I stole this from someone (thanks, Denise!) who in turn stole it from someone else, who probably stole it from someone else...well, you get the picture. It was originally titled and labeled "Special Needs Moms" and ended with a bit of a nasty (but very amusing!) dig at the dads at the end, but I've changed it to "parents" and removed the last bit because of all of those amazing, devoted fathers of children with special needs, especially those stay-at-home dads, who don't often get the recognition they deserve (like my husband!). For those of you that have kids with SN, does most of this sound pretty familiar? For those of you that don't, let this be a gentle lesson in how things are for so many other parents out there. :-)
Regular parents tell their kids to wake up and get dressed in the morning. And they do it.
Special needs parents put on battle gear to get our kids ready to start their day.
Regular parents ask their kids if they brushed their teeth.
Special needs parents prompt, "Brush your top teeth. Brush your bottom teeth. Did you get the sides? Open your mouth. My God, give me that toothbrush! You've left half your meal in there!"
Regular parents wave goodbye as their kids run off to catch the school bus.
Special needs parents get awesome door-to-door bus service for their child.
Regular parents know the names of all their friends.
Special needs parents know most of their friends by their username.
Regular parents judge other parents when kids have tantrums in stores.
Special needs parents say to themselves, "Hmm, I wonder which disability he has?" (omg, this is soooo true!!)
Regular parents complain about driving their kids to sports and recreation classes.
Special needs parents grin and bear the weekly trips to tutors, doctors and therapists.
Regular parents' kids have a teacher.
Special needs parents' kids have a team.
Regular parents talk about accomplishments.
Special needs parents talk about skills, as in play skills, conversation skills, life skills, social skills and vocational skills.
Regular parents relax with their kids during the summer.
Special needs parents start their second job as home teachers, therapists and skills coaches.
Regular parents think accommodations refer to hotels.
Special needs parents have memorized the top 20 accommodations for their child.
Regular parents hope their child finds a good career.
Special needs parents are hopeful someone gives our child the chance to work.
Regular parents (okay, "moms" definitely fits better here) soak in the tub when they want to unwind.
Special needs parents consider a bathroom break a luxury.
Regular parents enjoy reading the latest best selling book.
Special needs parents should receive an honorary degree for all the disability books they've read.
Regular parents go out for dinner and a movie with their spouses every month.
Special needs parents have a date night with their spouses every...wait, what decade is this?
Regular parents complain their kids won't eat their vegetables.
Special needs parents are so desperate we consider chicken nuggets to be a legitimate meat product and throw in ketchup as a vegetable.
Regular parents' kids go to play groups.
Special needs parents' kids go to therapy groups.
Regular parents meet for a ladies/guys night out.
Special needs parents get together at support groups and forums.
Regular parents have medical claim forms that fit in one file folder.
Special needs parents will tell you a small forest was cut down so we could receive our claims.
Regular parents think OT means overtime.
Special needs parents know more acronyms than a NASA engineer.
Regular parents have time to cook a full dinner every evening.
Special needs parents will never admit how many times we've picked up fast food.
(Okay, in case you were wondering about the line at the end that I removed, it said, "Regular moms complain that their husbands sit on the couch while they do all the work. Special needs moms...well, how about that? Some things do stay the same!")
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
Family Values
We pretty much never eat together as a family unless we're out somewhere. It's not that we don't want to, but we really just can't. We usually feed Samantha dinner at 6pm (quick-prepared fare, usually microwaveable), then she goes to bed by 7:30 or 8. I don't get home until 6:45. It's just not possible. However, on a couple of occasions in the last week or two, Steve has surprised me by having dinner ready for when I get home from work (thankfully Sammi's aide is usually here until 6:30 to allow him some alone-time in the kitchen) and we've just put Sammi to bed just a teensy bit later.
Yesterday afternoon, Steve asked Samantha what she wanted for dinner. "Mommy, Daddy, Samantha" was her response. I don't think it takes a degree in rocket science to figure out what she was requesting. Somehow, without having her aide there (she's off on Thursdays since Sammi's in school all day), Steve managed to pull together a roast chicken, fresh, steamed vegetables, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, and homemade chicken gravy. I really don't know how he did it. But we ate together. And it was lovely.
My girl knows what she wants. Lessons in family values can come from anywhere.
Yesterday afternoon, Steve asked Samantha what she wanted for dinner. "Mommy, Daddy, Samantha" was her response. I don't think it takes a degree in rocket science to figure out what she was requesting. Somehow, without having her aide there (she's off on Thursdays since Sammi's in school all day), Steve managed to pull together a roast chicken, fresh, steamed vegetables, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, and homemade chicken gravy. I really don't know how he did it. But we ate together. And it was lovely.
My girl knows what she wants. Lessons in family values can come from anywhere.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Mom, the Bargain Hunter
I stumbled across a few crumbs of good fortune this week, culminating in the extraction of my credit card from my wallet, but the fortunate part of that operation was that it involved the extraction of very little from my bank account. I almost never shop full-price, and will comparison shop whenever possible. It may be a result of all of my years in retail, when I got discounts or deep sale pricing (if you have patience, just WAIT - almost everything at the retail level goes on sale eventually!) at my various places of employment, or it may be my humble upbringing, in which I was never spoiled (my husband begs to differ...stop laughing, Steve...) and understood how hard my parents worked for what we had.
I told Steve about my great finds and was in the process of telling him that I did actually purchase a few things, but he found it so highly amusing that I was that excited about getting such cool free stuff that I don't think he heard it all. So this morning, he called me at work and said, "Do you know how much you got charged yesterday? I thought you said it was free!" Well, if you had listened to me instead of mocking me, dear, you'd have known... :-)
Anyway, I'm hoping next week brings just as many cool deals!
It all started, late last week, with an e-mail from Shutterfly offering a free 8x8 hard-cover photo book! Now, I absolutely love free, especially when it's something that I actually want. I made a photo book from Shutterfly a couple of years ago, and just loved it. I had lofty ideas to create them every year, to give as gifts and to chronicle Samantha growing up. However...as lovely as the books are, and as easy as the website's instructions are to create them, they are very, very time consuming. Or perhaps it's just me. I agonize over the layouts, the photos to be used, the background colors, the words. And then the projects Just.Sit. Forever. I began yet another photo book before Father's Day this year, thinking I had plenty of time to pull it all together, and Shutterfly nearly always has a discount going on to be taken advantage of. So after a valiant effort to begin that new project, onto the back burner it went. However, the free book offer I got a notice about was to expire in just a few days, so I had to act fast. I spent several very late nights putting it together and making it Just.Right. And I think it turned out perfect! (Here's a sneak peek...)
Because I usually feel guilty when I'm given something free and I don't spend anything additional other than shipping (yeah, yeah, weird, I know, but I'm sure companies making those offers expect most of us to be this gullible and to make a purchase anyway), I made and purchased some stickers for the Buddy Walk with Sammi's photo on them. I figured I could make photo pins with them. Within minutes of completing my order, I was on Facebook and saw someone had posted that Zazzle was giving away 100 free business cards and there was a coupon code for free shipping on top of that! So nothing plus nothing equals nothing, right? Hooray! I had the fleeting thought that business cards would be pretty useless for me, though, since I don't have a business and I don't want our home address or phone number floating out there anywhere, but suddenly realized that I meet an awful lot of people that I want to stay in touch with, and having a business card with my blog and e-mail addresses on it would be a great way to do that. So I placed that order. For free. Then I had another idea - since they had free shipping that was about to expire that day, why not order Buddy Walk photo pins, too? So I did. Not free, but free shipping is still always good.
Any ideas what I can do with the stickers now? They have Sammi's pic and say, "Buddy Walk 2010." If I'd known that I was going to purchase real photo pins, I wouldn't have gotten those, or at least I wouldn't have gotten those words on them. Hmmmm...
I told Steve about my great finds and was in the process of telling him that I did actually purchase a few things, but he found it so highly amusing that I was that excited about getting such cool free stuff that I don't think he heard it all. So this morning, he called me at work and said, "Do you know how much you got charged yesterday? I thought you said it was free!" Well, if you had listened to me instead of mocking me, dear, you'd have known... :-)
Anyway, I'm hoping next week brings just as many cool deals!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Neat Freak
I just got a call from Steve, telling me he can’t believe what he just witnessed.
When he’s home with her by himself, he occasionally banishes Samantha to her room when he needs to do something without having to keep an eye on her (argue on the phone with Verizon, call a client, argue on the phone with Medicaid, smoke a cigarette, argue on the phone with, uh, some other organization that’s ticked him off or done us wrong, use the bathroom, etc. - I'm sooooo glad he makes those phone calls, because I sure suck at them...). Sometimes she just goes in her room and closes the door on her own. She has a child-proof doorknob cover so she can’t get out. Not like she wants to. She’s more than happy to just play in there by herself for a while, and has plenty to keep her occupied.
Like today.
Today, Samantha went in her room on her own to play, closing the door behind her and saying, “Bye, Daddy!” Steve worked on the computer in the room next to hers for a while, and eventually heard a fairly loud thud, followed by her laughter, so he knew she was okay. But he was curious. What could have made that sound? When he went into her room, he was shocked by the level of destruction she’d created. Books, stuffed animals, dolls, etc., were strewn around her floor. Flashcards were out of their boxes. Her mini-armchair was overturned and in the middle of the room. And she was caught in mid-climb, working her way up her toy-bin fixture that had been stripped of every toy that had been sitting on it.
World War III was how he described it to me. I’ve seen this kind of mess before, and I know his claim to be valid.
While he stood, speechless, she giggled, said hello, then bolted past him into the hallway. “Shirt and pants!” she said, as she began to open her dresser (no longer kept in her room after the Great Dresser Accident of 2009) to pull out her clothes to re-fold.
“Not so fast,” he told her. “First you have to clean up your room.”
“No! Shirt and pants!” she countered. Nice try.
Steve got down on the floor in front of her, and told her, matter-of-factly that she had to clean her room first, then would be allowed to play with her clothes.
Samantha agreed and went back into her room (leaving the door open) while he went back into the office. He heard her moving around in there, and once or twice she left her room and went into the bathroom for a few moments.
“Sammi, what are you doing?” he asked her on one such occasion.
“Cleaning!” was her response. Of course.
After a few more minutes, she came out and announced, “All done cleaning!” Steve went into her room.
It was spotless.
Flashcards were back in their boxes. Books were back on the bookshelf. Teddy bears (and only teddy bears, separated from the rest of her stuffed toys) were neatly sitting in their basket, all facing forward. Sesame Street stuffed dolls were grouped together on top of the toy-bin fixture, facing forward. Other licensed character dolls were grouped together in another spot on top of the toy-bin fixture. Baby dolls were sitting on her chair, neat and facing forward. He discovered that on her trips to the bathroom she’d brought two books from her room that she knew usually lived in the book basket on the toilet and returned them to their rightful place.
I can’t even begin to describe the pride that I (and Steve) feel right now. I’ve always known she likes to clean up things, and with prompts and instruction has put things away. But this really takes it many notches above. After thinking that my discovery in her room the night before last was exciting (when I walked in to see why she wasn’t asleep yet and found her sitting on her bed with her shirt on backwards and her pants and pull-up on inside out), this takes the cake.
Steve and I are completely on the same page in our parenting styles. We believe in showing by example, and guiding her through self-sufficiency (in things that she’s age-appropriately capable of doing). We see, every single day, how this has paid off.
He didn't get a "before" photo, and I've asked him to e-mail me an "after." I'll update this with "after" if one turns up,
When he’s home with her by himself, he occasionally banishes Samantha to her room when he needs to do something without having to keep an eye on her (argue on the phone with Verizon, call a client, argue on the phone with Medicaid, smoke a cigarette, argue on the phone with, uh, some other organization that’s ticked him off or done us wrong, use the bathroom, etc. - I'm sooooo glad he makes those phone calls, because I sure suck at them...). Sometimes she just goes in her room and closes the door on her own. She has a child-proof doorknob cover so she can’t get out. Not like she wants to. She’s more than happy to just play in there by herself for a while, and has plenty to keep her occupied.
Like today.
Today, Samantha went in her room on her own to play, closing the door behind her and saying, “Bye, Daddy!” Steve worked on the computer in the room next to hers for a while, and eventually heard a fairly loud thud, followed by her laughter, so he knew she was okay. But he was curious. What could have made that sound? When he went into her room, he was shocked by the level of destruction she’d created. Books, stuffed animals, dolls, etc., were strewn around her floor. Flashcards were out of their boxes. Her mini-armchair was overturned and in the middle of the room. And she was caught in mid-climb, working her way up her toy-bin fixture that had been stripped of every toy that had been sitting on it.
World War III was how he described it to me. I’ve seen this kind of mess before, and I know his claim to be valid.
While he stood, speechless, she giggled, said hello, then bolted past him into the hallway. “Shirt and pants!” she said, as she began to open her dresser (no longer kept in her room after the Great Dresser Accident of 2009) to pull out her clothes to re-fold.
“Not so fast,” he told her. “First you have to clean up your room.”
“No! Shirt and pants!” she countered. Nice try.
Steve got down on the floor in front of her, and told her, matter-of-factly that she had to clean her room first, then would be allowed to play with her clothes.
Samantha agreed and went back into her room (leaving the door open) while he went back into the office. He heard her moving around in there, and once or twice she left her room and went into the bathroom for a few moments.
“Sammi, what are you doing?” he asked her on one such occasion.
“Cleaning!” was her response. Of course.
After a few more minutes, she came out and announced, “All done cleaning!” Steve went into her room.
It was spotless.
Flashcards were back in their boxes. Books were back on the bookshelf. Teddy bears (and only teddy bears, separated from the rest of her stuffed toys) were neatly sitting in their basket, all facing forward. Sesame Street stuffed dolls were grouped together on top of the toy-bin fixture, facing forward. Other licensed character dolls were grouped together in another spot on top of the toy-bin fixture. Baby dolls were sitting on her chair, neat and facing forward. He discovered that on her trips to the bathroom she’d brought two books from her room that she knew usually lived in the book basket on the toilet and returned them to their rightful place.
I can’t even begin to describe the pride that I (and Steve) feel right now. I’ve always known she likes to clean up things, and with prompts and instruction has put things away. But this really takes it many notches above. After thinking that my discovery in her room the night before last was exciting (when I walked in to see why she wasn’t asleep yet and found her sitting on her bed with her shirt on backwards and her pants and pull-up on inside out), this takes the cake.
Steve and I are completely on the same page in our parenting styles. We believe in showing by example, and guiding her through self-sufficiency (in things that she’s age-appropriately capable of doing). We see, every single day, how this has paid off.
He didn't get a "before" photo, and I've asked him to e-mail me an "after." I'll update this with "after" if one turns up,
Monday, August 30, 2010
Absence Makes the Mom Feel Guiltier
I had a rather exciting opportunity this weekend, thanks to my wonderful husband. Not that exciting for most people, but you moms sure do know what I’m talking about. I went to my friend’s party up near Baltimore and spent the night without Samantha. I would have taken her (and Steve), but he suggested that I go on my own so I could relax a bit and socialize instead of having to chase her around and keep her entertained. Believe it or not, this was the first night I have ever spent away from her since she was 3 months old when I attended a 2-day conference for work up in Philadelphia.
And I really missed her. And I felt guilty and selfish. Not that I didn’t have a good time, because I really did. There was something quite liberating about being able to go into whatever room I wanted, to wander around outside, to talk to whomever I wanted and catch up with some old friends. But I wished I had my little buddy there with me.
The premise of the party was also a concert (which I’ll get to in a minute). Children were invited, and I figured there’d be 2 or 3 there. There were more like 15 or 20. It was pretty insane. But I got to be the one watching. I watched all the other parents chasing their kids, and felt some peace of mind. But more importantly, I realized that Sammi would have fit in pretty darn well! This is a pretty huge admission for me, actually. So many times I’ve gone to parties full of “typical” children and felt the vast separation of the great divide that is called “do-not-compare-your-child’s-development-to-that-of-others-or-you’ll-be-miserable” pretty strongly, but the mix of children was a bit more broad than usual (or is it that she’s matured so much in the last year?). I definitely missed her. Funny how you can crave some alone time, but it just makes you miss your family even more. As soon as I got back home on Sunday I snatched her up and took her to a local village fair. She was pretty miserable (it was hot, and she had just woken from a nap), but I was just happy to be with her. Here she is cuddling her best buddy, Olivia, and her ancient and tattered "blankie" on the ride home from the fair.
About the concert - apparently it’s pretty popular for up-and-coming musicians (signed and otherwise) to perform at house parties to supplement their regular gig income. Kat Parsons is one such artist. Her website is an excellent source of information for people considering hosting such a party. There’s just something so much more intimate about listening to live music in a living room (or in the yard, as it was on Saturday night). Kat has an incredible voice, and is just so personable, and it was a real pleasure to listen to her. I would have bought her cd, but didn’t have any cash on me, as usual. If any of you get a chance to catch her somewhere, don’t miss that opportunity!
By the way, for those of you that may have wondered what’s going on with Samantha’s obsession with Santa Claus, Steve and I have been careful not to mention him to her and after a few days she did stop asking when Santa was coming. Now she’s just asking to go to the beach. In a week and a half, baby, I promise. Hang in there!
And I really missed her. And I felt guilty and selfish. Not that I didn’t have a good time, because I really did. There was something quite liberating about being able to go into whatever room I wanted, to wander around outside, to talk to whomever I wanted and catch up with some old friends. But I wished I had my little buddy there with me.
The premise of the party was also a concert (which I’ll get to in a minute). Children were invited, and I figured there’d be 2 or 3 there. There were more like 15 or 20. It was pretty insane. But I got to be the one watching. I watched all the other parents chasing their kids, and felt some peace of mind. But more importantly, I realized that Sammi would have fit in pretty darn well! This is a pretty huge admission for me, actually. So many times I’ve gone to parties full of “typical” children and felt the vast separation of the great divide that is called “do-not-compare-your-child’s-development-to-that-of-others-or-you’ll-be-miserable” pretty strongly, but the mix of children was a bit more broad than usual (or is it that she’s matured so much in the last year?). I definitely missed her. Funny how you can crave some alone time, but it just makes you miss your family even more. As soon as I got back home on Sunday I snatched her up and took her to a local village fair. She was pretty miserable (it was hot, and she had just woken from a nap), but I was just happy to be with her. Here she is cuddling her best buddy, Olivia, and her ancient and tattered "blankie" on the ride home from the fair.
About the concert - apparently it’s pretty popular for up-and-coming musicians (signed and otherwise) to perform at house parties to supplement their regular gig income. Kat Parsons is one such artist. Her website is an excellent source of information for people considering hosting such a party. There’s just something so much more intimate about listening to live music in a living room (or in the yard, as it was on Saturday night). Kat has an incredible voice, and is just so personable, and it was a real pleasure to listen to her. I would have bought her cd, but didn’t have any cash on me, as usual. If any of you get a chance to catch her somewhere, don’t miss that opportunity!
By the way, for those of you that may have wondered what’s going on with Samantha’s obsession with Santa Claus, Steve and I have been careful not to mention him to her and after a few days she did stop asking when Santa was coming. Now she’s just asking to go to the beach. In a week and a half, baby, I promise. Hang in there!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Wordless Wednesday: Daddy's Girl
Three years of maturity and growth change a baby into a little girl, but the look of love is the same (click here for a very early blog post from 2007, and a very similar photo to the 2nd one down).
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