Thank you

An hour ago, I opened the back door to let a little air circulate.  In came the warm, sweet, spicy scent of the stock next to the patio...  And away drained the rest of the day...

So we had some Latin, math, some language arts, music, a run, and chores.  Then we used Christmas movie tickets for Despicable Me 2, which Q found completely awesome, and then all the requisite feeding of the people and intermittent laundry. 

Tomorrow brings a drive for E (finishing the driving portion of Driver's Ed), during which K and S will knock out some more school work, then quartet practice for an upcoming wedding, therapies for Q, and we'll finish
writing our goals for the school year.

If you would, I'd appreciate prayers as we embark on the 2013-2014 year.  There's still work to be done on the one schedule - it would be helpful if there were suddenly openings for certain classes.  And the other schedules, while more straightforward, still require creativity.  Plus...  (argh)  We have a growing list of needs, some pressing, many of which I have no idea how to manage.  So.  Thank you.

And one more thing:  I've been listing off blessings in my head.  Because, you know, for all the hard work and occasional oddness, we're blessed.  Really and truly.  A box full of binders arrived here last week from someone who knew we needed some and had extra.  Binders!  Out of the blue!  A couple of anonymously sent gift certificates are covering what I hope are the last workbooks we'll need for the school year.  Sometimes it's hard to think positive thoughts in the middle of, say, the fifth call from SSI regarding Q, in which I learn that paperwork they received from me in April still has not been executed.  At those moments, it's especially wonderful to be able to recall the kindness and generosity of friends, family, and sometimes, complete strangers.  Y'all rock.  Thank you.

Time to breathe deeply and get some sleep.

Thank you.

Inspiration

I've been reading articles on how higher ed is getting it wrong, on how homeschoolers need to cover their bases, on nanotechnology in the Roman empire.  And then I read more at the NieNie Dialogues, which I've found so inspiring over the years.

With all that in my head, now I'm thinking.  I have a little painting that needs to be done, some as maintenance, and some to take things up a notch.  We have First Week projects to do, including our goals for the coming year (personal,  spiritual, academic), and some tidying before we fling ourselves into things.  It's time to put up the wall of Post-its to figure out how to make all the parts work for four kids with four different school schedules to consider.

Life is funny and has been for a long, looong time.  It's full, rich, and regularly unpredictable.  Despite that, patterns do emerge: we find that we need to feed ourselves in order to continue to feed those around us.  Whatever we're doing, hopefully with deep intention and a whole heart, whether we're paid for our work or not, spiritual refreshers are non-negotiable.  The more years I have on this sometimes silly planet, the more connected I find the physical to the spiritual to the intellectual.  Sweaty endeavors make me a better human in every way.  Bible reading and meditating on higher things, reading French philosophers (must stay a step ahead of children!), study abstracts, and neurological developmental theories - these make me a better human because they require things of me that the rest of my life does not.

I've been sometimes impatient with terms such as "radical self-care" and other pop-psych notions.  We are a busy people, dagnabit!  We are too easily taken in by soothing notions when what we need is a good slipping off of several layers of skin in order to become who we actually are.  Harumph.  Well, yes.  Yes, we are busy and too easily taken in.  And also, sometimes, we've actually had just about all we can take.  We cannot run our bodies forever without hydrating, resting, and stretching.  We can't spout sweet little truisms without continuing to develop the basis for an expanding understanding of actual truth.  We can't understand random doctoral abstracts without a pre-existing curiosity and decent vocabulary (At the moment, I'm a little fixated on nystagmus in relationship to eye gaze AAC.  Sorry.). 

It's pretty important to start out with a plan that allows the stretching, the development of knowledge, of vocab, and yes, curiosity.  It's important to keep the plan flexible, so it bends when the perpetually unpredictable bits predictably push the limits of its tensile strength.  It's important to plan for brushing your own teeth when you have a newborn, for maintaining muscle when even sleep is barely manageable, and to create new ways to enrich and elevate your closest relationships, even when the plan gets turned inside out, despite your best efforts.

There's an awful lot that I keep trying to control in this new normal, but can't.  I do not adore this feature.  Part of my weekend has involved a complicated conversation with the pharmacy, followed by a chat with the neurologist, refills called in for two meds, and a new one to consider.  My squirrel brain wants me to find better ways to do this, and so I do.  There's always a better way to organize, manage, or see the challenges in front of us.  And also?  Sometimes there isn't.  Sometimes the best we can do is acknowledge the truth: we're only human, and so we suffer the effects of gravity and limited internal resources.

There are only so many hours in a day, so many ways to work what needs working, and so many ways to recreate new resources.  Beginning a new day refreshed requires, um, radical self-care.  Go ahead, cringe.  I am. 

And then try reconsidering your horizons  This much we can all do, at stoplights, if there's literally no other time.  Imagine yourself as someone else, inhabiting a wholly different experience.  Pick up the bits of that alter ego and return to your regularly scheduled life with them, using small shifts to make changes that allow you (and kids, spouse, etc.) to re-design your family, career, finances, homekeeping, toothbrushing, and yes, the more radical kinds of self-care.  Perhaps you've been someone who's said for decades that she'd only run when chased by a bear.  Really?  What an interesting hill to die on.  Or you've said that you just can't manage money, an unruly child, your own snarky mouth, or your mom's medical needs.  So who will?  And better still - your kids are watching you, collecting details for their own adulthoods.  If you're not practicing radical self-care, radical self-accountability, radical reinvention, why not?

Guilt isn't useful unless we let it spur us on to better choices, so we can bypass the self-flagellation. That's a dead-end.  While we may need to put this on the To Do list in order to make it actually happen, beating ourselves about the head for dropping this ball defeats the purpose of the exercise.   Nobody gets Life right all the time.  Big deal.  The real question becomes:  How do we move on from here, right now?  How do we build ourselves into the people we need to be?  Are called to be?

There's a checklist, of sorts: Do you need Vitamin D?  Iron?  A hand to hold?  Heart-pounding exercise?  Bloodwork?  A better diet?  Someone to talk to?  Get there.  Get it, whatever it is, and then think again about where you're headed, how you're getting there, and what you desire for your legacy - for your kids, and maybe grandkids.

After those starting issues are tweaked, the thing that consistently works best for me when I'm at my wits' end is to execute an end run for whatever stressor has me wigging out.  Some kind  of creative pursuit that results in a real payoff is best.  A painting project, on canvas or walls, has worked well.  Sewing curtains, reorganizing closets or kitchen cabinets, moving furniture, scrubbing something down - each of these has a place in helping to create a clearer head.  There's always something about a paint brush for me, though.

Look.  I don't know your story.  But I do know some stories, including my own.  Things can be so tough.  Sometimes they're brutal, man, and they will suck away every breath, all focus and energy, and leave you a panting, prostrate husk.  It's horrendous. 

There's just one thing, though:  We're tougher.   We really, truly are.  At least today.  And tomorrow?  Tomorrow comes after another sleep, and with fresh opportunity. 

And I have more pep talks, stuffed in my pockets.  Seriously.  Call me.

XO.

Zoom

My, but the summer is flying by.  We've worked our collective tails right off, truly.  Between producing events, practicing and playing for weddings, travel, family finagling, violin camp (hooray for scholarships!), and all the therapies, I feel a bit like we're skidding into the new school year.

Speaking of, we'll start Monday, ready or not.  Heh.  I've been moving stacks of books and supplies, reorganizing for the next stretch.  We need to hop right into Latin and math, and the rest will come over the next few weeks.  E's schedule has yet to be verified, so that will keep us on our toes as we try to work orchestra, etc., around whatever shakes out for her.  Our first week will involve a couple of projects, since Q doesn't start up quite yet, and we can easily include him in those.  Besides, the weather has been so lovely, it's hard to imagine not biking or gardening or hiking or running as much as possible.

And speaking of weather, it has produced a spectacular tomato forest out back.  If they all ripen at once, we'll be in big trouble.  Or perhaps a sauce making party will be in order!  We also have lemon cucumbers, which are delicious, burgeoning sage plants, which can't wait to be frizzed in butter - nom), and the strawberries continue to produce - drool.  I should go pick that curly blue kale.  I bet it would make a fabulous salad.


In the meantime, the kids are out now, the house is quiet, so I'm off.  Wishing you blessings in the midst of whatever you've got going. 

XO.

Hello, lovely people.  How about a round of updates on at least many of the fronts?

I am the proud mama of an 18 year-old young man.  It's hard to imagine that it's actually been that long since that delivery room, that anesthesiologist, that 32 hours, and the first glimpse of that wee little cone-head.  I can still smell his teeny neck, new and warm.  Of course, he's kind of a giant now.

The second-born punkin is past the halfway point in Driver's Ed classes, passing with flying colors so far.  She's been busy this summer with music practices, babysitting, math, and the general miscellany of a teen girl's summer.  Organizing her paperwork for school this fall has been an education in itself.

Punkin #3 has been doing yard work and babysitting (saving up for clothes and projects), math review, reading, and hanging out with a new neighborhood buddy - a fellow "tall girl" her own age.

The fourth punkin has been enjoying her own new buddy - little sister to the above neighbor.  She's also set goals for her music progress that require an hour or two of practice per day - a bit of an eye-popper for this mama, but she's doing well.  The rest of her summer time has been taken up with math lessons, reading, crafts with neighbor kids, and water balloons with her new favorite person (a lovely fellow homeschooler, visiting from the other side of the country).

Mr. Q-punkin has had a busy summer so far, including check-ups with various specialties (and more to come), clearance for three whole prescriptions, and measurable progress in his power chair driving skills.  He's been busy in speech - differentiating nouns and verbs, choosing pictures to put stories in order, and even using nodding as part of his responses to questions.  We have a Summer Bridge book he's working through, which is pretty darn cute.  This is what happens to the youngest child: numbers and letters are cute.

Upcoming projects: ramps for the front and back doors of the house; support arms for Q's iPad (as it becomes more and more integral to communication during his waking hours) and soon an actual communication device (we hope); new walker set-up.

I'm feeling foolish.  I've been reading about obturator neuropathy and other soft tissue foibles of the upper leg because I did something during a run two days ago, and things just aren't okay.  Thankfully, Q's PT lets me bounce such things off him, and I came up with things to try (foam rollers are our friends).  In the meantime, I wish I had a muscle relaxant, unlimited ice, and 48 hours of no lifting.  Q's been up quite a bit each night for the last couple of weeks - my theory is that a small push (I "sprinted" 9:59 up an incline, at the end of a 3.4mi run - the fastest I think I've ever been on an uphill) worked those muscles hard, and then going from dead asleep to lifting and rearranging 49lbs of Q knocked me back further.  Not my favorite.

If y'all wouldn't mind praying over the upcoming projects and my tweaked leg and back...  Certain obstacles could just remove themselves and life would become infinitely easier.  I just have no idea how those obstacles could possibly resolve.  None.  But others have.

I know you're dying to hear about the yard.  So I'll tell you a little, since you twisted my arm.  Heh.

The day lilies are blooming their fool heads off.  One is a lovely warm custard color, with wine colored middles.  It's next to a purple sedum that's almost as tall as the lily plant - the contrast is charming, especially when the Greek oregano is noticed on the other side of the day lily.  The other plant is lavender with chartreuse middles, next to purple asters and a chartreuse Dr.Seuss flowering plant whose name suddenly escapes me.  Hm.  Its flowers are little, brilliant green balls and it makes me smile.  Also nearby are red yarrow and fleeceflower.  The Tomato Forest needs more cages, as the plants seem to be trying to escape.  Some are just shy of three feet tall, and appear to be making actual tomatoes.  The Lemon Boys and Green Zebras look to be ahead of the rest.  I should really count those plants.  I wonder if we have thirty.

The strawberries are proliferating by runner, and seem to have escaped via seed as well.  Which is fantastic.  The berries are delicious and I think we'd give over the yard to production without a second thought.

And there's the boy.

Rest well, loveys.  Hope your summer is warm and sunny, with lots of fun thrown in.

Redux

I'm sharing a piece I recently wrote for our church newsletter.  Because it was my turn at the time, and now because life requires multi-tasking.  Or multi-purposing.  Tra-la.

_________________

I have this backyard that’s kind of a miracle.  When we moved into this house, the glacial till was assertively apparent.  The backyard, not landscaped and therefore with no topsoil to speak of, ate an hour or two of time for every half gallon plant we tried to put in.  The size and sheer persistence of the rocks the kids and I uncovered and dug out was amazing.  I contemplated letting it all go and claiming that we’d settled on a “meadow” theme, but then a letter came from the homeowner’s association.

So we began with a weed eater/trimmer, and hacked back the grasses and weeds.  A couple of cousins came and helped.  My aunt sprayed the worst of the dandelions and other noxious weeds with vinegar and we watched them wither in the sun.  Most of them did, anyway.  We moved on to a stupendous device my mom found: a propane tank attached to a moderate sort of flame thrower.  It sounds like a rocket booster immediately before launch, and makes satisfying work of blackberry vines (check your local ordinances before investing in your own).  Still, it was a battle, and not an enjoyable one.

Budgeting required that any work done in the yard be terrifically inexpensive, if not actually free.  The fact that my helpers mostly consisted of my children added another layer of interest:  children require feeding, their music needs practicing, and in our case, insurance coverage for medicines needed to be argued and re-argued.  And re-argued.  Figuring out how to turn the coin jar the kids had designated for The Yard Project into the thousands indicated by the estimates I had collected seemed a useless task.  But then Cynthia B. visited and began to pray.  One of my lovely neighbors, Gwenn, noticed that out of the entire new community, our house was the one without backyard landscaping (never buy during an uptick in the market), and she began to pray.  

So it was that a couple of weeks before Labor Day, 2012, I learned that we had volunteers, 80 cubic feet of dirt, 300 cement blocks, and more, arriving Labor Day weekend,  starting Friday.  When I had mentioned to Gwenn that a friend from church was praying over this yard too, she decided that was the perfect opportunity to make the idea a reality.  She called me for approval of a flier she produced, the flier went out to the neighborhood, friends from church became aware of the efforts, as did more old friends, and the backyard miracle commenced. 

Isaiah 55:11-13 reads:  11So shall my word be that goes forth out of my mouth: it shall not return to me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. 12For you shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. 13Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree: and it shall be to the LORD for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.

Is that not amazing?  The trees of the field, clapping their hands.  Trees growing instead of thorns and briars.  The imagery is so fantastic to me: the word going out and filling up, nature itself rising to underscore the word and the blessing of God.  

This evening I would be out writing in what is beginning to resemble an “edible park,” as a visitor commented, were it not for crashing rain storms.  But since I’m indoors, let me tell you what I would be experiencing out there.  I would be smelling the clove scented breeze coming off of the stock next to the patio.  I would wonder about the tomato plants, invisible in the gathering dark.  I would marvel at what I could still see, in low light, late in the evening.  I would content myself with holding still for a few moments, listening to the frogs across the valley, around Fennel Creek.

I am so grateful to those of you who showed up and helped create this space.  As I’ve thought about this and other events which bring on deep and abiding feelings of gratitude, I’ve realized how many things I have to be thankful for over the last several years in relationship to Green Lake Church:  A baby shower when life was scary and overwhelming.  Mentoring for my children in service and leadership efforts.  Love and acceptance for the little guy in the green wheelchair.  Service opportunities for me.  And countless other unnamed events, relationships, and processes, each of which have their own significance.  Each of which has been a grace note.  

I hope you too are finding these grace notes within our congregation and that you are blessed by the service and by the opportunities to serve.  Thank you, each of you, for what you’ve come to mean to me and mine.  The yard, replete with joy and peace, is open for visitors. 

Three Good Things

1.) Attentive pediatrician who calls after hours to talk through options for Q's apparent allergies, ask after K's foot, and who thinks both inside and outside the box when looking for solutions.

2.) Q's new developments in therapies:  in addition to the video of the bull/matador game in the power chair from last week, this week he nailed verbs and nouns in Speech.  He continues to amaze his therapists and they continue to come up with new stuff for him to do.   Next up: modifying math and grammar curricula for summer study.  The family "summer term" begins June 24. 

3.) Exquisite kindness.  It is humbling, gratifying, inspiring, and none of those words are adequate, really.  There are some delightful folks on the planet.  I am so glad.

Okay, one more.   Because what's not to love about brain-controlled flying robots.  When the professor indicated that those most likely to benefit from his research are those in uncooperative bodies, rather than the stock answer of military applications, I nearly wept. 

Happy weekend, lovely people.

Open letter

Dear Molina Formulary and Policy Boards,

Congratulations! You have won the privilege of caring for my son for 72 hours! See you in three hours. We are SO looking forward to this!

Regards,
Quinn's Mother

Fine print and disclaimers:
1.) Bring several changes of clothes for yourselves. Consider also supplying your own washer and dryer, as ours will be busy with Quinn's increased demands thanks to your policies.
2.) Check your files for all the OTC and Rx options that will not work, thus saving yourself the middle-of-the-night, vomit-scented disappointment of trying yet another med that HAS to work, according to your policies.
3.). Speaking of vomit, you should know ahead of time that baby wipes are ineffective, as are washcloths, paper, bath, and beach towels, and perfume. Consider bringing your own shower.

_________________________________

And there's more.  I guess at least the taxpayers can rest assured that Molina is working to save them money!  By repeating tests and assessments that will NEVER, EVER CHANGE, and absolutely cost more than the $90 per month they'd prefer monthly documentation for.  Heck, the monthly documentation requests alone blow that $90,  and never mind the cost to the doctor's offices who keep writing letters and keep trying to send faxes that are, mysteriously, received only about twenty percent of the time.  It's something like having to answer the Social Security department's questions about "change in diagnosis."  Really?  (This is where I begin to feel I've developed an edge to my voice...)  Because you seriously think, SS people, that there will have been a change in his missing corpus callosum?  He will suddenly not have microcephaly?  Polymicrogyria is now a limited-time condition?  Gosh, that would be awesome.

I can't remember having been this angry.  Breathing deeply...

Let's talk about other things, shall we?  S gave a great violin book recital in the backyard on Sunday afternoon.  Barefoot, in a sparkly dress, cuing to her teacher who accompanied, with musicality, intonation, and stage presence taking the day.  She's grown her skill so much over the last few months.  It was spectacular.  And the black bottom cupcakes from Grandma were delicious.

Speaking of the backyard.  (You knew we were going there.)  The weather has been perfect for planting tomatoes, and there are currently about 18 in the actual dirt, above the second terrace, some of which have blossoms already (Black Krim, Lemon Boy, and something that may have stripes...?).  The nasturtiums have popped out all over the backyard and that second terrace.  I've been whispering to them a little, for inspiration, because I want them to overwhelm and destroy the weeds.  Okay, so they won't actually destroy the weeds, but they do grow shockingly fast, are completely edible, and make gorgeous flowers.  Which we will eat.  Nom.  There are also eight lemon cucumber plants, just behind the bricks of the first terrace, between the lavender and cress and the Jethro Tull (heh).  There are roughly 40,000 more tomatoes to plant.  And green beans.  Round zucchini.  I killed the watermelon and cantaloupe babies off, sadly.  They're short, cool season varieties, so maybe we'll try again in that hot spot on the southwest facing side of the house.  I'm tempted to uncover the rest of the dirt that's under plastic (weed abatement) and plant it full of potatoes, carrots, beets, radishes, kohlrabi, and eggplant.  We were hoping to find a nice grape this year at the cheap plant guy's greenhouse, but we missed it by waiting.  We don't have an arbor, though, so maybe that would have been futile for the poor grape.

Two girls had sick days today, with rebellious tummies.  Q's got a stuffy head, besides the disruptions in meds and feeding supplies, so tonight could be extra interesting.  But since he's sleeping now, I'm off. 

Here's a lovely thing to watch while you're having your weekend.  And a lovely thing to listen to.  

Pax.