Warning from Author: This post is extremely personal and contains some explicit details of my life that may be hard to read. I tried to edit the details as much as possible while still being true to myself by not holding back—I have been doing that for too many years.
October of 2007 was my last post. It has been about that long since I have laid eyes on my own blog. To do so would only compound the feelings of failure, guilt, and frustration I have been feeling for the last 6 months, no—let’s just lay it all out on the table—the feelings that I have battled with most of my life from prepubescence to present day. With the help of a therapist, my husband, and my trusty anti-depressants, I have chosen, made a conscious decision, to make another concerted effort to let you all in on my big bad secret. I have shared my story with a few that I trust. I make light of it as a way to distance myself so that I can actually put my thoughts into words without blubbering all over the keyboard.
I am all for giving back in anyway we can, especially to our education system because the teachers that work tirelessly to help mold our children into responsible, educated adults should not have to worry about such things as; do they have enough pencils, calculators, books, or any other supplies in order to teach their students successfully? When did our education system get to the point that these things are constant obstacles getting in the way of a teacher doing the job they were hired for? Instead, spending time worrying about who to convince to supply new books for the school library so their kids will be reading things that are relevant to our time now instead of 50 years ago?
Alijah started preschool on Monday. This will have been the third school he has attended in his short span of 3 years of being—oh, my bad, 3 and 3/4 years. The first school he attended was a private clinic mainly for children with developmental delays, and it was a wonderful place that we still miss. The teachers and therapists there were very patient, loving, and nurturing and it is the place that helped Alijah to begin to walk at the ripe old age of 28 months when most children his age had been running circles around him for months. It was a place very focused on setting a routine for the kids and Alijah became accustomed to that and to the friends he was making for the first time. He learned how to sing songs, and use more sign language than what we were teaching him at home to communicate as he barely spoke when he started there, and when he turned 3 he graduated from that school because they only treat children under 3 years of age.
We then enrolled him into a public school curriculum, yet still a class that was centered around developmentally delayed children his age, as Alijah still has some speech and social delays. This school and his last school were like night and day to us. The teachers were all great, but it seemed as if they did not have as much time to give the kids the one on one attention we had grown accustomed to. I am sure the private funding in the school he came from made all the difference but to a 3 year old, that doesn’t add up to a whole lotta’ beans. He was used to things a certain way so it took him a while to get adjusted to the kids and new routines. Besides that fact, this was a whole new class with a whole set of new germs so Alijah was out of school more than he was in class due to catching one thing or another every other week—-no exaggeration.
Being forced to sleep in his own bed tonight that Andru and I decorated with Thomas the Tank paraphernalia in the hopes that he would actually sleep in his room, Alijah had this prayer for God before Andru tucked him in. Adding to the drama, crocodile tears streamed from his eyes as his bottom lip puckered into the saddest frown he could muster.
“Heavenly Father…for this day, I go bed, Lijah’s room, dada night night, I wan see Mama, Amen.”
Now if it was me putting him to bed, I would have cracked and brought him straight to our bed just so I could see his contagious smile through all the tears before he fell asleep; but Andru, he does not crack under pressure…and I tell you, this 3 year-old boy, he deserves an Oscar. Especially when he feels his bottom lip as he is frowning to make sure it is in the correct position.
Andru and I have been secretly taking some dance classes, inspired by the talents on So You Think You Can Dance, one of my favorite shows. I don’t like to brag but heck, I never knew I could look that good doing the Charleston. And Andru? Wow. Danny, forget the 100 pirouettes you can do in under a minute, psh, you have nothing on Andru’s fancy footwork. I think I can take Lacey…what do you think?
Scary that we have so much talent eh? Yeah, we like to pull a few tricks out once in a blue moon…keeps things fresh. I think we deserve a spot on the Hot Tamale Train, choo choo! Have a looksy for yourselves, but don’t be hatin’ on us cause we got the moves.
The funniest thing I heard today came from an actor in the movie How to Eat Fried Worms. I was watching this with my two kids while Andru is at Gnomedex literally all day and night. I will be joining him, kids in tow, at the party they are throwing tonight at the Seattle Aquarium where they have giant octopi that suck your brain out quietly while you are none the wiser, or so Nate says. But till then, I had to try and get the two boys to sit still and not argue for at least an hour. It seems that I enjoyed the movie much more than they did…okay now who couldn’t with a line like this? Uttered from a preschoolers lips to his older brother—“You’re shaking my bike and it’s touching my diddly dink!”
I have never heard that expression before, I think I will start using it in random conversations as it will go down as one of my favorites. No, I’m not 12.
Happy Sabbath everyone! Today was a full day for me as I put off doing any type of housework all week because I was channeling a sponge sitting atop a couch. I think we used every last plate, bowl, spoon, fork, and any other receptacle that could be used as a bowl, in this house. It took me over an hour to do all the dishes. I thought about just throwing everything away and buying all new. We had a friend who actually did that while he was a college student. Always had new dishes. I’m not saying much for my ability to maintain a clean house but I can cook. Does that make up for it?
I was reminiscing the other day about Alijah and the cute things he used to do as a baby, then realized that everyday he says something that cracks me up and that I should be writing these things down to look back on with fondness because he is growing so quickly. I thought I would share some of his gems with you…
1. We have two new puppies, a girl and boy, and my 12 year-old is holding the girl and I am holding the boy and he says to me, “Mom, is Zelda a girl?” and I reply “yes, of course” and he says “how can you tell, cause she has one of these like Luigi (pointing to her pee pee as I will refer to it). I reply “yes, she does, but she does not have these” while pointing to Luigi’s scrotum. And he asks “what does he have?” And again, I hold up Luigi and say this time, “she (Zelda), doesn’t have balls…see, Luigi, he has balls>.” To which, Alijah, who I did not know was listening very intently, promptly replies very loudly, “I want balls mama!”
I have a need to plead my case because a soon to be released video review of my thoughts of the iPhone paints a picture of me as someone who “hates” technology. This is not a true depiction of my feelings as I believe that “hate” is a strong word, and I try not to use it loosely. There are not many things I hate, but there are things I can do without. I also wanted to make it clear that since my husband‘s world revolves around the tech world, I support him in all that he does, and if not for technology, he would not have a job and we would not be so greatly blessed. But, it does not mean that I have to embrace all that comes with his choice of career. So, here are 10 reasons why I don’t embrace technology wholeheartedly.
I am not, in the least, a person one would describe as politically active or knowledgeable in any way. I try not to be naive about what is going on in our government or our world for that matter but I don’t take pride in the fact that I am not as versed in the world of politics as it pertains to me, as I should or would like to be. That is why I am surprised to find myself so impassioned to write about a subject I never questioned or realized was so defunct.
My husband and I were able to view the documentary by Michael Moore entitled Sicko before it was released in theaters, via the internet. So I have had a few weeks to let the movie’s message brew and I have been able to ascertain how this low-budget documentary could transform our failing healthcare system now that the average American has access to the facts. It is up to each one of us to elect the man or woman who can focus their attention on a system of healthcare that is in such dire straits that even receiving basic care is a joke. It is a poor representation of a nation that calls itself a Superpower.
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