Category Archives: middle age

The Back Nine

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He's a Keeper

Patient support materials you may see in the future . . . I was told to say that. I prefer the caption “Love and laughter make 50 easy”

At 9:30 last night my brother, Pablo, sent me a text, “In 2.5 hours you will officially be in the back nine. Well played, Girl.” Then I received my first Facebook birthday wish from an ALD friend who lives in Australia.

I went to bed next to my husband of nearly 25 years and woke up to the sound of the two dogs marching around our bedroom (their nails make a click, click, click at day break) and Dan muttering, “F*cking dogs”. I fell back asleep for another hour until that same mouth that had cursed at the dogs gave me a gentle kiss on my forehead, “Happy Birthday Luvo”.

I poured myself out of bed around 7:00 am to start my morning routine —  a busy hour of bathing, brushing, dressing and laundry. Jack’s sweet smile let me know that he knew that today was a special day and peeing in the toilet was his version of a perfect birthday gift. By the time we were done with the first half of our routine and made our way into the kitchen, there was a birthday message from Anna, “Gotta run take an exam, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMO! I’ll call as soon as I’m done”.

The rest of the day included a long walk, a beautiful lunch with two and a half of my best friends (one was on Facetime), teaching art to kindergarteners who think I’m turning “some sort of grandma age”, and I just ordered sushi for dinner with my boys (Anna will join us on Facetime). I also have enjoyed countless phone calls, emails, texts and silly Facebook birthday wishes.

I’m not entirely sure how I imagined myself at 50 when I was young, but it definitely didn’t look like this. I’m guessing I pictured a bit more maturity and certainly wouldn’t have guessed that I would be excited by my 21-year-old’s toileting skills, but here I am and honestly, I wouldn’t trade my life.

My family – both immediate and extended, my friends, our community, our dogs (even with their annoying morning clicks), our quirky new house, — I am beyond grateful for everything and everyone in my life as I start the back nine.

Thanks for all the birthday love. 

Love, Jess

If I had the power to change certain things, of corse I would. I wish we’d never heard of ALD and that Jack’s life had taken a different path. But I can’t, so I embrace what I have and what I have is amazing.

“special” moms

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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”.

Wandering through middle age

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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.