Diagnosis and some gratitude

Monday, I received the report from the autism evaluation.  And I stopped in the middle of what I was doing and read it word for word.

My day had started with a call from the school.  Gavin was having a meltdown early.  It had been his father's weekend, so I didn't actually know how his morning or evening had gone.  I sent a hasty text asking for the details and booked it to the school.

They let him stay, which they don't always do.  Most of the time they have me take him with me.  Maybe because it was early.  I sat with him in his class for a while, and then when he had a smooth transition into music, I headed home.

In the magnificent blessing that my life has become, Josh and I sometimes have Mondays all to ourselves.  We'd love more time together even with the brood tangled around our feet and hips.  So, believe me, we relish in our solo days. 

We knocked out a little Christmas shopping and did some cleaning and laundry.  We fed ourselves.
And then....we gamed.  We put on headsets, dropped into an online multi-player, and disappeared into another world until the mail ran. 

Reading that report was a shock to my system.  Reading other people's interactions with and impressions of my child.  The way he was described.  Behaviors they described as indicators of his diagnosis that I had no idea were such.  And the part that was most difficult to wrap my mind around was the part where it said his symptoms presented as severe. 

Why did no one take me seriously if his symptoms are "severe"?  Why was I blown off so much?

Coming to terms with this diagnosis for me has been such a range of emotions.  What I want to focus on now, though, is gratitude.

Before I say another word about this, I just want to convey how grateful I am that I am the person chosen to be Gavin's mom.  However that came to be, I am honored.  Also, I'm grateful for his  health.  I'm grateful for his speech.  I'm grateful for his smile and his laugh and how incredibly intelligent he is.  I'm grateful for the people at Gavin's school who have truly grown to love him.  I'm grateful that I feel so supported by my husband and the school and a few close friends.  I'm grateful that every, single one of my closest friends has a child or family member with an autism diagnosis. They have been helping me through this process and standing by our family for years.  We already had a built-in community before we even knew Gavin was on the spectrum.  Somehow none of this seems random.  I'm grateful for Intelligent Design and grateful for such an abundance of love and grace in our lives.

Where I am after two years

Sometimes you have to fold in on yourself and dig deep and find what you've been hiding from yourself so that you can finally start to heal.

After my third failed marriage, I just wanted to go somewhere and lick my wounds alone.  I wanted to rage and fall apart and cry and feel like a failure and a fool without talking to anyone about it or writing about it.  I needed a new brand of healing.

It turns out that 2016 was a year of falling apart and folding in for a lot of people I know or knew.  It was an era of rebirth in mine and others' lives.  

As the energy of my life became chaos, I gave up resistance and let the current take me where it would.  You could call it giving up or leaning in, and I'd say you're right either way.  

I got up and went to work everyday and fed my kids every night and carried on with the have to's and musts.  I finished my master's degree and found a house in the middle of nowhere with no internet connection.

And, quite by accident and contrary to plan, I found this weird village of adults and children and animals all around me.  

We would sit on the porch in the cold in the dark and smoke cigarettes and talk shit and laugh and heal.  We'd share our pain and our dreams and our rage and our fear.  We'd hug each other and throw cash in a pile to cover each new ridiculous bill that showed up.  We learned to cook for 16 people.  We had each other's backs.  We bonded.

I got my hand blown up and my heart broken, lost a dog and a best friend.

We look back and wonder how we made it.  

Some of the Tribe say they hated that time.  I won't lie, it was tense and scary.  There was so much depression and anxiety on the loose that it's a wonder no one drown it.  Sometimes we fought.  Sometimes we shut down for days.  Sometimes we went out in the field and screamed or jumped in the truck and did donuts or laid in the bed staring at the stars.  The kids were dirty and loud and wild.  

It was glorious and awful and beautiful and exhausting, and I loved it.

After six months, everyone needed to breathe.  We needed space.  We needed to find our feet again.

Josh and I found a house in a subdivision and everyone else slowly drifted off.  We all spread out and Josh and I built towering walls around our lives and pushed everyone out for a while.  I quit one job and found another one and quit it too.  I had three cars repossessed in one year.  I bought a car completely outright and now have a title in my fancy green binder of important documents.  We started a business and watched it fail.  I lost religion and found God.  I fell in love with myself.  I found real love in a man and got married.  

And now here I sit.  I'm in yoga pants (I literally just did yoga - but I know I'm a stereotype) sitting next to my daughter.  I'm a stay at home mom...

Two days ago, I got a phone call.  The news didn't come as a shock.  I'd had my suspicions for at least four years, but honestly maybe even five.  

My son has been diagnosed with autism.

And I'll just tell you what my true, honest, initial reaction was when the words were spoken.  It was one emotion: relief.  Relief that he will have services opened up to him.  Relief that I have an answer.  Relief because having the diagnosis means he no longer has to try to keep pace in environments clearly not suited to his needs.

Hands dusted.  Reaction had.  All's well.

But, then, I shared the information with others and started receiving questions.  

Here's a fun fact: I still have ADHD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and Depression.

Yesterday, I was the strong friend you needed to check on.  Yesterday, I tried to research what I do now.  It began to stack on the overwhelm from the questions from the day before.  The questions I couldn't answer.  There's so much information.  The spectrum is so broad.  

I shut down.

I cried, a lot.  

I carry so much mom guilt.  It's a great motivator, but it's also incredibly detrimental to my mental health.

I push myself through episodes of depression and anxiety.  I push myself entirely too far sometimes.

By the time Josh made it home from work last night, I had been having an anxiety attack for probably 6 hours, but I really don't know.  Could have started the day before.  

At any rate, having PTSD and the manifestations that accompany that, Josh knows a thing or two about anxiety attacks.  He gently wrapped his arms around my waist while I stared blankly at the water I was waiting to boil.

"Name three things you're grateful for."

I did.

"Name three things you can hear."

I did.

"Tell me three colors you see in the room."

I did.

"Ah, what's the next step?"

He was helping me ground.  Connecting to the present moment through all five senses.  Gratitude helps break up negative thought patterns.  The next step would be taste, smell, an emotion I was feeling.

Having a friend like Josh is such a precious gift in this life.  He is my husband, absolutely, but make no mistake, he is my absolute friend before he is anything else.  He is a true gem in a life that has often been harsh and cruel.  Josh is a welcome respite.  I cherish him dearly.

The last two years have been plenty introspective.  I have gotten to really know myself.  Not the self I wanted everyone to like.  Not the character I had been playing all those years.  I got to know the real woman underneath all that.  And I got to learn real lessons in understanding that I will be okay if not everyone likes that woman.  I have let go of many people and learned how I need to be treated.  Now I know how to teach others to treat me.  

I have also gotten to know my children better.  Being allowed the opportunity to stay at home - however long this lasts - is another precious gift I have been afforded.  It's not all sunshine and roses.  There are definitely parts of SAHMing I could do without.  But I like that I am the face greeting them off the bus and listening to what goofy thing is tickling their fancy these days.  I don't miss being gone all the time.  I don't miss missing them.

I said that yesterday I was the strong friend you needed to check on.  

I wanted so badly to reach out to someone.  I listed names of people in my head.  But that sneaky agent of self-doubt snuck in and told me that I didn't need to bother people. And the truth is, I was never going to be able to reach out yesterday.  It was too far gone once I had to start arguing with myself about whether or not people care.  

Josh interceded yesterday.  I woke up less toppled today.  I did yoga.  It's one leg of the trifecta that make the best mind/body/spirit integrated Michelle I have so far found.  (Exercise, proper food/water, meditation).

I know that one contributor to my experience yesterday is the isolation that comes with SAHMhood.

And today I realized that part of the love I have for writing is that it makes me feel connected to people.  I share whatever is on my mind in the hope that someone will understand; in the hope that someone will find solace or feel encouraged.  

So, today, I thought, I'll dust off that old blog, and I'll use it as a tool for my mental health.  I'll write to the invisible audience.  And maybe I'll feel the tiniest bit more connected.  Maybe it will ease the loneliness.  Maybe it will help.

And, ever the optimist, here I am.  

Education + hard work = Well, it depends, are you a woman?

It somehow all came down to being told, “I like platforms, ya know”. 

But it came on the heels of being told I look better as a blonde and then flat out asked when I was going to return to being blonde.  Told I was losing too much weight and then asked in front of co-workers if I was smoking meth because I was getting “too skinny”.

“I like when you wear your hair curled like that.”

“Woo, looking sexy today.”

After a discussion about my height and how I should wear platform heels because that’s what he likes and it would make me look taller, I realized I had begun to avoid running into him in the hall.  Every conversation had become an excuse to hug me or rub my shoulders and make some sort of comment on my appearance.

Why do I have to live like this?

Why do men feel entitled to put their hands on me without my permission?

Why do I have to constantly be placed in the position of grinning and bearing it so that I can keep feeding my kids?

I have seen what happens to the girls who report it.  I have been watching this go on and on and on for my entire adult life.  Watching how the world is run and how you’re treated when you have two X chromosomes. 

Yesterday, I wore a trumpet skirt and a nice red top.  I did my makeup and wore sparkly flats.  I dressed for myself.  I have been battling a lot of depression, and I wanted to feel beautiful.  And I did.

I did until that conversation, that hug, the leering way I was looked up and down.  Then I felt dirty and ashamed and couldn’t wait to go home and put on my baggiest sweats and t-shirt.

I’m so very tired of being placed in a position to be made feel uncomfortable but knowing there are dire repercussions for speaking out and standing up for myself.

The Struggle is Real

What Struggle?

FINANCIAL
The financial struggle is definitely real.  As I mentioned, Jimmy and I quit our jobs earlier this year.  We were recruited to be part of a start up.  We invested in the start up.  We believed in the start up.  The start up fell through.  So, we lived off of our savings (minus what we gave to the start up) until we found new jobs (bye savings, it was so nice knowing ya!).

My new job left me none the worse.  However, Jimmy's new job was just one horrible lie after another: you'll be getting 60 hours a week (or 20, whatever);  everyone who starts in this position starts at X pay rate (not actually true: actually they start out at $4 more an hour);  Oh you found out about the pay thing? You'll be getting a raise after 6 months (or never. You're never getting a raise).

Thankfully Jimmy got his old job back with his old company on his old crew and got a significant pay increase to boot.  He started back the Friday before last.  So, there is a light at the end of this broke ass tunnel.  Yay!

SPIRITUAL
Ok, so we are broke, and it's Christmas.  No, don't feel sorry for or worry about our kids, we aren't that broke.  They will be getting "stuff" on the big day.  But amidst all my worrying about this and then praying about it, I heard, "Hey, what about Me?"  Do my kids even understand why we celebrate Christmas, or am I just leading them down a materialistic path?  I shudder at the thought.

That also makes me shudder at the thought of them losing me before I have done my job as a parent to expose them to what I believe; what I hope they will believe.  That has been a pretty significant struggle recently.  How do I do that?  It seems so overwhelming.

Right now I have settled on starting by finding a good book that tells the story of Christmas on their level.  I have a few contenders, but please feel free to comment or text or email if you have any recommendations.

Also, I think maybe I will physically take at least the boys with me to donate toys this year.  I have taken to doing a massive toy review before Christmas every year and donating the stuff that is in good condition but not really making the cut at our house anymore.  There is a woman's shelter near us where I usually donate the items.  Maybe it will be good for the boys to help pick out the toys and then go donate them.  Silas I know will be on board.  He has the kindest, most giving heart.

WRITING
Yes, I'm still "workin on my novel" (please read that in the voice Stewie uses when discussing same with Bryan) (Stewie Griffin....from Family Guy).

It's still hard.

One of the things I do to try to help is read.

Guess what I decided to read?

All seven Harry Potter books.  In, like, 3 weeks. Yes for the first time.  Yes at age 33.

They are incredible.  If you haven't read them, DO IT!  They will not disappoint.

I have an immeasurable amount of respect for Ms. Rowling after reading those books.  So much talent to create all of that and have it make sense and to tell the story the way she did.  If you can't tell that I am gushing, please know that: I. AM. GUSHING.
 
YOUR STRUGGLE
We all have our struggles, don't we?  Depression has its icy cold hand grasping my heart right now.  I'm fighting it.  I have been trying to do better about reading the Bible and trying to draw strength from it.  So, here are two verses that give me comfort while I'm trying to fight it.  You know, just in case your struggle is dragging you down too and you could use a little encouragement.

Romans 8:38-39 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

Happy Holidays, guys!

A long winded hello

It's October.  How did that happen?  I have written less on this blog this year than any since I started it, and I feel like I have lived a lifetime in these ten months.

Let's see.  The kids.

Silas:
Silas started kindergarten as I mentioned in my last post.  He is rocking kindergarten.  I went in for my parent-teacher conference on Tuesday.  The school gives the kids lots of tests, and Silas tested below where he should be in a couple of areas.  One of those areas is letter recognition.  So, his teacher (who we love) is sending home flash cards for us to work on in the evenings.

Yesterday, after dinner, Silas came right over and brought me the flash cards.  Do you know how much easier that makes my job as a parent?  Not having to make your child do something as important as learning the building blocks he will need to learn to read is incredible.  He has already mastered  seven new letters, their sounds, and their corresponding pictures in the few days we have been working on it.

Additionally, we found out on Monday that he needed a serious amount of dental work.  (He had to get a cap.  WTH?)  So, every morning before school and every night before bed, he makes sure he goes in and brushes his teeth REALLY WELL without me having to harp on him about it.

Oh and then there is the asthma.  He was diagnosed with that a couple of weeks ago, so the inhaler is now a part of our routine as well.  That one I tend to forget.  He is good about reminding me he needs that before school and before bed as well.  He is 6, and he is one of the most responsible people I know.  He is such a good kid.  I like him.  I think I'll keep him.

Gavin:
Gavin is doing worlds better.  Worlds.  The tantrums are fairly minimal these days, and you guys?  He is telling us when he needs to go potty.  He isn't 100% potty trained yet, but he is doing so well, and baby sister is clamoring to go potty now too, so two birds, one stone?  Fingers crossed.

Gavin is doing this whole thing where he has to have a chat with me about one thing or another about an hour after I tuck him in every night.  And he has been getting up in the four o'clock hour quite often to climb up and snuggle in bed with me.  But, so what?  I mean, I'll take every snuggle they want to give no matter the hour of day.  And a chat is a far cry from hours upon hours of screaming and throwing things and being absolutely unreasonable.  Sold!  I'll take it.

Vivian:
Oh the little diva princess.  It's cute how she thinks she is throwing a tantrum sometimes.  But I mean seriously?  After Gavin?  Pffffft.  Her tantrums are practically adorable.

Don't get me wrong, she has crossed the line.  (She will cold cock one of her brothers for no reason without batting an eye.)  She gets in trouble and has consequences just like the boys.  But she is different is so many little ways.

It is nothing for her to decide and announce, "I seepy.  I go u'stairs."  She rarely makes it all the way to our 8 o'clock bed time.  Unlike the boys, she won't fight sleep just to do it.  There has to be something extremely entertaining going on for her to stay up when she is tired.

She will sit still and let me read her a story or paint her toes, but she absolutely will not stand for me trying to put bows or pigtails in her hair.  She loves the outdoors.  And animals.  And books.  She is just the coolest little girl.

They all melt my heart.

So, you know, I quit my last job to spend more time with the kids.  It still isn't working out to me actually spending more time with them.  I genuinely like my job.  My boss really is great.  My coworkers are great.  Some of my clients are mostly tolerable.  The commute isn't that bad.  The money is decent.

But....the whole point was to spend more time with the kids.

I thought to myself, self, what can you do about this?  I mean, you love the law, but is it really your passion?  Is it really the talent God gave you?  Is it really your dream?

I'm afraid you don't quit law school and then don't return if it's your dream to be a lawyer.  You either don't quit, or you make your way back in the span of ten years.

Also, I'm not stuck in that fear-based strangle hold of staying somewhere anymore.  This master's degree I'm halfway finished with is not going to go to waste while I languish as a paralegal.  I have my mind set on my next step being a six figure salary.  I refuse to be satisfied with the status quo.  Onward and upward.

Anyway, in the meantime, I have a year to kill before that degree hangs on my wall.

What to do?  What to do?

I like to write.  And I have been told that I'm good at it.  I don't think I'm brilliant or deserving of awards, but I think I'm decent (and if the Fifty Shades of Gray author can get published, there is hope for everyone.  I literally couldn't get past the first chapter because the writing was so bad).

Also, I read (probably on Pinterest somewhere) not to pray for things that you think are attainable but to pray for things that seem impossible (because with God nothing is impossible.)  Challenge accepted.  Prayers repeated on the regular.

And then there is this story of mine.  This bizarre life I have lived.  What is the purpose of it?  Why did God allow all of it?  Why did God give me a love of writing and reading and imagining?  A thirst for knowledge and improvement?

I'm thinking it was probably so I could use what I have learned to help people.  Maybe offer someone somewhere some hope or comfort and just the knowledge that they aren't alone.

Oh, I know, I'll write that book I've been meaning to write.  Then, just, you know, get it published and be a writer who works from home.  Perrrrrrrrrrrfect.

 Jimmy and Randi are the only people I have told up until now, and I have only let Randi read any of it.  I was afraid I would say something about writing it and then wouldn't actually do it (cause, you know, I have a track record of doing that).

First, let me say, it's not finished.

There are days when I am so sick of my characters and trying to put everything in my head onto paper that I do not want to write.  It is legitimate work to even attempt to write something of this magnitude.  Previously, I think the longest thing I have ever written was, like, a twelve page research paper.  A whole book is insane.  And so I research and I read things, and I make myself write every, single day.  Some days I write several pages.  Some days I can only manage a paragraph.

I don't know if I'm doing it right.  I know I'm not a professional.  I may never get it published.  I don't have any idea what the future holds.  All I have is a dream and a whole bunch of prayers and hours spent on the elliptical and in my car and in the shower working out plot points and developing characters in my mind.

Oh and 19,371 words of a novel that I have actually written.

Booyah!

Done. Done. Done.

Yesterday was Silas' first day of kindergarten.  He was nervous, so I put on my chipper, upbeat, "you're going to have an amazing day!" face and we were all fine.  He was fine.  I was fine.  Michael was fine.  Everyone was fine.  No guilt.  Perfect.  Awesome.  Wonderful.

My mom text me around noon and asked if I had stopped crying yet.  "Oh, I didn't cry.  I was fine."

At 2;15, I received an email from his teacher telling me that she already loves having him in her class and that he listened and followed directions well and had a great first day.  That is when I burst into tears.  I do not understand it, but that is the way it happened.

When I got home, he told me how much he loved it.

So, overall, everyone was still fine.

This morning, it was time for him to walk into big boy school all by himself.  I have walked him to every classroom he has ever had....sometimes with both arms full of babies.  He was thoroughly upset with me when I informed him that he would have to walk to the gym and sit and wait for his teacher to come get him.  I had specifically asked at meet the teacher whether I could walk him in every day and had been told, "yeah, please only do that the first day."

Needless to say, he was not fine when I left him this morning.  I was not fine.  We were not fine.

But, off to work I went.

At 9:53 a.m., I text the babysitter to check on my other two minions.

"How are you?"
"Not good."
"Call me if you can."

Goody!

So, of course I call.  "blah, blah, blah....long story" finishing with "and so Vivian fell from the fourth step onto her head."

Yes, of course she did, and I suppose I need to call and break the news to her father?  Yes, of course I do.

(She's fine.  She has two bumps on her noggin, a paranoid babysitter putting frozen peas on her face, and a lunatic father acting like she is the first child in history to hurt herself.  I told everyone about how Silas fell from the fourth step of my last place and smashed his face straight into concrete when he was Viv's age and then straight up vomited all over me while I bawled into the phone to my mother asking her, WHAT DO I DO?!  HE'S DYING!...just to calm them the hell down.)

Back to work.

Oh good!  An email from a crazy client about why we did what she told us to do.

"Why would you not pay that hospital bill?!  I'm getting collections letters!"

"Because you told us not to pay the damn bill, maybe...and then you signed a piece of paper saying you were taking full responsibility for the damn bill...  Here. Here is a copy of the piece of paper you signed....LAST WEEK WHEN WE TALKED IN A CONFERENCE ROOM FOR TWENTY MINUTES ABOUT ALL THE SHIT WE WERE PAYING FOR YOU AND THAT BILL WAS NOT BEING PAID."

Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeext.

Phone call from drunk client wherein I have to repeat what I told him the last time he called drunk because, "You guys never call me."

We never call any of our clients.  Nor do we send them letters informing them of important dates for things at which they absolutely must be present.  And we always make promises to them that we could never possibly keep.  Our favorite thing to do is make promises to them about when an insurance company (over which we have no control) is going to cut their check.  We do that all the time.

I look forward to our next conversation, drunk client.  I know it will be a small dose of sunshine piled on top of the rainbows and unicorns left at my door by my other clients.  Try not to stumble near any stairs.  You may smash your face into concrete and require a bag of frozen peas.

Neeeeeeeeeeeeext.

My secretary enters my office to rant about a client who just showed up unannounced without an appointment with his girlfriend in tow.  The girlfriend (who is not our client) started making demands and pissed off my secretary.  So, my secretary is venting about the woman, "THIS FAT HEIFER...." and then she looks at my belly and stops mid-sentence, "I'm sorry.  You're not fat.  I love your weight."

Excuse me, what?  So, you say, "this fat heifer" about someone who is not me and then feel the need to stop mid-sentence while looking at my stomach and apologize for using the word "fat" because it must clearly be something about which I am sensitive?

Bitch, I know I'm not skinny.  I like cake.  You don't have to apologize to me for saying the word "fat" in my presence.

And so now, I'm done.

Application of Brown v. Board of Education

This is a discussion post I just wrote for my Constitutional Law class.  I found it topically relevant to the goings on of the day and thought I'd share it.

The question: "Both the majority and the dissent in Parents Involved v Seattle claim the mantle of Brown v Board. Which side has the better argument?" 

My post:

              A state of emergency was declared in Ferguson, Missouri yesterday after violence ensued during Sunday night’s protest marking a year since police killed an unarmed black teenager.  At the same time, demonstrators gathered in Arlington, Texas in remembrance of an unarmed black teenager who was shot on Friday night.  At the demonstrations, people could be heard chanting “black lives matter” and holding signs stating the same.

              Yesterday is the most recent example I can give of racial tension and unrest in America.  To pretend we live in a society that is no longer concerned about discrimination based on race would be foolish.  It is with that in mind that I approach this discussion question. 

The unanimous Court in Brown v. Board of Education handed down an opinion that made it clear that de jure segregation (segregation as a matter of law) was a violation of the Fourteenth Amendment Equal Protection Clause and therefore unconstitutional.

              The case of Parents Involved in Cmty. Sch. v. Seattle Sch. Dist. No. 1, 127 S. Ct 2738 (2007) involved two school districts who were being accused of violating that same Equal Protection Clause through the use of their student assignment plans.  Each district considered student race as a deciding factor in student assignment to schools in certain situations.  The goal of each district was to keep the schools in the district racially integrated.   

              The opinion of the Court in Parents Involved found the assignment plans unconstitutional, and the dissenters sharply disagreed with the logic of that decision.  Each side referenced Brown v. Board of Education although clearly disagreed on the implication of the decision in Brown on the case at hand.

              In his dissent, Justice Breyer made some compelling arguments.  To Justice Breyer, context was key in matters argued under the Equal Protection Clause.  He stated in his dissent:

This context is not a context that involves the use of race to decide who will receive goods or services that are normally distributed on the basis of merit and which are in short supply. It is not one in which race-conscious limits stigmatize or exclude; the limits at issue do not pit the races against each other or otherwise significantly exacerbate racial tensions. They do not impose burdens unfairly upon members of one race alone but instead seek benefits for members of all races alike. The context here is one of racial limits that seek, not to keep the races apart, but to bring them together. (Parents Involved 2818)

              Justice Breyer continued with his argument that the Equal Protection Clause was to be viewed in light of context when he said, “The Equal Protection Clause […] has always distinguished in practice between state action that excludes and thereby subordinates racial minorities and state action that seeks to bring together people of all races.” (Parents Involved 2834-35)

              The dissent made it clear that the outcome in Brown should steer the Court toward allowing assignment plans that aimed to prevent re-segregation of the schools.  The school districts argued that the assignment plans at issue in Parents Involved were designed with the idea that racial integration was the desired outcome.

Justice Breyer believed that the reason behind the plans (or the context) achieved the outcome desired in Brown.  He pointed out that Brown v. Board of Education issued a “promise of true racial equality—not as a matter of fine words on paper, but as a matter of everyday life in the Nation's cities and schools.” (Parents Involved 2836) 

              The dissent did not believe that the intention of Brown was to just make it a legal principle that schools were not to be segregated but to make absolute certain that schools were, in fact, not segregated.  The argument for the dissent was that any plan that sought to achieve schools that were actually racially balanced was allowable and was in the spirit of what was intended in Brown.

              Chief Justice Roberts delivered the Opinion of the Court in Parents Involved.  The point the Chief Justice made which I found most salient was when he said, “As the Court explained in Rice v. Cayetano, 528 U. S. 495, 517 (2000), ‘[o]ne of the principal reasons race is treated as a forbidden classification is that it demeans the dignity and worth of a person to be judged by ancestry instead of by his or her own merit and essential qualities.’” (Parents Involved 2777)  To that I would add “and individual needs.”

              According to the decision in Parents Involved, the decision in Brown did not have anything to do with the “context” of classifications made by race.  The argument put forth by Chief Justice Roberts was that it was the mere separation of children on the basis of race that generated a violation of the constitution.  It did not matter what the intention was behind the racial classification.  It did not matter if the goal was to keep schools balanced.  The only thing that mattered was that there was any sort of classification based on race.  “What do racial classifications at issue here do, if not accord differential treatment on the basis of race?” (Parents Involved 2778)

              The assignment plans at issue did not look at students as individuals.  Instead, the plans classified students by race and used that as the sole “tie-breaker” on a student’s choice of schools in one district and as the deciding factor on a request to transfer in the other district. 

              One of the students who was affected in Seattle wanted a placement in a biotechnology program to which he had been accepted.  He was diagnosed with ADHD and dyslexia and was having success with hands-on learning, and it had been decided (by his mother and middle school teachers) that the biotechnology program was best for his continued success.  Despite his acceptance to the desired program, his placement at the school hosting the program was denied based on his race.

              In such an instance, the assignment plan did not factor in what was best for the individual student at issue.  There was just a blind placement made on the basis of race without regard for his individual needs for success.  It makes no sense that the Court in Brown would seek to maintain racial balance at the expense of what is best for the success of each individual child.  The Court in Brown was interpreting the Fourteenth Amendment Equal Protection clause as insuring that people are treated as individuals without consideration of the color of their skin.   “As counsel who appeared before this Court for the plaintiffs in Brown put it: ‘We have one fundamental contention which we will seek to develop in the course of this argument, and that contention is that no State has any authority under the equal-protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment to use race as a factor in affording educational opportunities among its citizens.’ Tr. of Oral Arg. in Brown I, p. 7 (Robert L. Carter, Dec. 9, 1952).” (Parents Involved 2778)

              The Opinion of the Court puts forth a better argument than the dissent in Parents Involved in Cmty. Sch. v. Seattle Sch. Dist. No. 1 with regards to the application of Brown v. Board of Education.  I disagree with Justice Breyer’s assertion that “the limits at issue do not pit the races against each other or otherwise significantly exacerbate racial tensions.”  Any classification of people based on race has the potential to pit races against one another and exacerbate racial tension.  Reducing individuals to nothing but their race for any reason (and certainly to make a potentially life-altering decision for them) has the potential to create tension amongst people.

The goal we should seek in education is to treat students as individuals and do what is best for each student regardless of race.  The public school system should seek to train students to be individuals who are able to obtain the education necessary to succeed.  Diversity is absolutely important to the success of students at any level.  We cannot learn and grow to our full potential if we are not exposed to people of different backgrounds, races, cultures, sexual orientations, religions, etc.  That does not mean that children should ever be reduced to nothing but the race they marked on a form and placed in a classroom strictly to achieve a certain number of students of each race in each school.  That was not the purpose of the decision in Brown v. Board of Education, and that should not be the way we determine where we will educate children.

WORKS CITED

Parents Involved in Cmty. Sch. v. Seattle Sch. Dist. No. 1, 127 S. Ct. 2738, 2818 (2007)

...she is fierce

Michael is basically getting the boys every weekend this month.  I assume because he is supposed to get them for an entire month in the summer, but you know, work.  They don't go to daycare/preschool anymore, and we live an hour apart, and it isn't exactly convenient to go out of your way every morning to drop kids off at their mom's house when you have to be at work at, like, 5 a.m.

The why on the removal from preschool:  Gavin is an asshole too frequently for a structured setting, and we cannot afford to pay both the daycare and a nanny, so no one gets to go to preschool anymore.  Yes, I'm a terrible mother for being realistic about my 2 year old's atrocious attitude and calling him an asshole.  But really, there is no other way to describe it.  I have lived terrible twos, and this is far beyond that.  We got called to come pick him up one day because he was on such a rampage he tried to break a TV.

We turned our lives upside down earlier this year and got new jobs, and we have no vacation time, no sick time, no your-child-is-throwing-another-tantrum-and-has-to-be-picked-up time.  We don't work; we don't get paid.  And the audacity of those loan holders and electric companies, they still want their money every month.  So, now I pay someone an outrageous sum of money to come to my house and color and watch movies with my kids every day (I realized the other day that she literally gets paid to do what I do on my days off...).

Anyway, back to my original point before I sauntered off down the rabbit hole that is Gavin's crappy attitude.

Vivian has been having quite a lot of time as an "only child" lately.  It has given me time to really observe her and watch her personality flourish and pay attention to the little nuances of who she is and how she interacts with the world.

We are all smitten with her.  She and Gavin fight just like brothers and sisters are prone to do, but oh how they adore one another.  Silas takes care of her and intervenes when she and Gavin get into it to mediate and bring peace.  I knew Jimmy was going to just be right in the palm of her tiny hand, and he is.  What I did not know was that I would be too.

I had always heard that moms were more drawn to their sons and fathers to their daughters.  I suppose I expected to not be really tight with Vivian until she got older and started wanting to shop and wear make up and what not.  Sort of like how a lot of dads don't really start getting close with their sons until the sons get old enough to do cool stuff.  I could not have been more wrong.  She has just as tight a grip on me as my sons.

There is one noticeable difference though.  I feel more confident in where she is headed as a person.  By that I mean, I worry incessantly about my boys heading off down a wrong path.  I'm afraid they will become teenagers and just lose their minds and I'll be at my wits end and have to send them off to do a scared straight tour and pray that it sticks.

I don't so much worry about that with Vivian.  I think that is because I lived the recipe for what it takes to head down a path to the need for scared straight as a female.  I would be horrified if Vivian was anything like who I was as a teenager.

Last night, I was thinking back to who I was and what I did, and I just wanted to take my 33 year old self back to my 14 year old self and intervene and put me on a better path.  I turned out okay despite my best efforts to be a total train wreck of a human being.  But, that was through the sheer grace of God.  I could very easily have been a high school drop out, teenage mother, strung out on drugs, and wound up murdered by my brutally violent live in boyfriend or raped and overdosed and left in a ditch.  Perhaps you think I'm being dramatic, but I am not.  I put myself in some awful situations growing up.  Just as an example of how it could have been me: my closest friend from the age of 13 was murdered and left in the woods when she was 16 and I was 17.  I was friends with and introduced her to the man who murdered her.

When I should have been spending time with friends and learning about who I was and enjoying my life, I was caught up in chasing boy after boy after boy desperately wanting to be loved.  It was all wrong, and it stemmed from childhood abuse and abandonment and having a father who was too sick to really be a father.  My mom was dust in the wind, and my dad and step mother had absolutely no relationship with any of the people in my life or their parents or me.  My dad did not really care what I did, and my step mother was only interested in controlling stupid things and not really in making sure I was genuinely okay.

Obviously, I do not know what will happen between now and when Vivian reaches that point in her life.  However, I feel pretty confident that (as long as we are still alive), she will have two parents.  Not just that there are two names on her birth certificate and two people contributed to her DNA.  She will have two parents who would never dream of letting her become who I was.  Two people who would intervene and do whatever it took to get her off a path like I was on.  Two people who will pay attention to what is happening in her life.

I think I worry less about her than the boys because she is a girl, and I made every mistake that she could make and know at least the very basics of what she needs to thrive as a person and what to watch for as she develops.  She needs love.  She needs a strong father and a mother who shows up and mothers her when she needs it.  People who are involved and pay attention to her and make sure she is genuinely okay.  I know she has that.  I know that no matter what happens, if we are alive, she will have those things.  Plus she will totally have two older brothers who I imagine will do their part to keep her in line.  And if she ever gets into a relationship with a Jason of her own, I doubt he'll survive long enough to leave bruises on her or slam her into very many lockers.  Gavin would probably have the guy eating through a straw before Jimmy even got wind of it.

I want normal and happy and NORMAL for all of my kids.  I know they all have parents in their lives who love them and care about what happens to them.  (Michael interrogates me about every choice I make for the boys...in the most obnoxiously loving and concerned way he can).  He is consistently concerned for their safety and their education and all the things parents are supposed to be concerned about. And I'm obviously a nut bag who overthinks everything.

So, maybe I won't have to send the boys to scared straight.  I just, you know, have never been a boy.  Despite all the tomboyish things I do.  I don't know what causes boys to wind up on Intervention and First 48 and Dateline and stuff.  I pray the right recipe for success is present in their lives and they grow up into accomplished and happy men.

I just feel a little more at ease with what I see in Vivian.  Her sass and confidence and larger than life personality combined with the love she is surrounded by make me feel like she is going to be okay.

Hi. I'm here to talk more about my psychological crap. You've been warned.

Let's just get it out of the way.  I am fairly certain I stopped blogging because I started going to traditional therapy.  It was in therapy that I realized this blog has been my "therapy" for quite some time.  It has been a few weeks since I told my therapist I was going to take a hiatus.  (Because therapy costs money but so do kids and houses and car payments)...(Ugh. Do I make myself sound like a ridiculous cliche with my antidepressants and therapists?  This post is not going to help that.  Eh, it is what it is.)  I find myself in need of an outlet once again.  Here goes:

While I was unemployed, I started seeing a personal trainer, and I was killing it in the gym.  Seriously killing it.  Feeling like a bad ass.  Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut...I was not killing it with my nutrition plan.  It was pretty strict, and I'd do well for a while and then just lose it and eat everything in sight.

This is nothing new.  I have been doing it since I can remember.  I'll put myself on a really strict diet and lose a bunch of weight and then get sick of my really strict diet and go nuts on the junk food and gain it all back.  It's weird and embarrassing and emotionally draining.

I don't really like to eat in front of people because I feel like they are judging me (for eating too much, for eating fried food, for eating fast food, for eating chocolate, whatever).  My husband is super thin and, like, only eats when he is hungry (weirdo).  And, so, sometimes I sneak into the kitchen and stuff my face with a bunch of junk when he goes outside or falls asleep so that he won't see me do it.   There is not a soul on the planet who knows I do that.  Well, I guess unless someone reads this.  I have always had a seriously weird relationship with food, and I'm not setting a terribly good example for my kids.

While I was seeing my personal trainer, he kept telling me I had an eating disorder, and I kept laughing him off.  Hello, I have an anxiety disorder.  I'm not a walking embodiment of psychological issues.  I'm not anorexic, and I never purge after I eat, so I don't have bulimia either.  Those are the only two eating disorders.  I don't have an eating disorder.  Case closed.

And then I found out those aren't the only two eating disorders...well, crap.

While watching television last night (instead of studying like I should have been), I connected so deeply with this woman who has binge eating disorder.  (Click the hyperlinked words to read about it if you wish.)  Evidently, it is the most common eating disorder in the U.S., affecting 3.5% of women, 2% of men, and 1.6% of adolescents.

So, anyway, I am watching this woman talk about working in therapy on this disorder and then she says, "it took me a while to understand that it is just the chemistry in my brain."  Holy hell.  I have traveled that road before.  Anxiety and depression are just a chemical imbalance in my brain.  Guess what lots and lots of people who have eating disorders are also diagnosed with?  Yep, anxiety and depression.

So, I start quietly bawling to myself as this woman's story unfolds because it is like I am watching this super secret part of my life on screen, and my husband just reaches out to me and says, "just tell me what you need from me.  I will do whatever I can to help you."  Perhaps it hasn't been so super secret as I think.

Only, I don't know what I need from him.  I don't know what I need at all.  I feel like I am spending my 30s peeling back all these layers of myself and finding so many avenues that need work and attention.  It's like I plug up one leak in the dam only to have a new one spring forth.  But that's okay.  Better to figure these things out and work on them than have them festering below the surface wreaking all kinds of havoc on my brain and body.  Once I finally wrapped my brain around the whole anxiety disorder thing, I figured out a way to stay on top of it.  It's just part of my life now.

I got a degree in research.  (Seriously, that is what an English degree is, and that is basically what I do as a paralegal).  It's my thing.  It's how I make sense of the world.  And that is what I plan to do now.  Try to figure out if I actually do have an eating disorder (although, if I were a magic 8 ball, I'd say "all signs point to yes.")  And then try to figure out how to make it another part of my life I manage on the daily.

I don't have any expectations for this blog or the people reading it. I don't even know that I will take up writing with any sort of regularity again.  I once wrote it as a way to keep up with the kids, etc.  But it has evolved from that.  It is just my outlet now, and I understand that people may get sick of me spewing my psychological problems on the internets.  So, don't think I'm going to quiz you on whether or not you're reading my blog.  Read it if you want, but it is genuinely okay if you don't.  

So, I don't work right now

Y'all, I have read two articles in Cosmo two consecutive days in a row that I have taken as a sign from God that I was right to quit my job. (Did you really think I had ceased to be panicky and neurotic just because I'm medicated?)

Yes, you did just read that I think God is speaking to me through Cosmo. Can you try to not get hung up there?

Ok, if it will make you feel better, He's sending me a thumbs up through my mom too.  She gushed today about how happy she was that I am going to be able to spend so much more time with the kids. And when your momma is on board for your decisions, you can be pretty confident that you're on the right track.

I can't remember if I have already said this or only mentioned it to people aloud (and I'm too lazy to look), but I feel I'm hearing "Be still and know that I am God" all over again. And so I pray. And I plan things that allow me to make memories with my family.  I feel free, and I feel like I have the world before me and like I never want to just settle for a paycheck again.  I want to enjoy what I do and contribute in a positive way.

Moving along to the children...

Is anyone else's child obnoxiously obsessed with Minecraft? I say "obnoxiously" because you cannot have a conversation with Silas without hearing a play by play of some Minecraft video he and his dad watched on YouTube. Thrilling as those conversations are, I TRIED to watch him play this game and just do not understand the appeal.  From what I could gather, it's about spending an exorbitant amount of time building something and then setting it on fire...?

I don't understand it and Silas doesn't understand why I don't understand it...I think he thinks I'm not very bright...he may be onto something there...But I'm just chalking it up to that is his and his dad's thing...

Gavin. Oh my dear, sweet, angelic, hateful-gutted, angry, stubborn as a mule 2 year old. There is no other way to describe him. You need to cover all the bases. Because he is an absolute angel...of death and chaos and destruction...and love and rainbows and snuggles. If my lot in life is to raise up children who are progressively more willful as they enter their "terrible 18 mos to four years old" (kiss my ass whoever coined the phrase "terrible twos". It's misleading.), I'm going to need your spare room in 6 months when Vivian morphs from the smiling princess of unicorns and fairy dust into a cupcake baked by the devil (Lydia of Rants from Mommyland calls her youngest that, and I completely understand what she means).

Vivian's first birthday is Saturday, and I have buried us all in Minnie Mouse everything. I called and ordered a ridiculous cake while my husband took his sister to lunch the other day (as in he was out of the house and couldn't argue that we just needed to grab a sheet cake from Kroger) and then held my breath when he commenced interrogating me about the charges on the online bank statement. Somehow, he managed to skip over the three digit charge from a bakery, so I suppose it was his way of silently agreeing to let me have my last ridiculous first birthday party in peace. I mean, let Vivian have her very special day with all the bells and whistles. (She literally has no idea it's her birthday, sigh.)

That's where we are. I'm sitting here drinking a smoothie with ingredients like kale and almond butter (it's not good, y'all. Kale tastes like raw broccoli and don't be fooled by any smoothie recipe that tells you that you won't taste the kale. You get a mouthful of finely minced leaves with every sip. YOU TASTE THE FREAKING KALE!) The why behind the stupid smoothie is another post for another day. For now, we'll say I'm trying to gather the energy to get us ready to go on our family mini-vacay tomorrow. We are taking the kids to Great Wolf Lodge (big indoor water park resort thing). And there are swimsuits to find and bags to pack and children to chase while doing it.

Mr. Minecraft just piped up with, "don't worry, chickens don't die." I think that's my cue to engage his brain in something else.

Happy Monday.

No turning back

I just quit my job.

Not threw-things-and-stormed-out-in-a-huff quit.  Just quietly warned my direct supervisor and then handed in my letter of resignation.

It's exciting.  And scary.  Mostly, um, well, both.

That firm has been an enormous part of my adult life.  I have worked there for coming up on eight years.  It was my place of solace during my divorce and after giving birth to every one of my kids and going half crazy for various reasons each time (I started 2 months after Anabel was born).  

So many people have become true friends.  One of my attorneys literally officiated my wedding.  So, there are absolutely things I will miss.

And then there are things I won't miss.  At all.

Like accounting for every second of every day in six minute increments.  Good riddance, billing!

And like the commute.  I'd say that is 78% of the reason I finally just pulled the trigger and took this leap of faith.  It has become unfathomable to me why I spend so much of my life in my car.  Time I could be devoting to any other part of my life.  Like my kids or my studies or my husband or my house.  Hell even to Netflix and junk food binges.

It finally became impossible to talk myself into believing it was a reasonable choice to make every day.

And I have prayed and talked to Jimmy and a couple of close friends endlessly about what to do.  And yesterday when I was half out of my mind pleading with my two year old son to put on his boots while he lay screaming in the middle of the kitchen floor because I was so stressed about making it to a meeting in my office that is halfway across the earth on time, I just realized, "Enough.  It is insane to keep putting myself and my family through something that just is not working."

Right, so, now I'm totally just going to sit around and drink margaritas all day in the sunshine.  The end.

Except not really.

Actually, I have been offered a new position doing something completely different.  (It was offered a couple of months ago, but I've been very busy freaking out over what ifs and talking everyone's head off.) 

I'm going to wrap things up for the people who depend on me at the firm, take a couple of weeks to help my kids transition into daycare (+Netlix+junk food+novels) and then plunge into this new endeavor.

It's scary.  And maybe I just made the biggest mistake of my life and I'm going to fall flat on my face and wind up homeless.  

But maybe I'll do well and it will be exactly what my family and I needed to make life a little more about quality time and a lot less about staring at tail lights and getting home after dark.

I hope and pray it's option two.  

Like I said in my last blog, every thing is changing right now.  It's incredibly scary, and I ask (once more) that you say a little prayer for us and we start this new journey (and maybe clear out your spare room...just in case.)

Changes, changes

Things are weird.

Not bad weird.  Just weird.

There is a significant amount of change happening around me, and I'm not quite sure how I feel about any of it.

We have decided to transition the two babies into daycare (no, I will not stop calling Gavin a "baby" no matter how much people around me insist he is not a baby any longer).  They will attend the same school Silas has been going to for the last year but at a campus that is closer to our house.

The decision was gut-wrenching.  You have to understand that I have been turning my kids over to the same person day in and day out for 5 years.  The woman has helped raise them.  Her whole family is like my family and my kids' family.  If Gavin is having a day where he misses me, they just FaceTime me so he can see me and hear my voice, and it's all better. If something is going on with one of them, I know I can trust her to keep an eye on it and give me an honest report.  She sends me adorable pictures of them and treats them like she would if they were her own.  It's kind of an amazing thing to have.

So, the impending transition is tortuous.  I dread getting them all adjusted.  Silas to new friends and teachers and the babies to the entirely new experience.  Handing Silas over to the school last year was hard enough, and he was able to talk better than any child I have ever met ever.  So, yeah, handing over my babies to total strangers knowing that they can't tell me if something goes wrong?  So much anxiety.

Nextly, my husband's job.  He's starting a whole new endeavor that is going to be significantly more money, but he has left the security of this huge corporation with benefits and retirement for the far-less secure world of working for a small business owner.  It's this whole leap of faith, and we feel at peace that it's the right thing to do.  But, hello, it's still scary.

Then there is some weirdness with my own employment situation as well.  There is the possibility of me taking my own leap of faith soon, and that leaves that familiar feeling of the brick sitting on my chest.  Every fiber of my being is screaming, "times up!" with regard to being where I am, but all of those pieces of me that hold me back are saying, "you can't leave your security blanket.  You can't leave a place you have been for 7 years.  You can't leave the insane amount of work you put in to get to where you are in this company.  You can't.  You can't.  You can't."  But if I have learned nothing else in the last three years, I have learned that it is unacceptable to settle for the status quo out of fear.  Sometimes you have to take that leap and see where you land.

What I'm trying to accomplish with all of these changes is a better life for my entire family.  Yes, more money would be nice, but that is not even what I'm seeking.  What I'm after is time.  I'm trying to get us all in the same (or at least adjacent) zip code so that I'm not trying to cram all of the things I have to accomplish plus quality time into the hour or hour and a half I have with them before I have to put them in bed so that I can drag them up and out of the house the next day to do it all again.  

I cannot even count the number of very serious conversations I have had with Silas in the car because the babies were asleep and I knew it was the only quiet time I was going to get with him that day. 

I have been praying and weighing and agonizing and trying to figure out what to do for so long.  All I kept thinking was, "I have to find a way to have more time for the important things."  And by important things I mean time to read them more stories and time to break the "no balls in the house" rule and play soccer with them in the front living room that no one uses anyway.  I already have to give the boys up every other weekend.  So, it just seems like a waste of time to me to be gone from my house and away from my family for 12 hours a day.  And for a paycheck.  I know that money is necessary to keep our world spinning, but there has got to be a better way.  The way I'm doing it now just isn't good enough for my kids.  And so, I have been seeking to find a better way.  And, maybe - and it really is just a maybe - that solution is drawing near.

My first class toward my master's degree is finished.  There is the grading of one paper standing between me and knowing my final grade.  As of right now, I have an "A".  Hopefully it remains an "A" once the final grade is added into the mix.  If not, I can absolutely still hold my head up high knowing that I gave it my very best.  There are 11 classes to go.  This journey - in case you haven't figured it out - is part of the trying to make a better way and more time for my children.  Broadening my knowledge base to make myself more marketable.

And of course, there are my children themselves.  

They change constantly.  

Vivian can walk.  Every time I see something that says, "Though she be but little, she is fierce" I smile and think of my girl.  She is this tiny, incredibly beautiful girl with the biggest personality.  She is all at once soft and sweet and angelic and at the very same time a total force to be reckoned with.  

Gavin's vocabulary is rapidly expanding.  And I thought the terrible twos were unbearable with Silas, but Gavin is making Silas' twos seem like a trip to Disneyland.  And, yet, he is somehow still an immense source of happiness in every one of my days.  There is so much sweetness and love oozing out of him that it more than overwhelms his tantrums.  

Silas is basically a grown up in a child's body.  He has the kindest heart and the most awe-inspiring imagination.  I love how creative he is.  The more I watch him the more I think, "he's probably going to spend a lot of my money pursuing a degree in the arts so that he can get a job making little to no money doing something he absolutely loves."  And I will be over the moon for him if that's the choice he makes.

There are literally no words to describe the amount of love I feel for them or the amount of joy they bring me.  Watching each of them grow up and noticing the areas where they are similar and the areas where they are fiercely different is fascinating to me.  I just want them to be happy.  I want them to look back on their childhoods fondly and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were so very loved.

The gist of all of this is I don't want to look back on my own life and realize I wasted it focusing on the wrong things or being afraid.  I want my choices to reflect what is truly important when it's all said and done.  My family and my friends and the time invested in making memories with them.

Try it, you might like it

I don't generally do blogs about products, but I feel compelled to write this one.

As I have mentioned, I have incredibly terrible eczema and wash my hands neurotically (which exacerbates it).

My sweet boy Gavin inherited this lovely skin disease from me as well.  His is worse than mine because it breaks out all over his little body (whereas mine is pretty much limited to my hands, ears, and eyelids).  

Anyway, I have been seeing doctors and dermatologists and buying lotions and creams and cortisone and filling endless prescriptions for years now.  I can keep mine mostly under control if I follow a strict regimen of creams and lotions, etc....except my hands.  They just crack and bleed and hurt constantly.

I took to putting my prescription and lotion on at work and then wearing a latex glove over that hand to keep it from wiping off.  My coworkers thought I was crazy, and it didn't work.  Still cracked.  Still very painful.

Gavin's stays under control as long as I can coax him to let me bathe him in lotion and cortisone at least twice a day.  I'm not sure if you've ever tried to convince a two year old to sit still for any amount of time twice a day, but good luck.

Anyway, I had pretty much convinced myself I was doomed to cracked hands and wrestling my toddler for the rest of forever.

A couple of weeks ago, I finished studying and pulled my headphones (I wear my headphones for the gun range when I study) off my head to Jimmy grabbing the remote and saying animatedly, "You need to watch this!"

"This" was an episode of Shark Tank he had recorded while I studied.  On it was a woman who had spent much of her childhood fighting eczema.  At the age of 11, she figured out a formula to a sugar scrub that rid her of her skin problems.  She had formed a company (Simple Sugars) to sell the scrubs and needed an investment, etc., etc.

The girl was very likeable (spell check tells me it's "likable" but that looks wrong, so I persist) and convincing, and when she stated the price of her products, I immediately went to my laptop and searched out her site.  (Um, they're very reasonably priced).

I placed my order and waited for it to arrive.  After a week or so I got my package in the mail.  Since it is a small business and had just appeared on Shark Tank, I was pleasantly surprised that the product arrived so quickly.

I had ordered a body scrub with the addition of emu oil, a facial scrub, and a foot scrub.  I read the instructions and the packaging said the products are gentle enough to use every day.

So, I began using them once a day.

I gave Gavin a bath and did my best to use the body scrub on him that night.  You're supposed to "scrub" it until it dissolves.  Well, of course that wasn't happening.  So, I just did the best I could to get it rubbed on all of his rough patches of skin, rinsed, and patted him dry.

The next morning, his eczema was gone.  Completely gone.  ALL. OF. IT.  It has been a week now, and it has not returned.

My hands?  Absolutely no cracking or bleeding.  I have made a point to only use the scrubs and none of my prescribed or previously purchased products during this time in order to see how well the scrubs work.

The face scrub leaves my face feeling baby soft (maybe even softer than Viv's...I'm just saying), and the foot scrub leaves my feet feeling like I just got a pedicure...like literally just got out of the chair.  This is not after several uses; it's the very first time.  The scents I ordered smell incredible (strawberry for the face scrub and green apple for the body scrub).  

My people are getting this stuff for Christmas, y'all.

Now, the site (and the owner) does not claim that the product will cure skin diseases.  There is no guarantee.  All I can tell you is that these products worked for me and Gavin, and they are well worth the minimal price even if you don't have a skin disease you're looking to annihilate.  

If you'd like to check out the website, it is here :http://www.simplesugarsscrub.com/

How's it going?

I'm not sure how I have time to blog.  I'm not sure how I get to go home tonight and not bury myself in a textbook or a discussion forum or a writing assignment.  I'm not going to question it.  I'm just going to revel in my 24 hours of "freedom."

There is something incredible about learning again.  I didn't realize how much I missed going to school.  I'm having to sweep the cobwebs out of my brain and Google things like "MLA formatting" which was once an everyday part of my life.

I think this is a good time in life for me to have gone back to school.  I remember hardly ever doing my assigned readings in college.  I'd attend the lectures and write my papers and take my tests.  But for grad school, I am reading everything.  And then if the discussion topic still makes no sense to me (as often it does not) I go in search of outside material.  I want to actually learn everything I can from this opportunity.

When I finish reading my assigned readings for the night, often I'll engage Jimmy in a debate about whatever our topic is in class.  He and I have different views on all manner of things, and he is incredibly knowledgeable, and he loves and respects me, so he is fun to debate.  We paused our favorite show for an hour and a half one night to debate the death penalty.

My biggest fear at the outset of this journey was that I would not be able to find my balance.  It is what I strive for constantly - even before I threw school into the circus.

What I have learned is that I have to make it a priority.  I have to gauge whether it is a night when I can go upstairs and shut my door and study before the kids go to bed or whether they need me in the mix.  

Gavin is at a really tough age.  He has frequent meltdowns and outbursts.  I've been a mom long enough to know that all it is is that his little brain can't always process everything he is feeling (or wanting or needing) into words.  So, sometimes it comes out as him screaming his head off and kicking the walls.  So, I try to be extra aware of what kind of day he is having.

Silas is so grown up.  He makes me proud all the time.  I'll pick him up from school, and he will ramble off into some story where a kid was afraid to get his backpack from behind the "big scary pirate ship" (a Halloween decoration they had up), so Silas went back and retrieved it for him.  He tries so hard to be an all around good person.  He's so tough on himself when he makes a mistake, and it takes a lot of dialogue to make him understand that he does not have to be perfect.  He can make mistakes and not be the best at everything.  I'm trying very hard to combat the anxiety that has festered up in him.  Pray that I am able to do that.

And Vivian.  She is thisclose to walking.  She could totally do it if she wanted to, but she doesn't.  I cannot even begin to describe her and do her any kind of justice.  She is bright and beautiful and already shows so many signs of intelligence.  She is charming and sweet and demanding and loud.  She loves everyone.  

She and Gavin have their own language.  Last night each of them sat on one side of my lap, and they spoke back and forth in their own (very loud) giberrish and just giggled and played.  And she has picked up (or inherited?) so many of his mannerisms.  

He flip flops back and forth between absolutely adoring her (his face lights up every time he says her name: "Bi-be-in") to being so jealous of her he wants to beat her up.  I really think they are going to besties one day.

Jimmy has been my absolute rock.  On the days when I'm exhausted and want to quit, he encourages me to keep going and reminds me that it will be worth it.  When I got a B on a paper and was pissed, he pushed me to do whatever I needed to get an A on the next one.  When I want to engage him in whatever we're talking about in class, he gamely participates.  When he can tell I'm overwhelmed with all I have to do, he steps in and insists I go upstairs and take whatever time I need to get caught up - he handles all the rest.

There is a light at the end of this tunnel.  I have two weeks left in this class, and then I get a break (hallelujah!)...and then I have only 11 more classes before I earn my degree...sigh.

It will all be worth it!