Oftentimes on his leg or shoulder. Still, I certainly manage to stay awake far more frequently now than in the past! Also, since we’ve stayed engaged and connected throughout the whole evening, we are far more likely to go to bed at the same time. And to continue that connection.
Our evenings have changed immensely– and for the better. We went from being in a rut that was fine to having a fabulous routine. I truly look forward to every single evening with my husband. I love that I know just what to expect– that part hasn’t changed– and that it will result in our feeling a renewed and better connection each and every night.
I encourage you to look at your marriage honestly and define your rut. Consider what parts of it are beneficial and what parts are serving no purpose in enriching your lives as a couple. Don’t try to reinvent the wheel or completely overhaul your lives. Ask yourself these three simple questions:
- Why are we stuck in this rut? (e.g. habit, comfort, fear of change)
- What elements of it would I like to keep? (e.g. watching movies, sharing snacks, reading the paper, etc.)
- How can we carve out a comfortable routine that encourages closeness while retaining the better parts of our “rut”?
Be confident that you can still enjoy the same hobbies and comforts of your current situation, while deepening your bond as a married couple. Maybe you’re used to retiring to separate rooms. Can you change that? Maybe you keep vastly different schedules. Is there a way you can still unwind for a bit together even if one of you is going to sleep well before the other? Maybe you crave your own space and don’t WANT to share a couch. Could you arrange the furniture so at least your heads are near each other? Be creative! My perfect routine might sound lousy to you– and that’s okay. What’s important is realizing that the potential exists to take your own marriage from fine to fabulous.
What do you think? Is there a difference between rut and routine? Can you think of something you’d like to see change in your current situation?
Perhaps you’ve noticed lately– I am pretty passionate about marriage. I believe in forever and I want all those years in between to be as amazing as possible. Has my marriage been all sunshine and roses? No, of course not. I’d be a little suspicious if I’d spent over ten years married to a man and never had a bit of conflict! But our marriage is a good one.
Over the years, I have seen a lot of articles, books, posts, and what-not on how to “fix” a “broken” marriage– advice for couples who have “fallen out of love” or are on the very brink of separation or divorce. I’m glad those resources are there. However. So many couples I know are not in that position. Their marriages are solid. They’re intact. They’re committed. They’re… fine. And, while I suppose that’s okay, fine is not all that appealing an end goal.
So, for the next few weeks, I’m going to be sharing a few posts with you on Taking Your Marriage from Fine to Fabulous. These posts are written for all of you couples who desire to take your good marriage and make it great. To go from “getting along” to delighting in one another. Sound good? I’m excited! I’m even more excited to let you know that I’ve enlisted some wonderful partners in this venture– a few more talented bloggers who also believe passionately in the value of an awesome marriage. I’ll be sharing links to their posts with you later on.
In case you’ve missed it, here are few of my recent posts that will give you an inkling for what I’m going to be addressing in this series:
10 Things I’m Doing to Make My Marriage Sing
10 Things HE’S Doing to Make Our Marriage Sing
Sex Begets Sex
Look for my first post in the Taking Your Marriage from Fine to Fabulous series tomorrow. Wondering what it might be about? I’ll be talking about what to do when you find yourself in a rut. Look for it!
This was one of the very first main dish recipes I prepared “all on my own” back when I lived at home with my parents. It’s super simple and, if prepared as listed, can be tossed together in a matter of minutes, start-to-finish. Of course, you can also use leftover chicken from other methods and/or soak your own beans. I’ve done it every which way and it’s always a yummy, hearty meal!
Quick Chicken Chili
Ingredients:
- 3 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, diced into 1″ cubes
- 1 can (14 1/2 oz) diced tomatoes
- 1 tablespoon chili powder
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- 1 can (16 oz) kidney OR red OR black beans (flexibility, people!), drained
- 1 can (15 1/4 oz.) whole kernel corn, drained (OR 1 cup frozen corn)
Directions:
- Brown chicken in 1 tablespoon oil.
- Add tomatoes and spices. Cook over medium heat about 5 minutes.
- Add corn and beans; simmer 5 minutes.
And that’s it! My mom always served this with warm breadsticks, so that’s what I crave when I make it. I think corn bread would be a tasty pairing though, too!
linked to:
Here’s something you should know about me:
When I decide to try something new, I can go overboard. Like, when I first discovered I could bake my own bread with success? I immediately decided to stop buying bread, buns, bagels, rolls, and English muffins figuring I could do it all. And I could. Sort of. I learned HOW to make each of those items and I was capable, but taking on the task of making SO many things I had previously purchased became so overwhelming as I parented two toddlers that I quickly regretted ever dipping my toe in those waters.
I fear I wasn’t much different when it came to freezer cooking. My friends Jessica and Crystal have been nudging me in this direction for years. And I always told them the same thing: I truly enjoy cooking each day. It’s one of my favorite times of day. And you know what? They kindly assured me that there’s nothing wrong with that!
However. I do have a chest freezer. And it has sat absolutely empty since the vicious snowstorm that buried us on October 30th. Ahem. Wasteful! And inefficient! I decided something must be done. And done it was! My first EVER freezer cooking session on Saturday (plus a couple hours on Sunday) yielded the following:
- 4# Poor Man’s Chicken Parmesan (5 meals worth for our family)
- Pizza Kits x 6 (dough, 2/3 cup homemade sauce, and 2 cups shredded mozz. for each)
- Lasagna Casserole x 2
- Chicken & Rice Enchiladas x 2
- Tomato Soup x 2 quarts (I do NOT use cream or milk in my tomato soup, so it freezes fine.)
- Chicken Soup (minus the noodles, which I’ll add later) x 2 gallons
- Sloppy Joes x 2 (packaged with homemade buns)
- Breakfast Burritos x 20
- Hamlet Sandwiches x 8
- Bacon, Egg, & Cheese Sandwiches x 8
- Egg “McMuffins” x 6
- Honey Mustard Chicken x 1 (I used butter instead of margarine and a paprika/garlic blend instead of curry… because the only spice under the sun that I don’t care for is curry.
 Anyway, if it’s not good, I won’t blame Rebekah because I may have over-tweaked!)
- Hashbrown Casserole x 2 (like this, but with hashbrowns instead of tater tots)
- Meatballs x 48
- Quick Chicken Chili x 2 (recipe coming tomorrow!)
- Pigs in Blankets x 44 (full-size, but using this recipe)
- Ham & Chicken Crepes (this recipe, subbing meat for the seafood)
- Chicken Queso Dip for with chips or quesadillas
- Black Bean Queso Dip
- Taco Meat x 3
- Oatmeal Raisin Muffins x 24
- 3 Jumbo Jars of Red Sauce
I will not lie to you all. It took a long time. I spent eleven straight hours in my kitchen on Saturday. Of course, I also really love to cook. So eleven hours of cooking is much easier for me than, say, four hours of cleaning.
I feel good that the freezer is full again and my husband was amazed by how much food I cranked out. I’ll let you know if I’m a freezer-cooking convert in a few months…
I went to a Christian college. Well, maybe that’s not the best way to describe it. I went to a small liberal arts college that was affiliated with a Christian denomination. It had, in fact, once been named after the church, but changed its name after a ginormous donation in the 1970s. It wasn’t “bible school” by any stretch of the imagination and it was full of some of the crunchiest, artsiest, most liberal-minded people I had ever encountered in my life. Flowing skirts, Birkenstocks, and tiny belled anklets abounded. We had barefoot professors and we often called them by their first names as we convened for class under a palm tree. Seriously. This was college for me.
Anyway, I never really thought too much about the fact that I went to a Presbyterian college. I mean, yeah, we had a chapel on campus, but that didn’t really affect me. The only time I even noticed the affiliation was when the choir, of which I was a part, would go perform. Many of of these performances were at Presbyterian churches. This never bothered me, but I didn’t pay it much mind either. I just tried not to let my ingrained Catholic responses interrupt their services.
Being Catholic, I felt happy that the local Catholic church sent a bus over every Sunday morning to pick up any students who were interested in attending Mass. There weren’t that many of us, to be honest, who would rise before 9 am to get over there, but I appreciated it. I didn’t have a car and, realistically, I might not have made it to Mass without this service. It was enough.
But my junior year in college, something happened. Our campus chaplain, who we all just called “Fitz”, sat down with the head honchos. He had been looking through the demographics of the campus, he said, and he had noticed that we actually had a larger percentage of Catholic than Presbyterian students. What if, he wondered, we let the Catholics use our chapel on Saturday evenings? Catholics frequently attend Mass as a Saturday vigil and he certainly wasn’t doing any Presbyterian services during that time. Wouldn’t it be lovely to make it easier for other Christian students to celebrate their faith?
He worked with local parishes and established a rotating schedule of priests who would come to our campus and say Mass, in our little Presbyterian chapel, every Saturday at 6:00 pm.
I was delighted. My roommate and I quickly took over the “music” portion and happily led the group a capella until we got more organized and added a piano and guitar. It was convenient and charming and perfect. And there were dozens and dozens more students attending than had ridden the bus previously.
But I didn’t even realize at the time how amazing it all was.
In a world where divisiveness is so pervasive… in a time when so many of us are determined to be “right” about how we walk with God… in an era when it’s so easy to look inward rather than outward… our chaplain was brave enough to stand up and say, “We have Christians who want and need to worship. We will open our doors to them.”
I may have attended one of the most Christian colleges of all.
I’ve shared some of the more commonly asked questions about C. here with you all. Things like “Is she normal?” and “What’s this about MRSA?” And you know what? Even though some of the questions may be poorly-worded, I am always SO happy when I hear from someone who wants to know more about my micropreemie experience. While I adore writing about all manner of things, there is certainly a very special place in my heart for other micropreemie families.
So, in case you were wondering, here are a few more FAQs that fall into my inbox with some regularity. To mix it up, I’m sharing a few that pertain more to me than my daughter for this set:
Do really pregnant ladies bother you?
Those who ask this question, of course, are wondering if I’m jealous of, and thus bothered by, women with big, giant, third trimester bellies. The short answer? No. I’m really not. Well, I mean, I’m slightly jealous, but only because, even when I carry full-term, I never get a big, giant baby bump. ;) But, anyhow, when I see a woman carry to 39, 40, even 41 weeks, I am not bothered– I am THRILLED. I love nothing more than seeing babies fully cook! However. Though I’m really working at it, I’m going to admit to you all that I am very bothered by women in their final month of pregnancy who do nothing but fuss and complain and moan about how they want it all to be done already. I struggle with that– a lot. I would have given my eye teeth to carry longer and I would have endured the discomforts happily if it meant better odds for my baby. So, yeah. That does bother me. But I try hard to grin and bear it.
Were you scared to get pregnant again?
Yes. But I also really wanted a third baby. And I also didn’t see it happening when it did. I was scheduled to have surgery and discovered I was pregnant at the pre-op screening. I describe the decision to have G. as a leap of faith. We really had no reason to suspect there would be a problem. We just also had no reassurance that I wouldn’t go into spontaneous labor way too early again. I fretted a lot early in that pregnancy, but I also really and truly cherished all the moments of the later months. I am so grateful for that.
My first baby was born at 26 weeks and my husband and I are considering trying for a second. What advice do you have for me?
Well, unfortunately, nothing too earth-shattering. I recommend you follow God, your heart, and the doctors– in that order, but with all three playing a role. It is important that you carefully consider the risks and likelihood of potential problems, but I don’t think you should automatically write off having more children after having a micropreemie. Depending on the cause of your first child’s prematurity, you may benefit from meeting with a perinatologist and this is something that can be done even before you try to conceive.
Anything else you’re burning to know? Just say the word!
Ugh. It happens every year. I am perhaps most envious of homeschoolers when I get the dreaded email notice:
There has been lice detected in your child’s classroom.
I immediately begin to itch. I get the creepy-crawlies. I have the sudden desire to scrub all the heads in this house, including the cat’s, though I KNOW that having lice is in no way a reflection of cleanliness or lack there-of. Still. I can hardly bear it.
Fortunately, we’ve so far dodged that bullet in this household and, for that, I’m very grateful. In an effort to do my part in keeping it that way, I make sure to remind my children of some “best practices.” (e.g. Don’t share hats!) I also make sure that all long hair is gathered up tightly and neatly.
My current favorite anti-lice ‘do?
To accomplish this look:
- Make a high, tight ponytail.
- Leaving about 20% of the ponytail (the part at the bottom of it) behind, form a tight, 3-strand braid with the rest (the 80%) and secure with an elastic.
- Next, braid the remaining hair into a skinnier braid and secure.
- Wrap small braid around the base of the fatter braid and secure with either bobby pins or a hairband.
Tight braids and buns are some of the best defenses against lice since these styles offer less ways for the little buggers to find their way onto another victim’s head. Long, flowing locks– while lovely– are just not going to be happening until I’m confident the lice has left the building…
(Oh, and sorry about making you itchy. I know how it is.)
linked to WFMW
Last week, I shared ten little (really– they’re so simple) things I’ve been doing that have made a very noticeable difference in the quality of our marriage. I actually have at least ten more equally easy ideas to share with you all but, for now, I wanted to give credit where it’s due and acknowledge some things my husband has contributed to the newly rediscovered spiciness of our relationship…
Now, I want to be clear about something here. This list is NOT intended to serve as a “to-do” list for your own husbands. No indeed. Rather, it is my hope that it might inspire you to look at your own marriages and pay special attention to the little things he’s likely already doing! Make sure you’re acknowledging these things and encouraging them– you’ll both benefit so much from it!
Here are ten ways my guy is helping make our marriage better and richer:
- He’s working around the house. I HATE big projects. They always cause so much mess and stress in the beginning that I have a hard time seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. He? Presses on. And so, as I type, a new beautiful floor is being laid in my lower level.
- He’s dressing for me. My husband would prefer to spend the cold evenings in fleece pajama pants and a fleece pullover. I am fine with this. But when he comes out in black pants and a cream linen shirt instead? Well. Pitter-pat goes this little heart of mine.
- He’s handling stuff that overwhelms me. Knowing he had MLK Jr Day off, he made an appointment to have my car looked at that day. He knows I’m just not comfortable trying to describe a problem to a mechanic.
- He’s wearing the aftershave I bought him. I KNOW he doesn’t really love the gel-like texture of that manly mountain spring smelling jazz I got him years ago. But he knows I love the scent. And so he wears it.
- He’s staying in touch. My days as a SAHM can be busy, to be sure, but his days away at work can quickly spiral into madness if, say, some major piece of equipment fails. Nonetheless, he tries hard to send me a quick email, knowing that I might worry he’s upset if he doesn’t. Even if it’s only four words, it’s enough, and I am at ease.
- He drives. I really don’t like driving all that much. I know some women do and I think that’s fabulous. I enjoy quiet, winding roads, but the highways raise my blood pressure. My husband is a confident, competent driver, and he happily takes the wheel so I can relax and chatter away from the passenger seat.
- He goes to Mass. My husband? Is not Catholic. Nor is he a morning person. But he rises to go to 7:30am Mass with us every Sunday. That counts for a LOT with me.
- He pays attention. This man I married is hysterical– he can forget so many things. Yet, somehow, if I just mention in passing that I wish there was a non-diet version of Fresca, he’ll scour the ends of the earth to try to find the closest thing.
- He comments. Do you have any idea how much more fun it is to get dressed up, do your hair and make-up, and toss on some jewelry when you actually get positive feedback? We all love nice comments. And I married a man who frequently delivers.
- He overlooks so much. While my husband might comb the aisles to find me a treat or notice that I colored my hair, he somehow manages to completely ignore dust bunnies or clutter piles. Yummy food ranks before a pristine house for him and a happy wife ranks high above either. Knowing this, I am free to devote more of my time and energy to making our marriage sing, even if it means the house doesn’t shine.
He’s a keeper! And I bet yours is too. Tell me:
What’s something your husband does that helps make your marriage sing?
(You can catch up on A’s story right here: The Pregnancy, The Birth, The Infancy, The Quiet Toddler, Advocating, What He COULD Do, Just A Boy, The (Hard) Next Step, Making a Friend, The Autism Diagnosis, He Talks, Hyperlexia, Your Baby Can Read, Another Evaluation, A New Kind of Special Need, Linear Algebra, The Triennial, The IQ Results, Bye, Bye Autism Diagnosis, Dr. C’s Plan, Second Grade Math, Is it too easy?, A Well-Rounded Child, Being a Team Player, The Acceptance of Children, Anti-Social?, The Boy Can TALK!, Gifts for Gifted Kids, I Don’t Like You!)
Alrighty then. So we’ve established that the little neighbor girl apparently didn’t like A.
Here’s where I’d love to tell you that I sweetly smiled at her and murmured gently to A. ”That’s okay. We all have different tastes and make different choices. Perhaps someone else might enjoy the flower you picked.”
In truth, I’m quite certain I glared at that small child. I didn’t say anything to her– I certainly didn’t give voice to the swirling unkind thoughts racing through my mind, “Cruel little spoiled brat child raised without kindness or manners… who SAYS that?… why is her mother just STANDING there?… nasty mean little girl… it’ll come back to her…” So I guess that’s something, right?
But, no. What I really did was spare that little girl a single withering glance before sinking to a crouch and wrapping my arm snug around the surprisingly broad shoulders of my preschooler. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t, to be honest, for fear the tears would spill. He was doing a decent job of holding it together (though the pain was in his eyes) and I felt I owed it to him to do the same. So I tried to support him– literally, physically– by holding him close until the bus arrived.
His driver, Miss K., was about the sweetest woman you could ever hope to meet. She wore cowboy boots over tight jeans, baggy flannel shirts with the arms rolled up revealing colorful tattoos, and had an ever-present cup of cherry-almond Dunkin Donuts coffee. She was competent and kind and had the perfect kind of personality for driving a busload of four- and five-year-olds. She always knew just what was going on, but never sweated the small stuff.
She saw. I know she saw. She saw that he’d been hurt and she saw the mama-bear ferocity beaming out of my eyes. She cast a subtle sidelong gaze between the two children and, after warmly greeting the neighbor girl, unbuckled her own seatbelt to walk A. to his seat.
** Now, here is where I admit this goes against policy. Bus drivers in our district aren’t really supposed to get out of their seats. But, in this case, I am so glad that Miss K. just brims with common sense. She knew that putting on her emergency flashers on our quiet residential street was sufficient and she knew what was needed.**
While normally I would be the one to help him strap in (preschoolers all wear some sort of restraint), she gently helped him in.
She looked down at him, a buttercup tucked in her dark hair, and smiled. ”Do you know how much I love having you on my bus, kiddo? It just makes my day to see your excitement each day.”
And she returned to her seat.
A. smiled up at me, shakily at first, and then with more conviction. I was able to smile back.
Once again, I’d been so blessed to have a fabulous support network in place… to have others helping me navigate these sometimes rough waters.
Thank you, Miss K.
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