It starts with four words. Four words that, whether or not you felt like they were coming, will change your entire life, particularly if you're a stay at home parent.
"I want a divorce."
Your marriage could be the rockiest of rocky, but hearing those words is a hit to your soul. Your self esteem crumbles, and your only thought is "Where do I go from here?"
If you've been staying home with the kids, chances are your skill set is a bit rusty. Re-entering the work force is scary and daunting, and you're constantly asked "Why haven't you worked for the last (however many) years?" Answering with "Well, I have worked. I've worked for a small person that threw up on me, who's pee and poop I had to clean, who literally couldn't lift their head when the job started." isn't exactly what any hiring manager wants to hear.
But you have to restart your life because the one you knew is gone forever. And here's the thing... that's a good thing. No matter how many years you've been married, if you're getting divorced, it's because it wasn't working. The two of you weren't meant to be together any longer, and as absolutely heart breaking as that is, it's time to move forward.
I'm writing this because I know it. I wallowed, I cried, I felt sorry for myself. But after one fateful trip to Savannah that included many come to Jesus talks with my aunt, I came back home with a new mindset. I had grieved the life I had lost, and now it was time to get my shit together. This isn't a "go you, you rock!" story. My post-divorce story isn't special, and I'm certainly not special for having gone through it. Divorces happen every day, and people move on all the time. But perhaps my insight can help one or two people.
Once I had finally opened my eyes that my marriage was most definitely over, I was able to see how unhappy we both had been for a long time. That was freeing, letting go of the false sense of happiness. I don't regret any of the decisions I made in my marriage, they helped me grow, helped me learn what I do and don't want in relationships, and I got my incredible children out of the deal. I don't like the term "failed marriage" because as long as we both learned from it, it didn't fail. And we weren't always unhappy, otherwise we wouldn't have gotten married. After all, neither of us is stupid.
Taking off my rose colored glasses was the first step in my new life. Once I did that, deciding where to work came rather easy. Well, at least deciding where to apply for jobs, landing one in this economy has been a different story all together. My first few interviews were shaky at best. I was fumbling through the whole process, my interview confidence hadn't been tested in almost a decade, and I probably ended up looking like a moron. But I did it, and even though those first interviews didn't get me any jobs, the practice helped for the next interviews. Once again, more of this learning process we call life.
Of course, finding work also brought some sense of sadness and guilt. I'd stayed home with Monster practically his entire life, and I'd been home with Roo since birth as well. But here she is, three now, and I'm going to have to put her in daycare. I felt like I'd cheated her out of these wonderful years at home with me, years I had been able to give my son. It seemed wholly unfair to her, whether or not she'd remember it all was irrelevant. I still struggle a bit with that guilt, but it's getting much easier to handle.
Those all-important discussions with my aunt on a cold Savannah porch also helped with other aspects of my life. I was wasting away from the stress. I was smaller than I'd ever been, and it was scary for everyone, myself included. I will shamefully write that at my lowest, I weighed a meek 96lbs. I was accused of having an eating disorder, but I ate when I could. It seems that everyone assumes the only way stress changes your appearance is by making you eat more, and thus become bigger. That's not true though. There are some people, people like myself, who lose their appetite with stress. I ate when I could, and ate as much as I could when hunger struck, but the added stress of people screaming "eat a cheeseburger" at my face just made me self conscious. I was trying, but I kept hearing "not good enough". So after that trip to Savannah, I decided to block everyone out. Any comments about my weight were ignored, and I was able to slowly regain my appetite. A month after that trip, I had gained 10lbs.
I'm not exactly sure what it was my aunt said that did it, but when I got home, I had one more talk with Jeep Man about the demise of our marriage. I had to be sure, and I was. We were done, and now we could move on and be happy. It was kind of amazing how that worked. One day, I went to bed, still wallowing, and the next, the sun was shining just a little brighter and I was HANGRY. The future was no longer bleak. Here was my opportunity to do whatever I wanted. I was getting the chance to start fresh, and I had my two little creatures to enjoy the ride with me.
I took my new found happiness and devised a plan to get my new life started. Men were nowhere in this plan, because I knew that was the last thing I needed. I ended up getting set up on a few dates though, and I went for no other reason than I could. Nothing came of them, and that was how I wanted it. I was happy. I didn't need anyone else to help me create happiness, because I was creating plenty on my own.
But then a funny thing happened. Just when I knew I couldn't possibly be happier, The Marine came into the picture. I wasn't expecting him, wasn't ready for him, but he showed up and I'm so glad he did. Because that happiness I had? That's pittance compared to what I've got now.
I've got a job that starts in September, the kids and I will be moving soon, and I've got a great man who's stayed by my side through some stupid, stupid crap.
If you're a stay at home parent facing divorce and wondering how you can possibly move forward, I want you to take a look at the house around you and think of that house as the ashes, and yourself as the phoenix. You're going to rise from those ashes, and when you do, you'll be more lively than you ever thought possible. I promise. It gets better.
~Dee
Monday, June 30, 2014
Monday, May 19, 2014
My Son Isn't an A**hole... Most of the Time.
It's been a hot minute since I've written. A lot has changed in the Sometimes Wholesome house, and it's been quite a whirlwind.
Jeep Man and I have split, and that's ok. I'm not going to divulge details, and I'm not going to bash all over him (he is my awesome kids' father, after all), so if you're looking for a Grey's Anatomy-esque drama, this isn't your blog. I'm seeing someone new, we'll call him The Marine, and he's pretty amazing all around. I'm re-joining the work force, moving from a house to an apartment, and hoping to restart school again soon. That's a whole lot of change in a short period of time. But you know what hasn't changed? My kids. Well, aside from growing and all that. Monster is still very ADHD, SID, and Dyslexic. Roo is still very tenacious, sweet, and surprising.
All of these changes would be difficult on any child, but imagine this many changes for a kid like mine. One that thrives on routine and sameness. I don't know how his head hasn't exploded. He's a good boy, sweet, kind, loves everyone and doesn't understand how anyone couldn't love him. He's the kid who, in 2012, asked Santa to make the people in Connecticut happy again after the Sandyhook shooting. He's the kid who shares his toys with anyone. He's the kid who, if I'm not feeling well, will play quietly with his sister and check up on me to make sure I'm ok.
But he's also the kid who has almost no impulse control, forgets what he's been told within minutes, gets distracted easier than Paula Deen at a butter convention, and panics a little when he's being reprimanded.
A good friend, we'll call her Boston, came to visit us for a few weeks in April. She saw his quirks, his melt downs, his forgetfulness; and she said it best when she said "He's not just being an a**hole, he's a sweet kid. He just can't control this stuff." And you know what? She's entirely correct.
He's not just a little jerk. I mean, let's be honest here, all kids kind of are to a degree; but when it's the 15th time I've told him to brush his dagum teeth, I have to remind myself of this. He's not ignoring me, he's not trying to make my blood pressure rise. He literally has no control over how easily he gets distracted. When I tell him to clean his room, it becomes a four hour chore, simply because "Oh cool! A Batman toy!"
ADHD kids are a different breed all together, and they need to be looked at as such. Personally, I can't stand parents who make excuses for their obnoxious children. If your kid is just a jerk (ex: being rude and nasty to other kids or adults, not taking responsibility for their actions, purposely ignoring you, etc) , perhaps you should take a moment to sit back and wonder how they become that way. Thankfully, most kids are decent enough.
An ADHD kid though? Nine times out of ten, they're the sweetest kids you'll ever encounter. They're bright, funny, and see everything great in the world. Their imaginations are endless and should be nurtured, not held back. So I lose my shiz sometimes? Of course I do. I'm far from perfect, and too many times have I had to hug my son and tell him "Mommy's very sorry, I shouldn't have yelled like that." because I've just told him, yet again, that it's time to walk out the door and I swear if he doesn't put his shoes on right this second, my head will explode, and there'll be Sometimes Wholesome brain matter all over these walls...
Boston, thanks for reminding me that he's not just an a**hole. I mean, he totally can be, because I'm not a fan of pooping with an audience, and he seems to think I really want to open his cheese stick while on the toilet, but you know... thanks for reminding me that the other stuff doesn't make him an a**hole.
Jeep Man and I have split, and that's ok. I'm not going to divulge details, and I'm not going to bash all over him (he is my awesome kids' father, after all), so if you're looking for a Grey's Anatomy-esque drama, this isn't your blog. I'm seeing someone new, we'll call him The Marine, and he's pretty amazing all around. I'm re-joining the work force, moving from a house to an apartment, and hoping to restart school again soon. That's a whole lot of change in a short period of time. But you know what hasn't changed? My kids. Well, aside from growing and all that. Monster is still very ADHD, SID, and Dyslexic. Roo is still very tenacious, sweet, and surprising.
All of these changes would be difficult on any child, but imagine this many changes for a kid like mine. One that thrives on routine and sameness. I don't know how his head hasn't exploded. He's a good boy, sweet, kind, loves everyone and doesn't understand how anyone couldn't love him. He's the kid who, in 2012, asked Santa to make the people in Connecticut happy again after the Sandyhook shooting. He's the kid who shares his toys with anyone. He's the kid who, if I'm not feeling well, will play quietly with his sister and check up on me to make sure I'm ok.
But he's also the kid who has almost no impulse control, forgets what he's been told within minutes, gets distracted easier than Paula Deen at a butter convention, and panics a little when he's being reprimanded.
A good friend, we'll call her Boston, came to visit us for a few weeks in April. She saw his quirks, his melt downs, his forgetfulness; and she said it best when she said "He's not just being an a**hole, he's a sweet kid. He just can't control this stuff." And you know what? She's entirely correct.
He's not just a little jerk. I mean, let's be honest here, all kids kind of are to a degree; but when it's the 15th time I've told him to brush his dagum teeth, I have to remind myself of this. He's not ignoring me, he's not trying to make my blood pressure rise. He literally has no control over how easily he gets distracted. When I tell him to clean his room, it becomes a four hour chore, simply because "Oh cool! A Batman toy!"
ADHD kids are a different breed all together, and they need to be looked at as such. Personally, I can't stand parents who make excuses for their obnoxious children. If your kid is just a jerk (ex: being rude and nasty to other kids or adults, not taking responsibility for their actions, purposely ignoring you, etc) , perhaps you should take a moment to sit back and wonder how they become that way. Thankfully, most kids are decent enough.
An ADHD kid though? Nine times out of ten, they're the sweetest kids you'll ever encounter. They're bright, funny, and see everything great in the world. Their imaginations are endless and should be nurtured, not held back. So I lose my shiz sometimes? Of course I do. I'm far from perfect, and too many times have I had to hug my son and tell him "Mommy's very sorry, I shouldn't have yelled like that." because I've just told him, yet again, that it's time to walk out the door and I swear if he doesn't put his shoes on right this second, my head will explode, and there'll be Sometimes Wholesome brain matter all over these walls...
Boston, thanks for reminding me that he's not just an a**hole. I mean, he totally can be, because I'm not a fan of pooping with an audience, and he seems to think I really want to open his cheese stick while on the toilet, but you know... thanks for reminding me that the other stuff doesn't make him an a**hole.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Rants From An Angry Flat-Chested Woman.
Has time somehow warped and I'm in seventh grade again? I don't see OPJH anywhere around me. I certainly don't see my three favorite boys, waiting at the edge of the soccer field to walk me part of the way home. My backpack is definitely filled with much harder school work.
And yet, you feel the need to continually bring up the fact that I am damn near totally flat-chested. I'm not sure how it's any of your business, but since you so adamantly want to discuss my bust size, the least you could do is let me in on the conversation.
Would you like to know how it feels to be this way? To know that you have to go bra shopping, and there's a very, very real possibility that you'll have to special order something because, guess what? Stores don't carry bras in such small cup sizes with adult sized bands. (I'm a 34-36, and I'm so not giving you more fuel by admitting my cup size. Don't even ask.)
Would you like to know how it feels to be a grown woman, with two kids, and be seriously considering going into the training bra section? After all, they have them with underwires and molded cups now.
Would you like to know how it feels to be so disproportionate? To not fill your clothes? To feel like you're less than a woman, because you don't have all the female equipment?!
Would you like to know how it feels to constantly be reminded of the flaw you're most sensitive about, because people think there's something wrong with you?
You couldn't possibly know these things. So I'll tell you how it all feels.
See, it feels a lot like your value is somehow tied to your cup size. Mine's small, so I must be less valuable than someone with C cups. My best friend whom I've known my entire life has huge boobs, her value must be off the charts. Is that the lesson we want to teach our children? Do we want our sons ignoring what could be the most amazing woman in the world, because she's an A cup? Worse still, do we really want to raise another generation of girls who constantly wonder if they're good enough because of boobs? That is exactly what is going to happen if we keep this shit up.
I AM FLAT-CHESTED. I'm sorry that's such a problem for you. Believe me, I want nothing more to fix it.
Which brings me to my next thought... This feeling? It makes me so angry at myself. You have made me feel so low, so un-feminine, so un-pretty because of my bust size, that I would give whatever I could to change it. I've honestly gotten to where I've more than entertained the idea of surgery. Nothing drastic, nothing ridiculous, but just to feel like I am still a woman, to feel like I am an adult, to feel like I'm not deformed.
Yet my brain says to me, "If they don't stop talking about your tits now, they're never going to stop if you have any sort of procedure done." And then it says, "You're being such a hypocrite. You're always talking about being comfortable in your skin, yet here you are, looking up boob jobs."
Maybe I am a hypocrite, at least in this subject. But I'd rather be a hypocrite than some dick who is constantly reminding women of their flaws. At the same time though, does striving to make myself comfortable in my own skin actually make me a hypocrite, or just proactive? Since you seem to have so many opinions of me, why don't you answer that for me? I'll be waiting on your reply.
Despite what you say, despite what I feel, I know that my cup size is not a measure of my personhood. I may feel like I'm not much of a woman, but you don't get to remind me of that. So just go on ahead and shut. the. hell. up.
~Dee
And yet, you feel the need to continually bring up the fact that I am damn near totally flat-chested. I'm not sure how it's any of your business, but since you so adamantly want to discuss my bust size, the least you could do is let me in on the conversation.
Would you like to know how it feels to be this way? To know that you have to go bra shopping, and there's a very, very real possibility that you'll have to special order something because, guess what? Stores don't carry bras in such small cup sizes with adult sized bands. (I'm a 34-36, and I'm so not giving you more fuel by admitting my cup size. Don't even ask.)
Would you like to know how it feels to be a grown woman, with two kids, and be seriously considering going into the training bra section? After all, they have them with underwires and molded cups now.
Would you like to know how it feels to be so disproportionate? To not fill your clothes? To feel like you're less than a woman, because you don't have all the female equipment?!
Would you like to know how it feels to constantly be reminded of the flaw you're most sensitive about, because people think there's something wrong with you?
You couldn't possibly know these things. So I'll tell you how it all feels.
See, it feels a lot like your value is somehow tied to your cup size. Mine's small, so I must be less valuable than someone with C cups. My best friend whom I've known my entire life has huge boobs, her value must be off the charts. Is that the lesson we want to teach our children? Do we want our sons ignoring what could be the most amazing woman in the world, because she's an A cup? Worse still, do we really want to raise another generation of girls who constantly wonder if they're good enough because of boobs? That is exactly what is going to happen if we keep this shit up.
I AM FLAT-CHESTED. I'm sorry that's such a problem for you. Believe me, I want nothing more to fix it.
Which brings me to my next thought... This feeling? It makes me so angry at myself. You have made me feel so low, so un-feminine, so un-pretty because of my bust size, that I would give whatever I could to change it. I've honestly gotten to where I've more than entertained the idea of surgery. Nothing drastic, nothing ridiculous, but just to feel like I am still a woman, to feel like I am an adult, to feel like I'm not deformed.
Yet my brain says to me, "If they don't stop talking about your tits now, they're never going to stop if you have any sort of procedure done." And then it says, "You're being such a hypocrite. You're always talking about being comfortable in your skin, yet here you are, looking up boob jobs."
Maybe I am a hypocrite, at least in this subject. But I'd rather be a hypocrite than some dick who is constantly reminding women of their flaws. At the same time though, does striving to make myself comfortable in my own skin actually make me a hypocrite, or just proactive? Since you seem to have so many opinions of me, why don't you answer that for me? I'll be waiting on your reply.
Despite what you say, despite what I feel, I know that my cup size is not a measure of my personhood. I may feel like I'm not much of a woman, but you don't get to remind me of that. So just go on ahead and shut. the. hell. up.
~Dee
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Why I fail At Blogging.
There are plenty of reasons, really, as to why I fail at blogging. Not the least of which being that I get distracted by other things.
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| This is me. All. The. Time. Source: http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m6ts3vBuzq1rpga6zo1_500.jpg |
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| I wish. So bad, do I wish. Source:http://42floors-wp.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/beach-vacations-caribbean.jpg |
Then it's travel day and the kids are even crazier because it's al.most.time. and they just don't get that the calmer they are while you try and pack up the car, the faster everyone will get there. Our travel day was marred by Jeep Man's precious Jeep deciding that it doesn't need breaks.
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| This is what vacation usually looks like for moms. Source: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Olq3m9xCxKZyLHPsSDM1nn8G1rlos4343TqfVlTSDb4ypqoweXd_z3xH_OC4XHpw42CUl_LT0Z-PlpgKMyLzv0JXyP7pSgC3GJRjDKvipJ8Fg4KvKJj_BH6mSP50g__bP9qalKNPMZs/s320/busy_mom.jpg |
So, because this is me we're talking about, I'm not going to pretend that the rest of vacation was particularly crazy or particularly relaxing. We definitely enjoyed ourselves, and the kids had a blast, but like all vacations, there were still things like laundry and dishes and baths and bedtimes.
Life has been a bit calmer lately, but not too much. At least, not enough that it's taken my stress level down a notch.
The stress of school was getting to me, so I withdrew from one of my classes so that I could focus solely on my more difficult class and pass it, rather than fail two classes. I feel guilty about that, but as a mom, wife and student, I have to do what's right for me. That's been a difficult lesson to learn, by the way. I'm still stressed about school. I've got a short amount of time to get through a lot of work, but I know that I can do it as long as I remain dedicated.
The kids, well... it's summer vacation. Monster is out of school every day, and I can honestly say that as much as I enjoy him, I do not enjoy the disruption of our routine. Although, the not having to wake up to an alarm clock is definitely nice. I hate alarm clocks.
Roo is potty learning... training... I have no idea what the PC term is now. Whatever. The point is, she's trying to figure out how to empty her teeny, tiny bladder into a teeny, little potty seat. She prompted this activity, so I just knew it would be nice and easy. I was, again, wrong. (Side note, as a mom, shouldn't I be right more often? Isn't that one of the perks? Like playing Dessert God and only having to answer to yourself when you procrastinate on the laundry for a week.) Roo is definitely interested, and she's even been successful a few times, however she seems to not really care one way or another where she pees.
All in all, life has been, well, life. I've failed you, faithful readers, but I promise to try not to again. Unless I get distracted...
~ Dee
Friday, January 11, 2013
*sigh* Sometimes, I suck.
I know this. I know I can get flakey and weird and avoid my phone. But that's okay. Because I'm a mother and life happens.
But at this point in my life, I hate it.
You see, I'm taking 2013 to be a better me. I know a lot of people say that, but the truth is, the last two years of my life have just been... terrible. I can't say enough how bad it had been. I hit a lovely new low.
But 2013? I'm going to make it my bitch. So I've decided to write my "Top Five Ways I'm Going to Make 2013 My Bitch"
Enjoy!
5 - From now on, I refuse to be anyone's doormat. I've spent my life doing it, and I was always in denial about it. I've let people walk all over me, always stuck around, and never did anything to acknowledge it. Well, now I'm doing it. So to all my soul-stomping "friends": PEACE OUT!
4 - It's time to get healthy. I've lost a boat load of weight, so that's not so much the issue. I'm talking over all health. Mental, physical, emotional. The whole enchilada. Speaking of which... I'd like some Taco Bell right about now.
3 - It's also time to be a better mom. I know I haven't been bad at it, but I know I could improve. So I'm going to.
2 - SCHOOOOOOOL. It's not just for kids anymore! That's right, this almost-thirty-year-old is going back! In less than a month, to be exact. And I. Am. Freaking. Out.
1 - From now on, I am going to support myself. Over the last seven months, I've realized how much I relied on others for my own self-worth. If I was worthy to those around me, I must be a worthy person. But that's not how it's supposed to be. Unfortunately, I've done this my entire life. So changing it is hard. But I'm doing it. I can't look in the mirror and say "Well, if so and so likes this outfit, it must be good." No, it has to be me. There's a huge difference between valuing the opinions of those around you and taking those opinions to heart; and relying on those opinions to form your self-esteem. I've finally established that difference and I just can't let myself do that anymore.
So that's how 2013 will be for me. Hopefully. If all goes according to plan. Which it might not. Hell, it probably won't.
But when 2014 comes around, I will be able to look back on this year and know that I gave it my all. And that will be enough for me to give it my all again. And again and again and again. Until the day I die.
~Dee
But at this point in my life, I hate it.
You see, I'm taking 2013 to be a better me. I know a lot of people say that, but the truth is, the last two years of my life have just been... terrible. I can't say enough how bad it had been. I hit a lovely new low.
But 2013? I'm going to make it my bitch. So I've decided to write my "Top Five Ways I'm Going to Make 2013 My Bitch"
Enjoy!
5 - From now on, I refuse to be anyone's doormat. I've spent my life doing it, and I was always in denial about it. I've let people walk all over me, always stuck around, and never did anything to acknowledge it. Well, now I'm doing it. So to all my soul-stomping "friends": PEACE OUT!
4 - It's time to get healthy. I've lost a boat load of weight, so that's not so much the issue. I'm talking over all health. Mental, physical, emotional. The whole enchilada. Speaking of which... I'd like some Taco Bell right about now.
3 - It's also time to be a better mom. I know I haven't been bad at it, but I know I could improve. So I'm going to.
2 - SCHOOOOOOOL. It's not just for kids anymore! That's right, this almost-thirty-year-old is going back! In less than a month, to be exact. And I. Am. Freaking. Out.
1 - From now on, I am going to support myself. Over the last seven months, I've realized how much I relied on others for my own self-worth. If I was worthy to those around me, I must be a worthy person. But that's not how it's supposed to be. Unfortunately, I've done this my entire life. So changing it is hard. But I'm doing it. I can't look in the mirror and say "Well, if so and so likes this outfit, it must be good." No, it has to be me. There's a huge difference between valuing the opinions of those around you and taking those opinions to heart; and relying on those opinions to form your self-esteem. I've finally established that difference and I just can't let myself do that anymore.
So that's how 2013 will be for me. Hopefully. If all goes according to plan. Which it might not. Hell, it probably won't.
But when 2014 comes around, I will be able to look back on this year and know that I gave it my all. And that will be enough for me to give it my all again. And again and again and again. Until the day I die.
~Dee
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Where The Heck Have I Been?
I know, it's been quite a while since I blogged. I don't have any one great reason, but I do have a lot of small ones that I won't get into here. It seems pointless. In a nutshell, I've been crazy busy.
You see, I've enrolled in school. I tried the college thing after I graduated high school, but it just wasn't for me. At least, not at that time. My dad passed away half way through my junior year of high school and at that time, I was really trying to just graduate high school alive. Anything beyond that was unclear and out of reach.
So at that time in my life, college wasn't in the cards. I tried to go to trade school at one point and was elated about that. But right before my program started, the school closed that particular schedule, which was the only schedule I could take. This left me feeling like a failure.
School was finally in my grasp, I could make something of myself. I could be around our social group and be proud that I had completed schooling and I was something. And then it was taken away. A normal person would've said "Well eff this" and enrolled in another school, but I was just drained. The process of even getting started at that point had just been too much and shortly after, I ended up pregnant with Roo.
The thing is, I've always had dreams. It's not like I've been a slacker. My ultimate dream was to go to school for photography (something I had already taken plenty of courses in, along with film) and travel with National Geographic writing about my experiences and photographing all of it for the magazine. Obviously this was my "If you could do anything in the world" dream. My second to that was to teach art or creative writing. It's always been in the back of my mind.
"You could be going to school right now, you know. That teaching thing isn't so far out of reach." my subconscious would say.
So now that I'm confident with Monster in school and the timing is right, it's off to school I go. When I graduate, if all goes according to plan, Roo will be starting kindergarten.
On top of my excitement over starting school, Monster is starting the evaluation processes for getting his 504 plan or IEP.
The funny thing is, the psychologist said that she didn't know what we're worried about because he's gifted.
Yes, gifted. The ADHD is there, but so is this... other thing. I've always known how smart he is. He surprises me daily with these little nuggets of information that he's either retained or figured out for himself.
I've never considered myself particularly intelligent. I know I've got the whole common sense thing covered, but "book smarts" never came to me. As an adult, I know this has more to do with dyslexia and dyscalculia and teachers who are ill-equipped to teach this sort of brain, but the lack of confidence still lingers. So to hear that my son is gifted is quite the shock. For funsies, Jeep Man and I had Monster take an IQ test that's made for children ages 6-16. We know he's only five (and a half) but we figured he was close enough. People, he scored 130. On a test that he's not even supposed to be able to take yet. 1 freaking 30.
I'm positive that he gets this from his father. Jeep Man is one of the smartest people I know. He can figure out the mechanics of anything and have it taken apart and put back together, only learning the object as he goes.
Obviously this means that our decision to put him in Montessori school was a good one. He won't be limited to a curriculum that he's above just because of his age. Clearly he'll need intellectual stimulation and if he's reading on a second grade level, but stuck in a first grade routine, he'll be bored out of his mind. Bored children equal rowdy children.
He still doesn't know that he's got ADHD. We'll tell him when he's old enough to understand exactly what that entails. We also haven't told him about his giftedness (that's so not a word). We will, but only once we figure out exactly what it means for his education.
My life as of late has been a whirl-wind of activity. Appointments, school events, studying, gathering paper work for school plus the holidays coming. Oy.
So please, forgive my absence. I promise to come write about some of the funny that's gone on in these past few weeks as soon as I can get this laundry done... or maybe before. The cat is looking awfully comfortable on that pile and it'd just be rude to disturb her. ;-)
~ Dee
You see, I've enrolled in school. I tried the college thing after I graduated high school, but it just wasn't for me. At least, not at that time. My dad passed away half way through my junior year of high school and at that time, I was really trying to just graduate high school alive. Anything beyond that was unclear and out of reach.
So at that time in my life, college wasn't in the cards. I tried to go to trade school at one point and was elated about that. But right before my program started, the school closed that particular schedule, which was the only schedule I could take. This left me feeling like a failure.
School was finally in my grasp, I could make something of myself. I could be around our social group and be proud that I had completed schooling and I was something. And then it was taken away. A normal person would've said "Well eff this" and enrolled in another school, but I was just drained. The process of even getting started at that point had just been too much and shortly after, I ended up pregnant with Roo.
The thing is, I've always had dreams. It's not like I've been a slacker. My ultimate dream was to go to school for photography (something I had already taken plenty of courses in, along with film) and travel with National Geographic writing about my experiences and photographing all of it for the magazine. Obviously this was my "If you could do anything in the world" dream. My second to that was to teach art or creative writing. It's always been in the back of my mind.
"You could be going to school right now, you know. That teaching thing isn't so far out of reach." my subconscious would say.
So now that I'm confident with Monster in school and the timing is right, it's off to school I go. When I graduate, if all goes according to plan, Roo will be starting kindergarten.
On top of my excitement over starting school, Monster is starting the evaluation processes for getting his 504 plan or IEP.
The funny thing is, the psychologist said that she didn't know what we're worried about because he's gifted.
Yes, gifted. The ADHD is there, but so is this... other thing. I've always known how smart he is. He surprises me daily with these little nuggets of information that he's either retained or figured out for himself.
I've never considered myself particularly intelligent. I know I've got the whole common sense thing covered, but "book smarts" never came to me. As an adult, I know this has more to do with dyslexia and dyscalculia and teachers who are ill-equipped to teach this sort of brain, but the lack of confidence still lingers. So to hear that my son is gifted is quite the shock. For funsies, Jeep Man and I had Monster take an IQ test that's made for children ages 6-16. We know he's only five (and a half) but we figured he was close enough. People, he scored 130. On a test that he's not even supposed to be able to take yet. 1 freaking 30.
I'm positive that he gets this from his father. Jeep Man is one of the smartest people I know. He can figure out the mechanics of anything and have it taken apart and put back together, only learning the object as he goes.
Obviously this means that our decision to put him in Montessori school was a good one. He won't be limited to a curriculum that he's above just because of his age. Clearly he'll need intellectual stimulation and if he's reading on a second grade level, but stuck in a first grade routine, he'll be bored out of his mind. Bored children equal rowdy children.
He still doesn't know that he's got ADHD. We'll tell him when he's old enough to understand exactly what that entails. We also haven't told him about his giftedness (that's so not a word). We will, but only once we figure out exactly what it means for his education.
My life as of late has been a whirl-wind of activity. Appointments, school events, studying, gathering paper work for school plus the holidays coming. Oy.
So please, forgive my absence. I promise to come write about some of the funny that's gone on in these past few weeks as soon as I can get this laundry done... or maybe before. The cat is looking awfully comfortable on that pile and it'd just be rude to disturb her. ;-)
~ Dee
Monday, November 5, 2012
And Now The Halloween Post.
Well... I have no real great excuse for not posting in a few days. Mostly, life just got a bit on the nutso side. I'm sure everyone can relate. So I'm just now getting around to writing The Halloween Post.
Let me start by saying that Monster had two costumes this year. He goes to a Montessori school that doesn't allow children to wear traditional Halloween costumes on the big day. They do, however, encourage kids to dress as their favorite book character. The class also picks a theme to decorate a pumpkin, which they will take with them on their big Pumpkin/Book parade. It all sounded super adorable in the form the teacher sent home.
But then came the bummer. I had already gotten him one Halloween costume and as any mother on a budget knows, having to buy two costumes was going to super suck. So I got my creative wheels a' turnin' and came up with a simple and cute idea for a Cat in the Hat costume with the added bonus of being able to use part of it in his regular wardrobe.
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| This is not a book character. (Photo Credit: www.connect06.com) |
When the big day came, I happily agreed to help out in the classroom with Roo in tow. I brought The Big Camera to make sure I got some great pictures for Mrs. Kindergarten as well as myself.
Some parents obviously didn't read the paper that was sent home about this. Either that, or they didn't care (aside from special needs situations). Because there were more vampires, ninjas, princesses and Sponge Bob's than I could count gathered in the kid holding area. (I totally don't count comic book characters, I mean, hello, it's still a book.)
I understand people have a budget. I do, too. I also understand that kids are picky. But really, do you want to be known as the parent who doesn't abide by the rules? Trust me when I say that if you are that parent, your kid's teacher hates you.
Over all, Monster's class looked great. There were a few not in costume, a few who had on traditional Halloween costumes, and then there were some who's parents had gone all-out.
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| Monster thought he was in this parade. (Photo Credit: menmedia.co.uk) |
Once the festivities were over and Roo was officially ready for a nap, we headed home and did nothing exciting for a few hours. When Monster got out of school though, it was time to carve his pumpkin. He wanted a Cat in the Hat pumpkin. I searched all over the interwebz for a pattern, and I just couldn't find one. So he settled for The Lorax.
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| This is not The Lorax. And yes, this is the actual pumpkin. We decided it was Dr. Robotnick from Sonic the Hedgehog. |
Cutting this thing just wasn't going to happen. The rind of it was a quarter of an inch thick. Not the meat, the rind. So I stuck it in the oven to soften it some, which really only made it smell good while attempting to cut it. By the end of it, four people (Jeep Man had joined in at that point) had attempted and it was definitely not The Lorax. Like, at all. Also? We had a couple of bent pumpkin carving knifes to show for our handy work.
After I finally got the pumpkin at least carved, albeit ugly, it was time to get the kids ready for trick-or-treat. Monster's costume for the evening was Fred from Scooby Doo. He's got the hair for it, or he did at the time, so we trashed the ridiculous yellow wig the costume came with. (Side note: we only threw it away after I put it on Roo. Because I'm that ridiculous.)
Our niece was Angelina Ballerina. For those not in the know, Angelina Ballerina is a mouse ballerina. They do not make costumes of her. So Jeep Sister, Jeep Momma and I came up with the costume ourselves using a tutu I made, leotard and tights Jeep Sister bought and a mouse ear and tail set Jeep Momma bought. She was adorable. Roo was the cutest zebra in the history of zebras. But I could be biased.
Trick or treating with these three was awesome. Jeep Papa decided Monster needed a flashlight, which he proceeded to shine in everyone's eyes and aim at bushes while saying "I sink dewe's a monstew in dose bushes." Roo ran away from any door that an older man answered, and refused to let people put the candy in her bag. She wanted to hold it first. Jeep Niece seemed bewildered. She knew what was going on, she knew what to do. It just looked like she thought the whole thing was a dream. Jeep Sister and I hung back while Jeep Man and Jeep Brother-In-Law took the kids door to door. Because that's what good daddies do.
And at the end of the night? I had in my life been more thrilled to throw a pumpkin in the trash.
~ Dee
PS. What were your kids for Halloween?
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