Risk

I’m not going to get into the habit of writing about work, but I wanted to let you know that my new situation is really, really good. And there’s a reason I’m sharing this with you today.

My old job, the one that “brought me to my knees” was a decent paying job, especially for our area. And it took me five months to get it. So for a year and half, I was miserable, thinking I couldn’t leave because I really had it pretty good, except for the screaming and yelling, the unreasonable demands, the constant checking up on the weekends… What does that sound like to you? An abusive relationship? Because it was. I saw it in all of the other people I worked with, too. “It’s not bad all the time,” or “It’s much better when he’s not in the office/ in the winter/ when he’s in a good mood,” or “There’s just nothing else out there.” Scary stuff, right there.

In my big picture way of looking at things, I see a parallel. This is another time in my life where I took a risk and said enough was enough. Life is too short to be so miserable everyday. And it wasn’t pretty. It was hard to be a single mom. And it was hard working retail for minimum wage. I did a lot of soul-searching, and it was painful. There were times in both cases where I thought, “Is this it? Is this all there is?” But there were benefits to both, too. At least I was free from a toxic relationship. At least I could do things the way I wanted to. At least I had an opportunity to learn a great deal. (And I ended up loving being a single mom, except for being lonely).

And then, something wonderful happens that changes your life around. And you realize your instincts were right. There are really, really good men out there who know how to treat others. And there are really, really good jobs out there where you actually get a lunch break with a side of respect. My advice is this: trust your instincts, and take that risk. It may not be sunshine and lollipops immediately, but life is too short to miserable. You deserve more.

In the midst of winter, I found that there was, within me, and invincible summer.

My Valentine to Those Who Get It

I’m so grateful for staff who get it.

Let’s face it. People don’t go into special education for the money. Whether a teacher, a TA, even a special education administrator… they all go into it for the right reasons. At least I hope so, and intuition and experience tell me this must be true. But just like any profession, there are those who are just naturally meant to do it, and there are those who lack some skills and somehow never pick them up.

As a parent of someone with an IEP, I’ve encountered all kinds of educators, and luckily almost all of them had their hearts in the right place. That I can work with. And I’ve learned to work with those who call in a panic because they don’t know what to do, or those who call because my son has a temperature… of 99 degrees. Or those who send me multiple emails, giving me the play-by-play of the meltdown they are trying to handle at school, all with the undertone of please-come-pick-him-up…

My Valentine to Those Who Get ItBut I am especially grateful for those that just do it, as if they were put on this planet for that express purpose. They do it with compassion and insight, with fortitude and humor. The one who, in the midst of a less than stellar day, emails me to let me know that even then, she notices improvement. The one who, after a string of days of heartbreaking behavior, simply says, “Tomorrow will be a better day,” and I know she believes it. The one who always texts me after the meltdown to let me know it’s all ok.

This is my valentine to you folks. The ones who make me a better parent, and make my child a better human being for having been cared for by you. Words cannot express how much I love you all. Keep on rockin’ your natural talents and making the Earth a better place to live.❤

Happiness is…

This may be it this week. I’ve been nagging myself to post, but we’ve opened the shop an hour earlier this week, and with The Boy home for vacation, my routine is so funky, I’m all messed up. So rather than stress, I thought I’d write a simple post to wish you all the happiness of the season. 

My family is my heart and my happiness, and this week in particular, they are my focus.

Love you all to bits!

My boys and the beach

To Know Him is to Love Him

Halloween is right around the corner, and The Boy, true to form, decided last year that he would be Sully from Monsters Inc. this year.  Once he knows what he wants, he doesn’t waver, and even though The Man and I tried to convince him that he would be a really good Dracula, he was certain he wanted to be Sully.

So Sully it is.  But I can not and will not buy an expensive costume. We will be making it as we have done for the past few years.  And since I am making it, I can steer The Boy toward a more age appropriate costume, even if the subject isn’t very. Thanks to Pinterest, I have found a hoodie-based rendition that The Boy said sounded like a good idea. And now the hunt for cheap supplies begins…

Our kick-butt Sonic shoe from last year's costume

Our kick-butt Sonic shoe from last year’s costume

The Man and I may have tried to steer him to something more age appropriate, but in the end, it’s The Boy’s Halloween, and Halloween is for kids, not for us adults to feel better about ourselves and our children.  The choices they make show their passions and creativity, and if we start to make those decisions for them, the light in their eyes gets a little duller.

Yesterday, The Boy came home from school with a cat poster he had purchased from the book fair.  I knew it was coming home, and no, it isn’t the typical purchase from a 13 year-old eighth grade boy, but it made him happy.  So much so that he taped it to the wall in his room as soon as he put his stuff down.  I will never get in the way of him expressing his passion for the things he likes, because that’s a part of him (except for toilets… we have to limit the passion for toilets…). If I start denying that, I’m denying a part of him and it just isn’t right. To know him is to love him, and anyone who does will accept him Sully costume, cat poster and all. Anyone who doesn’t just doesn’t matter.

Benefits of Being Married to an Older Man

The Man turns another year older today.  Last week, he commented, “I’ll be able to collect social security in another 4 years, and you have to wait another 20 plus!” I almost threw the pillow at him.  But this is a rare occurrence when our age difference really comes up. OK, it also comes up when we tend to settle on the 70s XM radio station in the car… but besides that.😉

We’re almost two years married, and past five years together, and the age difference just hasn’t been a big deal like he thought it might be in the beginning.  Sure it’s irritating when he gets mistaken for my dad, but I think it’s happened maybe three times in those five years.  Like I told him, that won’t happen for too much longer, because men like him seem to stay the same age, almost impossible for a woman.

Mine is young at heart.  He doesn’t act his age, by any means, and anyone who knows him will attest to that.  And although his body has begun to give inklings of not being what it once was (i.e. after a day of hard, laborious work, he may complain that he isn’t 25 anymore…  Nope, you’re not even 52 anymore!), he still runs around with the neighborhood kids, still has wrestling matches on the futon cushion with The Boy, and still surfs for hours on end in the summer.  We just hiked the dunes at the state park this morning!

Mine knows himself quite well.  He knows how stubborn and pig-headed he can be, and is quick to apologize for it.  He knows his “triggers” and can give me a heads up if the kitchen counter is getting too cluttered for him before it becomes an issue.  He can read me like a book, too, and knows before I even say anything that I’m upset.  Having experience in relationships can be a good thing, if he’s learned his lessons well.

Mine is responsible.  I don’t need to worry about him going off half-cocked on someone because he’s angry.  I don’t need to worry about bills going unpaid, or cars being repossessed. I know that when he tells me something, it’s the truth.  I know that for the first time in a long time, he feels responsible for me and The Boy, too, and that he enjoys that responsibility.

Mine likes to teach me things.  It can be irritating, living with someone who is almost always right.  But he is, and that just leads me to trust his judgement.  He also likes to teach me stuff, and I like to learn, so it’s a win-win.

Mine is experienced.  My mom reads this blog, so I won’t go into this too much, but trust me.  It’s worth considering an older man just for that.  Yes, indeed.

Mine knows how rarely you get a second chance.  He’s careful with me because he knows how wrong it can get.  He knows how lucky we are to have found each other and to be such a good fit.  When you spend a long time being alone, you don’t say things that can’t be unsaid, and you don’t do things that can’t be undone.  You cherish the ones you love.

He makes me a better person, and I can only hope I have the same effect on him.  There were so many reasons it shouldn’t work between us, with the difference in our ages being one that seemed a big deal five years ago.  But we were younger and less experienced then.  We’re older and wiser now.😉  Happy Birthday to my one and only Man!

An Open Letter to the Mom in the Doctor’s Office Today

I overheard your friend (daughter? niece?) reading to you from that questionnaire today, and I took notice because of all of your “no” responses. I immediately remembered those soul-crushing, developmental, yes or no questions, the mix of defensiveness and hopelessness when you begin to understand just how far behind your little one is.

“Does your child point to an item s/he wants? Does your child turn pages of a book independently? Does your child say three words?…”

And on, and on, and on. I heard the tone of your voice change the more she asked. I heard you begin to whisper. I glanced at your face to see if you might cry, but you were holding it together. I guessed the tears may come later when you are alone, maybe before you fall asleep tonight.

And I watched your little one. I watched him smile, and observe the other children playing – he was watching close, but something was keeping him from playing along. He looked at me and made eye contact. I waved and smiled. He smiled bigger and looked to you for reassurance, but you didn’t notice.

I wanted to say, “This tall, gangly boy of mine sitting next to you didn’t do any of that stuff either. We had to use flash cards to teach him words. He didn’t point at anything.  They thought he was cognitively impaired because he played with the toys wrong.  But you know what? He is the best speller in his class and uses words like ‘misheard’ and ‘eclectic’ as an almost-seventh grader!”

I really wanted to say, “These questionnaires are a special kind of torture for us, and you are most definitely one of us. You are not alone.  Don’t discourage too quickly.  Be hopeful, because he needs you to be. I have been in exactly that spot where you are sitting and it is awful, but better days are ahead. Believe in that little boy.”

But I didn’t say anything because I’m not sure I would’ve wanted anyone to do that when I was in your place. Maybe I should have. Instead, I hope you get the support you need through this process, and that you realize quickly that he needs you to just do what you gotta do to get him as close as you can to where he needs to be.

And that there are lots of us rooting you on, even if silently from the chair next to you in the doctor’s office.

My little blond boy, once upon a time...

My little blond boy, once upon a time…

Happy Birthday to My Man

DSC00478The Man and I have just celebrated being married for 8 months, and today is his birthday.

If you’ve been following along, he and I have known each other for years, and I started to crush on him pretty hard after I got divorced.  He has also known The Boy for years, and often entertained him when we were on vacation down here with my parents.  He even taught him to ride a bike, and has recently succeeded in getting him to stand up on the surfboard while riding a wave in by himself – such a triumph after years of “lessons”!

He was nervous about getting married, but has since settled in, and enjoys marriage now, as do I.  Quite simply put, he’s my best friend, I love spending time with him, he makes me laugh, and we are good together.

There is also a considerable age difference between us, which has always bothered him more than it has bothered me.  He often wishes I had some grey hairs so people wouldn’t mistake him for my dad (this has only happened a few times, although it is irritating), but I think over time, he has seen that it rarely comes up, and isn’t an issue in the least.

He is a good man, and I am so lucky to have him.  And for the next seven months, he is only sixteen years older than me, rather than seventeen.  Happy Birthday to The Man, The Only Man For Me!

Buddies

The Boy has always relished the attention that The Man has given to him without a thought, most likely because his own dad doesn’t give him the time of day, even in the one week of the year (or less) that he sees him.  The Man was the one to teach The Boy how to ride his bike, and The Man will be the one that shows him how to shave.  He is constantly creating teachable moments with The Boy, and doesn’t hesitate to take him to the hardware store or the convenience store for a little hang-out time.  This morning, he suggested The Boy start his truck while he started my car for me (ice and sleet having covered our windshields, and not having an ice scraper because the old one got busted in the last ice storm).  It pretty much made The Boy’s day.

DSC00878

Tonight, The Man and The Boy had a wrestling match, which they do a couple of nights a week – we use it as a reward, and The Boy adores the sensory input and the bonding.  Later on, he came out of his room and sat with us (an unusual occurrence), and it was a wonderful family moment, giggling and laughing as I asked yes or no questions and they controlled eachother’s heads to nod yes or no in answer.  And he chose to stay to watch some skiing with us, cuddling up to his stepdad on the end of the couch.  And he even invited The Man to have a sleepover in the family room with him tonight since he has a snow day tomorrow…  The Man has fallen asleep, but The Boy is still there cuddled up to him, enjoying having a real dad for the first time in his life.

Newlywed Report: I Like This

After I got divorced, I swore I would never get married again, and mostly because I had such a horrendous financial mess on my hands, but also because I had been so miserable for so long.  I felt and still feel that people should not have to live miserable lives if they don’t have to.

Even as The Man and I progressed in our relationship to the point of thinking about marriage, I was still nervous.  Did I want to make that kind of commitment again?  Did I want to subject my son to a relationship that could possibly fail?

UsAnd then I came to the realization that all relationships have that potential.  They also have the potential to enrich our lives, help us grow as people, and give us the support to make us the best we can be.  I had never experienced that myself, but I knew the potential was there, and I also knew that I had never ever felt about anybody the way I felt (and still feel) about The Man.

We’re coming up on being married for five months, and in that time, we have joined households, developed routines, and purposely chosen to spend time together when other options were available.  We even work together on occasion.  And you know what?  We work well together.  Yes we have disagreements, and momentary lapses of bitchiness (on both parts), but we never get to the point of purposefully hurting the other person because that is the absolute last thing either of us would want to do.  And 99.9% of the time, we are enjoying each other’s company.

I just got off the phone with The Man.  It was just a random mid-day phone call to tell me what his plans were for the afternoon, and we talked for awhile about this, that and everything.  He said, “You know, I like being married.  I thought it would be bad, and I had bragged for so long about remaining single, and some of the married people I talked to seemed so envious.  But I really like it.  Plus, I have a good woman.  And she’s not bad to look at either,” he concluded.

I think I’ll keep him. ❤

This Right Here…

THIS, is why I love The Man.

cardIn between my IEP meeting this morning, and the could-be-stormy doctor’s appointment this afternoon, I was kicking butt and taking names.  I took a moment to bring in the mail, and saw a card addressed to me in The Man’s scrawl.  I can’t help but grin like a goof when he sends me something out of the blue like this.  And he does this from time to time, as well as leaves me goofy or heartfelt voice mail messages… One time, he drew our initials and a heart on the mirror in the steam from my shower.  This card contained a message from him that was sweet and told me exactly what I needed to hear.  He’s a secret romantic, and I can’t help but love him for it.

Happy weekend, folks!❤