Monthly Archives: April 2008

>We finally got hitched.

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>It’s not what you think, though. Husband and I have been married for going on 24 years, and aiming for at least that many more. We installed a trailer hitch on the minivan. There were a few hitches on the way to getting the minivan hitched, though.
The day did not start smoothly. I had broken my glasses the night before, so I carefully tiptoed downstairs and put in my contacts as soon as I woke up.
Amigo, still nervous about touchy tummy condition, nibbled his breakfast: one frozen waffle, toasted, for the boy who used to down four in a sitting. He got on the bus, and I came back in the house to spend a few minutes with a heating pad to settle my sore back and my own anxiety about whether or not Amigo would make it through the day.
Husband needed the minivan because he was taking care of the installation, so I dutifully picked up keys to the Saturn, walked out of the house, opened the garage door, and stepped into — the van. Oops. Sleepwalking through the morning routine again.
Redirected and in the correct vehicle, I got two blocks away before I heard something chirping at me. It wasn’t the first robin of spring. It was Husband’s cell phone, left in the car to charge overnight. Since I wasn’t far from home, I came back, dumped the phone and its charger on top of his wallet, then left for work a second time.
My arrival in the parking lot coincided with another teacher’s arrival, and that was lucky for me. I had forgotten my ID card, which is my entry into the building and has my room key attached. She let me in, and I got lucky again; my room was unlocked.
Later that day, I heard from Husband by email. He had forgotten more than his cell phone; his toolbox was still in the Saturn’s trunk. He parked the minivan beside his car, moved the toolbox from the Saturn to the van, and then had to explain himself to one of my colleagues so she wouldn’t call the police and report this strange guy taking tools out of the trunk of a car in the school parking lot. He got lucky — she had met him at the staff holiday party.
Well, despite all the trials and tribulations of the day, we all survived. Minimum of tummy trouble, not too much headache, only a little hassle on the way out. It could have been worse.

Here’s the new bike rack on the new hitch, with Husband checking on all the details.

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>Could be worse — could be raining!

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>Oh, wait. It is raining.

But April showers bring May flowers, and luckily for all of us in this dreary April weather, our school’s Art Club suggested a fundraiser. They offered to paint a window in our room for $10 a window, with the money all going to sponsor a local art teacher in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. I jumped at the opportunity.

Our library media specialist did, too. Her best windows open up to the hallway rather than the outdoors, so the flowers are there for everyone who passes by or comes in to check out a book.

And besides being an investment in a good cause, and in addition to giving young artists a chance to display their work, the early flowers really brighten the room. Teachers’ Manuals on the right, flowers on the left. I know which side makes me smile!

Could be worse, indeed.

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>Waterfront property, with wildlife

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After the melting of a record winter’s snows and a few heavy April Showers, our backyard is a swamp. The lot behind ours? I’m looking for fish. Ducks, at least.

Neither family, ours or theirs, can get out and unwrap the grill or the camper or set up the picnic table. If you enjoy a squish, squish sound as you walk, you’ll love this!
Until the fish and waterfowl find the place, you’ll have to settle for bunnies. Can you see Friendly, our neighborhood rabbit? He was born in a tiny hole in our backyard, lived through the winter under our deck and our bushes, and now has a lady friend. He’s tolerating the wetness rather well. Can you find the bunny in the picture above?


Okay, I give in, here’s a close-up. I wasn’t really that close to him; I used the zoom. I didn’t want to disturb him, although how he could get cozy in the midst of this wetness I will never know.

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>Comfort in metaphor

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Jennifer Graf Groneberg faces a familiar journey in Road Map to Holland: How I found my way through my son’s first two years with Down Syndrome. I, too, had to suddenly change my perception, modify my hopes and dreams, and dig for information when my infant son’s blindness was diagnosed. Ms. Groneberg and I faced parallels in some of our thinking processes, and one of those was a constant re-interpretation of life metaphors.
The Holland metaphor in her title comes from an essay by Emily Perl Kingsley describing the paradigm shift when a baby is diagnosed with a disability or other life-altering condition. The well-known essay likens the thought process to planning for a vacation to Italy, only to find yourself in Holland instead. The destination is still beautiful, but it’s totally different from the original plan.
I’ve never been a big fan of the Holland essay and metaphor, although I knew at least one mom who posted it on her refrigerator as inspiration. Rather, I likened the challenge to expecting a car with automatic everything and then getting a manual transmission instead. The driver has to learn to shift gears quickly and smoothly, both literally and figuratively.
Groneberg hears and adapts other metaphors to her own experience. “Kids are like sandpaper” didn’t quite make sense at first. Did it mean raising kids is rough? Wears you down? Eventually she takes a more positive angle on this one, seeing her child as the sander who smooths out her own rough edges as he grows.
Groneberg’s journey with Avery paralleled my journey with Amigo in several ways. I kept nodding as I read, thinking, “Oh, I remember going through that.” But I also remembered that the first few years were the easy ones. Babies are babies, even when they’re disabled. Her twins’ story might be more interesting as they grow up, are forced to face their differences, and the biases toward Avery and his Down syndrome become more overt. Going through the IEP process, making transition plans, looking into job training, and more await the family in the years ahead.

My hope for the Groneberg family is that they will love and cherish all three of their children for themselves, their strengths, and their unique individual traits. Despite the difficulty of the first few years, I hope they can see their glass, however fragile, as half full rather than half empty.

For more discussion of this book and others, go to MotherTalk Book Talks and Salon.

MotherTalk provided me with a free copy of this book in order to read it and review it. If you’d like to read it, leave me a note in the comments that includes your email or a link. I’ll mail it out to the first interested commenter.

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>To sleep, perchance to dream

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Amigo and I were traveling somewhere in a big city, but I didn’t recognize the place. I just know it was a big city and vaguely familiar. We stayed in an old-fashioned red-brick hotel that felt homey, almost dormlike. By day we kept going from one place to another using different forms of transportation: cab, bus, walking, even a boat at one point. Once in a while we’d retrace our steps to go back to another place, say, for lunch or to get something we’d seen earlier. As the dream progressed, he kept losing his white cane. I’d have to be his sighted guide and walk him quickly, almost drag him, back to wherever we’d been to find and retrieve his cane so that we could go on. This happened multiple times, and by the time I woke up I know he had asked to be carried and I’d said yes. To envision this scene, you need to know that he is four inches taller than I am and at least as heavy.

When I woke up, I shook the cobwebs from my head and got started with my morning routine.
When Amigo woke up, he was shaky with discomfort and pain, asking for a bucket because he felt like throwing up. Again. Still. He stayed home from school and visited the doctor again.

Tonight, I hope I dream a solution or better, a cure.

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>Meanwhile, back at the Ranch…

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>Two women so different in age, in size, in stage of life. Yet once again (cue the tacky music) our bras got mixed up.
Monday morning, of course. It couldn’t happen any other day of the week. I reached for my, um, garments and found — one of La Petite’s bras instead of my own. It must have gotten mixed up in the laundry. Once again I thought I heard it wailing in fear as I stared at it, wondering how the heck this happened? She’s slim and trim. I’m not.
Wrapped up in a shower towel, I headed for the drying racks in the basement and grabbed one of my own. It was still damp, so I pulled out the hair dryer and blew some hot air (no silly comments from the peanut gallery, folks) in its direction. Then I gave up, threw the bra next to the heat vent, and threw my pajama top back on. A few minutes later, after breakfast was on the table and I’d finished putting in my contacts, I picked up the poor mishandled undergarment and finished dressing for work.
Then the day began, I taught my Tigger-clones, spent an hour at the doctor’s office with Amigo, and came home feeling like I should be singing something from the Musical episode of Scrubs. Never mind which song. You don’t. Want. To. Know.
So now, I feel done. Done in, done out. Not quite together enough to correct math tests, but maybe capable of putting stickers on the penmanship papers.
I could consider this Laundry Revenge, but I didn’t plan it. Honestly. At least not this time.
I just hope La Petite has enough spares to get through until Final Exams.

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>to list, or not to list

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I should not, absolutely not, use the term “list” when we get on the ferry for the five hour trip to our ultimate destination.

I kept seeing recommendations and deals on GPS units on WantNot.net, Mir’s fantastic blog for bargain shoppers. I pulled one up onscreen the other day and asked Husband what he thought. Since we’ll be traveling through several states (at least eight) and then out of the country for a week, I wondered if it might be a good idea to have a little electronic help finding our way.
He said no. Absolutely not. In his view, it’s hard enough to ask a person for directions, much less take directions from a box with a voice. So…I’ll pack a U.S. map and look for an updated state highway map (free, if possible) as we enter each state and try out their rest stops.
He’ll also print out a Mapquest for each day’s plan before we leave home. The plus side of this is that we’ll also print out a Braille copy of the route, and Amigo can do his part to help navigate. White cane and all, our teen will be an active participant in the road trip. He’s a great believer in the slogan that getting there is half the fun!
But then again, the Mapquest I printed for today’s music festival landed me and my minivan in the elementary school’s turnaround for parents instead of in the high school’s parking lot four full blocks away…. just goes to show you, there’s always something.

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>The new addition

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No, it’s not another bunny. It’s certainly not another teenager, and don’t even think younger. I have a new coffee mug. Of course! You knew that right away. Didn’t you?

Everything in the gift shop was half price because it was the last game of the season. I picked this one over the other because it was a little bigger than the average coffee cup and because of the cool “fidget tool” on the handle. See that neat-o little hockey puck with the crossed sticks? It spins. My thumb loves it.

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>I can see the ground!! And — and — more!

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>It’s not exactly aesthetically pleasing. Muddy brown, with old half-decomposed leaves, sunbleached boards that soaked up their share of snow for months, and a snake-like dead zucchini vine.

It’s not traditionally beautiful. The trellis is falling down, and that is an old broom handle leaning against the wall. One lone (dead) raspberry bush, if you can even dignify it with the term, stands weakly in the dirt, untrimmed last fall and uneaten by the neighborhood wild bunnies over the winter.

But walk around the corner and look closely. Not green, but red: the rhubarb is poking its head through the matted blanket of last fall’s leaves. Mmm. I can taste the muffins already.

Happy Love Thursday, everyone. I hope you’ll all see the sun, and soon.

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>Walk on, Girlfriend!

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>My dear friend Sara is walking — walking up a storm in Chicago. She and a good friend are participating in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer this spring. Sara had breast cancer a few years ago, and she suffered through chemo, radiation, reconstructive surgery (twice!), and more. She is an amazing woman with a fantastic sense of humor and a limitless capacity to love and care for others. Sara and an artist friend designed and decorated this lion, titled Breast Cancer Survivors: Not an Endangered Species.
She is collecting pledges on the Avon Walk web site. Money goes for both research and treatment. In her words,

“For 2 days 4000 people walked for one cause. It was a remarkable weekend….We watched as 4 groups were granted a total of 4 million dollars. Half of that went towards research, which is vital towards finding a cure (for all sorts of cancers), and half went towards care for under-insured breast cancer patients. I carried you all with me as I walked. I am so grateful for your help.”

You can help sponsor Sara and her walking buddy by following these steps.

  • Go online to Avonwalk.org
  • click on “Make a Donation”
  • click on “Donate to a participant”
  • click on “Chicago, 2008”
  • fill in first name Sara and last name Wilda
  • click on “find a walker/crew member”
  • click on Wilda,Sara
  • click on “Click Here to Support Me”

I know your time and your money are valuable. My donations have been embarrassingly small — a drop in the bucket, so to speak. But if enough people put drops in it, the bucket will eventually fill. All of us who have been touched by breast cancer (personally or in our families) really appreciate your support, be it financial or moral.

I almost titled this post “These boobs were made for walking!” Then I thought of all the weird and inappropriate google searches that might wind up here, and opted for the cleaner and more appropriate title. Sara, however, would have laughed out loud at the first one!

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