What Makes Me Happy...

It's obvious some of the things that make me happy, like, for instance, my family, our health, stuff like that.  But there are plenty of other random, little things that make me happy, too.  Those little things that I take for granted, but still enjoy, still smile about, those little things that put me at peace.

In absolutely no particular order whatsoever...

• Hot water in the bathroom sink at work (there's nothing worse than sitting in ice-cold air conditioning all day then having to wash your hands in ice-cold water)

• Samantha launching herself, airborne, into my arms when I arrive home from work every day  (this one actually gets a bit dangerous, as I usually have not had time to set my stuff down or even to crouch down, thus conking her in the head with bag/sunglasses/keys/umbrella - nothing worse than a good intention ending in tears...)

• Warm sunshine and low humidity (this one's a package deal...must. go. together..., especially when in conjunction with open windows and light breezes, LOL)

• Earl Grey tea (maybe one day I'll tell you the story of moving to London, living in near-poverty, re-using old Earl Grey tea bags...yeesh...I don't think I've told anyone about that - too embarassed...)

• Ice cream (absolutely any flavor.  Love it all.  Oh, except candied bacon or gorgonzola flavors.  Those are just weird.) 

• Getting to drink my coffee all. by. myself. in the morning while Steve and Samantha are still sleeping upstairs (this is a very rare pleasure, as Princess usually wakes up before I do most days)

• Getting to use classic mom-isms (take this morning, for example:  I'm in the shower, Samantha comes into the bathroom, turns off the fan and the light, and starts to leave.  I fling open the curtain, glare at her, and say, in my most menacing-mommy voice, "Don't *make* me come out there!"  She stopped dead in her tracks, turned everything back on, and left to go play in her room - Success!) - I know this may not seem like much, but with only one child, this is definitely a joy to me.

• Getting a good look at the photos I've just loaded off my camera and onto my computer

• The smell of rosemary (I just have to run my fingers over the bush in the back yard whenever I walk past it)

• Summer (this was not a love of mine back during my goth days...full makeup, heavily-product-laden hair, boots and black clothes do not make for a pleasant summer - more like torture)

• Remembering childhood summers

• Johann Sebastian Bach (and his equally-talented offspring)

• My camera

• Backyard wildlife (bugs, flowers, bunnies, foxes, whatever happens to be visible from my window)

• Samantha's laughter, and her absolutely brilliant sense of humor - she really knows how to make me laugh!

There are so many more things I could mention.  I'm trying to make a mental note as they come to me, and will hopefully post more one day.  Thanks for indulging me!

Wednesday Special Needs/Disability Blog Hop: Say Cheese!

Happy Wednesday!  After a week of blissful slacking absence while at the beach last week and missing Meriah's Blog Hop, I'm back this week, and grateful that my hopelessly procrastinating brain and I don't have to think too hard for this one.  Fresh off yesterday's weighty topic of internet drama, I'm ready to add some cheese to my w(h)ine.  This week's Hop theme is "Say Cheese," providing fun pictures showing our connection to disability.  Easy peasy!!! 

While my connection to disability is not readily apparent in the pics below, my daughter is my connection, and my daughter should definitely be a movie star.  To be honest, Samantha actually has absolutely no clue what a movie star actually is, but I think she does get the concept of glitz and glamour and feeling beautiful.  That's not to say she ever doesn't feel beautiful, but when she does that little extra something, she's very proud, and ready to pass it along to the world to see. 

Thanks to Heather and Zoey's sweet, sweet gift they sent a few months ago, the book, Birdie's Big Girl Shoes, where Birdie put her mother's fancy, schmancy, big-heeled, pointy-toed shoes on, and struts around feeling just like a movie star, Samantha gets it.  While we were at the beach, we bought her a new pair of sunglasses, something she's been needing for some time now.  I gasped when I put them on her, and said, Sammi!  You look just like a... and she filled in the blank with, Movie Star!!

Yep, she gets it. 

The best part about these sunglasses, other than the fact that they match most of her clothes?  Well, with the aversion of her eyes when posing for the camera as of late, you can't tell if she's looking at the camera directly or not with her eyes covered!  Looks like she's looking right at'tcha, huh? 

I'll take it. 

Plenty of cheese here. 

The Absence of Drama

I don't like drama.  I stay away from it whenever possible, and I certainly don't intentionally cause it (some of you may be snickering, but seriously, drama is the last thing I ever want!  PMS-fueled ramblings can occasionally get me into a spot of trouble along the way, though...).  But there are certain places that just breed drama, no matter how innocuous they may seem at a glance, no matter how innocently they start.  And those places are usually found on, you guessed it, Facebook.

I have been conspicuously absent from FB in the last few months.  I post from time to time, usually from my phone, and visit my newsfeed periodically, commenting on this or that, but never digging very deep.  First of all, I really don't have the time.  Second, I don't necessarily have the inclination.  I care a lot about many of the people I have there, whether friends IRL or "friends" in the virtual world, but in reality can't know what each and every one of them is doing from one minute to the next.  And if I miss a major event in someone's life (which is a huge liklihood), I feel bad, but don't know quite how else to find out about it other than randomly and by accident while doing my occasional surfing.  Or from their blogs, if they happen to have one.   So my apologies in advance...  Don't get me wrong - I do love Facebook, and know that when I have the time, I can actually do some catching up.  I love to be there to offer words of support, condolence, or excitement over an accomplishment when I can.

If you're on Facebook, I'm sure you've been bombarded by the masses of group additions.  One of the changes Facebook made last year was the ability for anyone to add you to a group or event of their choice, whether or not you chose to be there.  This sets off a chain of events involving my e-mail inbox getting completely slammed with each. and. every. notification. someone. sends. to. the. group.  Until I can get to a computer, log on to Facebook, and either decline the event or shut off the notifications to the group.  Something I am unable to do from my cell phone, of course.  And while I'm happy to have these groups in my sidebar, running silently in the background, I don't often visit, primarily for the reason below. 

Almost weekly I hear about some new drama between clashing personalities and opinions that has taken place in one of these groups, or on someone's wall.  And these dramas start creating dividing lines, dissention, anger, anxiety, and general discontent.  The Facebook experience becomes sullied, and its primary purpose of uniting people is lost.  Just because we all share a connection to someone with the extra 21st chromosome doesn't mean we all have to be friends.  Or even to like each other.  But we still need to remember the most important R-Word we preach - Respect.  We still need to respect each other, respect each other's opinions.  And if those flare-ups do occur, please save yourselves some embarrassment and take it to a private message, rather than broadcasting in a public forum. 

I may be sounding old-fashioned and unrealistic here, but this is why I spend less and less time on Facebook.  I have my own opinions about things, to be sure.  But not at the expense of hurting someone else.  Most often with me, what you see is what you get.  No hidden agendas, no malice.  I'm super-sensitive and can be easily hurt, so my solution is to avoid the things that make me uncomfortable or insecure.  I'm sure I'm not the only one of my 1500-something Facebook "friends" who feels this way.  Living life as drama-free as I can keeps me healthy, keeps me present for myself and for my family, keeps me happy.

Who wouldn't want that?  

I think I'm due for a things that make me happy post soon. 

Just because.

On Beach Tags and Visitors

Last Tuesday, our 4th day at the beach, was a real weather disappointment.  We had plans for two sets of visitors to come, both of whom would have loved to have been able to lounge on the toasty sand in the sun, to have been able to put their feet in the water and enjoy the stark contrast of hot and cold.  Sadly, the day started out with grey skies, raging water with relentless and threatening breakers crashing on the shore, and a strong wind.  My aunt and my cousin, who lives in New Zealand and is home for a month or so to visit, came by in the morning.  It wasn't yet raining, so we took a walk on the empty beach.


My aunt and my cousin.

My cousin, Jenny, who happens to be a truly *amazing* and talented artist.  She had painted Samantha's portrait a few times in the past (see here and here), and has won a prestigious award for one of her paintings of her!

Now something that absolutely baffles me is the beach tag system there.  I'd heard someone say they thought that New Jersey is the only state that still institutes the use of beach tags, and someone else said they thought that that particular beach is the only one left that still uses the tags.  I haven't yet looked it up to confirm.  But how it works is that each season you can purchase tags, with pins, that are good for the season, or you can buy a shorter length tag that's good for a day or two.  These tags are what allow you to have access to the beach during the bulk of the daylight hours.  There are people stationed at the walkway entrances to the beach who inspect you for a valid tag, and if you don't have one, they can sell you one on the spot.  Then there are other people who patrol the beach to make sure each and every person over the age of 12 is displaying their tag.  Never mind that the pin leaves ragged holes in your swimsuit or cover up...

On Tuesday morning, amid the clouds, and the wind, and the raging sea, with the beach all but empty of any sign of human life, we left our tags in the condo and went for a walk.  And on Tuesday morning, amid the clouds, and the wind, and the raging sea, with the beach all but empty of any sign of human life, the beach tag lady, seated in her chair at the walkway entrance, nose in her book, demanded to see our tags. 

Really?  I just didn't get the point.  If it's to make money, trust me, nobody in their right mind would be coming to the beach in that weather without already being in possession of a tag!  Who would actually want to buy a tag, just to spend a few minutes walking back and forth? 

Even with my insistence that we would make it a very quick walk down to the water and back, just showing my-cousin-who-lives-in-New-Zealand (and seriously, she lives too far inland to get to visit the beach there very often), she hemmed and hawed, holding her ground, finally relenting when I gave her my solemn promise, completely prepared to hunt down a bible and raise my right hand. 

However, as we began to stroll, enjoying the quiet and solitude, chatting about this and that, I realized that I was starting to go against my promise, and to keep the peace and still keep my word in good faith, I knew that I really should go back and get our tags.  So I did, running all the way across the sand, heart trying to thump its way out of my chest, camera hugged tightly under my arm.  And what did I get in return when I handed over those tags?  An eye raised over the tag-Nazi's book, and a curt thank you. 

Half an hour later I got a good giggle as I saw her huddled under her blanket, the rain coming down steadily. 

Our next visitors, Kelli, Colin and Kailey, arrived a short time later.  We'd met them the last time we stayed at the beach there, nearly 2 years ago, and after keeping up with each others' lives via Facebook and our blogs, it was great to be able to spend time in person again!

Colin hadn't been walking when we saw him last, and Kelli had only just found out she was pregnant with Kailey.  Frozen cappuccinos in hand, courtesy of Wawa and my occasional errand-runner husband, we were ready to shoot the breeze and catch up in real time. 

Happy, well-caffeinated mommies, tired, completely *uncaffeinated* children...

I just loooove this handsome face!! (note the frozen cappuccino exchanging hands in the background...)



I love Kailey's wristband, so visible in this pic.

Cougar, or just happy to have a real, live doll to play with?

Yes, they're watching TV.  So sue me.

Ashamed

Yes, I am ashamed to admit that I forgot Father's Day this year.  I can certainly make a whole slew of excuses pertaining to how distracted I was by being on vacation and then returning to work on Friday, then distracted by a morning playdate and an evening with my next door neighbor at Riverdance yesterday.  I could say that we'd already bought ourselves a joint Mother's Day/Father's Day present (which we did), so I had put it out of my mind as being something coming up.  I could say that every day is Father's Day!  But that would be corny. 

When I woke up this morning, I did remember it was Father's Day, and I also remembered that I hadn't gotten a card for him from either myself or Samantha.  After kissing him good morning and wishing him a Happy Father's Day and running downstairs to expedite the delivery of coffee from machine to bed, I quietly told Samantha what day it was, and instructed her in the making of a card.  I guess crayons and construction paper can be acceptable, so long as it's used by my 6 year old and not by me...  When she'd finished, topping the card off with some stickers of Daddy Pig, she proudly brought it into the bedroom with a sweet, innocent "Happy Father's Day!" greeting that sounds so lovely coming from her.

I've always loved the photo above.  You can see how tentative he his, holding this little bundle of his own flesh and blood, of human cells, of responsibility in it's highest, most auspicious, most critical definition.  You can see how careful he is, possibly still in shock at this whole new experience that was to change our lives forever, in the most amazing way.  He's the one that provided the strength and the voice of calm and reason when receiving Samantha's diagnosis, giving the crucial transfusion of strength and calm and reason to me in turn. 

Happy 7th Father's Day to Steve, an amazing father to our amazing daughter!

We love you!

xoxoxoxo

And *Some* of the Rest...

Day 2, Sunday, was phenominally busy.  Somehow we managed to cram breakfast out, a boardwalk jaunt in a surrey with a yellow top, a visit to the playground, time on the beach, Sammi's first ride on a rollercoaster, and dinner with my folks into about 12 hours.  Bearing in mind that anything involving the word "beach" also involves showers, hair washing and hair drying, never a terribly quick process for either Samantha or myself. 

The high season here doesn't begin until next week, when the New Jersey school system lets out for the summer.  As such, many businesses still are not open during the week.  Frustrating, but understandable, given the lack of people wandering around here.  But Sunday, as part of the weekend, was still pretty well-populated by visitors, and most doors to food and entertainment were open.  The little bike shop, with its red and yellow surreys lined up along the wall outside, was open, as it had been 2 years ago when we were here in the off-season before.  And 8:20 in the morning is an excellent time for a ride on the boardwalk, jockying for space only with dog walkers and runners, the sun not so high yet and the temperature still tolerable.

 

Samantha still fit comfortably in the basket at the front, and when she tired of that and wanted to join us on the bench, she sat still, crossing her ankles to keep her feet away from the pedals while we worked to propel forward.  1 hour was plenty of time for an enjoyable ride, and after returning it to the shop, we went for a drive to the playground in town.  After playground, we hit the beach, noting that, while crowded, there were none of the drunk students from the day before, and we could play without fear of getting beaned by a football.  The water was (relatively) warm, which in my mind just means that after getting over the initial shock and lowering my body temperature to match, I found it very pleasant.  Samantha loves playing in the waves, being held by me as I jump over the breakers rolling towards us.  And more than anything, she loves just sitting in the sand and digging, placing dirt into a bucket, leveling it off, dumping it out into the shape of a tower, knocking the tower over, and beginning the process again.  But do note, if you ever build something you are proud of, be it tower of sand, blocks, sticks, cards, whatever, nothing is sacred to her, and it will not last long.

After showers, we took advantage of the still-weekend-only hours at a local children's ride "pier."  It's not really a pier, and is in the center of town next to Fish Alley, on the bay, where local fishermen bring in their catches, but it's got lots of rides for little kids, including a mini-rollercoaster.  The ticket prices were exorbitant, the rides way too short, and our time there, blowing through $20 in about 20 minutes, was extremely disappointing, but Samantha enjoyed the rides (most of which I had to ride with her), and was a real rock star on the rollercoaster, this being her first time on one.

Monday was our last beach day, the sun poking through just long enough to give me a painful sunburn, before poor weather arrived to mar the next 2 days.  50-block only works when the wind doesn't blow the spray away before it can touch your skin.  I don't actually remember what else we did on Monday.  I don't think it was all that much, although my parents came by to take Samantha out to dinner while Steve and I went out on our own for a few hours.

Tuesday, which included a day of fun visitors, will be for another post.  I've rabbited on too much here already, and suspect I can hear you snoring...

Things to Do on a Rainy, Windy Beach

Explore...

Laugh...

Enjoy life to its fullest...