Category Archives: family

“special” moms

Posted on by

0

images

 

What happens when you put 8 special needs moms at a table? You hear a whole lot of swearing and laughter.

Last night I went out with a group of moms to celebrate an incredible woman who is leaving HHS (she’s not a special needs mom herself, but she gets us and we miss her already). The mood was mixed as we arrived — goodbyes are never easy and change is particularly hard for us special needs moms. Our friendships vary from close to barely acquaintance, but we all share one thing – being the mom to a special kid (or two).

The hostess showed us to a table in the back of the restaurant, where we were less likely to bother other patrons. I guess a table full of ladies always has the potential for loud voices and racy chitchat. Within moments of sitting down, several conversations started at the same time. Far from the discussions I have with my “typical” mom peers, that center around our kids GPAs, prom, college applications and juicy town gossip, most of the discussions around the the table last night were about guardianship, social security and how many seizures in a day is normal in our given homes.

Such different words, but the tone felt similar to any other moms’ night out. I imagine if you couldn’t hear the particulars of our conversations, we looked and sounded just like any other group of middle-aged women. And, once we got settled and the wine got poured, the laughter started.

I’ve never had many “special” mom friends. Remember – Jack was typical until he was eight. By the time our family was thrown into the special needs world, our dance card was full. Besides, I didn’t think I could possibly have much in common with a group of women I felt vaguely sorry for. I figured they must be so sad all the time and overwhelmed and have no time for anything except doctoring and complaining.

Then, one day I realized that I WAS a special needs mom. I’d earned my title and I wasn’t completely buried under the job requirements. Perhaps there were others like me. Other moms with special kids who were still living life and wanted friends who understood them in a way that their typical friends couldn’t.

I started slow and found a couple moms at our last school and was amazed to discover that they were just normal women who happened to know the difference between a grand mal and an absence seizure and what the letters AAC stood for . I had a lot in common with some and absolutely nothing in common with others – just like “typical” people. Amazing!

It’s taken some time, but I finally have a little circle of women that I can call my friends who know one side of me that’s still foreign to most people in my life. We can bounce off ideas about alternative therapies and strategies for shaving/haircutting/and all-around-grooming our teenagers AND we can bitch about our husbands (not me Dan, it was the other ladies) and talk about our new diet plans. AND, we can laugh about (almost) all of it!

I left dinner feeling lucky that I’ve found this group of ladies. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to realize that “special” moms are just “typical” moms with more patience and a better sense of humor. I look forward to my next “special” moms’ night out!!
Love, Jess

I did learn a few things last night. Wondering what words you should never use? “Retarded” and “normal”. What words are A-OK with special needs moms? “Intellectually delayed” and “asshole”.

Poop, shower and shave

Posted on by

1

Jack’s school, Horizon High School (HHS), is having their annual fundraiser and I wanted to write a post encouraging everyone to make a donation. My first draft was filled with all the extraordinary experiences offered to the children at HHS. Physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech therapy, a school store, student government, theater, aqua therapy, an outdoor garden. This is all on top of academic subjects (modified versions of Science, Career Skills, Social Studies, Language Arts, Life Skills, Drama, World Cultures, Art, Music, Technology, and Math).

Horizon High School is amazing for all those reasons, but there is one other reason that not all parents will admit. Horizon High School gives me a break.

I’m always happy when the small white van (no yellow bus for us) arrives, and today when I saw the bus out our front window, I started crying happy tears.

This morning was particularly tough at 26 Clinton Avenue. I knew it would be as soon as I walked into Jack’s room. Even Jack’s brilliant smile couldn’t mask the odor. “Come on JackO! This is gonna require a long shower and some extra cologne.”

If I keep Jack laughing, I have a chance at survival.

Eight years into this new life and I have developed an amazing skill where I can almost shut off my eyesight and sense of smell, so that I can go through motions required to clean up after a messy situation. I can’t even describe this morning’s shower fully, but we went through a half dozen washcloths and I needed to wash the tub when we were finished.

Just as I was getting Jack out of the shower, he surprised us both by peeing on the bathroom floor. One more quick rinse in the shower and I added the floor to my list of cleaning duties. As I got Jack dressed, I glanced at my watch and realized that we had lost valuable minutes and needed to rush through the normal “upstairs routine” in record time – teeth, deodorant, hair brushing. If only I hadn’t told Dan my plan for today. We still had our “downstairs routine” – breakfast, medication, hydration, and those cumbersome leg braces to deal with. And, now I had to shave Jack too. Alone.

I’m not entirely sure why I thought telling Dan that I would shave Jack was going to make the chore disappear. Jack was already in bed when I shared my plan. I couldn’t have expected Dan to wake up his son to shave him. And, I knew the fuzzy hair wasn’t going to evaporate on it’s own. But, it had been over a week since his last shave and Jack was starting to sport a look that was a cross between gangster and homeless. I couldn’t help but mention the need for a shave and that “I guess I will be the one to do it.”

After our “upstairs routine” was over, I helped Jack down the flight of stairs and I fed him, gave him his medication and 12 ounces of water through his g-tube. Then I sat him down on our steps to put on his leg braces and sneakers, already cursing as he did very little to help with the process. Once we were done, I took a deep breath, put Jack in a headlock and took out the electric razor.

As soon as Jack heard the motor, he started wrestling. If anyone had witnessed the scene, I would defiantly have lost my parental rights. He was wiggling and trying to grab my hand as if I was pummeling his face. I did my best to keep him safe and I attacked the beard while yelling one four letter word after another. After about five minutes we were both exhausted and Jack’s face looked better – not great, but better.

IMG_4786

Now, we were ready for the bus. Just an hour since the alarm went off and I was already in need of a nap. Horizon High School to the rescue!

Horizon High School is amazing for so many reasons – it’s individualized curriculums, warm and brilliant staff, beautiful facilities, but sometimes the thing I love most is that it’s a place that Jack can go every day, be safe and loved AND I’M NOT IN CHARGE. I love our boy and can deal with a lot of crap, but sometimes I need a break.

Love, Jess

Please consider supporting our wonderful school.  DONATE TO HORIZON HIGH SCHOOL

 

 

 

I’m a mom

Posted on by

0

Senior year of high school all the students in my class took a “Career Aptitude Test”. It’s goal was to provide you with ideas for careers that you would be well suited for. I don’t remember the particulars, but there was a long list of personality questions, and I definitely remember cringing when I saw that I needed to include my GPA. I went from being excited about the process, to feeling less than hopeful about the results.

A few weeks after completing the test, we were handed large manila envelopes in homeroom. Although we were encouraged to wait until we got home, without hesitation everyone ripped open their envelopes; eager to discover their futures. I was an outgoing girl as a teenager, but in school I did my best to get lost in the clutter of high school. There was no need to draw attention to my less-than-stellar academic achievements. This was definitely one of those moments.

“Lawyer!”

“Teacher!”

“Chemist!”

People started popping out of their seats as they read their results. I sat quietly for as long as I could, but finally opened the envelope to reveal what the random algorithm had chosen for me. I held my breath as I pulled out the white sheet of paper. There was a list of several suitable options, but the one that seemed to leap off the page was “Cake Decorator”.

 

IMG_2991

 

Today this quirky career would have been thrilling, but 1987 was a time before reality television highlighted obscure careers. There was no Cake Boss or Top Chef. I had never known a single person in the food industry, let alone someone who decorated cakes for a living. I sat frozen as I pictured myself alone in a back room of a bakery icing cakes.

Instead of sharing that result with my peers, I focused on something else on the list. Something that didn’t include icing. Then, I went home wondering what on earth my life was going to look like. Until that moment, I hadn’t focused too much on what I wanted to be. The only thing that seemed certain was that I wanted to be a mother.

I’d always known I wanted to be a mother. Not just having a few kids within my otherwise filled life, but being the kind of mother who stays at home, making PB & Js and helping the PTA. An old fashioned dream for modern times, but for me it was my greatest ambition. I’ve never judged women with big careers and busy lives (my own mother raised my brother’s and me while juggling jobs, being a corporate wife, getting her PHD and baking her own bread), I just didn’t really want all that for myself.

But 1987 was a time when girls where encouraged to “dream big” and the glass ceiling were getting higher. It would have been as hard to share this 1950s dream, as it would have been to share the idea of being a Cake Decorator. So for years, I sat silent when the the “What do you want to do when you grow up?” question was asked.

images-10

Of course life winds around, and I’ve had a long list of jobs. I’ve been a wife (not that it’s really a job Dan), a teacher, a photographer, a writer (you don’t need to be paid right?). I’ve had my share of successes away from home, but when I look at my life, my proudest achievements have been as a mom. I’m grateful that Dan and I set up our family so that I could focus on my 1950s dream. It’s allowed me to devote all of my attention on my family when it’s been required — and it has been required a great deal.

Now, when people ask me what I do, I always start with, “I’m a mom.” I say it proudly.

Although I haven’t always been the perfect mother, I think that my successes safely outweigh my failures. If I can take even a tiny part of the responsibility for who my children are, I know that I’ve done a good job. Two kids with entirely different lives, and both are happy and succeeding (in their own way) as young humans. People that I don’t just love, but who I enjoy being around – most of the time. I’m still not quite sure what I want to be when I grow up, but so far MOM has been my favorite title.

Love, Jack and Anna’s mom

 

I never did find a job in a bakery, but I have decorated a lot of cakes in my time – just most have been of the “birthday” variety. And, I have come to know a few VERY talented cake decorators and often regret not taking that path. After all, I could have been a cake decorator AND a mom.

Here are some reasons to vote . . .

Posted on by

0

cgHBndzDlTfSbib-800x450-noPad

Aidan Jack Seeger

I have a favor to ask of all of you who read this blog. VOTE YES!!

Aidan’s Law will require ALD screening in all fifty states. Many of you won’t need persuading to stop what you are doing and sign this petition, but some of you may pause and wonder if, in a world full of issues, we should be focusing too much attention and money on a rare disease. This post is for YOU. I have five reasons you should consider signing.

1. NUMBERS

As far as rare diseases, ALD is not so rare.

The current guess is that ALD effects 1 in 17,000 people. I say “guess”, because as our country does more testing, we are finding that many people have been mis-diagnosed with other diseases. ALD is a disease that winds it’s way through families and often does a good job at hiding for a generation or two and masking itself with a variety of symptoms/timelines/etc.

2. SURVIVAL

Aidan Seeger’s story is all too common with ALD. Without the luxury of an early diagnosis, the disease is allowed to devastate the body, stealing one thing after another as a family struggles to figure out what’s happening. Once a proper diagnosis is made, the options are limited and often prove to be too late for an already worn out body.

When Jack was first diagnosed, we found a half-dozen other families who were going through the processes of stem cell transplant (still the most popular treatment option). Jack is the only one of those boys who is still alive.

3. QUALITY OF LIFE

Jack is fortunate to have been diagnosed with just enough time to receive treatment and with just enough luck and energy to survive. Unfortunately, ALD did managed to steal much of his quality of life. While he is happy and doing well, he is fully dependent. We feed him, hydrate him (through a tube in his belly), medicate him, dress him, toilet him. He needs someone to walk him from the den to the kitchen. And, Jack is doing far better than some of his ALD peers. Most of these boys are in wheel chairs and many have significant hearing and vision loss.

4. MONEY

Many people are hesitant to stand behind and pour money towards an unknown disease. It’s important to understand just how expensive it is for our society to raise boys who survive after a late diagnosis.

Jack’s education costs almost $100,000 a year. He requires (and receives) physical therapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy several times a week. He has an aide who’s job it is to work solely with him, because he is not able to maneuver through his day at his special needs school.

Jack is turning 18 in a few months. An eighteenth birthday is usually celebrated with a party and the honor of voting, being able to serve in our military and applying for college. For Jack, his birthday comes with Dan and I applying for guardianship and Jack becoming eligible for both Social Security and Medicaid.

Jack is a very sweet and VERY EXPENSIVE member of our society.

5. IN CASE YOU NEED MORE

It would have been heartbreaking to learn when Jack was just a baby that a gene was lurking in his body that would likely someday need complicated treatment. It would have been difficult to find the proper doctors to monitor his development as he went through childhood. It would have been devastating to get the news that ALD had started it’s war on Jack’s brain and that we needed to drop everything and proceed with treatment.

BUT this would have happened with enough time that right now Jack would be approaching his eighteenth birthday with a healthy body and a future full of opportunities. If only Aidan’s Law had been passed 18 years ago.

There are 402 more signatures needed on this petition. Let’s help get this wrapped up today. Thank you to the Seeger family for devoting their lives to this cause.

AIDAN’S LAW – VOTE NOW!

Love, Jess

 

Anna just keeps pedaling

Posted on by

2

 

IMG_0537_2

When Anna was five years old, she came home from her friend Zoe’s house and told me that I needed to take the training wheels off her bicycle, “Today Mommy. You need to take them off today.”

Even as a little girl, Anna would get a look in her big blue eyes and I would know that she meant business, but I was curious about the timing, “Why Anna? Can’t we wait a bit longer? Don’t you like the safety of the extra wheels?”

“Moooommmm. I’m five. Besides, Zoe showed me today that she can ride her bike ALL BY HERSELF!”

That was it. There was no way that my daughter was going to let someone else enjoy even a second of glory without jumping into the game. That’s Anna. She was born determined to prove that she could do anything. It’s who she is to the core. And, it’s never been just to show off. She never really even required a witness. She just needs to prove it to herself.

That afternoon, I dug Anna’s bike out of the garage and took off the training wheels. We strapped on her Dora the Explora helmet and off she went. She started on our front lawn, “This is what Zoe said worked for her.”

There were a few spills on the soft grass before she got the hang of it. Within a half hour she progressed to the sidewalk and she’s been pedaling ever since.

Anna is now in high school, and her determination seems more indestructible than ever. It’s not just in the classroom and on the lacrosse field that she has a need to succeed. She seems equally determined to master everything from a Rubix Cube to memorizing presidents, country capitals and the Periodic Table. To date, she has yet to find something that she cannot master, but Dan and I can’t help but worry.

When is too much — too much?

I was never much of a shining star as a girl. One benefit of being mediocre is that no one expects too much from you. In fact, you get all sorts of encouragement and support and plenty of “clap outs” for every small accomplishment (I do love this). Dan, like Anna, was born determined, and it certainly reflected positively on his school work and career, but it has caused some disappointments and significant stress along the way. And, he did not have the added pressure that we fear Anna carries.

Anna is our only child who gets grades and plays sports. She is our only child who will go to college and have a career. She is our only child who will fall in love and have a family.* Dan and I try our best to alleviate the pressure and not focus too much on “being the best”, but it’s there. It’s been part of who Anna is since she was a little girl. As much as she does it for herself, Anna also loves to see her parents applauding her accomplishments. She knows we have our plates full with Jack, and is determined to make parenting her as easy as possible. This silent pressure must be stressful, but I’m not sure what to do about it.

How do we proceed? Do we stop posting her report cards on the fridge or cheering loudly at her lacrosse games? Do we discourage her from signing up for another AP class or stop her from all of her extracurricular activities?

We have tried praising more of her behavior and less of her accomplishments. We also try to remind her that she is not a grade on a paper or goal on a field. She is Anna, our daughter, Jack’s sister, a wonderful friend and beautiful human.

Special needs siblings are taught early that life is not fair and that their needs aren’t always the priority. They learn that their parents can’t take too much extra nonsense without potentially cracking. I’ve seen it again and again — special needs siblings grow up early, carrying more than their share. So far, this extra weight has added to Anna’s muscles, I just hope it doesn’t some day weigh her down.

For now, Dan and I just keep reminding her, to take it easy. “Work hard, try your best, but remember you’re just a kid.”

We keep talking and talking, but no matter what we say, I’m not sure we will change anything in our girl. Anna is Anna. She just smiles at us and keeps on pedaling.

Love, Jess

 

* In fact, Jack falls in love often and has plenty of girlfriends to prove it. I’m not sure how realistic it is that Jack will have a family of his own, but stranger things have happened – just turn on CNN.

The mischievous grin

Posted on by

6

FullSizeRender-60

 

I sometimes forget that Jack can’t speak. He’s very much part of the conversation here on Clinton Avenue with his bright eyes and broad smile. Days can go by without so much as a thought about his lack of words. Then, something happens that has me desperate to climb into that brain of his and get some information.

Usually, the need for intel is surrounded with worry, especially when there’s a something brewing in his health. Fevers, pain, lethargy – not knowing the source of the problem can be both frustrating and potentially dangerous. And, sometimes it’s that I know something has happened, but I can’t figure out how. Like the mysterious bite marks that Jack came home with a few years ago. I kept showing him pictures of potential culprits, as though they were mugshots and not pictures of his classmates. All I got from him was either a blank stare or a giggle (there was finally a confession and his bus assignment was switched).

Now, thanks to Jack’s whiteboard and pointing power, we are able to get many questions answered without too much trouble. He can answer “yes” or “no” and even “ears” or “throat” when he’s not feeling well. It’s making life much easier, but still the answers that require broader explanations are hard to obtain.

The last couple of days I have been curious about what’s going on in Jack’s mind. He’s had the most mischievous grin planted on his face from the time he wakes up in the morning until he goes to bed. Last night I checked on him in the middle of the night, and there it was. The grin. Even while Jack was sound asleep, it was shinning up at me.

Every time I mention the grin to Jack, it grows even bigger. I’ve asked him about school and girls and funny jokes. I’ve racked my brain and nearly worn out the whiteboard with all my questions, but Jack’s refusing to share any news. He’s such a teenager.

I was thinking about how unfair it is that he’s not able to share what’s sparked this glittery mood, when it occurred to me that Anna doesn’t always share her life with me either. I swear some days Anna seems to avoid even glancing at me, as though she’s worried she might accidentally let something slip. She’s a great girl, and I trust any secrets are of the pure/legal/good-kid variety, but still I’d love to get some nitty gritty details out of her. Getting information out of teenagers can be a challenge, and now both my kids seem to have secrets.

I’m sure my friends with teenagers can relate. Us moms aren’t always advisors, counselors, friends. We’re sometimes just the cooks, chauffeurs, and wallets as our kids tackle (or enjoy) their lives without asking us for any input. It’s natures way, I just thought that my complicated boy would not follow this path. I though he would always be willing to share whatever he could, but this week I think he’s enjoying having a little secret. He seems to love all my eager questions and watching me suffer from ignorance.

Not fair — I share all my secrets with him. Oh well, at least I get to spend time with the grin.

 

Love, Jess

Wandering through middle age

Posted on by

3

12650832_10208270829355758_4894140586389560430_n

Back from our trip, trying hard to hold tight to my mexican mood. It’s so much easier to define yourself as content and happy when your biggest worry for the day is where to go for lunch and whether you want a swedish or a deep tissue massage. I’m just hoping that my new outlook doesn’t fade as quickly as my tan.

My mood has improved dramatically since Dan and I went on our anniversary trip. Time alone with my husband in beautiful Tulum is just what I needed to bounce out of the hole I’d found myself in the last couple of months. Allowing others to take the reins also reminded me that we are not alone – we have people in our lives more than capable of helping out. Thanks Nonno, Mymom, Maria and Jeremy for holding down the fort.

During the quiet moments on the white sand beach, I had a lot of time to count my blessings and to contemplate what has been bothering me. The list is rather long, but the simple answer is CHANGE. We’re starting a new chapter. Anna is becoming increasingly independent and Jack too is growing up and requiring us to adjust – again. I need to prepare myself for this next stage so that I don’t get caught in another landslide. But how do I prepare? Making a plan is a good start, but that has me a little lost.

What/where/who/how do I want to be when I grow up?

I’d always thought that by 46 I would know who I was and would have all my ducks safely in a row. My life has taken some major detours, but I’m starting to realize that most people our age seem to be wrestling with similar feelings as they wander through middle age. I’ve been focusing so much on “poor me” that I hadn’t appreciated that most of my peers are going through similar issues. Knowing we are all going through this together makes me feel better.

The lives that we all envisioned rarely come to fruition. And, even if they do, they often look very different through older eyes. Besides, even if life took us just where we expected, we all have periods of change. Change can be exciting, but it can also be daunting.

Middle age comes with so many life changes. Preparing children to leave the nest or not (in the case of many special needs families and friends who didn’t have children). Career changes or the realization that projected careers never materialized. Grappling with how long to keep our homes full of memories but with taxes high enough to pay for a few European vacations a year. Whether or not to cover the gray or let nature take over.

All this crap is hard, but for me the realization that I’m not doing this alone is rather liberating. There’s safety in numbers. I’ll keep you all posted on any great ideas of how to soften the blow of middle age, but for now only one thing is for sure — Dan and I need to plan for more trips. There is something magic about having your feet in the sand.

 

Life is work.

Posted on by

0

images-5

Every time I think I have a handle on this new life, it slips out of my grasp.

The last couple of months I have been getting a little cocky. Feeling like nothing was getting me down and I was managing so well. I got through the holidays without procrastinating on my Christmas cards or forgetting a gift. I was looking forward to my spring art classes with new lessons and an eager attitude. I was averaging 15,000 steps a day on my Fitbit. I even started a new writing class, determined that 2016 was the year of getting published. I was on top of the world.

Then, things started falling apart. I’m not sure what happened, but I am fairly certain that full hours were snatched from my days. I couldn’t seem to sleep enough or get even half of my “list” done on any given day. My pile of bills started mounting into a tower in the office. Laundry seemed to never leave the heap on the chair in our bedroom. The kitchen sink was always full. Every room of our house had a reminder that I was losing a battle.

What do I do when I’m overwhelmed and feeling nuts? I pretend. If anyone asks – “I’m doing great!”. I walk around with a big smile and hope that conversations don’t get too deep so that I’m not forced to reveal anything. The last thing I really want to do is to talk about feeling that I’m losing my grip. I’m Jesse – I’ve got this.

Of corse there are hints. I don’t return phone calls, I drink more than I should, I avoid anything involving intimate conversation. I can easily disguise my mood from most people, but my close friends and family usually pick up on the signals. Dan has been asking “You okay?” so much that I started feeling kinda bad for him.

Time for a change.

This week, I’ve been avoiding the vino, tackling the laundry, sorting through the pile on my desk and searching for whatever it is that’s gotten me out of sync. It’s going pretty well, but have you ever noticed that laundry and bills are never really done?

 

images-4

One of the things I do to keep myself on task is I write with a friend every Thursday morning. She and I have been devoted for two years to our Thursday morning ritual of meeting online, selecting a topic and diving in to a 30 minute “flash” writing session. Once we’re done, we exchange our work and then catch up on our lives. She and I have become quite close, although we’ve never met in person (we met while taking an online writing course two years ago). I think sometimes those anonymous relationships allow us to be more honest. She knows almost as many of my secrets as Jack does.

Yesterday morning she asked if there was anything on my mind. “Keeping up with change” was the subject I came up with. It was easier to suggest than, “I think that life is swallowing me.” She and I each poured our coffee and told each other that we’d be back in 30.

The beginning of this piece is what I got through. I’m always amazed how writing can help me better understand what I’m feeling. Once I find the words, my mood always seems to improve. Now, I just need to sort through what put me into the sour mood so I can avoid it happening again.

The “C” word (college) keeps coming up and it’s certainly not helping, but I don’t think that’s all of it. I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed with normal, every day, I’m a grown-up shit. I won’t play the ALD card here.

Just because you have BIG crap going on doesn’t mean that the SMALL crap doesn’t bother you too.

My writing friend has a great way with words. She ended her note to me with “Life is work, and boy does that work take time.”

Indeed.

Love, Jess

First Twitter, now this

Posted on by

1

Screen Shot 2016-01-13 at 9.16.39 AM

It’s adorable. I keep finding my almost 50-year-old husband sitting at the computer yelling, “You’re not gonna believe who I just found!”

Dan has taken up social media. Perhaps it’s his version of a mid-life crisis. I’m not complaining — It’s way cheaper than a new car and much nicer (for me) than a young girlfriend. It started with Twitter a couple of months ago. He swears that it’s just for “real time news”, but he seems much more in the know about celebrity gossip these days. Then, over the weekend he asked me to help set him up on “The Facebook”.

I thought he was kidding. Dan’s not just been one of those people who didn’t care about “The Facebook”, he resented it. Dan’s old school. A vinyl guy who thinks that the written word (on paper, in ink) is somehow superior. He’s still offended by losing the extra space after a period and HATES that his daughter doesn’t use punctuation to complete a text message.

But, I was curious enough to see what Dan was planning, that I set up a page and showed him the basics. He dove right in. Within a couple of minutes, I could hear him from the other room – giddy as he found old friends. The sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. He poured through his friend’s pages searching for familiar names. He went from, “I’m just looking for some particular people.” to “Did you know how many people are on this thing?”

Downloading old pictures is where he is now. He started with a few family photos, but then he stumbled on some old albums. Now he’s reliving his youth, one photo at a time. Wilton days, Block Island shenanigans and college. Many of the images are not oriented properly and I did tell him that maybe he should make some albums so that he avoided taking up news feeds. “But WHO wouldn’t want to see this stuff?”

I felt like his mom yesterday when I sat down at the computer and found that his Facebook page was opened. It was like that day when I accidentally found that Anna left her iPhone at home (It’s not snooping, just checking). I looked at all the old photos – so many great memories, but there were a few pictures that made me pause. I gave Dan a call and suggested that some of the images might be a little inappropriate for a broad audience, “Dan, if you wouldn’t want Jack and Anna to see it, it’s shouldn’t be on Facebook.”

I’ve used a similar line with Anna, “If you wouldn’t want your grandparents to see it . . . “. It hasn’t always worked with Anna and I wasn’t convinced it worked for Dan, so I found myself doing a little “editing”.

When Dan got home yesterday he told me that he heard what I was saying and that there were a few pictures we was going to take down. I quickly confessed that I had already taken care of it and promised not to do it again, “Unless you start making bad choices.”

WHEN did I become this wife? If I’m not careful, he’s gonna unfriend me.

 

Love, Jess

The Skimm and the Panda

Posted on by

0

panda-snowmen-puzzle-670x670

Yesterday morning, The Skimm brought me an early Christmas present.

I get most of my news from the morning talk shows. A sound bite of serious, sprinkled within hollywood gossip and seasonal recipe ideas. It’s about all I can handle, but several months ago a friend recommended I check out The Skimm. Perfection. It’s an email that arrives every weekday morning with the important news stories of the day. It’s written like a friend is telling me (for the “Jesses” out there, not the “Dans”). No Skimm on the weekends which makes it even better – who really wants news on the weekends?

Our weekday morning routine is nuts here. We rush around, as if the school bus arriving is the strike of midnight and we will turn into pumpkins. Showering, toileting, eating, medicating, hydrating, brushing and tackling Jack’s “special shoes” onto his “special feet”. When we are done, Jack and I relax, plant our bottoms on the stairs, and open up the Skimm. Jack sits up straight, puts his arm around my neck and we read the news for the day.

Yesterday, among the clutter of news about the fight against ISIS, E.coli and gun control (pro gun control/con ISIS and E. coli), was a story about THE PANDA IN THE SNOWMEN. Finally, I understood what I’d been half-hearing all morning on the Today Show. I double clicked the link so that I could check it out. I’m not great at getting through a newspaper, but I am good at puzzles and within a minute I saw him. “Jack I see the panda. How about you?”

I pointed my finger, which he took without hesitation, and he pointed directly at the panda. Seconds. Amazing.

I know that some of you are thinking that it’s cheating because I let Jack use my hand to point. I thought the same thing when the school told me that it was their latest technique for having Jack make choices. I figured that it was like using a ouija board and that whoever was in change was subconsciously directing. I assure you that it’s not. Jack is quite clear about his intentions. And, Jack quickly saw the panda.

A friend commented to me that the trick with those types of puzzles is to relax your eyes and not stress. No wonder it came so easily to Jack. Jack lives his life fully relaxed and with no stress. We should all be so lucky.

MeRrY ChRiStMaS EvE!!

 

Love, Jess