And I thought that last semester's computer class was going to kill me. No, it seems that class was preparing me for the torture of this semester's Sadistic, I mean, Statistics class. Torture, I tell ya. Pure torture. It is just not good for a person to take this class when she hasn't had a math class in 20 years. Luckily, I have a nice professor. She seems to feel a little bit sorry for me. It probably has a little something to do with the fact that I come into her office a lot for help. On the second day, I showed up to her office, lookin' all nervous and stressed out. She offered to explain the basic formula we were learning, mentioning how simple it was. I was like, "Oh, I get the formula. I just don't know how to multiply fractions. " After that, she took pity on me.
In fact, every class demonstration she does, she looks straight at me and asks the whole class if they are understanding what's going on before she moves on. She waits for me. If I nod, she moves forward. If I look confused, she explains it all again. So, I realize just how lucky I am. This professor either likes me, or she hates me and wants to make sure she doesn't have me in her class ever again. I can imagine her thinking, "If Abigail gets it, then everyone gets it. And I must make sure Abigail gets this so she won't fail and have to take this all over again. Because let's face it, she won't really get this the second time around either."
The last time I came into her office, my eyes were blood shot from staying up all night, crying over my homework. I whined, "I am really struggling." And she said, "I don't think so, your grades are good." And I was like, "But I spend 8 hours a night doing the assignments and I just don't think it should take a human that long." But it turns out, that yes, it should, and it does.
I decided to ask my classmates how they were doing. I got very scientific and asked, "On a scale from 1 to 10, how hard is this class?" And what is your major and how smart are you when it comes to math?" Oh, boy! Was I ever thrilled when nursing, math, and science majors who claim to be smart, told me that this class was a 10.
When you feel dumb, it is great to hang out with other people who feel dumb too. It makes you feel less dumb. Maybe that's why I like hanging out with my children so much. Not that they are dumb, but let's face it, teenagers are absolutely retarded, and being around them makes me feel very wise and smart. My younger children are just learning new things all the time and I look like the smartest person in the world just because I can tie my own shoes and I know which button to push when I run the dishwasher.
There are only a few more weeks of school left. It really is too bad that I haven't been able to focus as much energy on my other classes that I really love this semester, like: German, English, and Theatre. My brain can only do so much. I am telling you, every time I leave my math class, I literally feel like someone has taken a shovel and scooped out part of my brain and thrown it on the sidewalk where a big dog has come by and eaten it all up. Gross, I know, but it's how it really feels. So, by the time I get to German class, which is my favorite, Eine Hunde hast geessent meine braineschluaffen. (that really doesn't say a dog has eaten my brain, but it's close.) It's like when I went around my kids' bedroom screaming, "Ich bin Freitag!" Thinking I was saying, "I'ts Friday!" But really, I was just saying, "I am Friday!" Which maybe I was that day.
I am always trying to speak in a different language. I studied French for 8 years. 8 years! And when I was teaching preschool in New Mexico, one of my students was the son of a famous French skier who had moved his family to Taos to run a ski shop and train for the Olympics. This little boy was so cute, but he didn't speak very much English, so I tried to speak French now and then to make him feel comfortable. I stopped doing that when I had the kids in circle time and I reached behind me to feed the fish in our aquarium. I said, "Je mange les poison." And he broke down and cried. I had told the poor kid I was going to eat the fish.
God bless all the math teachers in the world. God bless all the students who struggle, trying to make their lives better. And God bless all the preschool teachers who really do eat the fish out of the aquarium. Amen.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Climbing the Ladder
I am having a hard time comprehending that I actually finished my first semester in college. For many of you who went to college right after high school this may be difficult to understand what the big deal is. To me, it's a huge deal. I wasn't even sure if I could do it. Seriously. My trying attitdue was right, but my head was also filled with doubts. Many doubts.
I waited a long time for my turn to learn. When I was the traditional age of a freshman, I was going through quite a lot. I was living a nightmare, actually. I went away to college but dropped out and took incompletes in everything. I got married when I was 19 and started a family. I taught music lessons, I babysat, a taught preschool for years, but always part time and I brought my children with me. I wanted to be a stay at home mother more than anything in this world. It was important to me that I be the one raising my children, especially when they were babies. I wanted to breast feed them and care for them all the time. So, I decided to wait until my youngest child started kindergarten until I went back to school. I had to wait such a long time because I kept on having babies!
Well, today was my last exam of the semester. I was about to leave my house to drive the 20 miles to my school when I realized I locked my keys in the house. Oh, no. My heart just sank. I have worked so hard, I didn't want the semester to end on the note of me missing my German exam.
I called Adrian. We tried to think of windows I could break. We cannot afford to replace windows right now, so he mentioned the ladder and the back deck being a possibility. It's a sliding glass door and we don't always lock it because it is so high off the ground. He was working so he couldn't really talk. I was in a hurry and on a mission. I got the ladder. It was raining. My shoes were filling up with mud and water. Cold mud and water. I had quite a time maneuvering that huge ladder. It must weigh at least 60 pounds. I was cussin', let me tell you. Cussin' and cryin' in the rain. And the damn ladder got hung up in a tree while I was trying to get it into the right place. I cussed and cried some more. And then I thought, "What am I doing? I cannot climb up there. It's like 13 feet in the air! Plus, the only ladder I have ever climbed is a step stool. I am too fat to climb up this thing. And I am terrified of heights! I get dizzy on the step ladder. Seriously."
After finanlly getting the ladder in the right place, I stepped on the first rung and I prayed. Please don't let me fall. I have five kids. They need a mother. No one will know I am on the ground for hours and hours. I will die. In the mud and probably in the dog shit. Oh, god. I stepped in that too.
I went up one more. Please don't let me fall.
I went up higher and higher. I was the scariest thing ever. And just like going to college, it may not seem like a big deal that I climbed a big ladder, but it is huge to me. And it is raining. And I am totally alone. And I have cold mud, water, and dog shit in my favorite shoes.
I reached the top and realized I didn't exactly know what to do next. Do I hold on to the rail and let go of the ladder? How? Oh, my goodness! I wanted to climb back down right then and there. But I'd made it that far. Why quit now? Gosh, hours and hours must have already passed. I am sure I've missed the exam.
Letting go was the hardest part. I am much too fat to be hoisting myself up on some wooden railing. Maybe I can just let myself fall onto the deck and try to roll to avoid cracking my head. But of course, seeing as how we are rednecks deep down, our broken dishwasher is in the way. And so is the grill. Why our dishwasher is still on the deck is beyond me. Why the hell is it stil out here? That dumb thing flooded the basement from the upstairs kitchen over the summer. Yeah, at the same time our aircondition unit broke when it was 104 degrees outside! That was hell. And I mean that. So is the dishwasher on the back deck as a reminder of how we survived washing dishes for 7 people by hand every day when it was 104 freakin' degrees last summer?
I don't know how I did it, but all at once, I realized both my feet were on the top deck railing and I was off the ladder. It was sooooo high. "Do not look down. I repeat: do not look down," said the little voice in my head.
Of couse I looked down.
The ground was so far away and my dog looked like an ant.
I felt dizzy. I squated down with my big butt in the air and my head pointed down on the deck's floor. I eased one leg down. Slowly. Gently. I began to feel graceful. Like a tighrope walker when they dip one leg down. Only I was wet. And fat. And I had cold mud, water, and dog shit in my shoe. And I was crying.
My leg was dipped down as far as it could go and there was like a foot of air between it at the deck floor. Why do I have to have such short legs? I am stuck. I am stuck in this awkward position. Looking like a mom on crack, playing circus on her back deck, 13 feet above the ground. It's my leg with the bad ankle. The one I shattered in a car accident 17 years ago that aches when it is raining. Why does it have to be raining?
If I jump onto this leg, I may have to just hop to my exam. And watch the sliding glass door be locked. If it is, I will break the whole door with my fist if I have to.
And then, plop! Down I go. No big deal. I am safe. Whew! And the door is unlocked. I run in, get my keys off the key hook, jump in my car, use some handy dandy baby wipes to do a quick clean up on my hands and shoes and sweater. I fly like the wind to my college, get to the parking lot. It is totally full. I park on the street. I run. OK, so I did that weird old lady walk/run thingie. I saw my friend. We high fived each other, in a matter of speaking, for surviving the semester (he has kids and a full plate too) and then I sat down in my desk only 3 minutes late.
It was a miracle. Sorta. I did that whole ladder/ deck scaling thing in about five minutes... though it seemed much longer, lemme tell ya!
It was an appropriate ending to my first semester. I did something I didn't think I could do. I took on 5 college classes and I made a 4.0. When I don't overthink things, and just take things one step or one rung at a time, and PRAY HARD, I can do just about anything. And for me, that's a huge lesson.
And goodness gracious, I'd be a chicken in a hen box if there wasn't a RAINBOW in the sky when I got back home! I tell you what, life is really like that. It really is.
I waited a long time for my turn to learn. When I was the traditional age of a freshman, I was going through quite a lot. I was living a nightmare, actually. I went away to college but dropped out and took incompletes in everything. I got married when I was 19 and started a family. I taught music lessons, I babysat, a taught preschool for years, but always part time and I brought my children with me. I wanted to be a stay at home mother more than anything in this world. It was important to me that I be the one raising my children, especially when they were babies. I wanted to breast feed them and care for them all the time. So, I decided to wait until my youngest child started kindergarten until I went back to school. I had to wait such a long time because I kept on having babies!
Well, today was my last exam of the semester. I was about to leave my house to drive the 20 miles to my school when I realized I locked my keys in the house. Oh, no. My heart just sank. I have worked so hard, I didn't want the semester to end on the note of me missing my German exam.
I called Adrian. We tried to think of windows I could break. We cannot afford to replace windows right now, so he mentioned the ladder and the back deck being a possibility. It's a sliding glass door and we don't always lock it because it is so high off the ground. He was working so he couldn't really talk. I was in a hurry and on a mission. I got the ladder. It was raining. My shoes were filling up with mud and water. Cold mud and water. I had quite a time maneuvering that huge ladder. It must weigh at least 60 pounds. I was cussin', let me tell you. Cussin' and cryin' in the rain. And the damn ladder got hung up in a tree while I was trying to get it into the right place. I cussed and cried some more. And then I thought, "What am I doing? I cannot climb up there. It's like 13 feet in the air! Plus, the only ladder I have ever climbed is a step stool. I am too fat to climb up this thing. And I am terrified of heights! I get dizzy on the step ladder. Seriously."
After finanlly getting the ladder in the right place, I stepped on the first rung and I prayed. Please don't let me fall. I have five kids. They need a mother. No one will know I am on the ground for hours and hours. I will die. In the mud and probably in the dog shit. Oh, god. I stepped in that too.
I went up one more. Please don't let me fall.
I went up higher and higher. I was the scariest thing ever. And just like going to college, it may not seem like a big deal that I climbed a big ladder, but it is huge to me. And it is raining. And I am totally alone. And I have cold mud, water, and dog shit in my favorite shoes.
I reached the top and realized I didn't exactly know what to do next. Do I hold on to the rail and let go of the ladder? How? Oh, my goodness! I wanted to climb back down right then and there. But I'd made it that far. Why quit now? Gosh, hours and hours must have already passed. I am sure I've missed the exam.
Letting go was the hardest part. I am much too fat to be hoisting myself up on some wooden railing. Maybe I can just let myself fall onto the deck and try to roll to avoid cracking my head. But of course, seeing as how we are rednecks deep down, our broken dishwasher is in the way. And so is the grill. Why our dishwasher is still on the deck is beyond me. Why the hell is it stil out here? That dumb thing flooded the basement from the upstairs kitchen over the summer. Yeah, at the same time our aircondition unit broke when it was 104 degrees outside! That was hell. And I mean that. So is the dishwasher on the back deck as a reminder of how we survived washing dishes for 7 people by hand every day when it was 104 freakin' degrees last summer?
I don't know how I did it, but all at once, I realized both my feet were on the top deck railing and I was off the ladder. It was sooooo high. "Do not look down. I repeat: do not look down," said the little voice in my head.
Of couse I looked down.
The ground was so far away and my dog looked like an ant.
I felt dizzy. I squated down with my big butt in the air and my head pointed down on the deck's floor. I eased one leg down. Slowly. Gently. I began to feel graceful. Like a tighrope walker when they dip one leg down. Only I was wet. And fat. And I had cold mud, water, and dog shit in my shoe. And I was crying.
My leg was dipped down as far as it could go and there was like a foot of air between it at the deck floor. Why do I have to have such short legs? I am stuck. I am stuck in this awkward position. Looking like a mom on crack, playing circus on her back deck, 13 feet above the ground. It's my leg with the bad ankle. The one I shattered in a car accident 17 years ago that aches when it is raining. Why does it have to be raining?
If I jump onto this leg, I may have to just hop to my exam. And watch the sliding glass door be locked. If it is, I will break the whole door with my fist if I have to.
And then, plop! Down I go. No big deal. I am safe. Whew! And the door is unlocked. I run in, get my keys off the key hook, jump in my car, use some handy dandy baby wipes to do a quick clean up on my hands and shoes and sweater. I fly like the wind to my college, get to the parking lot. It is totally full. I park on the street. I run. OK, so I did that weird old lady walk/run thingie. I saw my friend. We high fived each other, in a matter of speaking, for surviving the semester (he has kids and a full plate too) and then I sat down in my desk only 3 minutes late.
It was a miracle. Sorta. I did that whole ladder/ deck scaling thing in about five minutes... though it seemed much longer, lemme tell ya!
It was an appropriate ending to my first semester. I did something I didn't think I could do. I took on 5 college classes and I made a 4.0. When I don't overthink things, and just take things one step or one rung at a time, and PRAY HARD, I can do just about anything. And for me, that's a huge lesson.
And goodness gracious, I'd be a chicken in a hen box if there wasn't a RAINBOW in the sky when I got back home! I tell you what, life is really like that. It really is.
Monday, December 5, 2011
World Religion Class
"None of the religious traditions we have studied would still be around if they had not offered human beings valuable ways of thinking about and responding to ultimate reality. What, in your opinion, is the single most valuable teaching of each religion we have studied?"
Judaism- There is one God and the covenant Moses made with God established a set of moral and ritual obligations. Follow these obligations (follow Torah) and you will be happy. (and for all those who love Jesus, Jews believe Jesus to be a prophet. I think they don't share the opinion that He is the Messiah because according to scripture (I think in Isaiah, it says that when the Messiah comes, there will be no more war, no more fighting and no more tears, or something like that. Well, there is not peace in the middle east yet, so I guess the Messiah hasn't come yet?) A Christian response is that He did come, but He has to come again. There's some difference for you. I am not sure where it says He will come twice in the Old Testament. But I am still reading it, so maybe I haven't gotten to that part. However, I am not sure I'll find that part in my first straight read -thru, if a bazillion people before me haven't seen it. Any way, interesting food for thought for me. And, by the way, it is very wrong to say Jews hate Jesus. My first Christmas card of the year came from one of my Jewish friends. I know she doesn't have a hate bone in her body.)
Christianity- There is one God and God loved the world so much that He sent His son, Jesus to save humanity and to conquer humanity's weakness. Claim Jesus as your Savior and you will be happy. (Other faiths may wonder if Christians are really monotheistic...is Jesus a god? Is that polytheistic? The theology of the trinity was actually adopted in the 4 century, so it's kinda a "new" belief. Hindus embrace the Christian's view of the trinity because they believe there are many gods. Jews and Muslims do not because they only believe in one God according to the first five books which all three Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) happen to share. Some Christians reject the interpretation of the trinity that says Jesus is a god. Others believe He was God in human form but it makes me wonder who He was talking to on the cross and why He called God: "Father" throughout His life. And why does John 3:16 say God sent His only begotten son? Some Christians believe He was the actual begotten son of God (conceived by the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary), so He is separate just as my daughter is not Abigail and when addressing me, it would be weird for someone to address her, thinking they were talking to me. Others keep the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost separate and never pray to Jesus, and only say His name at the end. The book, The Shack, does a wonderful illustration of the trinity that might help some people discover a new way to look at things.)
Islam- There is one God. Islam means submission. If you will totally submit to God (follow the Qur'an, perform Salat, follow the Five Pillars), you will be happy. (Jesus is a prophet in this faith and is mentioned in the Qur'an more times than Muhammad. I know of Muslims who wear T Shirts that say, "I love Jesus" and they do. I loved reading about Jesus in the Qur'an. It was awesome. The Christmas story is in there and everything. You should check it out if you ever get the chance.) And please! Do not think Muslims are terrorists. This is a bad misunderstanding. I have heard so many people speculate if the President is a Muslim and the way they say it is as if this is terrible. Just the other day, during a heated debate in English class, someone lumped terrorists with the entire Islamic faith in one sentence. It is wrong. It would be like me saying that all Christians are child molesters just because I know someone who was molested by their priest. Please, terrorists make up a small (in comparison of the entire Muslim faith) handful of fanatics who are not following the teachings of their own faith. They have twisted it and defiled it. Just as some Christians may twist scriptures that might make it seem OK for them to beat their wives in order to exert their authority and make their wives submit.
Hinduism- There is one Supreme Being (Brahman) but many gods and goddesses. The heart of the religion is discovering experimental knowledge of the relationship between the human soul (Atman) and the Supreme Being. Practice the four yogas and you will be happy. (Jesus is an avatara in this Faith. You can follow Him. He can be your "Way" in discovering your relationship between your soul and The Divine. By the way, exploring other faiths, other Ways, can make your relationship with your Truth even stronger and more beautiful.)
Buddhism- Buddha passed into everlasting Nirvana 2,500 years ago. He found enlightenment at the age of 35 and spent the following 45 years teaching what he knew (dharma.) If you follow the Eightfold path, you will be happy. (At the Buddhist Temple, I was surprised how many times the teacher (a monk) emphasized not to leave your own belief, because it was all "There." You can find enlightenment and happiness where you are today. The Noble Eightfold Path is for everyone. Meditation is for everyone. In this faith, Jesus is a bodhisattva. Look that up. It's beautiful.)
After studying these five major world religions, I have found they all share so much in common. I cannot even pick a favorite if my own beliefs did not exist. I wouldn't know which one I would want to explore first. It would be like asking me to choose which of my children I love the most. They are all so different, but I love them all the same. This does not mean I subscribe to every belief, because I don't. But, it would be incorrect for me to state I love religion one over another.
It seems to me that the purpose of each religion is to discover a relationship with The Divine in order to find happiness. Different religions use different tools and techniques to cultivate their relationship with The Divine, but at the heart of it all, maybe it's all the same.
Sometimes I like to think of an Ultimate Truth. If we all knew what that Ultimate Truth was, we'd only have one religion to study and we'd all accept it. At least that's my opinion. Most people believe what they believe because to them, it's their Truth. But my Truth might be different from your Truth and I don't like it when people say, "My Truth is truer than yours." Let's face it, we all come from different life experiences and different traditions. That plays a major part in what we decide to believe. I have had a different life experience than a woman who lives in Afghanistan. As well as I've had a different life experience than my next door neighbor. How can we say other people are wrong when they are just going by their own personal experiences coming to their own conclusions of what the Truth is?
When I think about the Ultimate Truth, it makes me wonder if don't all have fragments of this Ultimate Truth. Maybe it all got split apart and manifested into all these different world religions. I like to think of the Ultimate Truth being like an enormous, glowing ball, like the sun. It became so full of love, it exploded (big bang) and it burst into pieces. Orgasmic! Maybe my Truth is just a piece of The Ultimate and everyone else has a different piece of it too. Maybe if and when we all come together, we will see It, like a puzzle with scattered pieces being put together. It will be the BIG LOVE right here on earth!
I have learned so much in my World Religion class and it was only an introduction. It has made me hungry for more knowledge, more understanding. I wish everyone in the whole, wide world could take this class. It wouldn't matter if they believed in a higher power or not. Because whatever your Truth is, it matters to me and it matters to the world. We need to all be friends so we can put our pieces together and create something so beautiful. Imagine!
Judaism- There is one God and the covenant Moses made with God established a set of moral and ritual obligations. Follow these obligations (follow Torah) and you will be happy. (and for all those who love Jesus, Jews believe Jesus to be a prophet. I think they don't share the opinion that He is the Messiah because according to scripture (I think in Isaiah, it says that when the Messiah comes, there will be no more war, no more fighting and no more tears, or something like that. Well, there is not peace in the middle east yet, so I guess the Messiah hasn't come yet?) A Christian response is that He did come, but He has to come again. There's some difference for you. I am not sure where it says He will come twice in the Old Testament. But I am still reading it, so maybe I haven't gotten to that part. However, I am not sure I'll find that part in my first straight read -thru, if a bazillion people before me haven't seen it. Any way, interesting food for thought for me. And, by the way, it is very wrong to say Jews hate Jesus. My first Christmas card of the year came from one of my Jewish friends. I know she doesn't have a hate bone in her body.)
Christianity- There is one God and God loved the world so much that He sent His son, Jesus to save humanity and to conquer humanity's weakness. Claim Jesus as your Savior and you will be happy. (Other faiths may wonder if Christians are really monotheistic...is Jesus a god? Is that polytheistic? The theology of the trinity was actually adopted in the 4 century, so it's kinda a "new" belief. Hindus embrace the Christian's view of the trinity because they believe there are many gods. Jews and Muslims do not because they only believe in one God according to the first five books which all three Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) happen to share. Some Christians reject the interpretation of the trinity that says Jesus is a god. Others believe He was God in human form but it makes me wonder who He was talking to on the cross and why He called God: "Father" throughout His life. And why does John 3:16 say God sent His only begotten son? Some Christians believe He was the actual begotten son of God (conceived by the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary), so He is separate just as my daughter is not Abigail and when addressing me, it would be weird for someone to address her, thinking they were talking to me. Others keep the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost separate and never pray to Jesus, and only say His name at the end. The book, The Shack, does a wonderful illustration of the trinity that might help some people discover a new way to look at things.)
Islam- There is one God. Islam means submission. If you will totally submit to God (follow the Qur'an, perform Salat, follow the Five Pillars), you will be happy. (Jesus is a prophet in this faith and is mentioned in the Qur'an more times than Muhammad. I know of Muslims who wear T Shirts that say, "I love Jesus" and they do. I loved reading about Jesus in the Qur'an. It was awesome. The Christmas story is in there and everything. You should check it out if you ever get the chance.) And please! Do not think Muslims are terrorists. This is a bad misunderstanding. I have heard so many people speculate if the President is a Muslim and the way they say it is as if this is terrible. Just the other day, during a heated debate in English class, someone lumped terrorists with the entire Islamic faith in one sentence. It is wrong. It would be like me saying that all Christians are child molesters just because I know someone who was molested by their priest. Please, terrorists make up a small (in comparison of the entire Muslim faith) handful of fanatics who are not following the teachings of their own faith. They have twisted it and defiled it. Just as some Christians may twist scriptures that might make it seem OK for them to beat their wives in order to exert their authority and make their wives submit.
Hinduism- There is one Supreme Being (Brahman) but many gods and goddesses. The heart of the religion is discovering experimental knowledge of the relationship between the human soul (Atman) and the Supreme Being. Practice the four yogas and you will be happy. (Jesus is an avatara in this Faith. You can follow Him. He can be your "Way" in discovering your relationship between your soul and The Divine. By the way, exploring other faiths, other Ways, can make your relationship with your Truth even stronger and more beautiful.)
Buddhism- Buddha passed into everlasting Nirvana 2,500 years ago. He found enlightenment at the age of 35 and spent the following 45 years teaching what he knew (dharma.) If you follow the Eightfold path, you will be happy. (At the Buddhist Temple, I was surprised how many times the teacher (a monk) emphasized not to leave your own belief, because it was all "There." You can find enlightenment and happiness where you are today. The Noble Eightfold Path is for everyone. Meditation is for everyone. In this faith, Jesus is a bodhisattva. Look that up. It's beautiful.)
After studying these five major world religions, I have found they all share so much in common. I cannot even pick a favorite if my own beliefs did not exist. I wouldn't know which one I would want to explore first. It would be like asking me to choose which of my children I love the most. They are all so different, but I love them all the same. This does not mean I subscribe to every belief, because I don't. But, it would be incorrect for me to state I love religion one over another.
It seems to me that the purpose of each religion is to discover a relationship with The Divine in order to find happiness. Different religions use different tools and techniques to cultivate their relationship with The Divine, but at the heart of it all, maybe it's all the same.
Sometimes I like to think of an Ultimate Truth. If we all knew what that Ultimate Truth was, we'd only have one religion to study and we'd all accept it. At least that's my opinion. Most people believe what they believe because to them, it's their Truth. But my Truth might be different from your Truth and I don't like it when people say, "My Truth is truer than yours." Let's face it, we all come from different life experiences and different traditions. That plays a major part in what we decide to believe. I have had a different life experience than a woman who lives in Afghanistan. As well as I've had a different life experience than my next door neighbor. How can we say other people are wrong when they are just going by their own personal experiences coming to their own conclusions of what the Truth is?
When I think about the Ultimate Truth, it makes me wonder if don't all have fragments of this Ultimate Truth. Maybe it all got split apart and manifested into all these different world religions. I like to think of the Ultimate Truth being like an enormous, glowing ball, like the sun. It became so full of love, it exploded (big bang) and it burst into pieces. Orgasmic! Maybe my Truth is just a piece of The Ultimate and everyone else has a different piece of it too. Maybe if and when we all come together, we will see It, like a puzzle with scattered pieces being put together. It will be the BIG LOVE right here on earth!
I have learned so much in my World Religion class and it was only an introduction. It has made me hungry for more knowledge, more understanding. I wish everyone in the whole, wide world could take this class. It wouldn't matter if they believed in a higher power or not. Because whatever your Truth is, it matters to me and it matters to the world. We need to all be friends so we can put our pieces together and create something so beautiful. Imagine!
Friday, October 14, 2011
Why I Love Scooters
Have I ever told you the story of why I love scooters?
Well, Once upon a time when Nicholas was three months old, Jolie (age 11) and Sydney (age 9) asked me if they could "go down the hill."
That's all they said. "Mommy, can we go down the hill?"
I really thought they were asking if they could walk down the hill in our back yard to the creek. I had 5 kids at this point and one of them was attached to my boobs all day and one of them was 18 months old and getting into everything. Fischer was four years old at the time and honestly, I don't know what he was doing. Probably reading the encyclopedia.
Jolie had come home from school this day very upset. She didn't really have friends at school. Kids made fun of her for reasons I still cannot figure out to this day. It was that ugly, cheeky, drama that girls were doing at this age that blindsided us and we, as a family, could not wrap our minds around understanding why ANYBODY could be that cruel. This involved things like not letting Jolie sit certain places in the lunch room and making fun of her clothes. And the girls who were being mean were kinda rednecks. I hate to say it, but I was always like, "Who the hell do they think they are?" But that's beside the point and this story is getting off track.
Any way, so Jolie comes home upset AGAIN and it turns out she got pushed out of her desk, and when she was on the floor, a group of girls started KICKING her and calling her names! The substitute teacher saw the whole thing and no one even called me.
I used to teach my kids how to handle bullying this way: If someone hits you, hit the floor and act like you passed out. Then, the mean bully will get in a whole shit load of trouble and 911 will be called and we have plenty of lawyers in our family.
But that does not work. Let me tell you. Now I tell my children to fight back. Never start anything, but go for the eyes or the jugular if you need to.
Well, I decided enough is enough. I called the ring leader's mom and dad. I asked them to come over to our house after dinner and we were gonna straighten the whole thing out ourselves, or I was going to take legal action. They were unaware of their daughter's problem, but when asked, the little girl confessed everything and admitted what she and her friends had done. She was very remorseful and was grateful she could come over to say she was sorry.
I called Adrian and told him what went down. I asked him to come home a little early so he would be here when the girl and her parents came.
In the meantime, Jolie and Sydney went "down the hill."
I stayed inside with the little kids.
About fifteen minutes later there is frantic knocking on my front door.
It is a little girl who lives down the street. She is hysterical. I mean, completely hysterical. She is panicked.
In between sobs, she screams, "There is blood pouring out of both of her eyes!"
"Oh, my God! Who's eyes?"
"Your daughter's!"
It turns out, what Jolie and Sydney were asking, was for permission to ride their scooters down the hill on the street.
I think I grabbed, Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer and shoved them all three into the floor board of my mini van and shot out of my driveway like a bat outta hell down the hill to where Jolie was laying at the bottom.
Luckily, the blood was pouring OVER her eyes, not out of her eyes, but her arm was twisted in a weird way and I could see the bone.
I scooped her up, plopped her in the front seat and I guess Sydney put the kids in car seats while I headed straight for the hospital.
On the way, we passed the family who was coming over.
I rolled down the window to tell them I was heading to the hospital. They could hear Jolie screaming and they saw all the blood. The dad freaked out thinking his daughter's gang had caused this.
Next, we pass Adrian and I tell him to get the in the car, we are going to the hospital.
He took the drivers seat and I held Jolie. All the way, he kept saying, "I can't believe they did this to her!"
At this point, I could not focus. He thought the family had come over and beat the shit out of our daughter. He was furious. He wanted to know where they lived! I kept saying it was the scooter but he didn't understand and thought maybe "Scooter" was like a sixth grade girl's gang name.
We finally made it to the emergency room. Poor Jolie was so bloody and in so much pain. The nurse tried to take a blood sample and wrapped a tourniquet around the arm that didn't have a bone sticking up out of it, and kept slapping it trying to get a vein to pop up. Jolie was wailing! She begged the nurse to stop. As they were cutting off Jolie's clothes, the nurse actually told her to be quiet and be a big girl as she kept trying to straighten out the arm to get the needle in.
My dad finally stepped in and said, "Hey, x ray both arms."
He was right. BOTH arms were totally broken.
Jolie was wheeled off to surgery and she stayed in the hospital for 10 days on IV antibiotics.
She was in two casts for six weeks and one remained on for longer.
She could not feed herself.
She could not bathe herself.
She could not do much of anything.
Adrian and I took shifts at the hospital and I would tie balloons to Nicholas' feet and just sit and talk to Jolie for hours and hours. I read books to her aloud. We watched I Love Lucy DVDs. We ate a lot of chocolate.
Jolie was just at the cusp of entering adolescence and I must say that taking care of her while she was helpless was one of the sweetest experiences I have ever had. My first born was about to start pulling away from me, and here I had one last chance to care for her like a baby.
You know how rumors get started. Well, the whole school heard through the grapevine that Jolie had gotten jumped was in a full body cast. Cards and letters started pouring in. Friends she didn't even know she had, started calling her. She was showered with gifts. It was the sweetest thing.
I don't know exactly what the point of my story is, but Jolie is now a senior in high school. It makes me a little bit sad that she is growing up. She hardly needs me at all unless she needs money. I guess that is why I love scooters and will always cherish that summer.
Well, Once upon a time when Nicholas was three months old, Jolie (age 11) and Sydney (age 9) asked me if they could "go down the hill."
That's all they said. "Mommy, can we go down the hill?"
I really thought they were asking if they could walk down the hill in our back yard to the creek. I had 5 kids at this point and one of them was attached to my boobs all day and one of them was 18 months old and getting into everything. Fischer was four years old at the time and honestly, I don't know what he was doing. Probably reading the encyclopedia.
Jolie had come home from school this day very upset. She didn't really have friends at school. Kids made fun of her for reasons I still cannot figure out to this day. It was that ugly, cheeky, drama that girls were doing at this age that blindsided us and we, as a family, could not wrap our minds around understanding why ANYBODY could be that cruel. This involved things like not letting Jolie sit certain places in the lunch room and making fun of her clothes. And the girls who were being mean were kinda rednecks. I hate to say it, but I was always like, "Who the hell do they think they are?" But that's beside the point and this story is getting off track.
Any way, so Jolie comes home upset AGAIN and it turns out she got pushed out of her desk, and when she was on the floor, a group of girls started KICKING her and calling her names! The substitute teacher saw the whole thing and no one even called me.
I used to teach my kids how to handle bullying this way: If someone hits you, hit the floor and act like you passed out. Then, the mean bully will get in a whole shit load of trouble and 911 will be called and we have plenty of lawyers in our family.
But that does not work. Let me tell you. Now I tell my children to fight back. Never start anything, but go for the eyes or the jugular if you need to.
Well, I decided enough is enough. I called the ring leader's mom and dad. I asked them to come over to our house after dinner and we were gonna straighten the whole thing out ourselves, or I was going to take legal action. They were unaware of their daughter's problem, but when asked, the little girl confessed everything and admitted what she and her friends had done. She was very remorseful and was grateful she could come over to say she was sorry.
I called Adrian and told him what went down. I asked him to come home a little early so he would be here when the girl and her parents came.
In the meantime, Jolie and Sydney went "down the hill."
I stayed inside with the little kids.
About fifteen minutes later there is frantic knocking on my front door.
It is a little girl who lives down the street. She is hysterical. I mean, completely hysterical. She is panicked.
In between sobs, she screams, "There is blood pouring out of both of her eyes!"
"Oh, my God! Who's eyes?"
"Your daughter's!"
It turns out, what Jolie and Sydney were asking, was for permission to ride their scooters down the hill on the street.
I think I grabbed, Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer and shoved them all three into the floor board of my mini van and shot out of my driveway like a bat outta hell down the hill to where Jolie was laying at the bottom.
Luckily, the blood was pouring OVER her eyes, not out of her eyes, but her arm was twisted in a weird way and I could see the bone.
I scooped her up, plopped her in the front seat and I guess Sydney put the kids in car seats while I headed straight for the hospital.
On the way, we passed the family who was coming over.
I rolled down the window to tell them I was heading to the hospital. They could hear Jolie screaming and they saw all the blood. The dad freaked out thinking his daughter's gang had caused this.
Next, we pass Adrian and I tell him to get the in the car, we are going to the hospital.
He took the drivers seat and I held Jolie. All the way, he kept saying, "I can't believe they did this to her!"
At this point, I could not focus. He thought the family had come over and beat the shit out of our daughter. He was furious. He wanted to know where they lived! I kept saying it was the scooter but he didn't understand and thought maybe "Scooter" was like a sixth grade girl's gang name.
We finally made it to the emergency room. Poor Jolie was so bloody and in so much pain. The nurse tried to take a blood sample and wrapped a tourniquet around the arm that didn't have a bone sticking up out of it, and kept slapping it trying to get a vein to pop up. Jolie was wailing! She begged the nurse to stop. As they were cutting off Jolie's clothes, the nurse actually told her to be quiet and be a big girl as she kept trying to straighten out the arm to get the needle in.
My dad finally stepped in and said, "Hey, x ray both arms."
He was right. BOTH arms were totally broken.
Jolie was wheeled off to surgery and she stayed in the hospital for 10 days on IV antibiotics.
She was in two casts for six weeks and one remained on for longer.
She could not feed herself.
She could not bathe herself.
She could not do much of anything.
Adrian and I took shifts at the hospital and I would tie balloons to Nicholas' feet and just sit and talk to Jolie for hours and hours. I read books to her aloud. We watched I Love Lucy DVDs. We ate a lot of chocolate.
Jolie was just at the cusp of entering adolescence and I must say that taking care of her while she was helpless was one of the sweetest experiences I have ever had. My first born was about to start pulling away from me, and here I had one last chance to care for her like a baby.
You know how rumors get started. Well, the whole school heard through the grapevine that Jolie had gotten jumped was in a full body cast. Cards and letters started pouring in. Friends she didn't even know she had, started calling her. She was showered with gifts. It was the sweetest thing.
I don't know exactly what the point of my story is, but Jolie is now a senior in high school. It makes me a little bit sad that she is growing up. She hardly needs me at all unless she needs money. I guess that is why I love scooters and will always cherish that summer.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Dear Family,
Going back to school has been the easy part about going back to school. The hard part is all the stuff that doesn't get done while I am gone or studying. I think y'all been spoiled by having a stay at home mother for all these years. Even when I worked, I made sure I could either bring y'all with me or I worked at home. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every minute of it. I am grateful I was able to breast feed babies and not have to rely on strangers to raise you. But y'all aren't babies any more. Everyone is (finally) in school now and so it is time to hang up my apron. I have waited a long time for my turn.
In order for this transition to go more smoothly than it has for the past couple of months, let me help you by giving you some useful tips:
1. If you use a dish, you must wash it afterwards. And no, this is not suggesting there is an option of eating off the floor or trying to eat spaghetti with your hands.
2. If you are hungry, you know where the kitchen is.
3. If you tell me one more time there is nothing to eat when in fact there is plenty, we will play a game called "Prison" in which I will serve you only bread and water for a week.
4. Boys: if you "miss" while aiming, there is a handy dandy toilet wand by the toilet. Work some magic, OK?
5. I know most of you in this family are very short. If you cannot aim your spit for the hole in the sink, please use the handy dandy step stool so you will not coat the entire counter with slobbery Crest for Kids Bubble Mint toothpaste.
6. Believe it or not, this house has a laundry room. It is downstairs and there are 2 big machines in there. One is called a washing machine and the other is a dryer. I will be teaching a one time only lesson on how to use them tonight so make sure you are there and listening carefully.
7. When you take off your shoes, for the love of god, please make a mental note of where you are in the house so that you will be able to find them the next morning before school. I know it's incredible, but I actually do not know where your shoes are at any given time. It may seem that I do, but I don't.
8. I also do not know when your school projects are due. I know it may seem like I talk to your teachers personally each day, but I don't. I have no clue what you are supposed to be working on. Keep up with your own assignments. Write things down. There are a gazillion sticky notes in the drawer where the silverware is. Use them. And I am warning you: If you spring some last minute thing on me again and expect me to go out to Walmart in my pajamas to buy you some poster board or modeling clay in the middle of the night when it finally pops in your head that you need to make a brain, a cell, an Indian Mound, a volcano, or some book report presentation, you can just forget it. I will let you have the experience of failure and you can just grow up living in a van down by the river.
xoxo,
Mom
In order for this transition to go more smoothly than it has for the past couple of months, let me help you by giving you some useful tips:
1. If you use a dish, you must wash it afterwards. And no, this is not suggesting there is an option of eating off the floor or trying to eat spaghetti with your hands.
2. If you are hungry, you know where the kitchen is.
3. If you tell me one more time there is nothing to eat when in fact there is plenty, we will play a game called "Prison" in which I will serve you only bread and water for a week.
4. Boys: if you "miss" while aiming, there is a handy dandy toilet wand by the toilet. Work some magic, OK?
5. I know most of you in this family are very short. If you cannot aim your spit for the hole in the sink, please use the handy dandy step stool so you will not coat the entire counter with slobbery Crest for Kids Bubble Mint toothpaste.
6. Believe it or not, this house has a laundry room. It is downstairs and there are 2 big machines in there. One is called a washing machine and the other is a dryer. I will be teaching a one time only lesson on how to use them tonight so make sure you are there and listening carefully.
7. When you take off your shoes, for the love of god, please make a mental note of where you are in the house so that you will be able to find them the next morning before school. I know it's incredible, but I actually do not know where your shoes are at any given time. It may seem that I do, but I don't.
8. I also do not know when your school projects are due. I know it may seem like I talk to your teachers personally each day, but I don't. I have no clue what you are supposed to be working on. Keep up with your own assignments. Write things down. There are a gazillion sticky notes in the drawer where the silverware is. Use them. And I am warning you: If you spring some last minute thing on me again and expect me to go out to Walmart in my pajamas to buy you some poster board or modeling clay in the middle of the night when it finally pops in your head that you need to make a brain, a cell, an Indian Mound, a volcano, or some book report presentation, you can just forget it. I will let you have the experience of failure and you can just grow up living in a van down by the river.
xoxo,
Mom
Friday, September 2, 2011
Autism part 9
The day finally arrived! Nicholas had his first day of kindergarten a few weeks ago! This is a huge step and I must admit I was worried to death for the week prior to school beginning and I was a nervous wreck the first day. Nicholas is riding the little bus home and I was nearly crying waiting for it that first day. This is my baby, y'all. He's the last one to leave the nest and go to big school.
He is five and a half and still only 27 pounds. He is wearing clothes and shoes from two years ago and is still not potty trained. That was a bummer. We worked very hard on potty training at Challenged Child and Friends and over the summer. I really thought he was "getting it" but he's not quite there yet. I am really hoping he will be wearing underwear to school by first grade.
But wow, what leaps and bounds he has made in other areas of learning. This boy is smart. I am telling you, there is a genius locked away in there. Nicholas has a beautiful memory. He remembers everything and it is cool to see some random memory emerge at unexpected times and in unexpected ways. He remembers all the sounds letters make. He can read basic sight words. And he can fix mechanical things. He's pretty amazing.
Nicholas is handling transitions much, much better. He seems so mature walking into the school each morning. No melt downs! (knock on wood) He's been a little bit teary now and then, but no freak outs. Fischer said that Nicholas started crying in the lunch room, missing me one day, and his parapro ran to get Fischer to comfort him. Is that not the sweetest thing ever? Fischer picked his little brother up, held him and reassured him everything was going to be OK. I am glad Mollie and Fischer go to the same school!
One day, Nicholas came home from school with a pink lipstick stain on his head. This made me so happy. This meant that some teacher gave him a kiss. My heart melted and I felt a sense of peace that people at his school are loving my sweet boy. There have been several times a teacher has stopped me in the store or around town and asked me if I am Nicholas' mommy. They tell me they just want to scoop him up and take him home with them. Nicholas does have this affect on people. He is so cute and sweet. Who can resist him?
Nicholas loves school so far. I am grateful for all his teachers. I am grateful he has the opportunity to learn the best way he can in a special environment with understanding people. This is a great beginning to his educational future. I see awesome things to come!
He is five and a half and still only 27 pounds. He is wearing clothes and shoes from two years ago and is still not potty trained. That was a bummer. We worked very hard on potty training at Challenged Child and Friends and over the summer. I really thought he was "getting it" but he's not quite there yet. I am really hoping he will be wearing underwear to school by first grade.
But wow, what leaps and bounds he has made in other areas of learning. This boy is smart. I am telling you, there is a genius locked away in there. Nicholas has a beautiful memory. He remembers everything and it is cool to see some random memory emerge at unexpected times and in unexpected ways. He remembers all the sounds letters make. He can read basic sight words. And he can fix mechanical things. He's pretty amazing.
Nicholas is handling transitions much, much better. He seems so mature walking into the school each morning. No melt downs! (knock on wood) He's been a little bit teary now and then, but no freak outs. Fischer said that Nicholas started crying in the lunch room, missing me one day, and his parapro ran to get Fischer to comfort him. Is that not the sweetest thing ever? Fischer picked his little brother up, held him and reassured him everything was going to be OK. I am glad Mollie and Fischer go to the same school!
One day, Nicholas came home from school with a pink lipstick stain on his head. This made me so happy. This meant that some teacher gave him a kiss. My heart melted and I felt a sense of peace that people at his school are loving my sweet boy. There have been several times a teacher has stopped me in the store or around town and asked me if I am Nicholas' mommy. They tell me they just want to scoop him up and take him home with them. Nicholas does have this affect on people. He is so cute and sweet. Who can resist him?
Nicholas loves school so far. I am grateful for all his teachers. I am grateful he has the opportunity to learn the best way he can in a special environment with understanding people. This is a great beginning to his educational future. I see awesome things to come!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Summer 2011
I came up with the lovely idea of Camp Cutchshaw where the children would learn things and participate in camp- like activities seeing as how we are totally broke and cannot afford fancy real camps. I think Camp Cutchshaw lasted 3 days. I am not sure. I could check one of the previous blogs about our Camp Cutchshaw adventures, but I do not want to relive any of it.
So, I gave up. I threw in the towel. I did not endure to the end. I said to hell with it. And you know what happened?
We had a pretty fabulous summer. The kids were lazy. They slept in. They stayed up late. They didn't make up their beds. They did not hang up laundry. They did not do dishes. They did not do chores. And guess what? We all relaxed. Wow. What a concept.
Next summer I am totally going to incorporate the Cutchshaw Spa where overstressed children can come learn how to be lazy because I am pretty good at teaching that school, apparently.
School year is for hard work and summer is for unwinding. That's my new philosophy which is pretty great because no kid will resist that.
We swam a LOT. We went to the movies a few times. We played with toys we had forgotten about. We played games. We hunted for the possum who lives under our porch that has eaten 2 of our stray cats. We had some circle of life lessons. We learned what it feels like to live without air condition for 3 days when it is 104 outside. (THAT was NO fun!) We had a couple of bon fires. We visited friends. I learned how to wash dishes by hand when our dishwasher broke and I've gotten so good at it that we may never replace it. (sigh) I had a birthday. Sydney turned 15 and got her learner's license. She is an excellent driver, by the way. Jolie turned 17 and is enjoying a summer romance. Mollie's birthday is coming up in a few days. And I took the kids on our annual Fripp Island vacation with my mother, my sisters, their children, and one of my brothers-in-law.
Today is the first day of school and now the Cutchshaw Spa is over. I am kinda sad. As difficult as it can be juggling everything, I really do love being with my children. I love hanging out with them in our pajamas in the middle of the day. I love having time to read books with them at night. I love not feeling pressure to get things done at a certain time. I love being able to just lay out in the middle of the driveway looking at the stars in the middle of the night and not feeling like a bad mom for letting them stay up past their bed time.
I hope when I am dead, they will remember the Cutchshaw Spa Summer more fondly than they would have been grateful that I had helped polish up handwriting and drilled math facts every day. It would have been good to do that, but this was good too. And I hope they know just how much I ENJOY being in their precious presence. How I love their puppy breath in the morning and how much I love hanging out in the teenager's room in the middle of the night telling jokes. I love it when Fischer drills me on trivia facts and how Mollie draws happy pictures of sunshines and rainbows and then in her twisted way, draws "angry mobs" in the background. I love watching Nicholas line up all the food out of the pantry all over the house. I love it when all of us get squished in my bed watching a really dumb TV show. I love it when every one's bored and we try to think of a cheap activity to do and everyone argues about who gets to pick and then everyone gets upset and we end up doing nothing. I love it all. And I love each of them. Amen.
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