Blog

December 31,2018..Ed and I decided to stay home with the kids this New Years Eve. The way we saw it, this was Maverick’s first New Years and we’re counting down the years until the kids start wanting to do their own thing. Olivia was dancing around all day all excited for the big night. Then Jake asked me the dreaded question every teenage parent is eventually faced with..”Can I go to a party tonight?”.

There it is. The beginning of the end. The start of loosening the reigns and praying all the horror stories you have drilled into their heads about strangers, drugs, girls, sex..will overpower the raging hormones and desperate desire to make awful decisions.  The response was easy. “Ask your Father”. Damn if I was going down with this alone!

After several hours of lectures from Ed and more chores being performed in one night than his entire existence, he finally got an answer from him, “No fucking way”. Of course I overruled him and stepped in before the response would flood out of a frustrated teenagers mouth that would forever condemn him to house arrest. He ran out of this house faster than the dive into the bathroom when I tell him to clean his room.

After a few glasses of wine and a mental block of all my teenage experiences, we slap a party had on Maverick, seperate Olivia’s face from the iPad that she’s been glued to and gather on the couch to watch the festivities before the countdown. Olivia was pouncing up and down and teaching Maverick to do the same. She loves music, so I assumed her anticipation of her favorite performers would hold her attention throughout the night. Then she asked, “When do the commercials start?. Confused by the comment, Ed and I looked at each other visibly confused.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom? I can pause it”

”No. I just can’t wait to see the Super Ball commercials. When do they start?”

Then it dawned on me. She was talking about the Super Bowl. I tried gently explaining to her as Ed buried his face in a pillow to hide his hysterics that the ball dropping was just that..and the Super Bowl was a football game a few weeks away that has really cool commercials. She was pissed!

“You mean to tell me I was waiting all day to watch people sing? I’m going to bed”. She did! She went down to her room all pissy and went to sleep.

Maverick, still wearing his New Years hat, watched the performers and jumped up on us with excitement as we screamed “Happy New Year!”. At least someone will be sticking around to party with us for a few years.

Jake wandered in around 1am wearing sunglasses and a sugared out smile and stated with absolute certainty, “I am Ferris Bueler”. He walked straight into his room and closed the door. Ed and I stood at the top of the steps just starting at each other for about 30 seconds, decided not to exchange our thoughts and decended to the bedroom. I brought the wine. Maverick gave us a good night kiss, the jumped into his bed, flipped on his back and passed out..still in his party hat.

Bring it on 2019. I’m ready..not!

 

 

 

Twas the night before christmas and all through the house, every creature was stirring the cats killed a mouse. The stockings were flung by the kids in the air, for there was no chance santa would appear there.
The children were jumping up and down on their beds, Ed cant remember if he took his meds, and me in my socks and shirt that reads Jets…tired from driving around to the stable and vets, was laughing with him at the thought of a nap, we realized the kids did not give a crap. When from the backyard there came such a clatter, Maverick  lied on the couch didnt care whats the matter. And what to our wondering eyes should appear..but a man in a suit and 8 tiny reindeer. Convinced hes a fraud Ed loaded his gun, and told the fat man that he better run! He collapsed in the yard with a hohohoho..the kids saw it all and screamed nonono!!
We dug a big hole put him inside the sack, and told the kids if theyre good he’d come back!
So forget what you’ve heard now the story it goes..its no longer Rudolph but Maverick’s red nose. For Ed is in the sleigh for the man that was merry, and dressed as his elves are me Jake and Livvy!
Merry Christmas everyone♡♡

It’s that time of year when I miss being a stay at home Mom. I love Christmas and all the excitement and planning that goes into it. As 2 working parents, weekends roll around there’s no time to sit back and take it all in. It’s go time. Fortunately Olivia still believe in Santa, so at least we aren’t responsible for satisfying her 2 page Christmas list. Shopping for her is more of a scavenger hunt than a shopping experience; a matching outfit for her and Maverick, a giant gummy worm, jeans with holes in it..but only small holes and not on the knee..it goes on and on..good luck Claus.

With that said, the  annual hunt for the perfect tree began. We loaded up on caffeine and headed off to the tree farm with Christmas music blasting and the kids in tow. My husband is on the short side. Every year we satisfy his Napoleon complex and manage to get the largest tree on the lot. Jake was on a mission to pick out the tree this year and ran off ahead of us.  He pulled out the perfect tree. As we approached, a woman with sunglasses bigger than her face and dressed as if she was heading out for a night in the city pushed past us, approached Jake holding the tree and said, “That’s it!”. She ran off to get help. Wait..does she really think she’s stealing our tree? The clicking of her high heels slowly faded in the distance. Ed and Jake started to carry the tree before she came back. Too late. She arrives with 2 workers. Ed shot me a snarky look and put on his best sales voice; graciously thanked them for coming to help us. Slightly confused they picked up the tree and we followed closely behind. I heard the clicking of the heels on our tail as she whined to another employee and yelled, “Stop them! They hijacked my tree!”.  Honey, I’m on a tight schedule. No room for a cat fight today. It was tied to our roof and off we went, with the stomping Princess visibly having a tantrum in our rear view mirror.

Singing Christmas music and laughing about the insane experience we just had, I noticed Olivia was awful quiet in the back seat.

Me: “What’s wrong, Liv”

Olivia: ”I feel bad for Christmas trees. They’re slaves of the season. Someone cuts off the legs so they can’t move, wrap them in nets and separate them from their family. Then people go and buy them. They stick them in their house, wrap them up in lights so they can’t move and stand around and watch them until they die.

What?? Seriously I can never look at a Christmas tree the same again! I’m going to have to add therapy to that long list she made. I’m going to have to make a donation to a Christmas tree refuge and I am most definitely going to have to buy a tree next year with the roots so we can plant it with an adopted family after we torture it and tie it up in lights. I may need to find a therapist for the tree too so it adapts well with its new family. In the meantime I have this “dying tree” in my living room, slowly withering away in front of our eyes. I feel like I should be playing Amazing Grace instead of Jingle Bells.

We now have about 30 days until the tree’s funeral service. 30 days to keep the hostage in an upright position with an 80 lb puppy and a cat with an Olympic metal in tree climbing. The kids have upped the ante by giving Walter catnip. Maverick is trying his absolute hardest not to instinctively chase the cracked out cat as he leaps for the dangling ornaments. I’m patiently waiting for the annual “I told you to tie the tree to the wall” argument. Christmas season Geniton style has begun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

That time of year has come..daylight savings time. It’s that time when you look at the clock expecting it to be midnight and let out a four letter word when you realize it’s only 6. It’s also a travel week for my husband. Those usually start out well and end the with me appearing strung out, crying and begging in desperation for his return. The only way to survive is to embrace the darkness and freezing temperatures and take Maverick and the kids for a nice long walk.

On the walk I discovered my teenage son’s volume button has apparently broken in the on and loud position. With each passing house that resides someone he knows (he knows everyone. Its a small town) he yelled  “Hello so and so!!”, followed by a cheap shot to his sister, a kick in return and my Mom voice trying to bring reason to this insanity. Our family walk appeared more like a group of rowdy undisciplined teenagers.

After returning home and sending the kids off to bed, I finally sat down to unwind. Then the fighting began again. Maverick ran into my room to avoid the scene and I decided to do what any responsible overworked and overtired parent would do..stay out of it and let them fight it out. Once the volume hit a level that could break windows it was time to intervene.

“Your a bigger mistake!”

“You were first. Your obviously a bigger one!”

“Bigger gets better with practice #2!”

”Mom! Which one of us is a bigger mistake?”

There goes the eye twitch. After telling them they’re both ridiculous and adding some humor calling them equal mistakes,  I chased them back into bed and closed their doors.

“She said you’re a bigger one”, Jake yelled making sure to get the last word.

This can’t be normal.

Jake came home from school today explaining how Olivia introduced him to her teacher as her brother, “The biggest mistake”. I asked the teachers reaction and Jake just shook his head and laughed hysterically.

Dinner on night 5 of a “Daddy is away” week..Chinese food. The kids somehow managed to set the table without killing each other. Jake accidentally spilled the noodles. Olivia retaliated by eating all the fortune cookies. “I know her fortune. It says your the greatest mistake!” They both cracked up laughing and left the table together to play with the dog.

Its going to be a long winter with the two greatest mistakes that ever happened to me.

 

 

 

 

There is nothing worse than the loss of laughter. I have survived my chaotic life by managing to find humor in just about anything. My children inherited this gift. It’s what keeps us going. Moments that silence even our inner laughter are rare. This was one of them.

I came home from work yesterday and Olivia ran to me, wrapped her arms around me shaking and hysterical crying. She couldn’t even speak. I have rarely seen Olivia cry let alone melt into hysterics. I asked her what happened and she couldn’t speak. The thoughts going through my head of what could have possibly happened to make her tremble to this extent I’d prefer to leave buried. She finally got the words out; “I got a 25 on a test”.

Even with her struggle with dyslexia and ADHD, Olivia is a great student. She usually makes honor roll, or at least comes close, but she fights hard for it. A failing test certainly isn’t foreign to us, but not common.  Her reaction didn’t make sense. After calming her down and expressing clearly to her that I didn’t give a crap about her test grade, she finally explained what happened.

Dyslexia isn’t just mixing up letters. The brain processes everything different. In her case, the format of the test was different than the study guide. She was having an off day and she failed. So what? She was then pulled out for speech, returning just before class let out. One of her classmates whispered to her when she returned that she was going to be in big trouble because she failed bad. Her test was on her desk with just about every answer x’d in red and her failing grade on top. She ran out of the class crying. One of her teachers saw her crying in the hallway and watched her run into the bathroom with a friend wiping her tears. She went on with her day without a thought about it.

I am far from a “Not my kid” mom. She failed. That being said, she has a diagnosed learning disorder. She has an IEP. She is in class with a special ed teacher to oversee her. What kind of teacher, especially one with a special education degree, would present a test in that manner for the class to see? A teacher with a true understanding of the struggles these kids  face every single day would pull her aside and figure out what went wrong. She would call the parent after seeing the child crying. They wouldn’t decorate the test in red marker and post it on their desk like it was artwork for all to see.

Why did this happen? BECAUSE MY KID LOOKS NORMAL!! She’s confident, beautiful and popular. She’s the first one to offer help to other kids if she understands an assignment, and the first to ask for help if she doesn’t understand it herself. She doesn’t look different. Obviously I must be one of those parents milking the education system.

This is not my first rodeo. It took me 3 years to get Jake the help he needed. They let him fall so far behind before agreeing to give him help that it took years to catch him up. Why? Because he looked normal. Then, 2 years ago, I was the only parent not invited to a 4th grade end of year class presentation. Olivia forgot to bring home the invitation. Memory issues are a huge problem with her. These teachers were well aware of this. My dyslexic daughter stood in front of her classmates and all their parents and gave a PowerPoint presentation without me. She came home from school and fought back tears and smiled through the desire to frown as she gave us that presentation proudly in our living room. The teacher admitted to me later on that it was intentional. She said she was “teaching her a life lesson”.  Needless to say that teacher is no longer in that school.

Driving in the car today she said she wished she were smart. I pulled over and looked her straight in the eye and told her she was one of smartest kids I know. I meant it. I reminded her that some of the most successful people in the world have dyslexia. Her brain is more powerful than the average person could understand, which makes her smarter than all of us. I told her one day people will be jealous of her, in fact, some already are. There was that smile again.

There will always be the teachers in the world that do not belong near special needs children. Fortunately there are so many that truly have their heart in it. They take it home with them and return the next day more educated than the day before. Most importantly you are your child’s mentor. Give them the strength and confidence they need to deal with the obstacles they will face. Teach them to find their smile and laughter. In the end, that fixes anything.

As a good friend of mine says every morning: “Chin up, smile on”. It’s a well needed reminder. A smile fixes everything.