Spots on My Specs

There are spots on my eyeglasses and they tell the story of my day. The smudge on the left lens is where my daughter's elbow got me this morning when I was wrestling her out of bed and into her wheelchair. There's a smaller smudge on the right lens near the top edge from the butter I put on my toast for breakfast. The little spots pretty much all over both lenses are from work, where first the macaroni water splashed when I was draining it to make the gallons of macaroni salad for the salad bar, and the dishwater that got me when I dropped a bowl into the sink during clean up. A bit of lint seems to be clinging in tiny particles all over from the dryer when I took the sheets out this afternoon, and some soy sauce from dinner seems to have found its way onto them as well. The final smudge is from my husband's nose when he kissed me before leaving for band rehearsal. I should have cleaned them before I sat down at the computer, but really, how would I have remembered everything about my day if I had done that? I'll clean them before I go to bed, and start a new history tomorrow.

About Mothers

About mothers. We all have them, most of us are them. We are all influenced by them. Some of us have had more than one mother figure in our lives. Their words come back to us, sometimes at the right moment to help us, sometimes at the wrong moment to temper our joy with words of caution. Most mothers mean well, and they do the best they can with what they have and who they are. Sometimes we just don’t know what the right thing to do or say is, but we don’t want to let on! Aren’t we supposed to have all the answers and know everything? Protection of our babies (no matter how old they are!) and their happiness is a driving force for us. Sometimes we want so badly for them to be happy that we lose sight of the fact that we all need to be unhappy sometimes. How else will we appreciate happiness if we are occasionally not? Even though we hate to see our children unhappy, we must allow them to have their struggles, make mistakes, fall and get up on their own. Among the most difficult things for a mother to do is standing by and watch things go as they will without interference. We all had to figure life out as we went along, and of course we have the desire to spare our children the pain of failure, but if our mothers had stepped in all the time we would not have learned all we needed to know to survive all that life throws at us. The best gift my mother gave me was the ability to be independent, to think, assess and act to resolve problems in my own way. Without being able to practice those skills as I grew into adulthood, I can’t imagine how I would have made it this far in life. Thanks Mom!

Joy List

Just a list of simple things that bring me joy:

A deep green hillside dotted with bright yellow dandelions.

The way the air smells in spring when the sun comes out after a rainy day.

Window curtains fluttering in the breeze in the evening.

The morning sun reflecting off the newly cleaned kitchen floor.

The sound of the birds chirping through the open window on a Saturday morning as I'm lying in bed.

The way the setting sun lights the underside of the branches of the tall, tall trees across the street.

The morning or evening sky colored like cotton candy swirls.

Puffy white clouds against a robin's egg blue sky.

Watching little birds eating seeds left on the plants from last year.

Perennials when they begin breaking through the ground in Spring.

My corner of the couch.

The crocheted afghan that I made for my mother-in-law and got back after she passed away.

Pictures of my girls and husband.

Chopping vegetables for dinner.

A cup of tea.

It Started With Salad

I had a conversation the other day at work that left me feeling sad, angry and frustrated. I work in a high school kitchen/cafeteria and we were discussing a problem with the self serve salad bar. It seems as if there are a handful of people who take much more than their share, leaving little for those who come after. The solution was a compromise that nobody is that thrilled with, and it sent the conversation in a new direction; who is to blame. The first group mentioned by some co-workers were the special needs students. I pointed out that it is not only those students, and that many of them don’t know any better. The looks I got were hostile, as was the tone of voice used to ask me where the aides were that are supposed to be with the students. Obviously I don’t know, but my guess would be that since the students in question are able enough to do some things independently, they are sent as a group to lunch a few minutes before the general population of the school. As the discussion progressed, it became clear to me that there is still much prejudice against the developmentally delayed population in general. With all the strides forward that have been made in the past 50 years or so in regards to how well those with mental difficulties are assimilated into society, there are too many people who believe they have no business in the general population and should be separated, kept together with those who are similar. As the mother of a child who has many severe disabilities this was most upsetting. Not surprising, but upsetting nonetheless. It is an uphill battle we fight to encourage people to understand that when you segregate those who are different, you create more problems than you solve in the long run. As sure as the sun rises daily, the children who have special needs grow up, graduate, and need to have a safe place to go daily. Many can work with the proper supports, but some cannot. As the children age, so do their parents. Most will outlive their parents, for the cruel irony is that life expectancies are frequently not affected by whatever is different with the brains of those in need of constant supervision and care. There are group homes, and daycares, and even some jobs available but not enough of any of these, and not enough funding for meeting even the needs of many. What could be sadder than an elderly mother still caring for her middle aged offspring whose developmental age is perhaps 5 years old on a good day? What is to become of that adult child when the parent passes on? Clearly this is going to create an emergency situation for placement, when it would have been much better to have made sure that there was a safe place for them to live when they were a young adult and the parent was able to really help with the transition. Of course it would be hard on both the parent and the child to separate. If done when both are in good health and able to cope, with the right supports, this is a problem that can be fixed. When adults do not understand that the attitudes they display are going to affect society for years to come, in ways they cannot imagine, societal problems do not get better.

Happy Anniversary

He went into the same doughnut shop every morning around 4 a.m. on his way to his truck driving job. The same girl was there every day and after a time she knew his order and had it waiting on the counter when he arrived. They began dating and she was moved to the afternoon shift. He stopped in every day and once a week brought her a single rosebud in a white vase. He gave her a diamond ring in the parking lot. They were married on a day when it snowed, sleeted and rained. They honeymooned in Atlantic City, and set up housekeeping in the apartment he had lived in alone.

Fast forward 28 years, they exchange cards and kisses, she cooks him breakfast in the kitchen of the only house they ever owned and he buys her doughnuts from the shop where they met. They spend the day quietly together, doing household tasks, spending time with their daughters, watching tv, napping, and capping it off with a dinner out. It is a good day, satisfying in its quietude and companionship. It is the best wedding anniversary ever for it suits them and their love which is quiet and steady, the kind that lasts forever.