<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;D0ACSHw7eip7ImA9WhRUGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113</id><updated>2012-01-30T21:09:29.202-05:00</updated><category term="Mama Monday" /><category term="Sweetie Saturday" /><title>Spina Bifida Moms</title><subtitle type="html">Showing the world that my physical disability has little to do with my ability to raise a great kid!</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>737</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/KytF" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/kytf" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIMR38_fSp7ImA9WhRUGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-7898767652379988831</id><published>2012-01-28T14:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T09:16:26.145-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T09:16:26.145-05:00</app:edited><title>She Knows What She Likes</title><content type="html">A bit more than a month past Christmas, and... she's back to playing her "usual" games.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, I'm not talking about Sweetie not minding her behavior anymore, no longer concerned about getting on Santa's "Good" list. I have to say, she's a pretty good kid most of the time anyway, Santa or no.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'm talking about actual games, here. Or fun time activities, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Back to spending several hours at a time - if we let her &amp;nbsp;- playing with the Legos she's always had and with the fridge magnets she calls her "friends." In fact, she's just rediscovered a Lego set she got last Easter, I think, and has been building "contraptions" almost nonstop with the plans included there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She hasn't touched her DS in at least a couple weeks. Probably more. And even when she did play, it was only very sporadically.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Likewise with the &lt;a href="http://www.animationish.com/lessons.php"&gt;animation program&lt;/a&gt; installed for her on our computer at Christmas time. And the make-it-yourself marble run I thought she'd go completely gaga over. &lt;i&gt;Eh&lt;/i&gt;. All fun things, sure. She has fun when encouraged to use them. But, yah. &lt;i&gt;Eh&lt;/i&gt;. She knows Legos. She loves crafts. She gets lost in her self-created magnet world very easily. These are the things she knows. These are the things she enjoys the most.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GnAcTkLbAT8/TyRKExP7wSI/AAAAAAAAAGY/3rCjvqzgmrE/s1600/IMG_4677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GnAcTkLbAT8/TyRKExP7wSI/AAAAAAAAAGY/3rCjvqzgmrE/s320/IMG_4677.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I'm not complaining. I'm glad she seems to need such few things to make her happy. She is not the type of kid who constantly nags for bigger and funner and more STUFF! Give her some quiet time, some paper, scissors and tape, and she is good to go for the rest of the afternoon. Yeah, her art table looks atrocious. Hardly one square inch of free space to be found. But it's all good to her. She can easily find what she needs to create what she wants. And will come up with the elaborate story, to boot, to go along with the teeny tiny Secret Martian Kitty Ninja Superhero she just cut out of the paper scraps she's collected in a snowman gift bag.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UrYoM1H-WWM/TyRLOBqXzVI/AAAAAAAAAGo/Bddp67eTR-0/s1600/IMG_0065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="306" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UrYoM1H-WWM/TyRLOBqXzVI/AAAAAAAAAGo/Bddp67eTR-0/s320/IMG_0065.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
She says she doesn't like to read - never has. Why, I asked. She loves for Daddy and I to read to her. She loves hearing stories. And she's a great reader, reading at at least a grade level or 2 above where she "should" be. So why not like to read? "Because," she says. She'd much rather be doing something, than sitting down motionless except for flipping pages. Hmmm. Yes, I understand that. Even though she's not what I'd call an "active" kid - not into sports or even typically wishing to play outside - she does like to be active by building, creating and imagining. Reading just doesn't cut it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yeah, it's a bit maddening to see all these Christmas gifts - given by us and other family members as well - just sitting by the wayside. But, like I said, I'm pretty okay with having a kid who knows what she likes and can independently entertain herself for hours doing what she loves with minimal needs. Happy for her to be engaged in creative pursuits that exercise her brain.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, like the Lego set she's just brought out a few days ago, I'm sure she'll come back to these newer toys again someday, and be thrilled to have something different to play with for awhile.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-7898767652379988831?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/myhqH_HAV-3skssZI9zROX6NTWU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/myhqH_HAV-3skssZI9zROX6NTWU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/jQ1o2x84o6o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/7898767652379988831/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=7898767652379988831" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/7898767652379988831?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/7898767652379988831?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/jQ1o2x84o6o/she-knows-what-she-likes.html" title="She Knows What She Likes" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GnAcTkLbAT8/TyRKExP7wSI/AAAAAAAAAGY/3rCjvqzgmrE/s72-c/IMG_4677.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2012/01/she-knows-what-she-likes.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQFQno7cCp7ImA9WhRWEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-9092410189373204384</id><published>2011-12-30T15:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T15:35:13.408-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-30T15:35:13.408-05:00</app:edited><title>Everything Will Be Okay In The End...</title><content type="html">... If it's not okay, it's not the end. (author unknown)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As 2011 comes to an end, I look to this quote to help me realize a brighter future.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
2011 has been a tough year for us. Tougher than the usual tough. Hubby's subcontracting job was slow to produce jobs for him and his dad. I quit one job in order to gain more hours (more "mom friendly" hours, that is) elsewhere - but now those hours aren't producing themselves either. And Sweetie continues to struggle with the aftermath of her treatment for &lt;a href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/07/too-much-excitement.html"&gt;Ly&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/07/its-not-knowing-thats-so-hard.html"&gt;me&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/11/mom-sense-or-overly-sensitive.html"&gt;Disease&lt;/a&gt; this past summer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I am realizing that I've been living with &lt;a href="http://www.adrenalfatigue.org/what-is-adrenal-fatigue"&gt;adrenal fatigue&lt;/a&gt;. Shocker, huh? I'm not stressed at all! My life is beautiful and calm and perfect in every way. Ommmmm....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
HA!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A new year is upon us and, with that, a new outlook of greatness for all!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hubby and his dad are currently busy again with their subcontracting job, as well as side projects. We have no current reason to suspect anything but continued regularity and new jobs by the brimful...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hubby is also newly installed as one of the latest artisans at &lt;a href="http://www.mountainsidegalleryandgifts.com/"&gt;Mountainside Gallery and Gifts&lt;/a&gt;. He's selling his beautiful wine bottle stoppers and pens, all lovingly handcrafted out of exotic and beautiful woods. He's so talented! Some sales have already been made and we expect more great things to come from this!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now that the holiday season is on its way out, I suspect that students and parents alike will get back to the grindstone and start enrolling for tutoring sessions again. Gotta ace those ACTS and SATS! Soon I will be up to my eyeballs in students in need, I just know it!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(And, I have to say, whereas the lack of income from not tutoring has been trying, I have otherwise enjoyed having my late afternoons and evenings even more free to spend time with my family.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As we struggled with finances, I simultaneously feel so incredibly blessed to have the family and friends that we do. Friends who have bartered with us and donated to us. Family who has helped us out in all sorts of wonderful ways. Yes, we didn't have the financial income this year that we continue to hope for. But yet, in some ways, I still feel like one of the richest women in the world...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie is back to a strict probiotic regimen, accompanied by immune boosting supplements and a mindfulness about the amount of gluten and processed foods that enter her body. Her most recent bout of stomach upset she experienced just yesterday morning produced only one episode of vomiting, as opposed to a half a day or more of ickiness during her previous 2 episodes since the beginning of November. So, all things considered, I think things are improving for her as well. Still - keeping track/watching the pattern, considering future steps needed to help her along. Her attitude of optimism remains as unflappable as ever!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I am taking better care of myself as well. Regular vitamins and adrenal support supplements. A better diet. More rest when I can get it. Hubby is my number one supporter, making sure I'm eating more fruits and veggies every day and cooking as many vitamin and mineral rich yummy dinners as ever to keep me on track to getting my system back into shape. I am thankful that my ears have been open enough to hear about adrenal fatigue from trusted, knowledgeable sources and that I was able to recognize the symptoms in myself when I did. I am open to the course of treatment I'm on being the right one for me or, if not, being able to likewise recognize this and move on to a different course of action or even the possibility of a different diagnosis.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I will be healthier in the coming year, and beyond...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie will be healthier in the coming year, and beyond...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We will have enough financial income to pay for the necessities of life as well as just a few fun additions...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We recognize that only we can make effective changes... changes don't just happen upon us...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-9092410189373204384?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uDPiefjFXKIgycFF4E48ejZT6ms/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uDPiefjFXKIgycFF4E48ejZT6ms/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/lFwffPEUxXo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/9092410189373204384/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=9092410189373204384" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/9092410189373204384?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/9092410189373204384?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/lFwffPEUxXo/everything-will-be-okay-in-end.html" title="Everything Will Be Okay In The End..." /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/12/everything-will-be-okay-in-end.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUCQXczcCp7ImA9WhRXGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-2312507624198078122</id><published>2011-12-26T18:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-26T22:41:00.988-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-26T22:41:00.988-05:00</app:edited><title>This Christmas</title><content type="html">A week ago we took you to the mall. It was our annual pilgrimage, your yearly visit with Old St. Nick for your birthday. It was Monday evening - the day before your 9th birthday -and, even with it being only days away from Christmas, the mall really wasn't so badly crowded as it could have been.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We waited in line and I took out the comb and hair clip I'd slipped in my pocket before leaving home - something I'd forgotten in years past, making it necessary for Daddy to run off to the drug store to purchase emergency hair-taming apparatus. But this year I was prepared, reaching up - UP! - further than ever before, to tease the snarls out of your tresses and clip a thick strand away from your pretty face.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wonder if we'll be visiting the Old Man next year or if, by 10 years old, you will find our tradition silly. I wonder, if we do go next December, will I be able to reach to style your hair at all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now, we've just had Christmas. It was a pretty great day, I must admit. Starting with Daddy and I being awakened before 6:30 a.m. by your singing to yourself in your room. You weren't &lt;i&gt;supposed&lt;/i&gt; to wake us up until 7:00 a.m. - and that's precisely when you came in. You crawled into our bed, settled between us (as much as She-Who-Cannot-Stop-Moving-Ever can settle, that is) and that's how we all stayed for another good half hour or so, playing a rousing edition of Christmas cattails (pick a theme and say a word. Whatever that word ends in, the next person has to say a word that begins with that same letter.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Eventually we made our way downstairs, starting with stockings, then breakfast of homemade cinnamon buns, and then finally the opening of presents, starting at close to 9:00 a.m. As much as I sometimes regret that you won't have siblings to grow up with, I do believe that Christmas morning with just the 3 of us is pretty much ideal. You aren't egged on by nor egging on a brother or sister, seeing who can be the most excited, the most hyped up, the most hysterically crazed about getting to and opening presents as soon as humanly possible. No. We three take our time, enjoy the morning, and appreciate the gifts (both material and not) before us. Love it!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This year I'd say you were the most laid back I'd seen you on Christmas morning. I thought there were at least a few gifts you'd go absolutely wild over, and I was excited for you to unwrap them. Instead, you were calmly, honestly, politely pleased and grateful. Not the big rush of pure joy I was expecting from you, but still pretty great in the end.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now, you and I have some time off together. You had a fun day today, moving from new activity to new activity. I love the games we tend to get you/you tend to be given! Building and crafting toys and activities that can be done again and again and again, with you only being limited by your own imagination. An imagination, it seems to me, which is pretty darn limitless. This year seemed to be the year of the Choose Your Own Adventure Book. You've gotten 5 traditional versions of this style of book this birthday and Christmas combined, and one more super cool (if I do say so myself!) graphic comic book version called &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Meanwhile-Pick-Path-Story-Possibilities/dp/0810984237"&gt;Meanwhile&lt;/a&gt;. You'd never seen CYOA books before, but have quickly developed a great love for them, and I am excited for you that you're happy to dive into these adventurous new worlds of your own making.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, this Christmas may have been a financial challenge for us - as it usually is, actually - but we pulled it off pretty well, I'd say. I love how you appreciate the little gifts as much as the bigs one - sometimes more! I love that you can be given a gift handmade with love and be more thrilled with it than the more expensive and store-purchased popular game of the hour. This year's gift of the season for you? A hand-knit "dead fish hat," made by your Auntie. So awesome! You&amp;nbsp;have learned well, I know, that it's the thought behind a gift that counts the most. And you are genuinely appreciative, always.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Merry Christmas, Sweetie. And Happy 9th birthday too! Your last single digit year. Next Christmas may be a whole different situation. You may be too big - literally and figuratively - to submit yourself to the true meaning of the season. But for now - this Christmas, and all the Christmases we've been honored enough to have you as a part of our lives - have been completely and utterly as magical, mystical and marvelous as any Christmas ought to be.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You like to say that Daddy is Awesome, I'm The Best, and you're always Great. I say you are all three wrapped up into one and that, without you, I can't even imagine how life would be at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-2312507624198078122?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S-Z7gXq9QK5p22OnOEzH5IRBlZw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/S-Z7gXq9QK5p22OnOEzH5IRBlZw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/YNI9tZ6KRKM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/2312507624198078122/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=2312507624198078122" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/2312507624198078122?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/2312507624198078122?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/YNI9tZ6KRKM/this-christmas.html" title="This Christmas" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/12/this-christmas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0INQX47eCp7ImA9WhRSEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-6182448242692828704</id><published>2011-11-13T22:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T22:33:10.000-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-13T22:33:10.000-05:00</app:edited><title>"Mom" Sense? Or Overly Sensitive?</title><content type="html">She'd been sick for weeks. Maybe a month or more. Coldy. Stuffy. And then? A cough. Not too terrible during the day, but enough to keep her, and us, up at night. Finally I kept her home one day, just to see if some rest would help shake it. And it kind of did - the cough eased up a bit soon thereafter. But the congestion was still there. She blamed it on "fall allergies." I paid little attention to her position on the matter, though. Until finally Hubby and I informed her - "You know? People really rarely get fall allergies. This isn't allergies. You have a cold."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Fine. A simple cold. She's a trooper and never complains. She was well enough to continue going to school. Even seeming to get better! Until last Monday. Well, she &lt;i&gt;seemed&lt;/i&gt; better. So much so that, to be honest, I wasn't even thinking of her as sick any longer. But then, just as school was wrapping up for the day I got the call. The school nurse, informing me that Sweetie had just vomited all over herself. She needed to be picked up and, beyond that, to stay out of school until she was vomit free for 24 hours.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That evening, she was not well. I hoped it was a fluke. Thought it may actually have been! She was holding down sips of flat soda for a good couple of hours until... yeah, not so much. The rest of the evening was much the same. No, this wasn't a fluke. Obviously, she really was sick. Not to mention the nurse said this was, in fact, "going around."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But the next day - her required day out of school - she was fine. Feeling hungry, cautiously eating and drinking bland foods. Success! Good spirits, feeling better, all was A-okay. Back to school the next day and okay ever since.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But... her eyes. She just looks, you know, sickly. Dark circles shadow eyes. She's... quiet. Not that she's really ever been a rowdy kid when we're here at home. She can and does often play inside quietly and contentedly on her own - crafting or drawing or pretending. But now she's just, I don't know... tired acting and looking. Getting as much sleep as she ever has. But... she's just not herself. And, yes, we did change back the clocks - was it last weekend? Heck! I've been overly tired this week too! But, I don't know. She's not had difficulty adjusting to time changes before. And the circles... it's not just been this week. I've noticed them before. Often, actually. This past late spring and summer, for instance. And then she was, in fact, ill. Contracting and then fighting Lyme Disease. She was treated. She responded well. She seemed almost instantly better! All is well in the end, where this is concerned.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
...Or is it? Has the disease actually been kicked from her system? Can we even tell? I've read about and been told of the relatively common false negatives that occur from testing, especially from a person who's been recently treated for the disease. And I also know that, even when successfully treated, certain symptoms can crop up and stick with you for several months after finishing antibiotics. So maybe that's just it. She's good, but just still feeling the effects of this crazy disease... even though she has successfully rid it from her system.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or... maybe it's still with her. Maybe it will always be with her. Maybe she will feel worse and worser still. Lyme Disease affects so many people in almost just as many different ways. One person suffers from headaches. Another has terrible mood swings. Yet another deals with great fatigue and body aches and pains. Who knows - if this is what it is - what her specific issues may be long term.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or... maybe she's just struggling with this ongoing congestion bug. I do, after all, know of other kids who have had this apparent cold for many, many weeks straight through. It very well could be a particularly nasty cold strain that just won't let go.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Still... I'm keeping my eye on her. Tonight she complained of feeling "hungry" as I put her to bed, even though she reasoned out that she couldn't possibly be hungry since she'd just had a good dinner. I gave her a drink of water and told her to cuddle up with her "Love Bug" bear - a stuffed animal she only cuddles with when not feeling well. Love Bug has worked wonders in the past to make her feel much better. Here's hoping tonight is no different.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'm paying attention. I'm watching. If she continues to be sick, if she actually falls obviously ill again, I will be calling the doctor. She will be tested again. We will get to the bottom of what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She has never been a "sick kid". She's had one ear infection ever. She's a trooper. She doesn't complain. And when she is sick, she gets over it fast.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This time? It's just not fast enough for my liking...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-6182448242692828704?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I4Spqkp93Xl7KpW1cJDbFYY5-9Q/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/I4Spqkp93Xl7KpW1cJDbFYY5-9Q/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/nlsG7fdlQAQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/6182448242692828704/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=6182448242692828704" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/6182448242692828704?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/6182448242692828704?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/nlsG7fdlQAQ/mom-sense-or-overly-sensitive.html" title="&quot;Mom&quot; Sense? Or Overly Sensitive?" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/11/mom-sense-or-overly-sensitive.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IER344eyp7ImA9WhdUF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-3553579027789538731</id><published>2011-10-04T16:58:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T17:58:26.033-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-04T17:58:26.033-04:00</app:edited><title>Teaching That Which We Cannot Do</title><content type="html">You know that saying that goes, in part and paraphrased, "Those who can't do, teach."? Well, Hubby and I seem to be living examples of this.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We went to Sweetie's parent/teacher conference the other day. I had previously met her teacher at the parents open house the first week of school and I knew right then and there that I loved this woman. A long-time educator. Very dedicated! Very passionate! So enthusiastic! Years and years of exploring and adding to and adjusting her teaching philosophy. Just a really great teacher.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now? She has increased my love for her by demonstrating how well she has watched, thought about, and now teaches and manages our Sweetie.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She has also pegged Sweetie probably better than anyone has ever been able to verbalize it before by stating:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"I don't think I have ever met anyone as comfortable in their own skin" as Sweetie is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Wow. Yes. Exactly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie is happy to play with the girls or the boys or by herself. She gets along with all her classmates and they all seem to like her. But the truth is, she'd prefer to spend recesses and free time playing on her own, making up plays or songs in her head and then acting them out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If someone does think Sweetie's doing something a bit weird... &lt;i&gt;eh&lt;/i&gt;. Sweetie doesn't care. Probably doesn't even recognize that someone else thinks her actions are odd. Sweetie knows she's having fun and that's all that matters to her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We were at the Big Orange Box store this weekend, collecting parts and pieces for Sweetie's Halloween costume this year (a robot). One of the things we picked up was a small, plastic, blue pail that we'll spray paint silver. This will become her robot helmet. Well, Sweetie was wearing this blue pail on her head all throughout the store. Kids stared. Grownups smiled. One little girl asked her why she had a bucket on her head, to which Sweetie replied that it's going to be part of her robot costume (duh!). The girl looked at me and, with a smile, said, "She's silly." Did any of this embarrass Sweetie one little bit? Heck no! She was having fun! On her own! Not because others were paying attention to her. Hardly! No, she was plain old having fun, practicing her robot voice and Halloween look.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And speaking of Halloween costumes... who else but Sweetie would ever chose to be, and then &lt;a href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2008/10/mama-monday-461.html"&gt;revel in the act of being a stick of butter&lt;/a&gt;? Wouldn't kids think that was weird? How did she ever think of being something so odd? We may never know the answers to these questions, but I can tell you that little Miss Sweetie was nothing but pleased with herself - and her Daddy for making the costume - that particular year.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But. There is a downside to Sweetie's very internal, self confident nature. And that is that Sweetie lives on Sweetie time. Which is to say, since day one of Kindergarten, Sweetie has been a very competently skilled child - yes, but a very slow to action child. She'll get things done, for sure. She'll just get things done on her own time, thank you very much.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This has always been Sweetie's issue and continues to be her issue. But, at least for now, her teacher - after much thought - has decided that she won't make this be a real problem for Sweetie academically. Her teacher said she's thought about this a lot - whether or not she should truly get on Sweetie's case more to pick up the pace in her school work. But in the end, at least for now, she told us, "(Sweetie) isn't bothered by it (her own slow work speed), so I've decided I'm not going to be bothered by it."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;She assured us that Sweetie is not "goofing off", day dreaming, or otherwise being distracted or trying to get out of doing school work. She's happily doing the work she's given. She's just a very careful, very slow "doer". And Lord help us if there is any creative aspect to the work that needs to be done! Any drawing or coloring of pictures, for instance. Such a project as that is doomed to take Sweetie twice again as long to complete.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
Hubby has always tried to impress upon Sweetie - knowing her typical slower pace - that we don't care how long it takes her to do something, as long as she's getting things right.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well. We are having to change our tune a bit now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, it does matter how long it takes to get something done. I've explained to Sweetie, for instance, that she could write the most beautiful, detailed, creative story ever - a story that deserves the top grade! - but if that story's not ready to hand in until the day after the teacher says it's due... well, then. Your teacher has every right to give you the worst grade possible for your work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Timing counts. Deadlines mean something. Now means &lt;i&gt;now&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Getting back to Sweetie's comfortableness within her own skin... this means, too, that Sweetie is not affected by outside motivation. Her teacher has a coupon-based classroom in which students can earn and lose coupons based on things such as behavior and turning assignments in on time. But, see... Sweetie seems not all that interested in the coupons and what they can do for her (earn her prizes such as homework passes and snacks, among other things.) Such treats are nice, sure, but not nice enough to light a fire under her to get things done quicker.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hubby and I see this as each year's birthday for her and Christmas rolls around. Sweetie rarely ever &lt;i&gt;wants&lt;/i&gt; anything specific. She's not a very materialistic kid. I've had to gently guide her toward asking for whatever it is I know already she's going to be getting for Christmas. Last year, for instance, I felt she needed a sticker book because she has so many loose stickers around the house that she's collected from doctor's appointments and such and I thought it would be great for her to have a place to keep them all. And so, "a sticker book" became the thing she told people she really wanted from Santa last year.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(BTW - she got this sticker book and has not ONCE even opened it. Ever.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Still. Comfortable within her own skin. Not shy. A careful worker. An interested student. A top student with her skills. A well-liked kid. Self motivated. Non-materialistic.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
None - absolutely &lt;i&gt;none&lt;/i&gt; of that - sounds bad to me at all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And still, I wonder, how on Earth did we get a kid like this!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hubby and I are both shy, quiet people - always have been, and still are. I am certainly not as self confident or comfortable with myself as I should or could be, and neither, I think, is he. He was a distracted, day dreaming student. I was a decent student who did enough to get by, but never interested enough to surpass. And we are both, sadly, way more materialistic than we should be. My materialistic nature, though, has settled down within the last several years, I admit. I'd be much happier with a gift of a fun experience than a physical gift these days, for instance. But Hubby, I think, still tends toward the material gifts. He surely knows the wonder and awesomeness that can exist in gifts of experience, but he also needs/wants new boots, new tools, new clothes, etc., etc., etc...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So how is it that he and I have so successfully taught the importance of confidence, hard work, and true gifts to our growing little girl?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And here I repeat my opening thoughts... Those who can't do, teach.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Our actual lessons remain a mystery to me still. But I see this above statement as absolutely the truth.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We were not/are not this way, my child. Therefore you will be.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am motivated everyday to continue raising Sweetie just the way we have been, whether with purposeful lessons or happy "accidental" lessons "taught" on a daily basis, simply by seeing her flourish and grow and mature into the amazing little girl she continues to be.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We cannot do, but we are teaching well. Obviously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-3553579027789538731?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BL5nw4ZfdVfUFmj63PJ6CCoZx-0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BL5nw4ZfdVfUFmj63PJ6CCoZx-0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/0pQdaXvfVIk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/3553579027789538731/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=3553579027789538731" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/3553579027789538731?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/3553579027789538731?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/0pQdaXvfVIk/teaching-that-which-we-cannot-do.html" title="Teaching That Which We Cannot Do" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/10/teaching-that-which-we-cannot-do.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMCRHs_eCp7ImA9WhdUEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-8858180270625771403</id><published>2011-09-28T08:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T08:54:25.540-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-28T08:54:25.540-04:00</app:edited><title>Adventures in Things I Cannot Do</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YbjuD3ITHRE/ToMYNEgj8zI/AAAAAAAAAFs/1MXnvBWVmfM/s1600/IMG_4412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YbjuD3ITHRE/ToMYNEgj8zI/AAAAAAAAAFs/1MXnvBWVmfM/s320/IMG_4412.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pQzLSypRaUk/ToMYTRUS7hI/AAAAAAAAAFw/C91MVkKy7-4/s1600/IMG_4410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pQzLSypRaUk/ToMYTRUS7hI/AAAAAAAAAFw/C91MVkKy7-4/s320/IMG_4410.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;And this weekend? I think we (okay, they) are trying their hand at roller skating.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;Skiing, though. I've done that! Neither of &lt;i&gt;them&lt;/i&gt; has ever hit the slopes before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;I take pretty good pictures, though.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-8858180270625771403?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PStODOBzzCifIJuMoCtUDHtw8cM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PStODOBzzCifIJuMoCtUDHtw8cM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/AX0ZFL9KTzA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/8858180270625771403/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=8858180270625771403" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/8858180270625771403?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/8858180270625771403?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/AX0ZFL9KTzA/adventures-in-things-i-cannot-do.html" title="Adventures in Things I Cannot Do" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YbjuD3ITHRE/ToMYNEgj8zI/AAAAAAAAAFs/1MXnvBWVmfM/s72-c/IMG_4412.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/09/adventures-in-things-i-cannot-do.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkAFSHw7cSp7ImA9WhdWGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-2366623402347958412</id><published>2011-09-13T14:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T15:05:19.209-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-13T15:05:19.209-04:00</app:edited><title>"Abled" Parent</title><content type="html">If you haven't already figured it out by now, I am a thinker. So much so, at times, that it is to my detriment. I worry. I consider all the possibilities. I wonder how or what others think of the same situation from their viewpoint. I think. Therefore, I am.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And so, with that - you guessed it - I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. A lot of soul searching. No, it doesn't exactly help much that one of the places I work is an interfaith spiritual theology school where I have recently been doing a fair amount of reading and editing of coursework text. Learning, as I read, how to be truer to myself. How to be authentic. How to live my purpose. Be bold. Be brave.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I keep coming back to the same thing. Over and over again. It haunts me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have to write.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The specific thing that continues to run through my mind is the remembrance of a visit I once had, back nearly half my lifetime ago, to a fortune teller. A friend and I went - my friend writing down all the predictions this seer saw for my future. &amp;nbsp;And there, among them, was that I would be published. Twice over, in fact. One would be a sort an autobiography of sorts (uhhh, hello! Can anyone say "blog"?) And the other would be more of a fiction, she thought.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, I don't care what you're particular views on fortune tellers are. You may or may not take any stock in them whatsoever. That's fine. Heck, I don't even know exactly what my opinion of them are. But, I suppose, if tested, I'd have to say, "Why not? Why can't there be those among us who can see more deeply than others? Can see more clearly what laid before us and what's in store ahead? We all have our special talents."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And anyway, there were some other things she said that day that absolutely did make specific sense from my past or, as I lived and saw, came true in that day's near future.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For one thing - my meeting Hubby was predicted. And I did. At the time she said I would. He looked as she said he would. She had him pegged.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But, yeah... she predicted I'd be a published author. And here I sit, edging in closer and closer to 40 years on this earth, without having done a thing about making this happen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But then again, I always have really felt that this was sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy. See, I was told I was going to be a published author, so obviously it's going to happen. Somehow or another. And to actually get a move on to making this legitimately happen is to just put into motion what I was told by someone I'd do anyway. That's cheating. It's just supposed to happen "organically," isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At any rate, my current step has been to look around and see what kinds of books are out there for disabled women raising healthy children. Ask me to search for these books 9 or 10 years ago and I'd come up empty-handed for sure. But today? I'm pleased to say that there are a fair - not great, but fair - number of books and other published resources for disabled parents to turn to. That is progress, and I'm happy to see these few sources out there for parents, or potential parents, to turn to for answers and advice (not to mention, happy to be &lt;i&gt;among&lt;/i&gt; the sources they turn to with any questions and concerns regarding pregnancy and raising children.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
However... I'm still unclear what my particular bent would be in writing my own book on the topic of parenting when you're a disabled parent.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'm not a fiction writer. Let me tell the truth, please. Let me tell you &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; story. I can do that and I can do that well. But to fabricate a story, with characters and an interesting plot and storyline? Uh uh. Can't do it. Don't make me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And... you know? This whole "being a disabled woman raising a happy and healthy child" thing? It's going okay. And not, honestly, very affected by my disability. Not that I can see on a daily basis, anyway. In fact, as far as being a disabled parent goes, I sometimes feel rather like an imposter of sorts.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mean... yes, I wear leg braces and walk with the aid of a walking stick. But that's me anyway. My braces and walking stick have no effect on how I am raising my daughter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And other than my braces and stick - which I need in my life, child or not - I don't require any other "aids" to help me properly care for my child on a daily basis. In fact, the only parenting "aid" I can think of ever having was one of those kiddie "leashes" (Ugh. Hate that term!) for when Sweetie was a toddler and I didn't want her to wander or run off from me when we were out in public. And, of course - primarily when she was quite a bit younger - I needed more help physically from nearby family and friends. People who could lift her up and/or carry her when I couldn't. But now? I'm good. She's good. We're all good. And not terribly "disabled" from doing what we want to get done, physically speaking.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, with that... my current story with Sweetie is, I feel, pretty much just like any other mom's story of raising a child. Sure, I have my thoughts on what having a disabled mom is doing for Sweetie's personal strength, character, and self-confidence. Because Sweetie does put up with a lot because of who I am (&lt;i&gt;aaannnnddd&lt;/i&gt;... here we go with a complete 360 from the paragraph above...). She understands that I cannot walk far distances - at least not without my back brace on. She helps me get chores done around the house that perhaps other girls her age don't do because particular things are difficult for me to accomplish easily (i.e. deliver clothes piles and other things to our upstairs, carry large loads of laundry to be folded, etc.) And I think she knows that I endure chronic back pain and occasional leg weakness - not that I ever really outwardly complain about these things (what's the point? I'm still gonna hurt.) She pulls me up when I fall down, she slows down when I remind her I'm slower than she is, and she helps me without complaint when I ask for assistance through trickier (walking related) situations.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just a couple weekends ago we were visiting friends at their beautiful new summer cottage, complete with a fabulous lake view and small dock to rest on. But to get back up to their cottage from the dock meant trekking up a somewhat steep (for me), tree-root-littered hill. Two or three times during our stay I asked Sweetie if she would please help me up this hill... which meant her stopping her fun playtime with new friends swimming in the lake so she could steady/pull her old, sore, heavy (for her, at least) mother up the incline. And she did it, no complaints (well, a tiny bit of complaint, but hardly mentionable.) And then, at the end of the evening when the car was all packed up and Hubby realized we were all set to go, except for Mom still needing help to get up the hill and to the car, I'm told Sweetie happily jumped at the chance to assist. "I'll go get her!" she said. And she did. She's a big help.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I realize that all of my "things" that I do live with, and that make me who I am, have got to have an effect on Sweetie, for better or for worse. And, in a lot of ways, I dare say my being who I am - as tough as it can sometimes be for me, for her, for our family - has played/is playing a large part in (if I do say so myself) the strong, creative, fair, kind, GREAT person Sweetie is today and continues to grow into existence.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, yes. I have a story to tell. I've been telling it hear for about 5 years now. But in so many ways, it is nothing remarkable at all. Just like countless numbers of other parenting stories out there. I'm a mom. My husband and I are raising our daughter. We think - no, we know - she is amazing. We have our ups and downs but life, in general, is pretty good. End of story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But... I have a book inside me. I know I do. It haunts me. To write it would be to display my authentic self. What I'm supposed to do - to help myself and to help others. If only just by way of entertainment. It only needs just to get out and on it's way.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Let's get a move on...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-2366623402347958412?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kFVGXiVV9nD6Wm2muEfajVk28vI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kFVGXiVV9nD6Wm2muEfajVk28vI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/_c41H2q5zww" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/2366623402347958412/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=2366623402347958412" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/2366623402347958412?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/2366623402347958412?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/_c41H2q5zww/abled-parent.html" title="&quot;Abled&quot; Parent" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/09/abled-parent.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0ACR3g7eyp7ImA9WhdXFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-5668906581830718364</id><published>2011-08-28T11:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-28T11:36:06.603-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-28T11:36:06.603-04:00</app:edited><title>It Was the Worst of Times, It Was the Best of Times...</title><content type="html">Yes, I know I have that classic Dicken's intro backwards, but I tell ya... this summer, for us, has in a lot of ways seemed like the "worst of times."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In fact, an alternate title for this post could have easily been "Broken Summer."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Broken car.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Broken &lt;i&gt;new&lt;/i&gt; car (windshield)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Broken computer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/07/too-much-excitement.html"&gt;"Broken" kid&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now, as of late last night and right &lt;i&gt;before&lt;/i&gt; Hurricane Irene began to enter into our neck of the woods, Broken house... as in, a bit of the interior portion of our basement foundation crumbled away onto the floor. Fun fun. "At least" we only rent this place. Not our headache to fix - only to live with in the meantime... and hope it doesn't get worse.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There have been other, more minor problems with this summer as well. For instance, the ice maker on our fridge (also property of our landlords') decided to stop working for a few days. Hubby was able to get that one fixed with some monkeying around, though.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was miserably sick about 2 or 3 weeks ago. Out for a week of work. High fever for days on end, fatigue and whole body aches. Because of what Sweetie went through, though, I went right away to get tested for Lyme as well as 2 other tick-bourne diseases. All came back negative and I am feeling much better now. Still. I haven't been that sick in about 6 years. And I'd be happy not to be that sick again in at least that many years again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hubby and his dad haven't had really great, really consistent work since I'd say about April. Many more 4-week remodel jobs than are good for our financial well-being (jobs usually take about 2 weeks. And they don't get paid until after a remodel is complete.) Stressful times, indeed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, yes, I'm sure there are even more woeful news items I could report from our home front. But, you get the point. This summer? Not the best.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
BUT... if you are a Sweetie and you look back on this summer - just a couple days away from heading back to school later this week - I am actually pretty certain that you would have thought this summer was, well, pretty &lt;i&gt;sweet&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hey! We got a cool new (to us) Prius! With air conditioning! And an awesome "way back"/"trunk" area which little girls can crawl into and settle down in during the second movie at the drive-in. Which...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She went to the drive-in for the first time ever this summer! Saw Cars 2. Pretty darn awesome.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We also got a pretty awesome new iMac computer.&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;Totally&lt;/i&gt; sweet! And the fact that it comes with a feature that lets you take pictures of yourself as you sit at the key board, then edit those photos to look like they're comic book pages or the like? Way, &lt;i&gt;way&lt;/i&gt; cooler still. Especially for a certain little 8 year old who can't seem to get enough of looking at herself in the mirror. This computer purchase may have actually been the highlight of her summer.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
More - we traveled on adventures all over New Hampshire, participating in the &lt;a href="http://www.nhstateparks.org/whats-happening/great-park-pursuit/"&gt;New Hampshire's Great Park Pursuit&lt;/a&gt;. For 4 Saturdays within June and July, we gathered with other state park enthusiast families for fun times, scavenger hunts, and great learning about this really quite fascinating state of ours. They're even talking about starting up a winter version this year. Can't wait to see if that comes to fruition!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie also got to see 7 of the 8 Harry Potter films this summer. We opted not to take her to Part 2 of The Deathly Hallows until Hubby and I had seen it first. Then, once we did, we did give her the chance to see it, but we went with another plan for that day instead. Now we're almost done reading the first Harry Potter book together as a family. Love this new evening family routine for us!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She went to day camp for 2 weeks in a row - the first week being a Creativity Camp, the second week Theater Camp - at the Boys &amp;amp; Girls Club she goes to after school during the school year. With this, she got to see lots of friends she hadn't seen in awhile, she got to go swimming every day, and she got to act on stage in several short skits (in which she did a fantastic job!). Beyond these 2 weeks, she's spent August spending 2 days per week at the Boys &amp;amp; Girls Club for non-themed "camp" days. More swimming, more friends, more awesome fun! She loves Club so much - this was really great for her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We as a family had a week off together for a "stay-cation" at the end of July. We haven't had a week-long vacation of any sort in years! So this was really a treat not just for Sweetie but for all of us. During our days we did much traveling to within our state and to other New England states, mainly on geo-caching hunts. One of those days, on a trip up to Quechee, VT, we found - I think - about 13 caches all told!. Pretty impressive. Sweetie loves geo-caching almost as much as Hubby does. Me? Eh - not so much. But I loved seeing them both have such a great time searching for their treasures. I even found my very first cache all on my own! Yeah, have to admit, it was pretty fun.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Towards the end of that stay-cation, we actually did travel down to Providence, RI and stayed overnight 1 night so that we could go to&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/"&gt;&lt;span id="goog_1415098454"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Waterfire&lt;span id="goog_1415098455"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. We all thought Waterfire itself was spectacularly beautiful and amazing to see, but I dare say Sweetie's favorite part of that whole weekend was the hotel. Yes, I'm sure those of you with kids can back me up on this one - they do love to stay away from home in hotels! Sweetie was amazed with, it seemed, every light switch, the way the door lock worked, the TV channels available, the bathroom - everything. Yep, had herself a good ol' time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And besides from starting her summer vaca with a weekend of sickness, followed by the mysterious headaches that ultimately lead to her Lyme diagnosis - she has actually felt really well since the day after she started her antibiotics. Even 6 weeks of medicine, accompanied by a &lt;a href="http://gapsdiet.com/"&gt;special diet&lt;/a&gt; to help her gut handle the extended course of antibiotics, never swayed her mood from being anything but (mostly) cheerful and accommodating to eating the best way possible for her right now. Good thing she's generally such a good eater anyway, not typically scared off by healthy and diverse foods. I have to say, she has been a real trooper through her summer of treatment. And now, we are ever so slightly aiming her diet back into her "regular" ways. And - knock on wood - she has remained feeling good throughout and seems to be staying that way. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, yeah - even though we adults have had a pretty lousy summer over all, I'm so happy to say that whatever troubles Hubby and I have seen have not really effected Sweetie negatively in the least. She has had a great summer, by all counts, with lots of activity and many opportunities for memories to be made.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, I have to say, even Hubby and my trials have at least had the decency to present themselves at the best times possible for sucky things to happen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Our car died literally 2 days after I received my portion of inheritance from my grandparents. An inheritance just large enough to help us make a decent downpayment on our new car. Thank you!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Our computer died just a couple days before my credit card became reactivated after a year of forced inactivity (my decision, in order to pay down some debt, but activated through the credit card company - so, yeah, truly inactivated.) So - yay! Lets put $1000 back on my card as soon as possible! But at least it was available to help us...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, like I said, Sweetie has been as helpful and accommodating as we would have ever hoped her to be while dealing with her Lyme treatment. And, concerning that, we were also fortunate enough to catch her Lyme early on.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This summer. It was the worst of times, indeed, in a lot of way. But we are a family who knows how to not only make lemonade out of lemons, but can also serve that sweet lemonade to our Sweetie without her ever really realizing how lemony sour we had it in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or maybe that's just her. A girl who generally only knows how to look on the bright side. Sounds good to me. I guess we've taught her well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy Back to School, everyone! May your days ahead be the best you could wish for!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-5668906581830718364?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Scjm5Tkua-GiRjL6rGGjMWEZJmc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Scjm5Tkua-GiRjL6rGGjMWEZJmc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/QkYhj9iqRyU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/5668906581830718364/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=5668906581830718364" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/5668906581830718364?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/5668906581830718364?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/QkYhj9iqRyU/it-was-worst-of-times-it-was-best-of.html" title="It Was the Worst of Times, It Was the Best of Times..." /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/08/it-was-worst-of-times-it-was-best-of.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkENRHo9eCp7ImA9WhdRE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-6375866255523544128</id><published>2011-08-02T15:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T15:51:35.460-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-02T15:51:35.460-04:00</app:edited><title>O Solo Mio</title><content type="html">So, keeping with the Lyme theme for just a sec, we placed a visit to the &lt;a href="http://www.target.com/"&gt;Big Red Bullseye&lt;/a&gt; store the other day. Of course we did! It seemed the thing to do...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At any rate, we were going there to shop for whatever it was we needed/wanted (decidedly un health related, I'm sure.) And as we parked and got out of the car, I noticed a mom, around my age I'd say, and her son - probably about Sweetie's age, maybe a bit younger - just passing us by on the way to their car. No big deal, of course. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse at the mom's legs. Short legged plastic braces! Just like mine! Wow!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And the son? Well, he was looking at me. Not, I imagined, like almost every other kid and many adults (it seems) looks at me when I'm out and about - as if I'm some odd and curious anomaly very rarely spotted. But more like, "Wow. That lady's just like my mom!"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The mom saw nothing of this - not me, not her son's noticing of me - and just kept on going, pushing her cart toward her car.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hmmm.... Now, I really have no idea if this woman has spina bifida, as I do. Furthermore, I make no claims whatsoever that I know what it means to have any other physical challenges requiring someone to wear short-legged braces. All I know is that I only recall having ever seen someone wearing braces like mine if that someone also had spina bifida. &amp;nbsp;Ergo, I concluded that she, too, must have spina bifida.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Huh.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This not-even-2-second encounter all of a sudden had me realizing something.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, I have certainly seen others in my community with various and diverse physical disabilities. But, you know what? I have never, to my recollection, seen anyone in the area that I was able to tag right away as having spina bifida.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Until now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, wait. I do take that back a bit. See, I am a not-very-active member of the&lt;a href="http://www.sbamass.org/"&gt; Spina Bifida Association of Massachusetts&lt;/a&gt;. I don't live in MA, but because my adjacent state does not have it's own Association, I am granted membership to this one. As such, I have attended a few summer picnics and holiday parties over the last several years. So, of course, at these various gatherings I have definitely met plenty of people with spina bifida. Mostly kids, though, and a few adults. And no one - I think - who actually lives in my state.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But, duh... there has got to be more people in my state - more than just me! - who has spina bifida! I remember when I was a teen that my orthodontist and his wife just had a baby with spina bifida. So, presuming they haven't moved out of the area, there's her at least. But seriously! There's got to be more! And adults! Where are you all?!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Wait a minute, wait a minute... now I'm remembering something else. I do recall going on a date or 2, back when I was a teen, with a guy who had spina bifida. Not sure whatever became of him either. Okay, so that makes three of us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now the Target Parking Lot Lady. Who is she? Where is she from? Does she, in fact, have spina bifida? She looked friendly enough - as much as I could tell from a 2 second sideways glance, that is. An adult! Woman! With spina bifida! And at least the one child! My &lt;i&gt;twin&lt;/i&gt;! I want to know her!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At any rate, the whole thing made me feel rather alone in the world. Not that I have ever, &lt;i&gt;ever&lt;/i&gt; felt the twinges of anything like this before! I'm not lonely. I don't feel different from everyone else. I don't mope around, friendless and bored and as if I'm the only person like me in the whole wide world. I'm just me, and - yeah - people look at me when I walk around, but so what. I've got 30 some years of "practice" getting used to that phenomena. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then, &lt;i&gt;THEN&lt;/i&gt;.... we three were on vacation/staycation last week, taking day trips here and there, near and far, to explore as much of New England as we could muster. With that, we found ourselves at &lt;a href="http://www.waterfire.org/"&gt;Waterfire&lt;/a&gt; last Saturday night. &amp;nbsp;And you know who I spotted in the crowd? No, not the Parking Lot Lady, but another young woman who, it appeared to me and Hubby, also has spina bifida! She was wearing long jeans, so I couldn't see her braces, but I could tell she wore them from her shoes, stance and considerably seemingly underdeveloped legs as compared to the rest of her. That may all seem very presumptuous of me to jump to the spina bifida conclusion. But, I'm just sayin'. I may not see people "like me" often, but when I do, I can easily spot and tag them as such.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This lady was with her (able bodied) boyfriend. They appeared to be in their early 20s or so. Even though they stood for awhile not too far from where we sat, I didn't go talk to her. But I do believe that, after some time, she took notice of me as well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Wow! Two adult females with spina bifida spotted in one week, both living (more or less/kinda sorta) in my area! Very cool! What a unique sight! And what a realization to consider just how unique this was!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If only I could meet more women in my area with spina bifida. The Parking Lot Lady really has me curious. How cool would that be to see her again and get a chance to introduce myself?! To hear her story of becoming a parent, managing through a pregnancy (if, in fact, she did), handled the day-to-day needs of an infant and growing, active toddler. Yup, it would be really interesting to talk to her and compare notes. Maybe some day...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the meantime, I'll go on living my solitary life. What a sad, lonely existence. Pitiful, really...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, except for that it's not that way at all! Life, for the most part, is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-6375866255523544128?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/T1u4UT8g8zbzXgTpHhi5Y9zHigQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/T1u4UT8g8zbzXgTpHhi5Y9zHigQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/OBGWcxE3Au8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/6375866255523544128/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=6375866255523544128" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/6375866255523544128?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/6375866255523544128?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/OBGWcxE3Au8/o-solo-mio.html" title="O Solo Mio" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/08/o-solo-mio.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkMBR3w6cCp7ImA9WhdTGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-6411491972847871445</id><published>2011-07-15T12:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T09:14:16.218-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-17T09:14:16.218-04:00</app:edited><title>It's The Not Knowing That's So Hard...</title><content type="html">No, I didn't think much of the one tick we found on Sweetie toward the end of May. Hubby and I reasoned that it couldn't have been on her that long (much less than 24 hours, we figured) so, really, this was nothing to think twice about.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, I cannot honestly tell you that she was never bitten by another tick within the last few months. With her taking care of her own dressing and undressing, plus just not considering "possible tick bite, possible tick bite, possible tick bite..." every single day - no. I just haven't been consistently checking for the little buggers.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, I didn't consider that Sweetie's initial weekend of feeling yucky was anything more than a mild passing virus. Kids get them all the time! This too shall pass...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, I wasn't overly concerned, at first, with her occasional mention of having headaches. They weren't everyday. They certainly weren't disabling. She had no ongoing fever or malaise from the initial "sick" weekend. Nothing more than the random, light headaches, off and on. If anything, I was worried that maybe her eyesight wasn't so great and she would be needing glasses.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And what's more...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I definitely didn't consider that these headaches - or the initial supposed "virus" - could in any way be a symptom of Lyme Disease. Because, no, I did not know there were tell-tale Lyme Disease symptoms other than the usually-seen bull's eye rash - which she never had. No, I also don't know the symptoms to watch for for many, if not most other illnesses in the world. Do you?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, I didn't realize how little is actually known about Lyme Disease and that it could be said that typical doctors only treat patients based on industry standards... and yet, time and again, there are patients presenting themselves as now having chronic Lyme Disease even though they were treated - as the standards prescribe - shortly after being bitten.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, no, I didn't understand that I should fight for Sweetie to be on her antibiotics for longer than the doctor initially prescribed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now that I successfully fought that battle and she's on her meds for twice as long as originally intended... no, I don't know that this is completely necessary, or that the initial 3 week treatment wouldn't have been enough to take care of the infection, as the prescribing doctor insists it would have been.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, no, I don't know for sure that 6 weeks total of the antibiotics will even truly be enough!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don't even know if a blood test taken once the antibiotics are complete will accurately give us the proof that, in fact, the infection is gone. For all I know, we could get a false negative from that blood draw.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With this extended course of antibiotics... no, I didn't consider right away what that much regular antibiotics could do to one's system.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, I didn't think about how adding probiotics to her diet like those found in yogurt, kefir and even straight up probiotics would be a great thing to do for helping her deal with so much antibiotics.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, I never heard of the GAPS Diet before, nor - obviously - realize that it really would be the best diet for her to adopt throughout this process.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, I am not necessarily convinced that she needs to be on the GAPS Diet per se, but do strongly feel that we/she should at least be restricted to a more macrobiotic diet at this time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
No, I'm also not terribly concerned if she sneaks some against-GAPS foods into her day. One piece of pizza isn't going to kill her. One small chocolate treat is just fine. Maybe we'll even go out for ice cream during our vacation. It's fine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And anyway - so far, so good for how she's feeling! Yes, it's only been 2 weeks at this point, but Sweetie has not yet shown any signs of feeling bad in the belly in conjunction with the antibiotics. What's more, she is well aware of why we're altering her diet as we are and that she needs to tell us how she's feeling as time goes on. We can and will alter more drastically if she indicates that it's needed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(I do know Sweetie to be a generally pretty healthy kid, fast-healer, and a healthy eater who likes a wide variety of good foods, only occasionally wishing for less-healthy treats. I have faith that I know my child well enough in this way to trust she'll be just fine with minimal changes to her ongoing life.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With that said... going beyond the timeframe of her antibiotics treatment? No, I'm not thinking we will keep up with this altered diet much longer than that. Maybe a week or two. A month longer, tops. But as advised by the GAPS Diet itself, I'm thinking their prescribed up to 2 years or so of eating this way to truly restore the gut flora is just not necessary.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But then again, if she is showing signs that eating her "regular" way is just not working for her when we switch back then, of course! We will do everything we can to keep her as comfortable and healthy as possible.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And last but not least... no, I do not like the term "Lyme Disease." A disease, to me, sounds like an awful, long term if not permanent condition. Something that you cannot be rid of. And, yes, I know. For some people, that's exactly what it is. Chronic Lyme Disease affects their life every day in all sorts of ways and will for the rest of their lives.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But... I &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; have every intention and great faith that my typically healthy Sweet girl will battle this blip in her road with all she's got and that she will be 100% Lyme free before the summer's done.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We are doing what we believe is right and good for her to set her on this very path. No more, no less. Not at this point, anyway. And we will adjust as she indicates she needs us to do, if she needs us to.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, in every way and at every moment I feel what I know to be an irrational "Mommy guilt" about what Sweetie's living with right now. Medicine everyday. Changed diet. Friends and family asking her how she's feeling, sharing their own experiences with tick bites and Lyme. It's, of course, left in my culpable hands that I didn't find the culprit tick on her. It's my fault that I didn't recognize signs and get her to the doctor any sooner than I did. I feel constantly, incontrollably on the defensive about how I've "allowed" - am allowing - this to all play out. And God forbid she's ever bitten again! Our family is outside all the time hiking and playing. I feel compelled to check her for ticks at every moment... then guilty as hell if I realize after she's gone to bed that, no, I didn't actually look her over today! What kind of mother am I?!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But... she is feeling much better. She really seems back to her regular self. I do have her on a course of medicine I have to believe will be more than enough to fight this Disease. I'm changing her diet as she needs to best get her through these several weeks of antibiotics and I'm more than willing to change it even more drastically if she shows signs of needing it. I intend for her diet to return to normal shortly thereafter, but am certainly most looking out for her day-to-day comfort and health, again willing to keep her on a restricted diet for as long as she indicates it's needed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I may not have been able to stop her from getting Lyme Disease. And I may not be able to stop a tick from ever biting her again. But I can rest easy enough, knowing Hubby and I are both on the same waive-length, doing everything we can to make sure this remains for her an acute case only.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And that's the best I can do, I know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-6411491972847871445?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a3XSQPugAut9485oCa8tk3FwNLU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/a3XSQPugAut9485oCa8tk3FwNLU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/fJUlNUObf2o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/6411491972847871445/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=6411491972847871445" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/6411491972847871445?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/6411491972847871445?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/fJUlNUObf2o/its-not-knowing-thats-so-hard.html" title="It&amp;#39;s The Not Knowing That&amp;#39;s So Hard..." /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/07/its-not-knowing-thats-so-hard.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0INQXo7eSp7ImA9WhZaGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-6925140016683219928</id><published>2011-07-02T16:15:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T11:19:50.401-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-06T11:19:50.401-04:00</app:edited><title>Too Much Excitement!</title><content type="html">Hello! And welcome to July! While most kids in this area have literally &lt;i&gt;just&lt;/i&gt; gotten out of school for the summer about a week ago, Sweetie is about to embark on her 4th week of blissful summertime fun.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hah! Blissful?! I can't possibly be serious. In fact, a complete redo seems perfectly in order.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Starting with the final death of our 11 year old Saturn Station Wagon the Tuesday after Father's Day, this summer vacation, so far, has been pretty dang.... &lt;i&gt;mmmm&lt;/i&gt;.... exciting! Yeah, that's the word!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But not in a good way.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After the car died, we spent that Friday shopping for a new (used) car. And, yeah, I have to admit that is pretty exciting. Got ourselves a sweet, red hybrid only a few years old. Air conditioning! GREAT mileage! Cute! We are very pleased with our purchase (and our ability, finally, to financially make the purchase and manage the monthly car payments.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh! Wait! Did I say the "excitement" started with the car's death? That's not entirely true. It actually started just 2 days after Sweetie's last day of school when I arrived at my parents' house after work ready to pick up and take Sweetie home. But...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She was sleeping. Hmmmm. That's odd. And when she woke up, she was burning hot. Uh oh. And so began a weekend of fevers, tiredness and headaches. We still participated in our 1st of 4 &lt;a href="http://www.nhstateparks.org/whats-happening/great-park-pursuit/"&gt;Great Park Pursuits&lt;/a&gt; adventures, since she perked right up to her typical self with a dose of Tylenol in her. And then, by Monday, she was pretty much back to her usual self. A short lived, minor virus. S'all good.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Except.... every once in awhile she'd still complain of a headache. This, from a girl who never complains. A girl who can be 3 days into a pretty significant cold before she finally admits to me, "Mom, I think I'm sick." Yes. Yes, you are.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
These headaches weren't everyday. And they weren't even that bad. Sometimes, if we were away from home, we'd just let her sip on some Coke - telling her the caffeine might help relieve the pain. Sometimes we could let time pass without doing anything and she managed well enough without further complaint. But then the headaches seemed to increase in frequency. And intensity. I'd give her Advil, because I didn't happen to have anything but children's cold medicine in the house. She learned how to swallow a pill, and noted the tasty sweet coating on the Advil.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
With time, Hubby and I even started to consider that these headaches may be "convenience headaches," so that she could get to have a bit of soda or that sweet tasting Advil.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And like I said, they weren't yet all &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; bad seeming.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But they were frequent. Several times a week.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Finally, this past Tuesday, when she complained of yet another headache, I decided to call the doctor. After I left my message for the nurse to call me back, then... &lt;i&gt;then&lt;/i&gt; Sweetie began to sob. So much terrible pain! The worst headache yet, by far. Yep, this had all the signs of a migraine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then, she vomited. Twice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Long story short, the nurse called back and scheduled us to come in. Just a few hours later we found ourselves in the doctor's office and then waiting in the lab for blood work and X-Rays.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An X-Ray to check her sinuses, blood work to test for &lt;a href="http://www.medicinenet.com/lyme_disease/article.htm"&gt;Lyme Disease&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh! Did I forget to mention? We found a tick on her about a month ago. It detached from her pretty easily, though, so we assumed it hadn't been on her all that long and, therefore, that no harm had time to be done.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, you know what they say about assuming...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yep. Yesterday morning I finally got the call with the blood work results. Results I already knew on my own, given all the Lyme Disease research I've done over the last few days.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Early stages Lyme Disease. Looks a lot like the flu virus, with headaches, fever and malaise. Huh. Well how about that. Hindsight really &lt;i&gt;is&lt;/i&gt; 20/20.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So. Three weeks of antibiotics. She'll be fine. Thank goodness we caught this early! And thank goodness my "mommy instincts" kicked into gear and I&amp;nbsp;called the doctor. I didn't consult my retired pediatric nurse of a mom first. I didn't talk to Hubby about my decision. I just called. And I'm so thankful and proud of myself that I did.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For now, though, she's still suffering. Seemingly worse and worse everyday. More intense headaches. More likely to be "shaky sick" and/or have vomiting. Harder to cut through the pain with whatever meds I have to give her (children's Tylenol or Advil.) Longer lasting bouts of ill-feeling. And the pain always hits her pretty fast. One minute = happy, funny, "regular" Sweetie, the next = wincing, pained Sweetie. Today in particular has been pretty bad. A day that started out well enough, after a day yesterday of feeling good (after a couple morning hours of yuck.) But today's headache hit around 9 a.m. and she's still lounging on the sofa and visually in pain at 4 p.m. From the grimace on her face whenever she decides to get up, to the shadowed eyes that have become a pretty regular look for our Sweet girl, I can see how much she's just not herself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'm really, really hoping the antibiotics kick in very soon to help her feel better!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, yeah. That's been our summer so far. And I didn't even tell you about the small windshield crack (that grew exponentially by the day until it was finally fixed) in our newly-purchased car, nor how I lost my debit card (albeit for only an hour or so - I had it all along!), nor how our other even-older-than-the-Saturn car we still have has tires of very, very questionable condition (and other parts too, of course.) Suffice it to say we've been forced to rely heavily on my parents to cart me around in their car while our cars have been&amp;nbsp;MIA and/or been fixed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But! The Great Park Pursuits have been fun so far! I hiked &lt;a href="http://www.nhstateparks.org/explore/state-parks/flume-gorge.aspx"&gt;The Flume Gorge&lt;/a&gt; - a whole 2 mile loop! - with Hubby and Sweetie last weekend! Very Great indeed!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So at least there's that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway - we here&amp;nbsp;at Chez Sweetie &amp;amp; Me are&amp;nbsp;thanking our lucky stars&amp;nbsp;that we finally have an answer to Sweetie's mystery illness of the last few weeks. And so very, very grateful that the infection was caught early and she'll be on the mend soon.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Here's to the end of all this excitement, and a hope for a nice, peaceful rest of our summer vacation. May your summer be fun and as eventful - in a good way - as you wish it to be!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh. And Sweetie, I'm sure, would love for me to tell you that - if you asked how she was, she'd still tell you "I'm great." :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, of course she is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-6925140016683219928?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4JhD-XaI0UlVMnpa5OGVU6TkeCk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4JhD-XaI0UlVMnpa5OGVU6TkeCk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/INZVe_UzJpc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/6925140016683219928/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=6925140016683219928" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/6925140016683219928?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/6925140016683219928?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/INZVe_UzJpc/too-much-excitement.html" title="Too Much Excitement!" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/07/too-much-excitement.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEERH0zeyp7ImA9WhZbE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-1892415441465836856</id><published>2011-06-17T08:58:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T17:53:25.383-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-17T17:53:25.383-04:00</app:edited><title>8 going on... 8 1/2</title><content type="html">I was talking on the phone the other night to a new friend and we were discussing our girls. I mentioned that Sweetie was just about 8 1/2.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"Oh, wow" I said out loud as I scanned the calender. "She really is almost 8 1/2."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Monday will be that "big day."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The person I was talking with noted that her daughter is just about Sweetie's same age, as she will turn 9 in early November.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But the way my new friend qualified her statement, saying her daughter was "8 going on 18," what with eye rolls and concern about popularity and general attitude ... well, it just made me consider Sweetie.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie, for all her drama and smarts and confidence is, for all intents and purposes, still just my little 8 1/2 year old girl.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She still wants to cuddle with me or her Daddy on the couch each day as we settle into or out of our days watching TV in the living room.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She still wants to be read to every night at bedtime. Or, if bedtime is running later than usual, she claims she can't fall asleep without at least hearing a poem (Daddy and I each have a particular poem we recite to her when bedtime comes around quickly.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She still loves to give us "hugs, kisses, noses &amp;amp; poses" as we send her off to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie still cannot imagine a day when - like teens and preteens she sees on T.V. - she thinks she will feel any differently about Daddy and I than she does now. Thinking your parents are weird or uncool? &lt;i&gt;Pshaw!&lt;/i&gt; She just doesn't get that... yet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She still doesn't allow her life to revolve around friends and status and popularity. She's just as happy to play on her own as she is to have friends around to imagine and roam with.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Boys - as anything more than potential friends, plain and simple - are nowhere near being on her radar yet. &lt;i&gt;Hmmmm&lt;/i&gt;... well, perhaps they're approaching the radar, but still far off. She &lt;i&gt;has&lt;/i&gt; shyly/cutely told me before when a particular boy in her class told her he loved her. And - when I've picked on her about her new "boy" friend from the Boys and Girls Club - she too adamantly told me that they were JUST FRIENDS! (and, to me, the more adamant you get about something, the more it hides the real situation. I'm just sayin'...)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She still wears her princess helmet every time she heads outside to ride her bike on our not-really-that-busy-or-dangerous cul-de-sac road. We don't need to remind her. She never forgets. Not one consideration that she may not look terribly "cool" in the helmet. Not connecting any thoughts of seeing other kids in the neighborhood riding their bikes sans helmets. She just knows the rules of safe riding and obeys.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She also doesn't fight us on where she can ride her bike. For now, we just want her to stay on our rode. And, for now, that's fine enough for her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We limit her T.V. watching to not include any silly pre-teen/teenage Disney shows like Hannah Montana or Wizards of Waverly Place (is Hannah Montana even still airing? Whatever...) She used to watch them. But when Hubby and I finally called an end to those days, she did not fight it. She's too young to be watching shows specifically aimed at kids who are dating and driving and getting into all sorts of messes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At 8 1/2 years old, she is not yet taking care of her own baths or showers. This, I wish I could change. I tried to get her used to taking showers. It lasted 2 or 3 instances, until the novelty wore off. But something has to change. I'm getting too old and sore to bend down and wash her hair in the tub. (She does wash herself - except for hair - in the tub. So there's that...)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She doesn't care a hoot about clothing and fashion in general. She begrudgingly gets herself dressed on the weekend, picking out her own clothes. But most of the time I automatically set out her clothes for her, lest I hear her grumble and whine that she doesn't know what to wear. That, I think, is actually a pretty easily changeable situation. It's summertime now. You're 8 1/2 now. Get yourself dressed already or stay naked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At any rate. What I'm saying... I'm pretty happy with the rate at which Sweetie is growing up. For the most part, not any faster than she's naturally aging each year. And that's just the way I like it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Too many kids are growing up way too fast these days. And of course Sweetie is/has been exposed to some pretty mature concepts via the media or friends or whatnot. But, at least for now, she is happy and comfortable enough with these ideas to realize that "that's grownup stuff" and to leave it all alone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy (almost) 8 1/2 year old birthday, Sweetie. I can't wait to enjoy the summer with you, spending some time with my little girl!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-1892415441465836856?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xGly1OMrCHTIyybhIvkqV55KCjE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xGly1OMrCHTIyybhIvkqV55KCjE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/RxqiLTPL2Uo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/1892415441465836856/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=1892415441465836856" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/1892415441465836856?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/1892415441465836856?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/RxqiLTPL2Uo/8-going-on-8-12.html" title="8 going on... 8 1/2" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/06/8-going-on-8-12.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YARHY6fyp7ImA9WhZUF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-8086213772535265341</id><published>2011-06-05T16:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-10T12:59:05.817-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-10T12:59:05.817-04:00</app:edited><title>Rock That Boat</title><content type="html">My thoughts. They are nothing if not a study in contradictions. Yet another reason, I think, that I've been so quiet here lately.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I realize something about Sweetie's behavior and/or attitude and I want to write about it... But then I recall how I just wrote recently about my take on how she's been concerning this matter, but in an opposite way from my current outlook. Hmmm... how can I go back on my word now?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or my own hang ups and ideals. You've heard a lot of them before, and some I've written about quite recently. So how can I now go ahead now and write a post that completely contradicts my own point of view?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess, in a way, I'm still working out how exactly it is I feel about some things - especially in raising a child and wanting to teach her how to be her best. So when I see, for instance, Sweetie repeatedly behaving one way, I think it's intolerable and maddening. But then, when I finally start to see the preferred behavior and/or attitude coming forth, I'm no longer so absolutely sure that that really is the ideal way to conduct oneself. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Duh, Mom!&lt;/i&gt; Life is not so black and white! Different situations call for different reactions, and all that. Yeah, yeah. I hear you. Thanks for the reminder.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What I'm currently trying to process is Sweetie's continuing shift from "girl-who-was-so-rigidly-stubborn-about-the-way-things-had-to-be" - a girl who created, it seemed, "rules" for herself and everyone else for different regular situations in her life (and woe be to he who wavered from the rules) - to a more mellow girl who more easily goes with the flow and adapts better to all that's going on around her.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'm sure you're all thinking, right along with me, "Great! This is a wonderful thing!" Especially those among you who have seen me/us through these trying years of rigid, dramatic Sweetie. Who wouldn't want a kid who has - if not naturally been so - finally learned to deal with changes in a more socially acceptable manner and no longer freaks the heck out when things don't always go her way. Yay for us for getting the point - &lt;i&gt;finally!&lt;/i&gt; - across!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, yeah. This really is a wonderful thing. Really! The drama has certainly lessened in our house and life seems to be moving along swimmingly, with nice, quiet play times and easy-going, spur-of-the-moment changes to our usual state of being. Hazzah, hazzah!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
However... I do wonder if there isn't just a bit of a lean toward apathy happening here - something beyond the mere easy-going attitude.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Case in point #1 - School. Now, Sweetie used to &lt;i&gt;love&lt;/i&gt; school. After the last day of kindergarten, she was very upset to learn she'd have to wait an entire summer before starting up in 1st grade. &lt;i&gt;What?!&lt;/i&gt; she said. &lt;i&gt;You mean I don't get to go to 1st grade on Monday?!&lt;/i&gt; Nope. Sorry, Sweetie. You have to enjoy several weeks off of vacation before you can move on. It's just the way it is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, yeah. I know. A kid gets older and the "fun" of school is slowly replaced with the "work" of school. What kid wants to do all that work when school used to be all about play time, rest time, snack time and show &amp;amp; tell? But still. It's a bit sad to see the excitement reduce.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Not that I'm saying she flat out doesn't like school anymore. She certainly does! But she just as equally enjoys her weekends and random days off as she does heading off to school each day. - But it's those random days off that are really worth getting excited about, if you ask me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The girl was absolutely no fun at all during this past winter, what with our New England weather and the many terrible storms we had. I can't recall exactly, but I'd say there were at least 8 or so snow days this past winter season. In fact, after Christmas vacation, there was a good month and a half where there was not 1 full week of school due to either planned days off or - more typically - surprise snow days.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But Sweetie? Eh. She was completely and totally content to go to school, or to be told she had the day off because of snow. Even when I would warn her the night before that I was pretty sure there'd be no school tomorrow, because a storm was coming... but then it didn't hit quite so hard after all and school was, indeed, on. Okay. Cool. Whatever. School or no school. She was/is happy either way.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Heck! I was way more excited about her snow days than she was!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Still. Get a little excited, Sweetie! About &lt;i&gt;something&lt;/i&gt;! Be super stoked for school, or be pumped that summer vacation is only days away. It doesn't matter. But React! Show some enthusiasm! Choose a side already!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Ahem...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Case in point #2 - Dan.* Dan is a boy Sweetie has regularly been playing with everyday after school at the Boys &amp;amp; Girls Club. He's one grade older than her at their school, and together they've been playing at Legos, and Transformers, and comic book creating, and whatever other fantastically fun activities they can find that binds them together in harmonious play. It's been at least 2 months now of consistent, everyday play together. Sometimes other kids come and go to the group. But, always, it's Sweetie and Dan playing together.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, I don't know Dan. I saw the back of his head once, that's it. But Sweetie talks about him quite a lot and so I've come to form an opinion of him that is favorable. He seems like a good kid and a great match for Sweetie. Who cares that he's a boy. Who cares that he's a year older. They seem to get along well and have fun. That's alright by me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Every once in awhile, I'll ask Sweetie questions. Like, does Dan seem to like playing with you as much as you like playing with him? Is he ever mean to you? What's his last name? Does he mind that you're a girl in 2nd grade, and he's a boy in 3rd? Does he ever want to play with anyone else and not you? &amp;nbsp;- Things like that. I'm trying to get a sense of this kid and if he truly considers&amp;nbsp;Sweetie a friend - or at least a great playmate! - or is he just appeasing her interest in hanging around with him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
All info from Sweetie says that, from what she can tell, they equally enjoy each other's company. Well, then. Would you like to see if we can arrange some play dates with him over the summer? Sure, she says (again, not a super excited response, but a positive one nonetheless.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then, I admit, I did some sleuthing and found contact info for his parents. I told Sweetie I would call his mom and see about the possibility of summer play together. But first, I said, why don't you ask Dan if he'd like to play with you once school is out.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That night, well after Sweetie was home, at dinner time, I again brought up the idea of summer playtime with Dan. I asked Sweetie if she had mentioned the idea to him at Club.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, she had.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He said no.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What?! Well, how exactly did you ask? How did he say no? Were there other kids around that maybe he didn't want to hear him saying yes to you? You used the words "play date." Maybe, as a 3rd grader, he didn't like that because it sounds babyish. Maybe his parents work full time and he knows he'll always be coming to the Club still and won't have an opportunity to play with you. Maybe he knows he's going away all summer and won't be around to come over. Did he still play with you after you asked him? Did he sound mean when he said no? Were you upset?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Uh - I think Hubby and I were a wee bit more concerned about this turn of events than Sweetie was. That said, Sweetie didn't seem to have any real feelings about the situation at all. Maybe just a tiny bit quiet/questioning about it. But not upset. They kept playing together at Club after she asked. He didn't say no in a mean way. He just said no. End of story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Hmph.&lt;/i&gt; Oh, if only I could have been a fly on the wall for that exchange. As it is, I'll never really understand how the conversation went down and why he said no.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But Sweetie - she's so... ambivalent about it all. He's become your friend! You have fun together! You both like Legos and making up stories and games! Don't you want to play with him as much as you can?! Aren't you upset that he told you he doesn't want to play with you?! Show some feelings already!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I think I'll still end up calling Dan's mom after all. I'll let these last few days of school pass by, allowing them to continue their "relationship" - whatever it is - undeterred by parental involvement. But once they're away from each other for a bit, then I'll talk to his mom and see what she thinks about Dan's interest in continuing their friendship through June, July and August.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But Sweetie. Sweet, kind, creative and - apathetic? - daughter o' mine. Ambivalence and apathy just are not words that I ever thought I'd attribute to you. Yes, it's been so great to be able to switch up our plans and change things that you are otherwise "used to" without big, dramatic fall outs like we've known you to display before. For this change in your behavior alone, I am grateful. But don't lose your passion, Sweetie. Don't lose your ability to form an opinion. Don't let - as I truly believe you have - your typical "Great!" response to how are you feeling slip from "Great!" to "great." Let your greatness mean something! Be great when you feel it, and feel it as often as possible. But allow yourself to feel "sad" and "angry" and "scared" and "mad" and "excited" and "thrilled" and just plain "fine" whenever you experience those natural changes of mood. No, it's not alright to dramatically lash out to a comparatively small annoyance or negative change. But it is completely alright to feel what you feel - whatever you feel - and express your thoughts appropriately and without fear of being wrong or bad.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is your life, Sweetie. Live it to the fullest and show the world all the great levels of passion inside of you. Always be true to yourself, respectful of others, and - yes - even rock the boat every once in awhile when needed. We and the world won't mind. And you just may cause the needed ripple that starts the great movement of amazing change.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
---------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;*not his real name.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-8086213772535265341?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F4gYigkCEd85XQYA3MyTAmn0Wlc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/F4gYigkCEd85XQYA3MyTAmn0Wlc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/LvDs5yIudME" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/8086213772535265341/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=8086213772535265341" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/8086213772535265341?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/8086213772535265341?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/LvDs5yIudME/rock-that-boat.html" title="Rock That Boat" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/06/rock-that-boat.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4EQ384fCp7ImA9WhZVGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-5841779786669552155</id><published>2011-06-01T09:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T10:01:42.134-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-01T10:01:42.134-04:00</app:edited><title>Distracted</title><content type="html">Hmmmm... Look at that. A whole month went by with not one post. Sorry 'bout that. Guess I've been.... distracted.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Speaking of being distracted (&lt;i&gt;duh!&lt;/i&gt;), I've actually been really proud of and impressed by myself of late, as I notice myself working at my various part time jobs. That is, when at each one of my jobs, I am completely able to be fully present. I am not thinking about what I have to do at the &lt;i&gt;other&lt;/i&gt; office, or otherwise worrying about anything other than the matter at hand. That, I think, is a skill and a talent. Go, me!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
However... in my home life I seem to be nothing but distracted. Yep, I think Sweetie's #1 annoying quality has warn off on me ("You've been up here for 5 minutes and you're just brushing your teeth &lt;i&gt;now&lt;/i&gt;? What have you been &lt;i&gt;doing&lt;/i&gt; all this time? - "I was distracted!")&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We went to the grocery store the other day and I mentioned to Hubby, "Oh! We need juice boxes? Where are they?" - "Right down this aisle on the left at eye level." And then? A half second later? I totally spaced the juice boxes as we pass 'em right on by.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I also happened to not even consider my need for my own breakfast bars - something I regularly buy at every grocery trip. Hmmph.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The other day I was picking up the house, in anticipation of some friends coming over for dinner. One of the things I did (well, intended to do) was take the gift certificate I recently got for my birthday from the stairs to my purse. Well, I picked it up and.... well... When I went to look for it the next day, it wasn't in my purse. After careful and long consideration, hours later, I figured I may have thrown it in the trash instead.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yep. I found it. In the trash. Thank goodness!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then. &lt;i&gt;And then!&lt;/i&gt; I made rum and Coke drinks for Hubby and I at dinner last night. Eh. They didn't taste quite right. We figured it was just because it was hot out and the ice was melting faster than usual, thus making them taste watery - or something. But, nope. As I took my last sip I realized, "Hey! I never put the rum in these!"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What a complete waste of Coke.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And it's not even like I started making them, walked away for a second, and came back to finish. I just... didn't think about the rum. Bah.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Actually, I'm really too distracted to even write this post. And as I think about it, I do recall on at least a few occasions writing here about how my mind is always one step ahead. When I'm doing one thing, I always think I should be doing that other thing. It's a constant curse with me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But now it seems to be getting worse. At home.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At work? I'm golden. Totally on task.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I think. Or....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe distracted with all the things to do at work and which to focus on &lt;i&gt;currently&lt;/i&gt;....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But all, at least, job related.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That's a good thing, right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh, never mind. Maybe I should have let even more time go by before writing again. That would have been better for all of us, I think.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If you'll excuse me now, I'm sure I've got something else to do now. I just can't think of what that could be...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-5841779786669552155?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4Nn8TyUTjvve_6UOOdo08BFn588/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4Nn8TyUTjvve_6UOOdo08BFn588/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4Nn8TyUTjvve_6UOOdo08BFn588/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4Nn8TyUTjvve_6UOOdo08BFn588/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/flKq76K7xO0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/5841779786669552155/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=5841779786669552155" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/5841779786669552155?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/5841779786669552155?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/flKq76K7xO0/distracted.html" title="Distracted" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/06/distracted.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04MSX86eip7ImA9WhZXEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-4862936824295282438</id><published>2011-04-30T14:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-30T14:59:48.112-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-30T14:59:48.112-04:00</app:edited><title>Doer, Thinker, Dreamer, Creator</title><content type="html">I know I'm entirely biased, but I've never met someone - especially a kid - quite like you, Sweetie.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You cannot be lumped into one of The Four Categories: Doer, Thinker, Dreamer, Creator. No, you actually &lt;i&gt;are&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;The Four Categories:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You would much rather &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; something than merely &lt;i&gt;watch&lt;/i&gt; it happen around you. Did you have any interest whatsoever in watching the Royal Wedding festivities on T.V. yesterday? Heck no! Instead, hosted and directed the "wedding" of a couple of your stuffed animals here. Very elaborate stuff, too, with veils and rings and guests and at least a couple days worth of planning. The whole nine yards. And how was it again that you learned to ride your two-wheel bike last fall? Oh yeah, that's right. While dad and I stood on the street trying to figure out how best to teach you, you just got on and &lt;i&gt;did it&lt;/i&gt;! Way to go, Sweetie!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And going back to the Royal Wedding, your curious mind came up with some pretty good questions about the royal lineage and such. What if the king or queen has twin sons as their oldest kids? Who gets to be the king next then? Good thinking, Sweetie! Your mind is always working, and it's amazing. I also witnessed that mind of yours hard at work when learning 2-digit subtraction a couple months ago. You'd missed that whole week of school due to illness, so you were left to learn more or less on your own/with Daddy and my assistance. After not too long, you were going through the process with no problem, getting each answer right on your worksheets brought home to complete. But that was not good enough for you. You didn't understand &lt;i&gt;why&lt;/i&gt; you were doing what you were doing! &lt;i&gt;Why&lt;/i&gt; did you have to not only carry, but also change the other numbers along the way too? It didn't make sense to you at all. But I was struck, as I watched you struggle. Most other kids, I bargained, would be happy enough to just get through the process correctly - who cares about real understanding!? Well - you do. And it bugged you for weeks, until, finally, it all because clear.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, boy!, are you a dreamer! Quite literally, too, as you seem to have some of the most elaborate dreams I've ever heard. Almost every morning when I wake you up for school, you are either relieved that you just finished your dream before I got you up, or you're miffed because you were just getting to the good part. "But that's okay," you'll finally conclude. "I'll just finish it tonight when I go to bed." And then you're off to school, finally returning home in the evening where you'll often times set right to work, drawing out your dream from the night before. "It's too hard to tell you about my dream. I'll draw it for you instead." Okay, Sweetie. Can't wait to see it!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Whenever I ask you, Sweetie, who you play with at recess, you most often tell me that you usually just play on your own. "Why!" I ask, knowing full well you're not shy, so asking another kid or two to play really shouldn't be a problem for you. Your answer? Well, you love to act out your dreams on the playground, and the other kids don't know what your dreams looked like - only you do! So you play on your own. Well, alrighty, then.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As for a creator - well, of course you are! Give you a pile of Legos, some crayons and some paper, add in a plethora of tape and a pair of scissors, and you are golden! You will be all set for the day, creating not only the most amazing Lego creatures and automobiles as well as some amazing drawings and paper crafts, but the highly detailed stories to go along with them all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You know, I've most consistently pegged you as a creator, given your mad skillz for story creation, from-scratch crafts, and Lego universes. But... your building ability - with Legos, paper clips, blocks, what have you - is actually very scientific and shows a great engineer's mind. You know how to play chess quite competently, and your great ability to visualize accurately with your mind's eye is a big assist to you when playing both this and other games that require you to first envision steps 4, 5 &amp;amp; 6 in order to make the best moves # 1, 2 &amp;amp; 3.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In short, Sweetie, you amaze me.&amp;nbsp;I'm really impressed (&lt;i&gt;cough&lt;/i&gt;*&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;jealous&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;i&gt;cough&lt;/i&gt;) of how you swiftly think through problems, create vast worlds, and dream up big plans. Where&amp;nbsp;others either Do, Think, Dream or Create, you do all four - often at the same time! I love how your mind works, how full your heart is with love and compassion, and how deep your soul runs with spirit and energy. You are one of a kind, Sweetie. I'm so proud of you and know that, above all else, you will not only reach for the stars in all you do, but also continue to succeed, return, and reach higher toward every further goal you seek to fulfill.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(song below composed by Sweetie, sung each time she swings at the playground...)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;The wind in my ears feels so great,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Yes, the wind in my ears feels so good!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Cuz I've, I've never been this high since this very second,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;I've never been this high befo-o-ore!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;I've never been this high since this very second,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;And I'll probably be this high way more!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-4862936824295282438?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JuX0TjyueWb2Er-KhUqZOVZ4zW0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JuX0TjyueWb2Er-KhUqZOVZ4zW0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JuX0TjyueWb2Er-KhUqZOVZ4zW0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JuX0TjyueWb2Er-KhUqZOVZ4zW0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/RtLYLQoKG5I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/4862936824295282438/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=4862936824295282438" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/4862936824295282438?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/4862936824295282438?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/RtLYLQoKG5I/doer-thinker-dreamer-creator.html" title="Doer, Thinker, Dreamer, Creator" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/04/doer-thinker-dreamer-creator.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08EQHs9cSp7ImA9WhZRFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-1436267249230013755</id><published>2011-04-10T16:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T16:03:21.569-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T16:03:21.569-04:00</app:edited><title>Selfish With My Time, Hopeful With My Lessons</title><content type="html">Yes, it's true. I do have 5 different part time jobs to juggle. You could say I'm busy. You could marvel at what it must take for me to get through each week, let alone each day. You may wonder how I keep everything straight.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I'd letcha. &amp;nbsp;Cuz it can be tricky.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But all in all, I only work each week about 40 hours - the typical number of hours anyone with a full time job works. So, no. I don't feel overly busy. And most of my workdays start a little late. Yes - that means they end a bit later too. But I have my free time. That's my point. I'm not working myself into the ground. I like the changes of venue. Each of my jobs offers me the chance to engage with people, and myself, in different but interesting ways to me. I am not bored and I pretty much like every different job that I do. I am happy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Still, when it comes to my free time, my down time... I really prefer it to be just that. Time for me. Time for my family. Committing myself to other responsibilities just isn't what I'm interested in doing. Not any responsibilities outside of the home, anyway. Give me some time for myself to do things for myself, like write or take care of weekend chores. Or give me some time to spend with Sweetie and Hubby. I'm sorry, but that's all I'm really interested in.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Don't get me wrong. I do love and feel connected to various people, groups and issues in the world and my community. But would I rather join a committee to help save the whales, committing myself to multiple meetings, various obligations, and event dates on my calendar? Or would I rather take day trips with my husband and little girl - stopping for geocaches along the way and finding a little hole-in-the-wall eatery with amazing food to try? Sorry, but my family and our time together wins out every time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's an internal struggle, of course. Because there really are issues and groups and principles in this world that I believe in and support. By not joining a cause and fighting the good fight - or whatever the case may be - am I sending Sweetie a message of apathy? A message of "This is important, but don't worry. Plenty of others will take care of it. Let's go get ice cream!" I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I worry - what is it, really, that we're telling our child?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don't honestly feel like a bad, disinterested person. Not usually, anyway. I feel like I have a good deal of things on my plate so that when free time comes around I have a right to decide how I want to spend it and who I want to spend it with. And that is almost always with Sweetie and Hubby. That's a good thing, right?! I'm putting my family first and valuing the time we have together by making the most of it... even to the detriment of time spent with others we love and world issues needing attention.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie is a good kid. She cares for others and recognizes, at least basically, some of the big concerns of others around her. She sees all around her - at church, on TV, at school - that there are plenty of ways to help all sorts of people, animals and groups to make a better way for themselves. I think she knows that mom and dad are caring people, as well, who feel for those who are less fortunate in their lives. I think she also recognizes that we ourselves struggle on a daily basis with getting by as best we can with the money we have.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But what do we do about it? Isn't there a way we can help? Isn't it our responsibility to do our part - as tiny as that may be - to help those beings in need of assistance, love and support?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Apparently not. The problems of the world &amp;nbsp;- or even our immediate community - must not be that compelling. We can care and feel compassion. Others can actually do something about it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That, I'm afraid, is the message we're sending.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;And it may not even be that big. You know? Maybe we're invited to a casual party with acquaintances. The whole family can come! Great, but yah. No. I value my family time too much to put one more thing on the calendar than is completely necessary right now. Because even parties can start to feel like "have to's" instead of "want to's" when the rest of your weekends are full too and you're not in the mood. Not that we always decline an invitation, of course. We actually very much look forward to many gatherings! But there are times when we'd really prefer to just lay low instead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;"We like to leave our Sunday afternoons free. It's never fun to be out late on a 'school night'."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;"This week has been so insanely busy that we just want to take Saturday as a 'Do Nothing' Day."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;"These people never serve any food that we like. We don't want to go there, so far away, just to starve."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;"Sorry, but we already made plans to go to this Fair that day. Hopefully we'll find some time to get together another time soon."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;We may plan to do something that we put on the calendar, but then at the last minute Hubby and I may change our minds. Maybe it's even something that really sounded like fun to Sweetie and us too. But we now say no. "We don't want to go anymore." "We changed our mind." "Wouldn't you rather stay home and play a game together or watch a movie with us or ride your bike instead?!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That's right, kid. It's okay to reneg on your plans for the sake of your own wants and needs. Don't worry about backing out on what you said you'd do. It's okay. No one will really care in the end.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Bad, bad parents.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then again...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We are raising - somehow, miraculously - a pretty GREAT Sweetie. She really is a caring, (mostly) polite little girl who feels for others and wants to do good for those she loves as well as anyone she sees who is sad. A girl who loves to make little "secret" postcards of hope and love that she hides in various places during our travels for random people to find. She's bright, self-confident, creative, funny and interested in so many different kinds of things. And we're teaching her, I think, above all else, that the love of your family is the love that can make all the difference in the world.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When the world is getting you down, you can rely on your family to help you through.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When you feel like you have nowhere else to go, no one else who cares, your family will always be there no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Your family can make you absolutely crazy mad and want to scream and run away.... but will also be there 15 minutes later for a hug and a kiss and a Band-aid when you trip and fall and skin your knee.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Likewise, your family can be beyond mad at something you've done or said. They can punish you and express their disappointment in the bad decisions you've made or the poor way you've conducted yourself. But, that night, will always tuck you into bed with a "hug, kiss, nose &amp;amp; pose" and tell you how very much they will always love YOU (if not always the choices you make.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, perhaps, that the value of a loving family is so incredibly important and can, in many different ways big and small, impact those around them to do better, be better, love better themselves.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And the more people who can live a loving life in community with family, the better our world will be in the long run...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(...Until the tween &amp;amp; teenaged years. You'll have to check back with me then to see just how important Sweetie finds a loving family to be...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Talk about apathy and selfishness. I don't even want to think about it...)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-1436267249230013755?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SGokXi2IaYPrxinaxm227B8UzlI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/SGokXi2IaYPrxinaxm227B8UzlI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/o1-AVrJeygE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/1436267249230013755/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=1436267249230013755" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/1436267249230013755?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/1436267249230013755?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/o1-AVrJeygE/selfish-with-my-time-hopeful-with-my.html" title="Selfish With My Time, Hopeful With My Lessons" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/04/selfish-with-my-time-hopeful-with-my.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4NQn8zeyp7ImA9WhZSEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-4020530916646151670</id><published>2011-03-26T14:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T14:09:53.183-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-26T14:09:53.183-04:00</app:edited><title>Give and Take (or, Love is Blind)</title><content type="html">She runs toward me off the playground, full charge ahead. I plant my weight into the ground, steady myself with my stick. Ready to receive the full brunt of her love as she embraces me with her strong arms and beautiful words.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I just sit down with my cup of tea after long minutes cleaning dishes, switching laundry. My back aches with stiffness. I release my energy to the sofa cushions and pillows. Giving myself up to some time of "do-nothingness." Then she calls me to the computer. She's stuck and needs help. She calls me to her craft table to see a new creation. She calls me upstairs, needing help with one thing or another. Again and again. She needs - or wants - my assistance. My attention. She knows I just sat down, but this does not phase her. I am needed and I must go.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We read together during weekend days, as a family. No more bedtime stories. At least not for now. No longer is it completely trackable who put her to bed last night. Did you read, or did I? No longer a bench mark for accuracy. But she knows. She knows it is my turn to tuck her in, all comfy and warm. I argue that it doesn't really matter. Daddy can do it again. I'll take you tomorrow. No - it's you're turn, she says. No matter that the stairs are not my greatest friend. No matter that - yet again, and always - my back is tight with pain. No matter. My night for bedtime duties. She knows the pattern too well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She wants to play a game. She sets it up on our large living room ottoman, so that she sits on the floor and I can sit on the couch. She knows sitting on the floor can almost literally break me apart with pain. She's considering my needs in relation to her own. She's making me as comfortable as she can. She's taking care of me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I fold the laundry into tall piles. I've done my job. With only a few gentle reminders, she then does hers. Delivering each pile to its rightful upstairs location. She's doing for me what I cannot easily do on my own.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Daddy and she go out for a trek in the woods. Most likely with a little geocaching included. She reminds him that Mommy used to geocache with them as well. Why doesn't she come anymore? Daddy reminds her that it's sometimes too difficult for Mommy to go on long hikes over difficult land. This makes it not so much fun for Mommy to want to come along. Oh. Yeah. Just the same, she misses me on their outings.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She sees a child in the large room, holding a bouquet of beautiful balloons. She turns to me with fear in her eyes. There are balloons here, Mommy! You're allergic! If I don't get a chance to stop her, she will inform said child of my allergy to the brightly colored orbs. Don't worry about it, Sweetie. I'll be okay. I won't get hurt, I promise. Thank you for your concern, but I'll be okay.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We wake up early on a cold, icy school morn. Snow is falling and ice has encased my car. As she watches her morning cartoon friends, I inform her that I'll be outside clearing off the car. Okay, she says. I struggle to the car. I slip and possibly fall on a small patch of ice. I trod through the snow. But I get the job done. It's not pretty, but it's done. Sweetie warm inside, knowing that Mom's just taking care of another "Mom" thing. No big deal at all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I call to say I'm on my way home early from work. His phone rings a few too many times, then.... background noise. Hello?, I say. Hi, Mom! Sweetie! You figured out how to answer Daddy's phone all by yourself? Daddy showed me how. Good job! I'm coming home. I'll see you soon. Okay. Bye bye. Bye. Love you. Then she's gone. I love you too, Sweetie.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I need her help, and she gives without complaint. She asks for mine, and I return in kind. She understands my limitations, but they may or may not matter at any given moment. I'm her mom. I exist in her eyes to help her, teach her, raise her, show her love and attention. She's my daughter. Helping me with activities I cannot easily accomplish on my own, expecting me to love her and shower her with affection and attention, no matter my physical state.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are things your kids can help you with and there are things they just expect you to do. Sweetie is no different from any other child. I am no different from any other mom. This fact is proven to me, blessedly, over and over again every single day in every single way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-4020530916646151670?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(1 minute)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;This weekend shaped up to be quite a weekend. With Sweetie’s team showing up me and my preconceived notions of what her D.I. team could do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(10 more minutes)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;Really. I admit. Going into Regionals yesterday - and knowing what I've observed from a couple Instant Challenge practices - I meekly tell you that I did not have all that much hope that the team would walk away from yesterday's competition with much more than a fun, long day had, and a great lesson learned in "It's not about winning or losing. It's how you played the game."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;And then Hubby and I got to see all 4 of the teams in Sweetie's team's particular challenge. And then he and I really thought, "Oh yeah. They'll get 3rd place. Definitely."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;And then - surprise! They ended up with a 2nd place win! Wow! How exciting and, yes, surprising! A Huge, happy, excited surprising result.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;We are so, so proud of Sweetie and her team for coming together, working hard on both their challenge and their teamwork skills, and securing themselves a place at the State Level competition in just a couple more weeks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;D.I. has been - and, I dare say, will continue to be - such a great force in Sweetie's life. I know I've written about her experiences in this team environment many times before. You may be sick of hearing about it, in fact. But, I'm sorry. I just have to express again how influential D.I. seems to be in helping shape our Sweetie into a more relaxed, adaptable person who can think more readily on the fly, and both express and produce some truly amazing thoughts, creations and actions.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;So looking forward to seeing this team, and Sweetie in particular, grow, learn and create together some more.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;--------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;This post brought to you by &lt;/i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.oneword.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;www.oneword.com&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i&gt;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-4166374075100470844?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HUaKtvC3D7eoQ8BF4a5NKAEmDyw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HUaKtvC3D7eoQ8BF4a5NKAEmDyw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/PqQOqub1Xj4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/4166374075100470844/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=4166374075100470844" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/4166374075100470844?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/4166374075100470844?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/PqQOqub1Xj4/oneword-weekend-4.html" title="OneWord Weekend #4" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/03/oneword-weekend-4.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQFQn88cCp7ImA9WhZTEEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-3669995745784896030</id><published>2011-03-13T14:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-13T14:51:53.178-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-13T14:51:53.178-04:00</app:edited><title>OneWord Weekend #3</title><content type="html">Word: &lt;b&gt;Wand&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(1 minute)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Hmmm… I wish I had a magic wand to change this word of the day. :) All I can think about is Harry Potter. Which we love, by the way. But… yeah… not so much more. Sorry…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(10 more minutes)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I can tell you about Sweetie's magic wand. She received it for Christmas a few years back. Hubby made it for her - specially designed! It even includes - a la Harry Potter himself! - a real cat's whisker inside of it. Wow! Pretty special if you ask me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;As for me, sure - there are times when I certainly feel like I could use a good magic wand to help me out. Especially in cases of time management. Heck, this work week we're about to enter may be helped out by the doings of a powerful magic wand.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;See, I'm starting a new job this week. Yes... let's count it out, now... one, two, three, four, my FIFTH job! Well, okay... I haven't yet really found out if I'll be allowed to adjust my hours at one of my jobs. They may tell me I have to work the days I do now or nothing. If so, then I have 4 jobs, as I've had for a few months now. Easy beans!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;Even still, I'll now be bringing in a bit more each week than I have been. But to keep that one other job too? That would be GREAT for us, financially speaking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;However, for this week at least, I will be working ALL FIVE jobs... transitioning into my new job, but only able to work some hours for them - not my full regular schedule with them. And then everything else too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;Tomorrow, for example, I have 3 jobs to go to in an 8 1/2 hours time. Should be fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;But, yeah... if I had some magical abilities, I'd sure do what I could to help myself out this week so that I could work all the hours typically required for each of them, yet still have ample time left for family and relaxation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;Where's Sweetie's wand these days anyway? She swears it actually works. Hmmm.... maybe I should give it a try....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;----------------------------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;This post brought to you by &lt;/i&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.oneword.com/"&gt;&lt;i&gt;www.oneword.com&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-3669995745784896030?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_Kp9R3FSpr4aBmcd5bx07LdI6UU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_Kp9R3FSpr4aBmcd5bx07LdI6UU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/VN5Iykdu0Q4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/3669995745784896030/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=3669995745784896030" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/3669995745784896030?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/3669995745784896030?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/VN5Iykdu0Q4/oneword-weekend-3.html" title="OneWord Weekend #3" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/03/oneword-weekend-3.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEHRXw4eSp7ImA9Wx9aFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-3658515064640835012</id><published>2011-03-06T14:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T14:10:34.231-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-06T14:10:34.231-05:00</app:edited><title>OneWord Weekend #2</title><content type="html">Word: &lt;b&gt;Example&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(1 minute)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I try to set a good example for Sweetie. Be polite, learn a lot, do your chores. But all too often I think - no, I know - that she is the one setting a good example for us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(9 more minutes)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I mean, really. Sweetie is the consummate definition of well roundedness. At least in my eyes. She must get it from her father. But, for him, I think it's just craziness and restlessness. Okay, well rounded. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie sets a good example for me because she sets her mind on something and she goes after it. She does not wont for much, if anything. Therefore, she's not one to whine and mope and plead for that which she does not have. If she wants something, she finds a way to make it herself. She's a crafty one, she is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hubby and I whine. We wish we could do more than we can. But we know the financial limitations involved. Sweetie just lives her life. Actually, it's probably because we've never been able to afford much that she never whines about wanting more. We can pass by toy aisles in the store and she doesn't say boo. Well, she may comment that something looks fun or that she knows someone who has such as such. But she doesn't ask for it herself. She's very sensible about knowing what fun she can already create for herself at home and knowing that she really doesn't need too much extra stuff to make life even more "funner."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie is polite. We remind her - it sometimes feels incessantly - to be nice and don't use an angry tone. Yes, if anything, it seems to me that she comes off as adamant or insistent or, I don't know... snippy, in her speech. But nonetheless, she is by and large a polite, loving, kind girl. We have been complemented, in fact, by at least a couple of her &amp;nbsp;peers' parents. They letting us know what a polite little girl we have. Please and thank you's. She can share well. She's a good girl.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie does not judge others. She's an excellent example for us - for anyone! - in that regard. She does not pick on others. I think, above all, that her sense of equality and fairness for all is what I am most proud of.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, I can learn a lot from Sweetie. She truly is a great example of a fine, well rounded, loving human being.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I only wish I can live up to her example by creating a life worthy of her admiration.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-3658515064640835012?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rwtqBksBsNi6AvQl5ZkVBnLl7ME/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rwtqBksBsNi6AvQl5ZkVBnLl7ME/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/zon3WRmOzXw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/3658515064640835012/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=3658515064640835012" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/3658515064640835012?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/3658515064640835012?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/zon3WRmOzXw/oneword-weekend-2.html" title="OneWord Weekend #2" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/03/oneword-weekend-2.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4AQng9fip7ImA9Wx9aEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-4345524411728521351</id><published>2011-03-04T16:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-04T16:09:03.666-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-04T16:09:03.666-05:00</app:edited><title>Money, Money, Money!</title><content type="html">Hubby and I struggle with money. Regular readers know this, as I've written on several occasions about our need to scrimp and how we try to save. This time of year, especially, has always been just thatmuchmore tight for us, as the business Hubby is in (basically a subcontracting home renovation) finds less willing buyers 'round about now. People waiting to get their tax returns back before committing to pricy home repair.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Things will pick up. That's the usual way of things, anyway. It's just... right now... it's tight.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie had school winter vacation this week. Hubby just happened to have this week off too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well, isn't that special?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Luckily, a new job does start on Monday for him. But it's not the biggest of projects, by a long shot. Yay. Glad, at any rate, that he has any job at all to start. And yet, it still has us on the edge of our seats wondering where his portion of the income (that is, the greater portion - by far) is going to come from in the very near future just following this puny reconstruct.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
____________&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Is it so wrong to like a job primarily because it shows you how much better your life is than others in the world?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I call people, at my evening job, trying to help them come up with viable plans for paying off their medical bill responsibilities. There are financial aid applications. There are payment plan options. There are legitimate ways to make paying down their debt workable for them. And I pride myself with the ability to, often times, "talk down" a customer from sheer frustration and downright anger. Anger at the system. Anger at their situation. People living week to week, on fixed low incomes, having to make tough decisions on which bills are most important to contribute money towards this month. 'Cuz you know there's no way any of them are getting paid off in full! Not this month. Hopefully next month will be better.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Little do these people know how very, very much I can relate to their stories. How very much I emphasize with their situations. How I know, plain and simple, the frustration and stress of what they're going through.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"Oh, but what would you know, anyway?! You work for a big hospital and are probably paid a nice pretty penny for the work you do, with not a worry in sight." This, from one of the gentlemen I spoke to recently.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If you only knew how wrong you were, sir. If you only knew. This is only 1 of 4 jobs I work. And it's still not enough. Not by a long shot.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If you only knew.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
____________&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The beginning of the month seems to be the toughest. But then again, we work all month, trying not to spend too much, so that - come the first of the month - we have enough money to pay off the big bills. Rent. insurances. Credit card bills. Everything is due all at once.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I'm also eligible, potentially, for a small monthly bonus at one of my jobs. If I succeed at achieving it, as I have the last 2 months, then I receive it in my very 1st paycheck of the month. Yay! Extra money!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then, we sent in for a rebate on my new phone - which I had to get around Christmas time, because my cell had died beyond all hope. That just arrived to us this week too. Yay! However, it was in the form of a gift card (a "debit/credit card" usable at anywhere that accepts credit cards). Not a check for actual cash to be deposited into our account. Fine. Whatever. As long as we use this card for items we actually need - not random coffee trips, not a dinner out, not "extra" treat-like groceries we wouldn't normally buy - it would be fine. It's all the same.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So. Two instances of "bonus" money this week. And still. It's hardly a bonus at all. That is, they &lt;i&gt;aren't&lt;/i&gt; a bonus at all. Just a bit more money than we thought we'd have, making this week not as completely and utterly dire as it was once expected to be.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yay! Now we can actually go grocery shopping this week! We don't have to make do - as much - with the food we have in-house, like we've been "making do" this past month or so. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Except..... remember, Hubby hasn't worked all that much in the last month or so, and this job to start pays horribly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And so... we are back to the dire situation we started with. Yes, we will shop. But, no, it will not be a "full out" trip. It will be a "get the basics we have to have to make other in-house items last longer" trip. A sort of trip we have become all too familiar with of late.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
____________&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As happy and somewhat relieving it is to get the occasional unexpected extra money in any given week (Yay! now we can afford my Rx without charging it! Yay! now we can afford a bit more at the store!), I've been wondering lately just what we'd do if we, somehow or another, did all of a sudden come into a large amount of money.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I'm talking thousands of dollars here. How and where would we apply that money if, joys of all joys, we were instantly blessed with such a decision?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mean... I'm thinking it would actually end up being a really stressful decision in its own right.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We have big credit card debt - should we wipe that out?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We owe my parents big time for a loan they gave us - should the money all go to them?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hubby and I both have old, old cars. At least a decade old each. Would we use big (pretend) money to put the money down on at least 1 new car?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I still have college loan debt. Maybe a chunk of money should go to get rid of that monthly payment?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, of course, I have medical bills up the wazoo. Perhaps some of this hypothetical windfall should pay those bills off for us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lastly, we haven't been on a family vacation in about 4 years. Not any kind of vacation at all. And I want - above anything else in this world, sometimes - to go to Disneyworld with Sweetie and Hubby. I've been before, as a teenager. Hubby and Sweetie have never been. I want to go so badly. Would we/should we use the money to take this trip?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But then what? So we, say, clear up a credit card. Great! That's really only taking a few hundred dollars off our monthly expenses.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or say we clear up the debt with my parents. That would be awesome!!!! However, they've been kind enough to not bother us about paying that back lately anyway. So it's not a current monthly expense we'd see go away.... it's just a large, looming debt we'd be free and clear from, which is a lot - of course - but doesn't truly help us still, month to month, right now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or we take that vacation. Maybe we could go to France instead! Hubby and I went years ago, and Sweetie says she really wants to go too. Hubby especially wants to take her, as he lived in France during college for a few months. He wants to show Sweetie all his old haunts. To take a vacation would be wonderful! But... then what? There may be little or no money left from our (still imaginary) windfall to apply to existing debt. So life, as we know it now, would continue on... day to day living, paying what we can where and when we can on our bills. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But at least we'd be more relaxed, and with no added cost!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yay.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
____________&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don't mean to complain. Honestly, I don't. And I know the stress that Hubby feels he's under, as the main breadwinner in our little family. I know he feels badly when he's not working. At the same time, he knows as well as I do that it's not his doing at all. He goes where the company tells him to go, when they tell him to go. He can't make jobs appear. I know this as well as he does. Like I said, I'm so happy he has a job to start next week. Some money is better than none! I love him and appreciate so much the hard work he does to make our family as safe and secure as possible.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And we are, all things considered, doing alright and holding our own. We're not necessarily behind on any payments. It's just, we don't necessarily see any improvement in our existing debt situation either. We're just... staying steady.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
BUT - we're staying steady on a total household income that is considerably less than it used to be, when he and I both had regular full time jobs with benefits. Yes, we had to sell our house. Yes, we now rent for considerably less than what our monthly mortgage was. But through the sale, we paid off our 2nd mortgage. We have done what we can to lower interest rates on our credit cards, and we do not use these cards anymore, unless absolutely necessary.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We are making improvements. We may not easily see them. But they are there. To live as we do - even on a pay check to pay check basis - without collectors pounding down our door, and with wonderful friends and family who understand our situation and offer their own support in various ways... we are blessed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, like I said, what would I do with a big chunk of money anyway?! It probably wouldn't even be worth the hassle and stress of figuring that all out. Bah!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(Not that, in the end, I wouldn't want to give it a good ol' try.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-4345524411728521351?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IKm5Z9k1Ca32Z4GjTeqdfCP6R7A/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/IKm5Z9k1Ca32Z4GjTeqdfCP6R7A/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/WY7fUMFfk8I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/4345524411728521351/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=4345524411728521351" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/4345524411728521351?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/4345524411728521351?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/WY7fUMFfk8I/money-money-money.html" title="Money, Money, Money!" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/03/money-money-money.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEDQ346fyp7ImA9Wx9bGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-1264084510798629925</id><published>2011-02-27T12:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T12:27:52.017-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-27T12:27:52.017-05:00</app:edited><title>OneWord Weekend</title><content type="html">The rules are simple (and paraphrased from the &lt;a href="http://oneword.com/"&gt;oneword.com&lt;/a&gt; website.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Take the one word seen at the top of the next screen. Take 60 seconds to write about it. Don't think. Just write.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I may adjust the time, but still insisting a limit. 10 minutes? That may be good.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Let's go...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
word: &lt;b&gt;Strong&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(1 minute)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
My daughter’s strength amazes me. At 8 years old, not a care in the world for how she’s perceived by others. Meaning her peers. She’s much more concerned, and always has been, about playing what she wants, rather than with whom she’s playing.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;(9 more minutes)&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
When her kindergarten teacher pointed this out to us, I was concerned, to say the least. "Sweetie doesn't have any friends? No one plays with her? She's an outcast?!"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Quite the contrary, as Hubby later pointed out to me. It's not that no one plays with Sweetie. It's that she doesn't, necessarily, play with anyone. On her own terms. She isn't interested in following the crowd. Not interested in being part of a clique. She simply wants to do what she wants to do. That's all.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And, in fact, Hubby is right. If we ask Sweetie who she usually plays with at recess, she has no "usual" answer to offer. Sometimes this kid, sometimes that. A lot of the time on her own. She's all about wanting to play what she wants to play. If little Johnny or Jenny want to join in, well sure! The more the merrier! But if they don't, that's no skin of Sweetie's nose. She'll play just fine on her own.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We sometimes tease Sweetie at home about being "weird." Not that I could give you a concrete example right now. But those are words we've said to her before. At the same time, letting her know she shouldn't let kids or anyone call her weird. It's just not a nice thing to say. (And she knows we're kidding when we call her weird ourselves.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
"I don't mind. It's okay to be weird. It just means you're different and interesting."&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
See?! What a kid! Absolutely amazing. She is strong and proud to be who she is, say what she wants, show her smarts, proclaims her interests, and be the person she is. Everyone else be damned.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And anyway, she's certainly not at a loss for friends. Classmates come to her at school functions, eagerly taking her hand to see this cool thing, or come over here to do that awesome activity. No. Sweetie is not wont for admirers, that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I'm among the top of the list.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-1264084510798629925?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z4ykkqjw7gEYg9BylGWc30Ip-fA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z4ykkqjw7gEYg9BylGWc30Ip-fA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/UlzDY6_6fmU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/1264084510798629925/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=1264084510798629925" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/1264084510798629925?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/1264084510798629925?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/UlzDY6_6fmU/oneword-weekend.html" title="OneWord Weekend" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/02/oneword-weekend.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UMQno6eCp7ImA9Wx9bEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-1068092105439266580</id><published>2011-02-19T13:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T13:48:03.410-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-19T13:48:03.410-05:00</app:edited><title>I Never Was a Good Accounting Student</title><content type="html">&lt;i&gt;"She believed she could, so she did."&lt;/i&gt; - Anonymous&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I recently happened upon this quote, and it struck me profoundly. &lt;i&gt;She believed she could, so she did.&lt;/i&gt; I can point you to several instances in my life where this very idea greatly applies. Most notably among them, going through a pregnancy and delivering my beautiful Sweetie into this world.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But there are so many other ideas floating around in my head. Grand plans, visions of a life well purposed, and little seedlings of childhood dreams bursting at their seams to grow and flourish into something great. But yet, there they stay, idly laying low. My mind swims with the greatness I see for myself, for my Sweetie, for our family. But far too often I allow these dreams to continue swimming in aimless, lazy moonlit circles in my head, when what they need is roaring encouragement to make that push toward the finish line.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This is all compounded by that "thing" that parenthood does to you... Parenthood makes you want to be a better person. The very act of raising a child to be the best she can be opens your own eyes, making you aware of all the little (and sometimes big) ways in which the way you lead your life could improve. After all, leading by example is often the best way to teach our kids how to do anything, not least of which is how to lead a purposeful, accountable life. And if we're not practicing that for ourselves, how can we expect our children to appreciate the importance of striving toward a life well lived?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
An accountable life. A friend of mine opened my eyes to this phrase a few weeks back. Knowing what you want and taking the actions to get to that end. Not waiting for life to happen to you... making your life happen!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I realized how often I sit around waiting...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I went to see a psychic (as hokey as you may or may not think they are) back in high school who told me that she sees me publishing two books in my lifetime: 1 more of a non-fiction/biographic publication, 1 in the world of fiction.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
During my college days I had an English professor praise my written work, noting that he was sure to see my name on the store bookshelves one day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And so I sit... confidently waiting for that day when I will be discovered. &lt;i&gt;Obviously&lt;/i&gt; it's coming. I've been told as much by reliable people! I just have to wait for it...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mean, to actively go after this goal is nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy. I was told I was going to do something, so I made plans for said thing to happen. Pshaw. Anyone can make that happen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or, hmmm.... my blog here is probably what that psychic was referring to anyway, seeing as I met with her in the days way before blogs existed. My blog is non-fiction/biographical. Or, you know... I've had a few articles published online and in print. There you go. Check! Vision realized. Moving on...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But... none of this takes into account that I have loved writing for as long as I can remember. That I genuinely have a biographical slant of interest to a certain percentage of the world's population. That I have told people - family, friends, job interviewers, etc... - that I want to write a book one day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yeah. Wanting to is one thing, getting it done is quite another.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or should I say getting it &lt;i&gt;started&lt;/i&gt; is the issue at hand?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I need to take accountability for my own life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I want a cup of tea at night and I ask Hubby to fix it. If he does, great! If not - eh. I don't really want it that badly.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I get home after work in the later evening some nights. If there's leftover food from Sweetie and Hubby's dinner that is easy enough to heat up (preferably by Hubby), I'll be happy to have some. Otherwise - eh. I'm not that hungry anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I agree with Hubby about the merits of having a clutter free, clean home. To have that would be wonderful! Clutter out, abundance in, after all. But... eh. I've just done the dishes, taken care of the laundry, and vacuumed. That's enough for today! Time to see what's happening on Facebook or watch this afternoon's episode of Oprah.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I enjoy counted cross stitch and got some new patterns for Christmas. I tell myself every day that to have some time to cross stitch would be awesome! And then... eh. Getting the dishes cleaned or laundry folded or simply cuddling with Sweetie presents itself as being much more "important" than silly cross stitching most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have some items of clothes that are decades old. Seriously. And several pairs of pants that just don't fit me well at all. I could really use a good shopping spree where I could pick up some basic new pieces to fill out my wardrobe. But... eh. We're barely making ends meet as is, so we definitely have no money for that sort of thing. Especially when Valentine's Day is here and Sweetie needs a cute little gift. And the task of filling an Easter Basket is right around the corner. I'll use the little bit of money that we have for that no problem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
See? Laziness + putting others ahead of myself = the death of dreams and goals.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's time to take accountability. It's time to take the necessary actions to get what I want out of life, for myself and my family. It's time to get up and do, not sit around and wait.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's time to show Sweetie that if you believe you can, you can. And you do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;"He is able who thinks he is able."&lt;/i&gt; - Buddha&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-1068092105439266580?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-CddrYuoWSxo-WU-uaLLdcm4IXc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-CddrYuoWSxo-WU-uaLLdcm4IXc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/hSyGYX7X1VU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/1068092105439266580/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=1068092105439266580" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/1068092105439266580?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/1068092105439266580?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/hSyGYX7X1VU/i-never-was-good-accounting-student.html" title="I Never Was a Good Accounting Student" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-never-was-good-accounting-student.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcNQ3o-fyp7ImA9Wx9UEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-4814093366301033738</id><published>2011-02-06T15:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T15:28:12.457-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-06T15:28:12.457-05:00</app:edited><title>Perspective is Everything</title><content type="html">Are our personalities set in childhood? Or do they adapt and change over time?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Little Susie is the youngest in our family, and so she's forever having to speak up to be heard.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jimmy is our oldest, so he's used to being the boss and getting his way.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Mary's the middle child, so of course she's forever acting up and bossing others around - in order to get our attention, I guess.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Well, Billy's father and I are divorced and now there are other step children in the family. I think Billy acts the way he does to make sure his step-siblings know when they're crossing into "his" territory.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sweetie is an only child, so she tends to have a hard time cooperating with her peers and accepting that she's not always going to get her way.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Huh...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Funny. Seems like no matter what the situation, a parent can always explain away their child's less than pleasing behavior. Or - on the contrary - proudly proclaim how it is that their child is the confident, outspoken little smarty (&lt;i&gt;cough&lt;/i&gt;-pants-&lt;i&gt;cough&lt;/i&gt;) you see before you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Interesting. It just seems to me that children will turn out the way they're going to turn out based a whole lot more on how the adults in their life treat them - regardless of birth order - and what's expected of these kids, as well as straight-up biological makeup. Yep - I say there's something to be said for the innate personality a person adopts just from good old genetics. After all, studies have shown that one's personality is pretty much&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.livescience.com/culture/children-personality-adults-100804.html"&gt;set by 1st grade&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;(That being said, it does drive me just a wee bit crazy when Grand Mama, Uncle Fred, or Great Aunt Betsy twice removed says something like, "Did you just see that smart alec expression on Billy's face?! Oh, he gets that attitude from wise-cracking Grandpa Al, no doubt about it!" It's especially crazy when Grandpa Al lives in Wyoming and young Billy has never had the pleasure of meeting the old coot.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Yep. A kid's personality is going to be what it is based on nature&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;and&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;nurture. Not necessarily, I think, because said kid is born first, in the middle, or the last of 20.&amp;nbsp;Which, okay, birth order could have a thing or two to do with how they relate to others. But there's a whole lot more to it than that.&amp;nbsp;considering a kid born into any of these situations could end up being bossy, outspoken, confident, troubled, shy, dramatic, etc., etc., etc...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;And why am I thinking about this issue these days, you may ask? Well, I'd have to refer you back to D.I., I'm afraid. As I stood last weekend with the other parents from Sweetie's team, all watching the group struggle through their challenges, I overheard some of them explaining their child's - uh... gumption!... to each other by describing where the kid falls in the family and what he or she has to do to get the coveted parental or sibling attention. Each different scenario - surprise! - coming out with the same result.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;And there I stood, not offering Sweetie's family placement, but noting to myself how her (non)sibling situation "produced" in her a surprising similar outcome to the others with larger families.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;Amazing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;SO.... that's what I have to say about that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;On a related note... It seems to me that how &lt;i&gt;adults&lt;/i&gt; interact with each other and, in fact, their needfulness for each other, is highly relevant to what's going on in each of their lives at the time. Were estranged friends, for example, to reunite and reconnect several years after a fallout, it very well could turn out that their new relationship is both strained and tentative because of what happened in the past (as well as what life's like currently for each of them.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Not all together a bad thing, really. And of course, that makes sense. It's just now a different, careful progression into a new way to relate to each other. Okay.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Is the way each individual behaves within a new/renewed relationship truly how they are and have always been? But perhaps because each of the 2 friends "needed" each other in such a different way years ago than they presently do, their "true" personalities either didn't matter before or (more likely) the little quirks were "allowed" before as just that - silly little quirks.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's all about time, really. And perspective. People grow up. Time moves on. Various life happenings affect you and, consciously or unconsciously, &lt;a href="http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2003/05/030513075924.htm"&gt;you change&lt;/a&gt;. Maybe a little, or maybe a lot. So that who you were before - the "before" person that the other remembers and is currently playing to - is simply not there anymore. At least not quite.&amp;nbsp;As much as you feel you are presenting your current true self - admittedly changed from who you were before - you're just not sure the other person "gets" that and is smoothly adapting to you and the current state of affairs.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or &amp;nbsp;maybe it's you who isn't adapting well to the current truth of an old friend,&amp;nbsp;given the way things used to be.&amp;nbsp;Hmmmm....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Like I said. People change. And new relationships, even with "old" friends from before, change too. They need to, in fact, if they're going to thrive, progress and evolve further. Just like friendships that start in one's youth and continue on to present day without interruption - they too change and evolve with time. Your friends need you in different ways throughout a friendship, just as you need them differently. That's life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Relationships are hard. Establishing renewed friendships with old friends can be even harder. Will you get the friendship you imagined you'd get, with the same fun, awesome person with whom you used to be so close? Or do you find instead that said person just is no longer "there"? And neither are you. Not quite, anyway. Both fine, just... different.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hopefully, in the end, you'll wind up with a renewed friendship combining the best of old and new. A new way in which you currently "need" each other. A fresh way to view, accept and appreciate each other. Always moving forward...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Ugh. It was so much easier when our parents arranged play dates, introduced us to our new best friends in the form of their friends' kids, and our sometimes quirky behaviors could be easily explained away with fixed home-life statistics like birth order or passed on genetics from wise-cracking Grandpa Al.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-4814093366301033738?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xstrjucbRW1k_N-PGUnOc7RezF4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/xstrjucbRW1k_N-PGUnOc7RezF4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~4/2sjo0KsJ598" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/feeds/4814093366301033738/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12404113&amp;postID=4814093366301033738" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/4814093366301033738?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12404113/posts/default/4814093366301033738?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/KytF/~3/2sjo0KsJ598/perspective-is-everything.html" title="Perspective is Everything" /><author><name>Amy Linder</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15496005772917020822</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2011/02/perspective-is-everything.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMFSX4yfCp7ImA9Wx9VFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12404113.post-1260607518011313321</id><published>2011-02-01T14:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T09:20:18.094-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-02T09:20:18.094-05:00</app:edited><title>Not Bossy, Not Grumpy, Not Fighting. Adapting.</title><content type="html">Newsflash: Sweetie is involved in an extra curricular activity that simultaneously frustrates her and thrills her. An activity that she mistakenly thought Hubby and I were going to take her out of and - to that - she emphatically pleaded with us to not do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Wow.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
More specifically, there are certain members of her extra curricular team (okay - &lt;a href="http://www.nh-di.org/"&gt;D.I.&lt;/a&gt; ) with whom she butts heads. Fine - 1 kid in particular out of the 4 others on her team with whom she is struggling to get along. I've seen their agitated communications on a few occasions now and it honestly pains me to see their on-going verbal tug of war. Sweetie will suggest a plan for how to solve a problem, and this other child will - more often than not - undermine Sweetie's ideas with a biting remark.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or, said other child will take over the "organization" of a particular activity after it's been presented to the group as a challenge to solve, and - basically - however this kid interpreted the instructions, goes. Right or wrong. Without anyone in the group realizing they can look back at the written instructions to confirm what they're to do and not do. And yet, I've seen Sweetie try to correct this teammate's understanding of the rules, trying to make her and the others remember that, no, that's not what we were told to do. But it doesn't seem to matter. As I said - however this particular kid understands the rules is how the group as a whole will proceed more often than not. End of story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Like Sweetie explained to me yesterday on our way home from a team workshop, this other team member always has to do what she wants, no matter what the rest of the team wants or thinks. Sweetie's example to me was this: say we were supposed to write a book. The rest of the team might decide and agree upon writing a story about aliens visiting earth, but this other member wants to write about animals. So the book would end up being all about the aliens' visit except for 1 page in the middle that would be about turtles. She always has to get her way, in some way or another.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Everyone else on the team can get along well enough and come to agreements (more or less, as far as I've witnessed. Let's just say teamwork in general is a huge issue with them all.) But this one kid just will not cooperate.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, I'm sure the other team members see what's going on here with this other kid. I'm sure they're all just as frustrated as any other team member that one of them is always taking over and deciding how they're all going to proceed. But Sweetie just happens to be the other outspoken one. The other most strong-willed member. So she's always the one to question this teammate, and yet it never results in any change in the process. The only result is the palpable agitated stress felt between Sweetie and this kid. And it breaks my heart.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But then again... isn't this my little girl who used to pout, whine and freak right the heck out if the "rules" she was expecting in any given situation turned out not to fly as she expected? Isn't this my daughter who, in kindergarten, I had to drop off every morning at school reminding her of the "mantra" I created for her: "no bossy, no grumpy, no fighting, adapt."? Isn't this my Sweetie, who I've written about time and time again right here in exasperation over Sweetie's stubborn overdramatic reaction to a multitude of situations? (can anyone say "&lt;a href="http://spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2010/06/case-of-mom-calling-kiddo-wacked-part-1.html"&gt;dance&lt;/a&gt; r&lt;a href="http://www.spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com/2010/06/mom-calling-kiddo-wacked-part-2.html"&gt;ecital&lt;/a&gt;"? Anyone? Bueller?)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, that's her. My Sweetie, the one and the same. Currently getting her butt routinely kicked by this overbearing kid and these tricky, time-sensitive, rule-based, teamwork-oriented challenges. Challenges where she and her teammates are forced to work things out completely on their own - no adult input allowed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My daughter... handling herself very well in the face of opposing forces and hard to understand concepts. Sticking up for herself as best she can, opening her mouth and voicing her opinions and ideas whether or not they're likely to be shot down by her peers. Trying again and again. Completely holding her own as the youngest member of this still struggling first year team.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sweetie - telling me she hopes there's a D.I. meeting tonight (rather than being cancelled due to snow - again!) because she still has to give one of her teammates the thank you card she wrote her for coming to her birthday party back in December and for the nice gifts she gave Sweetie.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A card that's going to - you guessed it - that bossy little kid.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You hold no grudges, Sweetie. You're trying and struggling and thinking and creating. You're voicing your opinions, but not being bossy. And you're adapting to the way things turn out - whether on your terms or not.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Just another example of how you make me oh so proud to be your Mama. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
--------------&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(I just had to break the news to Sweetie that D.I. is, in fact, cancelled tonight. Third week in a row. "I miss D.I." she said sadly. I know, Sweetie. I know...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/12404113-1260607518011313321?l=spinabifidamoms.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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