Our Village is a Little Different

Lessons Learned in Autumn

2022-09-26T01:54:00.000-04:00

October 7, 2014

October in the North East can be breathtakingly beautiful. People come from all around for leisurely drives and hikes in our wooded areas. It is hard not to be impressed by the splendor of the foliage as nature puts on a great show of reds, oranges, and yellows.

It is time to pull out cozy sweaters and spend a day in the orchards. We can pick apples right off of the trees and pumpkins from their vines. The chill in the air is a refreshing respite from the humid summer.

Laughter rings out from hayrides and tailgate parties, cheers rise up from the stands at football games, and bonfires blaze. We sip hot cocoa and lick the sticky remains of s’mores off of our fingers. Apple pies bubble in ovens, and the crockpots come out for making soups, stews, and chili.

Then comes the surprise gift which makes everyone smile. One last week of gorgeous sunshine and warm temperatures. Windows fly open and everyone tries to get outside and enjoy it while it lasts. The first hard frost is not far away.

The thing is, if you look deeper, there is a lot more going on. Animals are scurrying to collect a store of food for the winter. The blaze of colors above our heads will soon be dead brown dried out piles on the ground. The sky is filled with the birds hurrying to get south to warmer climes. It can be a rather desperate time. Even the humans know that we will be shut in soon and we make preparations for the cold days ahead. This is mostly unspoken, as if not saying the words aloud will ward off the inevitable.

If you have made it this far, bear with me, this is not a nature lesson. What I’m thinking is, I want to be more like that first version of October. I want to be like the bright colors and happiness which draw people’s focus away from the sad sub-story.

To be fair, I will confess that I abhor whining and complaining in general. Some days it feels like I am surrounded by it. My sons will tell you that I frequently ask them to turn off television programs and songs because I cannot take all of the angst. Sadder still is that some of the most serious caterwauling is over crazy first world problems like slow internet, not having the latest basketball shoes, or a latte that wasn’t prepared properly.

These things, to me, are like the dead leaves. They should be crunched underfoot or raked up and made into mulch.

In contrast, standing out amongst the grumblers are the brave souls who are positively radiant. They are like bright sun shining through stunning fall leaves. These are the people who remain poised and grace-filled even when things are not going their way. Despite their difficulties, they exude joy and even take time to reach out to others.

Yes, this is how I want to be.

I have been reflecting upon this verse:

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds…” (James 1:2)

One of the easiest ways to get to that place is to live in contentment. It helps to know that there is no circumstance or material possession that will bring me true joy. Happiness is always a choice. Jobs can be lost, health fails, and all of the “stuff” we acquire is destined for a landfill eventually.
I have had the opportunity to make two major moves in my life. Part of the deal was leaving most of my things behind. It was not really hard at all, and it has helped me to keep my feelings about material possessions quite neutral.

I also have a keen perspective on how precious and fleeting life is. There is no possession I would not give for one more day, one more hour, or one last minute with loved ones who have died – but these things cannot be had for any amount of money.

The only thing that I have for certain is the moment. When I can be grateful for it despite any physical or spiritual suffering, when I can look past myself and think of others, and when I can use my own trials and tribulations to draw closer to God, then I am like the good parts of October – a reminder to look up at what is bright and beautiful.

From Parent “Shepherd” to the Good Shepherd

2020-08-09T11:47:00.001-04:00

(Originally Posted on July 24, 2015 on the Homeschool Mosaics Blog)

My boys just had another birthday; and, I will not lie, I miss my little boys.

Don’t get me wrong, I am proud and amazed when I recall the tiny preemies who came into the world fighting for their lives. Now they are strong, smart, and funny.

I also enjoy our conversations which have progressed from superheroes and construction equipment to deeper topics like history, social justice, faith, and government. (Okay, anybody who knows us in real life also knows we still talk about superheroes – but shhh. You get the idea!)

The area where I am struggling is watching them grow up and figuring out my role. This is especially hard, knowing that the world does not love them the way I do.

I am aware of what lies ahead for them. There will be great times with fun friends, for sure. They are already getting a taste of this. I love listening to their stories when they come home from weekend adventures with their buddies.

Unfortunately, the world also offers hurt, betrayal, and sadness. We have already had to deal with some of this, too.

For years I have been able to act as a shepherd. I could gently steer them away from dangerous situations and they would follow the sound of my voice. They trusted me to keep them away from rocky cliffs and slippery slopes. I know I have set boundaries firmly in place and they are strong, but only a fool believes that teenagers are not tempted to jump the guardrails. Life looks so nice and fun on the other side, and there is that pesky problem of free will.

So far they haven’t gone too far outside of the lines. It has been fairly easy to bring them back, and I hope that is always the case. It is not hard to see that, once a person strays too far from the path, it becomes increasingly harder for them to find their way back.

This spring the boys were confirmed in their faith. I know they are grown up enough to understand the voice of the real Good Shepherd. Although I will still be speaking the basic rules it will be His voice, the one that dwells within them, to warn of the cliffs and slopes now. I hope it doesn’t take too many mishaps before they learn to heed Him.

How Do I Love Thee?

2020-02-04T17:34:00.001-05:00

This post originally appeared on a now defunct blog I contributed to on February 7, 2014.

It is really fun to look back at these, and I have a collection of them that I will post from time to time.

How Do I Love Thee?

If Elizabeth Barrett had not written a book of poems which included one where she praised the work of Robert Browning, the two might never have met. Their hundreds of love letters, the poems, and Elizabeth’s sonnets to Robert would not have followed.

Even in this world of electronic communication, nothing replaces the special feeling we get when somebody has written a kind note to us by putting pen to paper.

It is far more romantic to have a pile of saved love letters tied with a ribbon or stored safely in a keepsake box than it is to carry our the sentiments of our beloved on a flash drive.

I may be the last of a dying breed, but I still send paper letters, thank you notes, Christmas cards and invitations. I like to leave my husband a sweet note where he might find it on his commute to work or at some point during his day. When my children were still in public school, I would always leave a short note in their lunch and include a sticker or a small gift.

When the children came home for school, I missed doing these small gestures for them. I also noticed that by spending so much time together they were starting to take each other for granted. About a year later I introduced “Love Notes” into our lives.

I went to Target and picked up this mailbox.

During the following week, when the boys did something I thought was special, I would jot a note down and put it in the mailbox. Then one day at lunch I gave them each a little pile of folded papers. As they read the papers their faces lit up with smiles.

Not only did they enjoy the compliments, but they also had no chance to rebut the kind words. This is a common trait of people with Aspergers Syndrome – accepting praise is almost painful and will often be met with protest or downplay.

Next, I invited them to join the fun. I put the mailbox in the kitchen and everyone could take part in the exchange of notes.

Sometimes we forget to check and a few weeks will go by, but I don’t think we will ever get tired of expressing our affection, appreciation, and admiration of each other.

September is Not my Favorite Month

2019-09-21T09:22:00.000-04:00

This post was originally posted on a site called Home and School Mosaics on September 2, 2014.

Five years later I am revisiting some of these posts and part of me is nostalgic,missing the days when I was homeschooling and my boys were younger. Another part is laughing, because they barely seem like the same kids.

Since the Home and School Mosaics site has been down for several years now, I will post these on my own blog for posterity, nostalgia, and a laugh.

I hope you enjoy this re-run of September is Not My Favorite Month.

Here in New York, most school districts begin their school year right after the Labor Day weekend.

When my boys were younger and in public school this was an extremely stressful time for them.

As the lazy days of August began to wind down, it was easy to see them growing more apprehensive.

To make matters worse, well meaning adults would begin to ask all of the usual back-to-school questions. What school did they attend? What grade were they going into? Did they know who their teacher was going to be? Were they looking forward to the first day?

In their own sweet, quirky, and endearing way, my children would try to be honest and polite when speaking with grownups. On a day before the start of first grade, Boy Two was playing the part of public relations/spokesperson for the duo when he replied, “September is not my favorite month.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. He said it with such sincerity! Now any time our summers are interrupted by questions about school we laugh and use that as our standard answer.

Thankfully, homeschooling has made that first day less loathsome, but none of us are waving the pompoms as we contemplate getting back into the daily routine of cracking open the books. Once we get started we are fine, but we do love the laid back days of summer!

It was for this reason I learned to begin gently.

We have some traditions that help us jump start each year.

These rituals are the tiny sparks that start to smolder and eventually ignite the brain cells to get back into the swing of hings.

Our favorite is “not back to school” day. When yellow buses roll out and our publicly schooled friends attend their first day of classes, we celebrate our break from this lifestyle by sleeping late, going out for lunch, and catching a movie matinee.

The next day, when we officially begin our new grade level, I make a special breakfast.

After we eat, I surprise my students with some new games, books, and clothes for the school year. We spend the first day simply checking out the new curriculum, setting up a schedule, and listing our goals.

While they don’t exactly cheer the start of each new school day, we do manage to enjoy our time together. They are bright students and I love helping them learn.

Do you have any special traditions that help kick off your school year?

A Sneak Peek at the Jordan Gatorade 6 Shoes Due in Stores 12/16

2017-11-12T14:42:00.002-05:00

The Jordan Gatorade Six

Somebody made a mistake at a nearby Finish Line store, and we were able to pick up this pair of Gatorade Six Jordans on October 31st. I've worn them a few times and people have taken an interest in them, so I will share my sneak peak with you.

Here is a quick video review (my hands, my son's voice.)

I found they fit well, true to size. They are also comfortable! I walked all over NYC the first day I wore them - a bold idea for any new pair of shoes. My feet felt fine at the end of the day. Also, even after quite a few miles, the creasing was not too bad. Additionally, the New York dirt came off of the nubuck easily, even without any Crep.

For a GR, they are not a bad pickup. Many people who have seen them have compared them to Carmines. I'm sure we'd all like to have the Carmines, but for a smaller price tag you can grab these for a walking around shoe.

They will be in stores for everyone on December 16th. Maybe Santa will have a few pair on his sleigh this year, too!

This is a "just because" post, I was NOT given a sample for my review.

That said - if anyone wants to hook me up with a plug to do sneaker reviews, me and my sons would be all over that!!

A Family of #Sneakerheads - #kotd Lebron Area72

2016-09-26T19:44:00.001-04:00

My sons have been obsessed by basketball shoes and the sneaker culture for a few years now and they have amassed a pretty impressive collection.

One thing I have learned over the years is that if I want kids to be interested in the things I am interested in, I should return the favor. Our children love when we acknowledge their passions. It is far too easy (as a parent) to tune out endless talk about Thomas the Tank Engine, superheroes, Pokemon, etc. but if we listen to these little things when they are younger they are more apt to tell us about bigger things later. This is how I came to learn about the sneaker culture. Before long, I became a shoe connoisseur myself! I broke down and bought my first pair of "cool" shoes.

After that, my sons kept sending me links to shoes that they thought I should own and brought me into stores to show me their favorites. They would spend time sitting with me talking about all things shoes. I have a pretty decent collection of my own now!

Also, because I am a small footed person, I can share in their hobby at a fraction of the cost - because wow! These shoes can get expensive!

The photo above is of my little foot and Boy One's big foot in our matching Lebron 10 Area 72 sneakers. They have cool 3M technology so the pattern lights up like stars. Neat, right?

I'll be sharing some Kicks of the Day photos from time to time. I hope you enjoy them.

Bop-It

2016-01-21T14:03:00.005-05:00

October 23, 2013

Have you ever played Bop-It? I first played the original version of the game before I even had children. It is a lot of fun to Bop, Twist, Smash, and Pull the different parts of the toy to earn high scores.

As time went by, the company came up with new versions of the game and improvements to the original.

There are a lot of things I really appreciate about Bop-It! games of all varieties – especially as a mom of kids on the autism spectrum!

To do well, the player has to listen and respond to commands so there is a good audio component. The twisting, pulling, bopping, etc. are fantastic for improving motor skills, especially grasping.

As play continues, the pace quickens and there are accompanying sounds. To succeed, the player has to focus on the audio instructions and follow them. The games reward the players for their achievement by announcing high scores and unlocking levels. You can see my boys playing one of the newer games, Bop-It Smash! in this video we took last December.

The game teases lower scores and gives accolades to better ones; so my only caution would be that more sensitive children may not enjoy the ribbing. Parents may also want to familiarize themselves with the volume controls.

Don’t Wish it Away

2016-01-21T13:47:00.003-05:00

March 16, 2015

As I write this it is the coldest week of winter so far. The temperature is below zero, wind is gusting against our windows, there are snowbanks taller than I am, and it doesn’t promise to let up soon. But that is what is happening on the outside.

On the inside, my whole family is at home. The boys are laughing together, and my husband has done the lion’s share of everything allowing me to rest and recuperate from a rough couple of days. We will probably watch a movie together after dinner. I’d say that has been a pretty good day!

When things are so obviously severe, it can be hard not to focus on the negative, but even in the midst of our most difficult times, it is really important to find the blessings and the comforts. This week, almost every casual conversation I had included a countdown to Spring. Of course it did, because we all need the promise of warmer days to help get us through these last brutal weeks of winter. But this made me think of how often we do this about life in general.

When I was younger I wanted to be a teenager, then I wanted to drive, then I wanted to be eighteen, to graduate High School, live on my own, get a good job, and so on. I was always very focused on what was next. While goals are important, I am pretty sure that I would have been a happier person if I could have been more content with each day that was given to me. Finally, when I was about twenty, I learned the hard way that every day is a gift, and a chance for a new beginning.

Sometimes, that can be hard to remember. Walking out into arctic blasts of air, mountains of snow and sheets of ice does not exactly envelop my mind with thoughts of peace and serenity – but walking into my cozy house does. Watching my sons grow and learn certainly does. Kissing my husband and children goodnight always does. How could I possibly want this time to hurry up and pass? It seems like just yesterday my young men looked like this!

Since my boys were born, I have really heard the litany of “Just wait until they. . .” scenarios. It began with “Just wait until they sleep through the night.” Then was “Just wait until they are potty trained.” and “Just wait until they go off to school.” I smile, and nod, but if I have learned anything in my short tenure as a mother, it is not to wish any of these days away. There are stretches of long and difficult days, but the years fly by too quickly for my taste. It is also foolish to believe that any age or stage will be without its difficulties.

It did take forever for them to sleep through the night. Yes, it was rough, but what I think back upon is being able to swaddle and snuggle two little bundles. I was sleep deprived, but I spent so much time holding them and rocking them. There were also tiny little baby clothes and caps and booties that they outgrew so quickly, and long walks pushing them in their stroller. They finally slept all night about the same time that they learned to walk. This meant serious childproofing and a whole new brand of tired!

For the next few years, my house was a giant play pen. It was not exactly House Beautiful, but these were wonderful days when I was able to enjoy two little boys who never got tired of lining things up, watching fans spin, or being with each other. It was also the time we started to notice the signs of Asperger syndrome – speech delays, sensory issues, hand flapping, etc. so we had to do occupational therapy, speech therapy, and physical therapy. The new “Just wait until. . .” was about talking.

Well, they learned to talk, if echolaia counts. It was also a window into how overwhelming the world was to them. Although it was sad, it was a time of absolute sweetness. They had no idea how to be self conscious and when they loved things they didn’t go halfway. When a kid with Asperger Syndrome gets an obsession, buckle up. Summertime was the best. We spent all day outside and they were quite serious about their play. I loved being a stay at home mother and being there to see it all.

This was when people would tell me “Just wait until they go to Pre-K, and you can get a little break every day.” Pre-K was no break. I would pick them up after two and half hours and it was like they had been away at battle. The intensive therapies were helpful, but the payoff wasn’t worth it. I really wish I had known then what I know now and I would have kept them home, but it wasn’t meant to be that way. Even so, it wasn’t a time without blessings. I was able to see them greet each other at the end of their sessions with huge hugs. They brought home special gifts they had made in class, and while they didn’t like the other children very much, they loved the teachers, and I still consider them friends today.

Since they are fourteen now, I won’t bore you with every age and stage in between, but I will end with this take-away. Every stage of life has its trials and its beauty. We have to pick where we place our focus. I think the default position is to complain. It is definitely easier, but when we do, we miss the joy. Please don’t miss the joy. There are going to be times when our hearts are breaking, and we need other people’s joy to get us through, and there will be times when the people we love need a little bit of ours – so make sure you grab up as much as you can, no matter what the circumstances. We cannot waste any time waiting for what we think will make us happy when today is our only guarantee. Live each day to its fullest. If it is a time for tears, shed them and accept the love of other people. If it is a season of happiness, grab up enough so that you have plenty to share.

The Reality of Love vs The Lure of Romance

2016-01-21T13:29:00.003-05:00

February 12, 2015

It is that time of year again. The bombardment of romantic images are everywhere. The card shops have aisles upon aisles of red and pink envelopes filling the shelves. Men will be seen carrying beautiful bouquets and large heart shaped boxes of chocolates to their sweethearts. Jewelry stores will try to convince young men to finally buy that ring, and all of the good restaurants will be booked solid a week in advance of February 14th.

Romance is a wonderful thing, but I prefer spontaneity to a rallying cry from Hallmark, and I’d much rather get a new Lego set than a box of chocolate. But, then again, t I have never fit the societal norms, so this isn’t really surprising. What I have known from an early age is that a large portion of our society has the wrong impression of what love is. One of the first articles I ever wrote was for my High School newspaper. The topic was how badly we abuse the word “love”. I’m just as guilty as the next person. We say we love food, cars, celebrities we have never met, but when we do this, we do damage to the word, and to the virtue.

Love cannot be bought at a card store or wrapped in a beautiful package. Love is work, and it is sacrifice.

Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends. ~ John 15:13

When Saint Paul talks about love in his letter to the Corinthians, he is spot on.

1 Corinthians 13: 4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

The poetic pining of my youth was so far away from the reality of love. There were very clear examples of love right in front of me, but I didn’t have the maturity to recognize them. Now I look back as an adult, and it is so much clearer!

My father working extra hours meant my sister could have the amazing oboe and the lessons that would help her get a college scholarship.

My mother ferrying four children to different destinations, and still making sure everyone had clean clothes and full stomachs. (as the one doing the driving now, I appreciate this all the more!)

My grandmother, who would start preparing for Christmas Eve months in advance! Her budgeting of limited time and energy allowed her family to all be around her for one special night.

My father’s parents, who left their homes and families to come to America in order to keep him safe and to give them all the chance to live The American Dream.

I could make a list that would be pages long, but you get the idea. True love means thinking of others first without an expectation of anything in return. It does not mean to be a doormat, it means to be the doorway. The people I love should always find better things through me. While it is a life of humility, it is never humiliation. I will be called to deny myself comfort but it doesn’t leave me downcast; instead it brings me joy.

The thing about real love is that with it, sacrifice comes naturally . When one of my boys is sick or hurting, I don’t weigh the options; I give him everything he needs, and give it freely and easily. When a family member or friend is sick or in trouble, my first thought is, What can I do?

Now I can see love clearly. My husband heading out to work on cold mornings, and all the long days he puts in so that we have everything we need – that is love. The ceiling fans my father installed when my boys were non-verbal babies (but loved things that went in circles!) – that was love. When I am in the ER with a sick boy and my mother shows up within minutes – yep, love.

When my father died, before we even got home from the hospital, my mother’s house was filled with friends and family from far and wide. We are kept warm by handmade quilts and have boxes with sweet notes. Love is everywhere, but it doesn't always show up in a heart shaped box or with a red bow.

That is not to say there is anything wrong with this:

Romance is important to marriages and courtships – it just doesn’t have staying power. The candy box empties, the flowers die.

Real love looks like this:

We are called every day to lay down our lives. For most of us it will not be in such a dramatic fashion, but it will be many small crosses. Loads of laundry, sinks filled with dishes, floors to clean, tears to dry, donations to be made, service opportunities, and so on.

In case that sounds unattractive, let me tell you finish by adding this: when I love freely and without any motive, the joy and love inside of me grows. It is an amazing phenomenon that refreshes and replenishes me, allowing me to face whatever a new day might bring.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. ~ 1 Corinthians 13:13

Day by Day Resolutions

2016-01-21T13:04:00.000-05:00

January 1, 2015

Did you make a New Year’s Resolution this year? To be honest, I never have. Perhaps it is because we turn the calendar page while we are still in the midst of the Christmas season. It seems like an odd time to think about making big life changes before I have even taken down the tree, and then Lent is not very far off either.

Please don’t misunderstand; I am always striving to become a better person. That’s a 365 day a year thing for me. I guess that is why if I need to make a resolution of any sort, the best time for me to do it is the moment I realize I have the problem. I may not succeed in fixing the issue immediately, but I can continuously evaluate my progress and adjust my course as needed.

What works best for me is a daily behavior assessment. I try not to go to sleep at night until I have spent some time mentally going over my day. What did I do well? Where did I fall short? Where do I see and feel improvement? What can I do to become a better person? When I slack off on these nightly exercises it isn’t long before my personal life becomes chaos, too.

Another helpful practice is to create a plan and stick to it. If I am hoping to eat healthier, I should keep a journal and log what I’m eating. If I am having trouble staying focused, I can make sure that I plan a specific time to work on a task. If it is appropriate, I might want to find an accountability partner to exercise or pray with. If I want to declutter, I can pick one area for each week to make the task seem less daunting.

Knowing how beneficial this practice has been for me, I started doing a kid’s version with my boys before we say our prayers at bedtime. When they were little I would simply ask them what their proudest moment of the day was, and which was their least proud. When they became a little bit older, I changed the question. I ask in a variety of ways if they had a chance to be selfless that day. Conversely, I will ask if they had hurt anyone or missed an opportunity to lift somebody else up. If we identity an area that needs work, we come up with goals and plans.

It is such a simple way to keep ourselves and our flaws in perspective and it only takes a few minutes. I am very glad that my sons are so willing to participate, too. Hopefully, if it becomes a habit now, it will be a habit that follows them through their lives.

Unhappy Holidays Happen, Too

2016-01-20T23:47:00.004-05:00

December 18, 2014

This can be such a wonderful time of the year. It is a time for gratitude, joy, family, and friends. Thanksgiving has passed, and now we are in the Advent and the Christmas season. There are decorations, lights, parties, and merriment all around.

I truly love this season, but I have also had my fair share of full-on Bah Humbug Decembers. I have learned a few tricks for surviving those Unhappy Holidays in the process, and I hope that by sharing my experience, I might be able to help somebody else.

Let me start by saying that if you are truly depressed, please, seek medical help. I’m not talking about fixing clinical depression. What I am talking about is “the blues.” For example, one year I was in the cold Mid West all alone and couldn’t get home. I wasn’t up on a ledge, but I did feel sorry for myself!

Before I had children, I worked as an RN. I would always volunteer to work Christmas Eve so that my co-workers could be with their little ones for these important days, but I will admit that it was difficult to pull myself away from my family’s big Christmas Eve celebrations, and I was always completely out of gas by the next morning and would sleep most of Christmas Day away.

Have you ever had a break up at this time of year? That’s never easy either. Those cute romantic couples commercials can really begin to get on one’s nerves. Then there are the years where we were hit by unexpected bills and home repairs throughout November and December and there just wasn’t much money left over.

For me, the hardest of all were the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays the year my father died.

The first thing I do if I start to feel any holiday sadness is give myself a mental pep talk. After all, no matter what I am going though, there is always still so much to be thankful for! I wish I never had to remind myself that the TRUE joy of Christmas has nothing to do with the traditions or the people I might be missing.

Sometimes I would have to give myself this talk more than once. I am human after all, and it isn’t always easy to reconcile what my brain knows and what my heart feels.

This is when I would have to take the focus off of myself and to look around. One basic truth I have always found is that there is always somebody who is in a worse place than I am. I am a fixer, so once I set my mind to it I can easily channel my energy into helping somebody truly in need. The benefit is twofold. I brighten somebody else’s life and I can put my own gratitude into perspective.

The other big thing for me is to avoid emotional triggers. If I know that watching a movie or hearing a song is going to leave me in a puddle of tears, I have to save that movie or song for a time when the tears will be cleansing, not heart wrenching. Instead of trying to recreate a family tradition that would have fallen flat in the wrong setting, I give myself permission to make new traditions.

Lastly, I have had to learn which times were right for sharing other people’s holidays and which times I should have declined invitations. Well meaning friends never want to see us alone on a holiday. However, there were times when my mood and circumstances were much better suited to helping out a charitable cause than trying to fake a festive feeling in a room full of happy people. The times I have tried to do the faking left me feeling worse than if I had stayed at home under the covers all day!

Most of all, I make sure that I celebrate Advent. The weeks leading up to the celebration are a perfect time to put my focus in the right place. This season isn’t really about gifts, parties, decorations, or dinners. Even if there is no tree, tinsel, lights, stockings, or gifts – nothing can take away the birth of Jesus and what that meant to the world.

If you find yourself in a funky blue place this year, I hope you can talk about how you feel with people who care about you. Together you might find the perfect plan to help you through the Yuletide and into the New Year.

Homeschooling Through High School

2016-01-20T21:41:00.004-05:00

August 19, 2014

It has finally arrived – the year that public school families call High School. My children are the age of a typical High School Freshman. I guess this is a big milestone. I remember when we just began our homeschool journey – the first question I was asked was (of course) about socialization. The second was what I would do about High School. There seemed to be a common belief that I could not possibly teach my children the courses they would need to earn a diploma.

Most of the time I did not waver. Of course I could teach my children what they needed to learn. The curriculum is very parent friendly. I was a member of the Honor Society after all, and my college entrance exam scores were rather impressive! Then I thought about a few of the teachers I had endured as a teen and felt fairly certain I could do a better job than they had.

After a year or two of teaching at home I found that my kids consumed curriculum like termites with wet wood. They were doing “High School” courses in their favorite subjects when they were eleven. This is probably one of the most wonderful benefits of teaching my boys at home. We learn at their pace. We learn some topics at the expected pace, but when they love something they get as much of it as they want.

The thing that is consistent in every subject is mastery. We do not move forward until they understand what we have covered. We can do this because we are not bound to the needs of 25 to 35 other students. For the same reason, we do not spend days and weeks going over things that they clearly understand.

If we come to a subject that I have forgotten or am not familiar with, I learn along side of them. There are so many resources available to us via the internet and the companies that produce the coursework that I can easily come up with answers.

Best of all, I can choose curriculum that suits my sons’ learning style. I find they do best with a multi-sensory experience so we incorporate video and hands on learning into our day. Rather than textbook and lecture study, we employ a Socratic method of discussion and critical thinking.

Can we homeschool through High School? Absolutely! I am looking forward to it!

Family Values vs. Common Core

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June 26, 2014

There has been a discussion going on for a couple of months that has created a bit of a stir. It seems that a couple of people who have been heralded by the education community (a.k.a. the people who think kids need Common Core) as being quite brilliant have come to the conclusion that parental involvement in a child’s education makes little to no difference at all.

If I had the chance to speak with these esteemed academics, I would suggest that perhaps they shift their focus. Instead of studying how what happens at home influences performance, they might want to look at what happens at school. This might shine a light on the true source of America’s education problem. As long as we keep grouping kids by age and using the lecture and textbook method in a multisensory world, we are in trouble – but that would be a whole new article for another day.

More troubling to me is that the study suggests that to be successful in our quest to “Race to the Top” and assure that ‘No Child is Left Behind” students would be better off spending more time in school and less time with their family.

I don’t have any special grants in order to do extensive research but it does seem that our education system was in far better shape in the days when the family was valued and before we began giving the US Department of Education so much reach.

Do the authors only hope for automaton children gifted in memorizing facts, figures and dates? The article suggests parents should impress upon their child that education is important, then leave them be. Having seen some examples of common core curriculum, I can understand the desire educators might have to keep parents from seeing what the kids are studying, but I do not agree with their advice. For a young adult to find true success after they leave school, they need parents who will teach them how to find answers to problems and to impart the values that will carry them through their lives.

I was always on the honor roll, but my grades never meant much once I got past my first job interview. After that, it was my responsibility to show that I could work as a member of a team, be respectful of others, be counted on to show up when I was scheduled, treat clients with dignity and respect, continue to learn and grow in my field, and be an asset to the people who signed my paycheck. I didn’t learn any of these things in a school building.

School is where I first learned about class system, cliques, and conformity. The lucky ones were elevated, others flew under the radar, and the truly unfortunate were systematically destroyed by their peers – picked apart piece by piece until they would dread waking up to face another day. Classroom achievement was okay for nerds or geeks, but the most esteemed classmates are often mediocre. Most of us leave our alma maters relieved to be done with it. It is smart to wait ten years for a reunion because, like childbirth, we need time to pass before we can look back on it with any kind of fondness.

These are not the things I learned at home. When I was with my family I saw my parents treat people with dignity because that is what they deserved, not because we had preplanned diversity lessons. We simply lived this way without consciously separating people into niches based on their income, race, or ethnicity.

I learned my most valuable life skills under my own roof. My father taught me honesty, integrity, and work ethic, along with practical matters like how to fix things and to stay safe. My mother taught me faith, compassion, homemaking, and the importance of having a few solid female friends. Both parents taught me about service and sacrifice. I learned how to recognize and honor heroes. My parents were the people who always answered the call, always showed up, and always found a way to make the important things happen even when it didn’t seem possible. I knew they always had my back.

I was one of four siblings, and I can assure you that this has also been a tremendous asset. We learned about loyalty – because no matter what happened at home, if you messed with one of my siblings my blood would boil. We had one television – so I learned how wonderful it was to escape into a good book and how to share a limited resource. There was also one bathroom and one hot water heater for the four of us, so anyone who wanted a hot shower before school had to come up with a well executed plan. The family dinner table was where anyone who hoped to have their case heard picked up great debating skills. I could go on and on, but you get the idea.

When I entered the work force, I always did well. I quickly became a leader and a person who was trusted and valued. This had a lot more to do with what my parents taught me than anything I ever learned in a classroom.

It is my opinion that the US Department of Education is overrated.

My Pro-Life Story

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May 13, 2014 by Catherine Schembri

Once upon a time I was advised by a physician that I should have what is referred to as a “therapeutic abortion.” He was my rheumatologist and he was treating me for a fairly significant lupus flare. When I told him that I was pregnant he slammed down my chart, threw a pencil across the room, called me stupid, suggested that I could not deliver a viable baby, and that to try could kill me. He went on to say that, as long as I was with child, he would not treat me. It was a horrible and disturbing office visit. I walked away and never looked back!

Yes, it is true – my pregnancy was a very difficult time. It was about as far from the happy, glowing experience I hoped it would be as possible. I soon learned I was carrying twins. I was still sick and my babies had a condition that could have become life threatening to them at any moment. There were other complications along the way, like gestational diabetes and a few bouts of extremely pre-term labor.

Despite these problems, I felt very blessed to be in very good hands the entire time. I was working as a Labor and Delivery nurse back then. The night that I sat staring in disbelief at my positive test, I was so lucky to be able to call the unit right away. From that moment up until my 3:30am crash C-Section six months later, I always had wise, supportive, and loving care.

Because I was on bed rest, I did not get out much. My weekly, then bi-weekly, then every other day appointments, ultrasounds, and non-stress tests were how I marked my time. I had stacks of little black and white images of my babies and I had little to do except tape them into my journal, write about them, and pray for all of us and dream about the day I would hold them in my arms.

Without getting too technical or using big medical words, I will try to explain a little bit of what was going on. Because the boys are identical twins, they shared a placenta and some of the connecting vessels weren’t distributing their blood properly. This meant Boy Two was doing extra work to keep both of their hearts beating. Because of this, he also had a decreased blood volume, slower growth, less urine output, and in turn, less amniotic fluid. This caused trouble for Boy One as well. He was getting a little bit of extra blood in his circulatory system which, if it got to be too much, could have lead to heart failure. This can also cause a baby to have more urine output and extra amniotic fluid.

Because of amazing technology, we were able to watch their growth very closely and even measure their blood pressures, so these tests were done frequently. The day before I delivered, my doctor noticed that Boy Two’s umbilical blood pressure had decreased and Boy One had a few irregular moments on the tracing of his heart beat. He watched them a little while longer and things stabilized.

It was late in the afternoon, and we debated if I should stay in the hospital overnight for observation or come back first thing in the morning. The doctor felt rather strongly that I should stay, so I was wheeled over to the Labor and Delivery unit while my husband went home to get some things for me.

The afternoon turned to evening, and the night shift came in. I had always worked night shift, so I knew these nurses well. I enjoyed visiting with my friends; but, medically, the time was uneventful. My babies had the most beautiful heartbeats an L&D nurse could hope to see. I was starting to feel embarrassed that I was there. I drifted off into a contented sleep knowing I was in good hands.

At about 3am, everything changed. My husband had stayed with me and woke me up to tell me that my nurse had called the doctor and that he was on his way in. I was pretty fuzzy and didn’t really process what he was saying until I saw my physician standing at my bedside. That certainly got my attention and snapped me awake!

As he explained that Boy One was showing signs of distress, I was signing consent for a C-Section that was going to be done as soon as the day shift arrived. In preparation, the doctor had to draw some amniotic fluid that the lab would test to determine the boys’ lung maturity. As he drew the fluid out, we all stared in disbelief when we saw dark red fluid filling the tube instead of the clear substance we were anticipating. That was blood, and it indicated that my placenta had ruptured. We had to get to the Operating Room immediately!

Within minutes I was rushed back, given spinal anesthesia, draped, and prepped. I looked around the room and every face was one I knew; and, although I knew how serious the situation was, I felt at peace. I was able to get a glimpse of both boys before they were passed off to the neonatal intensive care teams, and I was given reassurance as they were whisked out and into the NICU.

After I was put back together again, I waited in a recovery area for the anesthesia to wear off so that I could move my legs again. All I wanted in the world was to see my babies. It was so frustrating to lie there, unable to move! My husband came back to me with Polaroid photos of our sons. Boy One was 3 lbs15 oz and 18 inches long. Because of the problems I described earlier, boy Two was quite a bit smaller. He was 2 lbs 15 oz and only 15 inches long.

They were small, they were fragile, and even when I took them home they needed portable monitors that made sure their hearts were beating and that they were breathing. But they grew, and they became healthy.

Today they are big, strong, smart, and funny. I cannot imagine my life without them. Thank God I have always been pro-life. Thank God I decided to leave our fate up to Him. Thank God I had the sense to walk out of that doctor’s office and never look back.

I know I might not have been so lucky, and I realize that other women are not, but what if I had not even tried?

Spring Cleaning for the Soul

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April 11, 2014

As I write this column it is a few weeks into the Lenten season. I spent some time today reflecting upon how well this fits with what happens every March here in the North East. I look out the window and winter is trying desperately to hold on, but it is no match for spring. The sun is setting later and the cold is not quite as severe. Soon, just like every other year, the snow will melt, the birds will return, and the gray-brown world will be lost beneath the bright colors of blooming flowers and budding trees.

This is what happens to my heart, too. Even though I am always trying to grow closer to God and to be the best version of myself that I can, winter wears down my spirit. By February I feel a lot like what I see outside my window. Drab, cold, and lifeless. Even the once white snow is stained and ugly.

And so we get to the trouble with my soul. Even though it has been made clean by baptism, it is like those dirty snowbanks because of my human nature and the stain of sin. These forty days “in the desert” where increased prayer, fast, and alms giving are the focus, I can’t help but become more aware of the personal flaws that have crept in and made themselves comfortable while I was not as vigilant as I should have been. These Lenten practices make me acutely aware of my shortcomings and they become so uncomfortable that I don’t want to live with them any more.

I often write about the valuable lessons my children teach me, and one of those lessons is the freedom of a clear conscience. Neither one of them has ever been able to go to sleep at night if they have something to confess. Like my boys, I become restless if my spiritual life is not in order. I do an internal tossing and turning until I am finally ready to unburden myself of my transgressions. For me this means taking advantage of the beautiful sacrament of reconciliation. Others may speak with a spiritual director, share with their prayer group, give their testimony to a congregation or gathering, or take it to God in fervent prayer. Even popular twelve step programs include steps for writing an honest evaluation and sharing it with a trusted person.

What a weight is lifted when I stop my internal struggles! It is funny – I tell my boys that I will always love them (no matter what!) and nothing that they could ever do will change that. Why do I forget that God loves me even more?

Easter is all about redemption. Death had no power over Jesus. He conquered the grave – yet I think I can do a better job with my troubles? He gave us all the key to a joy filled life when He spoke to apostles after His resurrection. He said, “Follow me.”

Think Spring!

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March 14, 2014

It has been a very long winter this year. The cold and the snow keep coming and it feels like it will never end! Blizzards and Polar Vortexes already had us in a mid-winter slump before that foolish groundhog decided we should have a lot more of this abysmal weather. Now, finally, spring is just around the corner. It is almost in reach. It is time to pull out some last ditch winter survival tactics to get us through these last difficult days.

Have an indoor picnic. Just pack up a basket with sandwiches, chips, lemonade, or whatever your favorite picnic foods might be. Spread a blanket on the living room floor and have your lunch right there! Everyone will have fun without sunburn or any insects to shoo away!

Start some seedlings for planting when the ground thaws. This can even work as a homeschool assignment. Get a dozen small pots, some soil, and your seeds. Plant the seeds and chart their growth. When the warm weather arrives transfer them to a garden or a flower box.

Build a fort and camp inside. Get some sleeping bags, and make s’mores in the oven or microwave. (If you have a fireplace, it is even better!) Look up some constellations online and stargaze while you are indoors.

There is another thing we like to do in March, but this is not as easy and is a little bit expensive. We visit the Great Wolf Lodge Indoor Waterpark! Even if the snow is falling outside, it is swimsuit weather inside! The boys spend two days riding the water slides and having a ton of fun!

I have a feeling that this year everyone in my house is really going to appreciate the spring thaw; but, while we wait, we definitely plan to make the best of it!

Imitation vs. Mastery

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January 13, 2014 by Catherine Schembri Leave a Comment

My boys have a rather low frustration threshold. Unfortunately, it is coupled with a desire to do a lot of amazing things. They are great imitators and can copy comedy routines or movie lines by simply observing them for a little while. Unfortunately, there are many things that cannot be imitated. Things that require a lot of work and attention – like championship swimming.

The boys have always loved the water. When they were little, we spent entire summers poolside, and they would have only been happier if they had gills and never had to come out onto dry land. One day, when they were not quite six years old, I noticed that a sports network was airing a world championship swimming event. Naturally, I turned it on and my sons watched the competitors with rapt attention.

The next day we went swimming and my kids unraveled. They were trying to swim like those guys on TV and, as you can imagine, it was not going well. It took almost an hour to calm them down and convince them that swimming at that level required a combination of God given talent, years of intensive practice, and a whole lot of determination. If everyone could do it we wouldn’t be so fascinated by the athletes we were watching the day before!

There were similar reactions to other things – like difficult video games that left them stuck on hard levels for hours, finding our way halfway through a Lego model only to realize we made an error a few pages back, and new math concepts.

I was a different kind of child. I was the one who would untangle Christmas lights, sort things into alphabetical order, or count how many jellybeans it took to fill a jar. I knew I could not change my children’s temperaments, but I could probably help them to understand the importance of patience and practice.

One day I pulled out some building blocks and challenged them to a contest. We would all try to build the tallest tower. The one who could build the tallest one would be the winner.

Both boys immediately began stacking their blocks higher and higher. They were making rapid progress while I was just finishing my base. First one tower fell, then the other. I encouraged them to try again while I kept building. Again I heard crashing blocks. I kept working and invited them to try one more time. After the third time, I asked them to join me and to put ALL of the blocks on my tower which was finally starting to grow. They eagerly joined in.

We had a very impressive building when we were finished! After we admired our work for a little while I sat them down and I held two blocks. First I put them on top of each other so they were very tall. We held our breath while they wobbled and then we watched them tumble down. After that, I put one flat and stood the other on top of it. It was slightly sturdier, but I was able to knock it down with one finger. The third time, I just put one on top of the other. It was low to the ground, but it didn’t move unless I shoved it. They enjoyed the visual lesson, and I went on to teach them about foundations.

I showed them how I had built my tower. It had a wide solid base that was several layers tall. The following layers were not as wide, but they were similar. I did this all the way up to the top and, in the end, I had a very sturdy structure. All things that are strong and built to last need a strong foundation – a house, a talent, a career, and our faith.

Great athletes have to sacrifice and spend hours perfecting their game; musicians have to practice, practice, practice. Getting through a difficult level on a game (or a hard time in our lives) may require consulting an outside source for help and a lot of fortitude. Building a great Lego model (or a piece of furniture, or even a house) requires following a plan and sticking to the instructions. Figuring out the math means understanding the concept – not just putting the right numbers on a page. We can try to reach the top immediately, but it will only be frustrating. All of these things create a solid base to build upon.

Watch babies learn to walk, or children figuring out cause and effect. While it may seem that what they are doing is simply play – they are learning about practice, mastery, and perseverance.

Since that day at the pool, my sons have taken on quite a few difficult endeavors. They began mixed martial arts classes and have spent years developing their skills. They still love the water, and have become strong swimmers. Video games – (cough) um – it is still no fun to get stuck on a level, and there may occasionally be some ugly noise over it, but there has been great progress! They also build some really amazing Legos, and my boys are really good at math, too.

Why I’m Celebrating Basketball!

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December 27, 2013 by Catherine Schembri 4 Comments

This weekend I will have the thrill of watching my boys play their first basketball game as members of an official team. I know this doesn’t sound like very much to be thrilled about – millions of kids play on basketball teams all over the world, right? Of course they do! But I am thrilled anyway!

About ten years ago, when I was learning what Asperger Syndrome was all about, I was told my boys would never have the coordination to dribble a basketball or to make a basket. I was also told that they would not do well playing team sports and they would probably prefer to do things alone. The picture was fairly bleak. I was to expect withdrawn children who would be weak, clumsy, and unable to interact with their peers.

The laundry list of reasons that Boy One and Boy Two would not ever be able to participate in this (or most team sports) was long. I was told that their poor gross motor skills, sensory overload, inability to engage with team members, trouble with sportsmanship, inability to process information at a rapid pace, poor stamina, (etc., etc., etc.) would make basketball unattainable for them.

I understood the information, processed it, and then I went out and bought a bunch of sports toys. I was not about to tell my kids there was anything that they couldn’t do! (Of course, I didn’t tell them that they had Asperger Syndrome until much later in their life either – but that is another story for another day.) My husband started playing ball games with them.

For a long time it didn’t matter, their athletic interests were elsewhere which was great – because swimming and mixed martial arts were making them strong, focused, and more coordinated.

Then it happened. Earlier this year they got a basketball bug. They spent a lot of hours in the spring and summer months shooting baskets and trying to get some skills. When they had the chance to try out for a team in October, my guys were ready.

The coach and their teammates have been extremely helpful. Every week the boys look forward to the practices and whenever they can get time on a court it is all about working on their dribbling and shooting.

I cannot wait to sit in the gym and cheer them on. Every time I watch my sons achieve something that the experts told me to avoid, I cannot help but feel proud.

I’m so glad my boys decided to take a chance, and I am glad I never told them that there are things in this world that they “can’t” do. I know they won’t succeed at every endeavor, but I want them to always try their best to attain the things that they want.

Baby Books

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November 13, 2013 by Catherine Schembri Leave a Comment

My boys were still young when I saw my first teenage meltdown from a parent’s perspective. I was (unfortunately) in the crossfire as a young girl became inconsolable over a situation and then turned all of her frustration toward her mother.

My heart broke for both of them and I quickly excused myself to let them work it out. Before I managed to make it past earshot I heard “the h word”. Hate. In her frenzy this poor child was insisting through her sobs that she hated her mother and that she knew that her mother hated her.

As I mentioned, my guys were still young – but I tried to imagine what it would be like if either one of them ever said such a thing to me, or even worse, believed for one second that I really hated them or wished they weren’t born! I comforted myself for a few minutes contemplating how many things I did to show my love for them. I considered how I began each day telling them that I loved them and ended each day the same way. Then I mentally chided myself for a few more minutes when I arrived at reality. It was just plain silly to think that in a moment of high drama my goodnight kisses would save me from the wrath of teenage angst.

The problem with words is that once they are spoken they are gone. Even the ones we treasure are difficult to recall with absolute clarity. I realized at that moment that what I needed were some touchstones. I wanted my boys to have a way to measure how much they are loved and wanted.

When I make up my mind to do something, it gets done. I began to show them where to look when they needed reassurance. We sat down with my pregnancy journal and their baby books. There they could see more than five years of carefully chronicled photos and lovingly penned thoughts about how amazing they are. I showed them the scrapbooks from their grade school years, too. They have seen all of our photo albums and I set up my computer’s screen saver so that it became a slideshow starring Boy One and Boy Two. These pictures tell the story of their lives in a parade of Kodak moments.

When they got to be a little bit more mature and slightly reluctant to snuggle together looking at cute baby pics, I added something new. I bought a leather bound journal and began jotting down a few sentences every night about the day we just shared and how much I love them. I never miss an entry. We have filled one book and begun another. If the day ever comes when one of them accuses me of hating him, I hope he will turn to these touchstones and see that there has always been love – and there always will be.

The Numbers Don’t Lie

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September 23, 2013 by Catherine Schembri Leave a Comment

In March I wrote about the screening process I use when deciding what can or cannot go on the iPods in our house. It was kind of funny and I always knew the lyrics that my kids were singing along to. It was fairly easy to settle on music selections because even if I did not particularly care for the genre I was happy that the words were not disgusting or offensive.

Then came the summer. We spent less time studying and that meant more time with the earbuds plugged in. It seemed like a good alternative to screen time and when I reminisced about how much time I spent listening to music at that age I knew that this was normal teen behavior. I did not really think much about it at first, but soon it became apparent that every time these guys were listening to music they weren’t getting along.

It is hard to explain – they weren’t really fighting about anything, but they would become easily annoyed. Their tone of voice became surly and there might be a push or a shove as they walked past one another. It took a little while, but I finally put two and two together. The combination of the volume and the asynchronous beats are rather chaotic and my guys have never been very good with sensory assault.

Immediately I saw an opportunity and in swooped Super Homeschool Mom to the rescue. I set up a bed with lots of pillows and a cozy blanket. I grabbed a blood pressure cuff, Boy One, and an iPod.

I had the boy get as comfortable as possible. He reclined back and had his arms up on pillows too. We took a baseline blood pressure and pulse and then I began the experiment.

My beautiful and healthy son had a blood pressure of 95/59 and a pulse of 64. I had him press the play button and the music began pumping into his ears. I kept the volume in the median range and made sure he did not move or sing along. I wanted him to remain perfectly still.

After a minute we took another vital signs reading. He was sure that in his zen-like state that if anything his numbers would be lower. He was as calm as could be, right?

You can see that he was surprised when he saw that his blood pressure had climbed to 105/61 and his pulse had increased by 16 beats to 80!

He doubled down on his relaxation. Now he closed his eyes, did some deep breathing, turned to his left side and lowered the volume. If we were grading effort, he would have had an A+. He did manage to bring the lower number which indicates his resting blood pressure (diastolic) down to 51. Unfortunately the pressure in the arteries when his heart was beating (systolic) climbed a little bit higher to 112 and his pulse continued to climb. It was now 15 beats per minute faster at 95.

As the saying goes – the numbers don’t lie. I had successfully demonstrated the effect the music was having on my kids. Then I told them to factor in what dancing around and singing along must do.

As a little bonus I was able to give a refresher course about the autonomic nervous system and the circulatory system while I made a case for a better variety of music.

You can probably tell that we had some fun with this. The exercise left an impression that the boys will not forget and it was much more effective than a lecture.

I Prayed for This Child. . .

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August 30, 2013 by Catherine Schembri 2 Comments

I prayed for this child, and the LORD has granted me what I asked of him..
1 Samuel 1:27

Oh, I definitely prayed – and God blessed me doubly with twins! But now those sweet little bundles are teens with eyes that roll, mouths that like to test sassy new tones, and hearts that have become prone to drama and angst. I get daily opportunities to remember that my greatest desire was to have the opportunity to love these boys.

The Eye Roll

In addition to the new and strange vocal patterns emitting from their mouths, my sons have been enveloped in an evil fog that erases their memories! They are forgetting to pick up after themselves, which chores they were asked to complete, what time they are supposed to be showered and ready for bed, how much they love each other, and who possesses the authority in this home. I’m told that this condition could last for several years.

The "Mom is an Idiot" Face

There are multiple occasions each day when I stand at the crossroads. I can either devolve into a screeching shrew and dress my kids down, or remember why they were given to me and provide gentle correction.

It can be so hard not to take all of these things personally! I will admit, I have had a few pity parties where I wondered how it was possible that these children could be so self centered, so ungrateful, so insolent! After everything I have done for them!! The nerve!

If my mother were to read this, she would probably laugh. After raising four of us, she is pretty familiar with this type of parental anguish and although I am sure it is hard to believe, I was often the cause. *sheepish grin* I spent most of my teen years in my room behind a closed door, reading and avoiding human contact. People stopped talking to me after a while because all I ever said was “No,” or “I don’t care.” I’m sure it was a challenge not to clobber me and she probably practiced a lot of constraint.

Signs of a Possible Teen Invasion

Last night I found myself at that crossroads again. I was at my wits end with two crabby boys who were feeding off of each others’ bad moods. A meltdown felt inevitable – possibly my own! Instead, I took Boy Two out with me to run an errand. We had some time alone to talk and it was good. We did something nice for Boy One while we were out so when we came home we had a surprise for him that smoothed the remaining ruffled feathers. Suddenly there was love again in a house that was a powder keg just a little while before. A few small things and now everyone felt loved, appreciated, and content – crisis averted.

It isn’t always going to be a happy Walton’s Mountain ending, so I hope my discipline is wise, constructive and that it is given and received with love. I pray that I always remember to see my boys with a lens of grace since it was only through generous amounts of grace that I survived my own youth. (Okay, and adulthood!) If I am lucky, they will remember the love most of all.

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.
1 Peter 4:8

The Trauma List

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July 26, 2013

My children have an amazing ability to remember the things that have traumatized them. As a result, their “I will NEVER do that again!” list is rather extensive. If one of them considers trying something on the list his brother quickly reminds him why the item is on the list.

Sometimes, things just happen. The neighbor’s German Shepard jumps over the fence to chase a cat and the kids have to run for the high ground of the playground equipment. A sunny day suddenly turns dark and we get caught in a cloudburst, or we have to wait at an intersection as a parade with marching bands and ceremonial shot gun blasts goes by.

Other times, it is my own fault – I don’t prepare properly for something. Like when they were six years old and we went to the local minor league baseball game. I was not aware that the team would be putting on a fireworks display. As beautiful as fireworks are, they are also loud. We had purposely avoided fireworks prior to this because of the boys’ sensory issues. As the lovely show exploded into color over our heads, we ran to the car like we were dodging incoming mortars. If I had done a little research, I could have left early or possibly even made it exciting or magical for them. Fireworks were promptly placed in the “never again” list.

As they grow older it is my job to remind them that they recall things from a small child’s perspective. They are now thirteen with an arsenal full of coping skills. While I don’t force them to do things they are anxious about, I do try to encourage them to revisit their opinions and try again. Usually the most important element is that they are around people who make them feel safe, and we don’t overdo it. We slowly and carefully tilt the scene so they they can garner a new perspective.

They now pet dogs (on leashes) don’t mind parades (but won’t go out of their way to see one) and have found ways to pass the time when we have thunder storms. (They have even done well through two hurricanes!) They would not budge on fireworks. Going to a fireworks display involves driving to a destination, getting there early, (more time to fret) and then there are crowds and traffic to deal with in order to get home. Since so many things can go wrong, we haven’t pushed the issue.

Last weekend we were invited to visit with friends at a lake community in the Pocono Mountains. We packed up food, toys, clothes, and were looking forward to a lot of fun. As we walked in, the first person to greet my boys said, “We are so glad you are here! You are going to LOVE the fireworks!” Both boys promptly turned around, and headed straight back to the car. The house – which was right on the lakefront -was also a front row seat to the community’s Fourth of July Weekend Fireworks show!

We talked for a little while and they were able to relax. It was still early and they had friends waiting for them. I promised that if they still wanted to leave when it was time for the fireworks that we would go. They picked up their water guns, joined their friends, and they had a wonderful time.

Time passed and it began to get dark. People from all around the community began streaming down the path beside the house and toward the lake. Night had crept up on us and it was time to make a decision. As it turned out, the boy they were having the most fun with was not a big fan of fireworks either. The three of them decided that if they could stay inside and play their hand held video games they would be okay. The show started, and it got a bit loud but I peeked in and they were all fine.

I returned to the deck to enjoy the show – my first live fireworks in 13 years! Soon the thee boys were all beside me. I couldn’t believe it! I didn’t make a big fuss, but I did grab their hands for a squeeze in recognition of their bravery. The longer they watched, the more excited they became. I nonchalantly mentioned that there would be big finale with a ton of explosions all at once. They stayed put.

I realize I might be a bit biased but even through the blur of my tears, I think that was the most magnificent fireworks display in the history of the world. When it ended they could not stop talking about it – for days.

They are learning – one experience at a time – that on the other side of fear and anxiety is a wonderful world. One with rollercoasters, waterslides, the loyalty of a good dog, and even fireworks.

Mom's Teachable Moment

2016-01-20T18:58:00.004-05:00

June 27, 2013

We still use a traditional academic calender – and in this area the school year runs from September through June. As I sit to write this we are in our final push to complete the curriculum that was fresh, new, and exciting in September.

The same textbooks we couldn’t wait to start are a bit dog eared and some of the pages are loosening from their spiral bindings. I see the children counting the remaining pages and doing the mental math as they wonder how many days they have left of each subject.

The freshly sharpened pencils with new erasers that filled the boxes are now short, stubby, eraser-less and scattered all around the house.

The boys who sat up straight in the fall have a slumped posture and spend more time fiddling with the sensory items than looking at their books. I felt like Sisyphus as I took a fourth attempt at explaining today’s math lesson.

It is a Monday, it is gray, and it is pouring rain. My joints are aching with lupus, my head is pounding, and my kids cannot focus for more than five minutes.

I’m not sure who was more relieved when the clock showed that it was lunch time. “Okay boys, you may put the books away.”

For a moment, they didn’t say anything, but I could see them exchange a glance. They were wondering if I meant to the side or all the way away.

I clearly had a choice. I could keep at it and we could all become crabby and frustrated, or I could just pack it in. Packing it in won.

The day is not a complete loss. As I prepare their lunch, they are watching a documentary film about Irena Sendler which fits nicely with our study of World War II. I will let them eat on the couch as they watch.

I know that one of the best parts of homeschooling is the ability to do this. The funny thing is – having the flexibility to work out their sensory issues, bad days, and generalized grumpiness without punishments has almost caused me to forget that they even have sensory issues, bad days, and generalized grumpiness! They have developed such good coping skills that this is rarely an issue while they are doing schoolwork.

I have always left room for “uh oh, this isn’t going to work!” days into our school year by working through all of the bank holidays and snow days that the district takes off. It has worked out well for us. We wind up so far ahead that we can go out and do fun stuff when the weather gets nice. It hadn’t occurred to me to use one on a Miserable Monday!

Today’s Teachable Moment was mine. My boys will be turning 13 in a few weeks, and they are growing up way too fast. If I have the chance to take a potentially rotten day and turn it into a wonderful one I am absolutely going to take it.

Celebration Day

2016-01-20T18:53:00.006-05:00

May 23, 2013 by Catherine Schembri

My boys are identical twins. They share an amazing bond that I cannot even begin to comprehend, but (on most days) I feel privileged to witness. They tell me that they enjoy being an identical twin, but there are some things about it that are not so great.

For instance, about 90% of people who meet them ask them which one is older. For a host of reasons, I have never told them which one was born first. Mostly, I didn’t ever want one to think that they were better simply because he took a breath about ten seconds before his sibling.

For a while, when people asked this question both boys would look at the inquisitor like he was crazy. “We are the same age,” they would reply. There was even a little but of “Duh!” in their tone as they wondered why people didn’t grasp the concept of twins.

That is not really the worst of it though. You should hear what comes after – the part where my children become a real life version of that “can you spot the difference?” game. As a new mother I was shocked as complete strangers would begin picking my children apart right in front of my face. “Oh, that one looks grumpier.” or “He’s definitely chubbier.” “Do his eyes cross?” “That one has a rash on his cheeks.”

I worried that this was going to cause problems as the boys got older, and I was right. When my sons began to understand the constant compare and contrast activities that they were causing, they also began their quest to be “the cool one”. It can be comical – but mostly it is sad. As I mentioned last month, I want them to always have each other’s back and to fortify each other.

As their mother I have always tried to be very conscious about celebrating the differences in my boys while emphasizing how well they complement each other. Unfortunately, given our circumstances it can be difficult to carry this out. They are in the same grade, they enjoy the same sports, they like the same music, and they do the same community service. While this makes my life easy, it is absolutely their own choice. these two LIKE to be together. We even did an extensive renovation project so that they could each have their own bedroom if they wanted. They still share bunk beds. While they are definitely the best of friends, it does not stop their constant competition.

I really lamented over this for a while. How could I teach them to cheer one another on when they were always engaged in the same activity? They even share their birthday!

Then it occurred to me. On a random day, just because, we would celebrate one child. The twist would be that instead of letting the Boy of Honor choose the course of events, his brother and I could do the planning. It gave us an opportunity to think about what we love about him, and what he enjoys, too. The honorer was just as invested in the day as the honoree the way any hostess or event planner would be. He also has the chance to be of service to his brother – by cheerfully putting away all of the laundry, or bringing him a snack. He gets to be selfless by allowing his sibling to choose the game to play. He gets to be creative, by coming up with a special ideas, a drawing, or a dinner plan.

The result is always good. It isn’t elaborate or star spangled but it is planned with love. I think this could probably work well in any home when siblings get to the competitive age. After all, deep down – we all want to know that we are loved and appreciated.

A Third Cord

2016-01-20T18:48:00.004-05:00

April 20, 2013 by Catherine Schembri

Have you ever known a person who simply could not tolerate seeing other people happy? I have known a few. They are the ones who like to make small digs about couples who are happy and cannot wait to share tidbits of bad news when marriages are in trouble. What I didn’t know was that little children do very similar things!

It shouldn’t surprise me anymore. It began happening when the boys were just small. They would be having fun with friends or classmates at a playground or a birthday party and they would all be having a blast. Then I would see one boy, off by himself wearing a sad face.

I would quickly go over to see what was the matter. Inevitably, one of their playmates had set forth a plan to steal away with just one of my sons and exclude the other. It was not consistently one boy – in fact, most of their peers still could not tell them apart – it seemed that the goal was simply to divide them.

Of course I want my kids to recognize their individuality. I encourage them to do things independently. I even celebrate their differences. When one does not care for something that the other boy likes it makes me happy!

That said, the pursuit of rugged individualism stops right where a brother’s feelings begin. Things can get rough for my guys, especially with regard to social skills. They have had to navigate more than their share of obstacles already – and I am sure there are many more to come.

I cannot count the times I thanked God because he gave me twins. My wish is that they will stay close and always have a lifeline during difficult times. It never occurred to me that anyone would ever want to break the special bond that they share until I was a witness to it – over and over again.

Because my guys had difficulty reading emotions and understanding people’s intent they didn’t recognize the pattern right away. Thankfully, their discernment is improving with age, but as younger boys they would happily follow any pal who proclaimed himself a friend. I knew I had to help them out with this.

So, how does one teach loyalty to a five year old with Asperger Syndrome? Not easily.

I began with the Aesop Fable – The Old Man and the Bundle of Sticks.

Then we did our own stick bundling experiments to reinforce the moral of the story. I made some snacks with pretzel sticks tied with shoestring licorice, too.
We began talking about friends. Good friends include everyone in the fun. I explained that they might not always share the same friends and enjoy the same people, but I Implored them to remember that a true friend cares about us. A real friend would never exclude or hurt anyone that we loved. Friendships should be an enhancement to our lives.

I also thought of this verse:

And if a man prevail against one, two shall withstand him: a threefold cord is not easily broken.
Ecclesiastes 4:12

Friends should be like a third cord – a person who makes them stronger and better.

We have revisited this idea many times over the past eight years. They are figuring out that people come and go in our lives. Even the ones who are very close to us can change and move on without us – but family is forever.

Just this afternoon I overheard them discussing what they hope to do when they are older. It was decided that when they get their first apartment it would be so great if they could be roommates. I think that maybe these little teachable moments are paying off.