Dear Readers,

I am gathering a list of websites that deal with learning differences, special needs, basically any topic of interest to a broad range of special needs parents/advocates. Would you tell me what your favorites are? You can either leave a comment below, anonymously or not, or e-mail me at: carriewilsonlink@comcast.net

Thank you so much!

love.
Carrie

OUR WORLD

You need this CD/download, Heather Masse's (a Wailin' Jenny) Many Moons.

Her song, "Our World," is perfection.

OUR WORLD, HEATHER MASSE

Saw somebody that I hadn't seen in awhile
We started talking about our lives
With a week and tired smile
Cause we're all working hard at living
Trying to find out what's real
And they keep on telling us
How we should feel

These are our lives
These are our fears
This is our world
And we can choose to feel sincere

Corn is swaying along those fields
A green that never seems to end
If we keep sowing our seeds in oil
There'll be nothing left to spend

Our hearts are empty
Our pockets are full
With songs that have all been sung
It's hard to see when your eyes
Are blind to the world you're really in

These are our eyes
These are our lips
This is our song
And we can let our voices ring
These are our hearts
These are our hands
This is our world
And we can join it together again

These are our eyes
These are our lips
This is our song
And we can let our voices ring
These are our hearts
These are our hands
This is our life
And we can join
Join it together again

THE T BOMB


Last night I put Rojo to bed and I said, "I really liked your Help Wanted ad! Good job!"

He said, "Yea, I'm probably not going to need to hire anyone, though, because my sons are going to do the job. My sons Ted and Brandon. I'm going to have five sons (because Lois on "Malcolm in the Middle" has five sons, and he LOVES Lois). You will have to be the nanny for the three youngest boys, Cameron, Taylor and Mikey. I will take Ted and Brandon with me. Ted will be the picker upper, Brandon will be the dumper."

"That sounds really great," I said. "Jenn was really proud of how well you did on that assignment, though, did you tell her about all the sons?"

Not answering that question he said, "That Jenn, she threw a T-bomb at me!"

"A T-bomb?" I asked, wondering if the T-bomb was anything like an F-bomb, and if throwing one was anything like dropping one, and not being able to fathom the Wonder that is Jenn throwing, dropping or in any way tossing obscenities at my son at school.

"Yea! She said we had to use the white board on Thursday when we do math, and we have to show our work, then we have to erase it for the next person!"

"So how'd she throw a T-bomb?" I asked.

"She said we had to do that on THURSDAY!"

That Jenn. I need to speak with her. How dare she use the days of the week when speaking to MY son!

The wonder that is Jenn sent me an e-mail today with the subject line, "Get a load of this!" OMHOG, it's a goody - too good not to share, thanks, Jenn!

Carrie,

This is the best so far. Don't open the document until you are finished reading. Today in environmental science the class was assigned a job to create a help wanted ad. It was supposed to involve the wild animals that they have been researching. The ad was to look for help in the area of where their animal lives. Anyway, that was too much for Rojo, so he was to create a help wanted ad for help in a job that he would be working. He chose his job and then began writing the ad. His instructions were to describe what kind of work they would be doing and when. He also had to include what type of characteristics the person should have in order to get the job.
ENJOY!
Jenn


Rojo link
1-13-2009

HELP WANTED

I’m looking for a grabge man helper for me. Monday though Saturday from 8:25 to 12:30 is when I need help. When I’m 20 years old that’s when all be needing help. I will be the driver you will be the dumper. You will be the gabage can picker uper. I will pay you five doallers. I need a person who will be be good be nice and be in a good mood. And don’t forget.

CLOSER TO THE TOP


From the pain comes the dream.
From the dream comes the vision.
From the vision come the people.
From the people comes the power.
From this power comes the change.
(Peter Gabriel - good catch, NBF, Wanda!)

I've blogged before about my "grief is like a Slinky" theory, but just in case you missed it, it's pretty much just like it sounds: Grief is like a Slinky. It’s one circle on another circle on another circle, all coiling, wrapping, winding and leading their way to the end: Acceptance. The grief (of whatever/whomever you’re letting go of) cycles around and around, almost always catching you by surprise when it feels like you’re back at the beginning again, and you feel disappointed because you thought you’d come so far.

Well, you have come far; you’re just not done. You’ve completed more cycles and are moving towards healing/acceptance with every turn. That feeling of being back at the beginning again is just the beginning of the next layer, but not the very, very, beginning.

That’s my theory.

May not be true for everyone, but it’s true for me.

Well, I think STM and I completed a few major rotations round the ol' Slinky today as we visited the SCHOOL THAT GETS IT. We went up to Washington Monday to belatedly celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary (plus 6 years of dating means I've been with this man over 1/2 my life, but who's counting?). We had a really nice time, laughing, hanging out, and remembering why we got married in the first place. Note to self: Do this more often.

This morning we woke up early and headed over to TSTGI, and OMHOG, do they GET IT! I was all prepared, had my yellow legal pad all full of questions and room to write their responses. I'd done my homework, there was nothing they could say or do that would make ME lose my composure! I was just there on a fact finding mission, for God's sake, not to be TOUCHED! You see, we are hoping to replicate TSTGI here in Portland, and STM and I are the self-appointed ambassadors (read: Most desperate).

For a full five minutes I was business like. I think it was when the director (who happens to have a daughter in the program), said they rely on peer tutors, and she has testimonial after testimonial of the profound, and long-reaching impact this program has on the "typicals," that I started crying. For the first time.

When the principal stopped what he was doing and joined us for 45 minutes I held it together, until he said, "This is not a program for 20 kids. This is a program for 615 kids, 100 teachers/staff, and hundreds of parents. This is a program for this entire community." When I started thinking of just how far those ripples spread, from this community to the greater community, to the greater state, region, county and beyond, it quickly turned into an ugly cry.

Five other programs have been started with this school as its model - one parent last MARCH got a bee in her bonnet and had a program in place in AUGUST. The director gave me all the contact information, and I can't wait to call tomorrow. My new best friend is a phone call away.

As we toured the school the director spotted a young woman. "A.," she called, "come meet the Links." A well composed, highly articulate, self-confident senior approached us, and warmly shook our hands. "The Links are hoping to start a program like this at their school, in Portland," the director told A. "Well, you'll want to start a 'Circle of Friends' group, I run that here at this school. We match the Options kids with peers and do monthly activities. It's a great program."

We let her get back to class, and the director said, "She moved here from Greece three years ago - didn't speak a word of English. She was terribly shy, no self esteem, and she found refuge in the Options Program. We trained her to be a peer tutor and she is now a major leader at this school. When she graduates she wants to go to college and major in Special Education."

The last trace of mascara was wiped from my eyes.

A school that gets it.

Times five.

At least.

Imagine the ripples.

Imagine the possibilities.

Imagine the healing.

Imagine the miracles.

Imagine.

A SCHOOL THAT GETS IT

STM and I are taking a road trip today to go visit this school.

A school that recently moved so they could have room to rebuild the school, placing their Options Program in the very CENTER - the heart of the school, because their program for students with special needs is not periphery, it IS what they are about.

It's at the center.

Everything else radiates from there.

That's all I'm sayin'.

IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK

Recently had coffee with a friend, and as we got our cups and looked around for a place to sit, I intentionally steered her towards one corner, away from a table where four grown men were seated. But it was a small cafe, and I could still easily overhear the four men's conversation, no matter how hard I tried not to.

One of the men had developmental disabilities, and the other three could not have been kinder towards him.

It broke my heart.

They asked how he'd done during the recent snow storm that stranded people for days/weeks.

"Okay," he answered.

"What did you do all that time?" one asked.

"TV. Lots of TV," he answered.

"Anyone check on you?" another asked.

"My sister. My sister called every night. My sister calls every night."

One of the men at the table had watched me as I looked for a place to sit, he'd seen me look at them, notice the man with the developmental differences, and subsequently choose another table. A more distant one.

Throughout my conversation with my friend I saw the man look up at me, catch my eyes.

In his eyes I saw the question, "Why do you avoid us? Don't you understand?"

I avoided them not because I don't understand, I avoided them because I do.

All too well.

I couldn't bear to let my mind go to a distant day when STM and I are gone, where Rojo lives all alone and just watches TV all day.

And where his sister calls at night.

Every night

Because she will.

I know she will.

And that day, it was all just too close to home.

I stayed away because I do understand.

I really do. And for that precious hour, I needed to forget just how much I understand.

POCKET MARY

Meet Pocket Mary. I found her for sale one day when I was with a holy friend, Prema, which made it all that much more "no accident-y." I bought all they had in stock, and gave them to all my Mary-loving friends.

Mary's had a few adventures, she's gone with kids to high school on test days, she's been to many a hospital waiting room as a loved one goes in for surgery. She's even been to Napal to help start a school. We've all lent our Marys to those that might need that extra little bit of comfort and protection. Let's just say she gets around.

My own pocket Mary has been given and returned to me any number of times, and then she just up and disappeared. I knew I was the last one to see her, so I'd just misplaced her somewhere - probably in a pocket, naturally, but no matter how many pockets I went through, I couldn't find Mary.

Yesterday, about 10 minutes after posting about the difficulty of remaining hopeful in challenging times, I went to my closet to get dressed, and I saw her, right there under my jeans, just lying there in plain sight suddenly.

She'd been there all along.

"The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty." Winston Churchill

I don't have to tell you, these are difficult times. Just found out another loved one lost her job. Her age, health and agoraphobia would make finding a new one difficult under any circumstances, but under these, it feels impossible to her.

You can't turn on the news without being assaulted by all the atrocities/disasters/doom and gloom.

And it's all real.

And as I look out my window and watch it rain for what feels like the 40th day and night, listen to the radio to hear there's so much flooding, major freeways in our area are being closed, I can't help but wonder if my grandmother's warnings of the Second Coming are being brought to fruition.

War, famine, flooding, fires, it's all straight out of the Bible.

It's scary.

How do any of us maintain our hope, our optimism, our faith in better things/times to come?

I don't know how "any" of us do it, I only know that for me, fear begets fear, and hope begets hope.

And so I hope.



* Photo from www.kaushik.net

MYOB?

Rojo is happy because the Christmas tree is out of the living room, giving way to more room for a basketball court. Since Thanksgiving he's been limited to football, which to his way of thinking, requires a smaller amount of space.

What it really required was a different colored afghan/throw/blanket depending on which teams were playing. We've got a blue one and that went down over the carpet and became "turf" if he was playing at Boise State University. The rest got the greenish one. He "was" Boise, a lot, though, so blue and green got about equal time on the floor - and in the washing machine.

So now that the tree is down though, he can have full use of the room, and two "hoops" - the opposing windows. The afghans are back in their basket by the side of the couch, and he's all over the room, shooting, blowing his "whistle," cheering, being the band, the refs, all the players, the "whole Maryann," as STM would say.

Last night I'm watching him and my mind drifts off - and I guess, so do my eyes.

He stops the game, looks right at me and says, "Don't mind your own business, mind MY business!"

And that's really all the boy wants and needs - my "minding." Why is that the very hardest thing to give?

EPIPHANY

Today, January 6th is Epiphany (Greek for "to manifest" or "to show"), 12 days after Christmas, the time "they" say it took for the Three Wise Men, the Magi, to travel to see Baby Jesus.

As the story goes, the Three Kings brought gifts of gold, frankincense (incense) and myrrh (an anointing/holy oil).

Woohoo and her friends recently sat at our breakfast bar and had the same conversation I remember having in my youth.

"Why would you bring a baby gold, frankincense and myrrh? Especially a POOR baby? Wouldn't you bring him blankets and toys, things he could actually use?

I tried to explain what my mother explained to me, once upon a time, that the gifts were symbolic, and best not thought of so literally.

Symbolic?

Gold symbolizes good vs. evil, as well as royalty.

Frankincense represents divinity.

Myrrh symbolizes His death, and crown of thorns.


Some people call today Three Kings Day.

The Irish call it "Little Christmas."

When someone "wakes up," starts to "get it," we say they've had an epiphany.

The Hindu have a similar word that means "visions of the divine."

Whatever you want to call it, and whatever religion/tradition you do or do not follow, it's cool, don't you think?

A day where we celebrate arriving at a new understanding? Catching a glimpse of the divine?

And thinking about what symbols represent our own lives?






* Photo from www.justcardsdirect.com

THE HOUR I FIRST BELIEVED

I'm only about 1/2 way through this book, but I'm feeling lonely when reading it - I'd love to hear who else is reading it, and how you're reacting to it.

Wally Lamb says it's a story about the juggling between hope and despair.

Yes.

That's it.

UP IN THE AIR

STM is concerned I have too many balls in the air, that I'm juggling too much, that something is going to crash, and it will probably be him/our relationship.

And if past behavior is the best indicator of future behavior (thank you, Dr. Phil), then he'd be right.

But he's wrong.

THIS time.

This time there are quite a few balls up in the air, that's true, but some of them can stay up there for quite some time, with no assist from me. They are long-term, multi-phase projects that have lots of other people involved, too, and it's just not always "my turn." In fact, most of the time it's not my turn.

And while it would be great if these balls all floated gracefully down to me in a nice, predictable, steady, do-able way, I'm sure there will be times when I've got more than one vying for my attention, but there will also be times when all of them are dangling up there just fine, and the best thing for me to do is leave them alone.

THAT will be the challenge.

And maybe what he's really afraid of is at those times, those times when I'm not too busy, I'll turn ALL my attention on him.

That could be scary.

THE WHEEL OF DHARMA

The Dharma wheel, or Dharmachakra, is an ancient, and universally recognized symbol of Buddhism. The eight spokes represent the Eightfold Path, or THE MIDDLE WAY.

The circle/chakra shape symbolizes the perfection of the Dharma teaching.

The center of the circle, the "hub," represents the discipline required for a meditation practice.

The rim symbolizes mindfulness, which holds everything together.

Dharma is the teachings of Buddhism, meant to eliminate suffering through its elimination of ignorance (the cause of suffering).

I found a great website that offers free Dharma for whatever ails you!

Om Mani Padme Hum!

THE ONLY WAY OUT, IS THROUGH

2008 felt like a tunnel to me - but I see light, and I'll be damned if I'm going to get confused this time and turn around and follow it back the way I came.

I'm going through.

To the end.

To the light.

Have this song playing on repeat - in case I forget:

"BREATHE (2 AM)" by Anna Nalick

"There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around."


Happy New Year, Blog Readers! Thank you for being with me on my journey THROUGH!

love.

TOP 10 PERSONAL INTENTIONS FOR WALKING 2009'S LABYRINTH

10. Continue exercising the "no" muscle - I hear it gets stronger with use.

9. Let go, move on, forgive, and heal. (Think: Serenity Prayer)

8. Learn to procrastinate - not everything needs my immediate attention - some things will just take care of themselves if given the opportunity. That's what they tell me, anyway.

7. Go visit my friend, Terry. Sit at her kitchen table in my jammies 'til noon, drinking coffee (decaf. now), and laughing with her and her family until my sides ache. For days.

6. Walk/talk/laugh/analyze/process/grow/challenge/share with my dear friend, Kathleen, 3-4 times a week.

5. Be nicer to my husband - not so stingy.

4. Have more sex with my husband (see #5).

3. Laugh. Laugh my *&% off. Big, deep, can't catch my breath belly laughs. Frequently, if not daily.

2. Replace judgment with compassion.

1. love.

A TOAST TO TOAST

God, how long has it been, two years? Three? More? All Rojo has eaten, virtually, has been toast. Not just any old toast, either, Seattle Sourdough lightly browned, crusts cut off, smeared with butter and heavily shaken with garlic salt. Sometimes up to a loaf a day between breakfast and dinner - the only two meals he eats.

And for two years, three, maybe more, I have Windexed the hell out of the breakfast counter when he's done, soaped up the wooden stools, pulled the stools from the bar, swept the crumbs, and then spent the rest of the day finding greasy, salty, garlicky spots on everything. Everything. We have few articles of clothing left that haven't been permanently stained by butter. All our furniture has been heavily affected.

About a week ago, just in time for an early Christmas present, he announced, "I'm sick of toast."

You could have knocked me over with a feather.

He requested "taco," instead, something he hasn't eaten since preschool. "Taco," is really shredded chicken breasts with taco seasoning. He eats bowls of it, cold, with a fork, approx. 1/2 a breast at a time.

Protein.

Until recently the boy hadn't had a serving of protein in 8 years.

What's next, vegetables? Fruit?

Anything is possible.

CHEAP-ASS RUBS

Got a friend here in Portland, fellow mother, writer, wife, snow prisoner for the last 2 weeks. Every few days we e-mail each other to say, "So, is it funny yet?"

Today she e-mailed, "I'm thinking of moving my office out into the garden shed."

I told her if she did that, I'd move mine out to the freezing/dirty/decrepit detached garage, circa. 1920. Sounded like paradise. I said, "Heat is secondary."

She wrote back, "I'm getting me a cheap-ass rub and a space heater!"

Right now it's a toss up what I need more, the detached working space, or a cheap-ass rub.

TOP 10 BOOKS I LOVED MOST IN '08

This was hard to whittle down, read me some good books this year, but these are the stand outs.

10)

9)

8)

7)

6)

5)

4)

3)

2)

1)

B is for the beetle that came on Christmas, filled Rojo with joy, and finally moved us all on to other topics (for now).

E is for how early Rojo woke up on Christmas morning - 3:50, three, five, oh, my hell of God.

E is for the cool electronic "scoreboard" he got that doubles as a clock, and has his favorite college team's logo emblazoned on it.

T is for thankful - he stopped us all mid-opening and led us in (albeit, a "bad word"- filled) prayer of thanks to God, Christmas, Santa, and Bernie Mac.

L is for love that filled our home.

E is for everyone that he had go around the room at the end of the day, and say thank you.

CROSSING THE FINISH LINE

It's funny what 14 days of being snowed in with the three people you love most in the world, will do to you.

"Funny" is just my cute little way of saying I do not like the person it's turned me into. I know there are spiritual lessons all over the effing place. I know there are gifts upon gifts of this unstructured, wide open, day after day of nothing time together.

I know that.

I know that being "given" the opportunity to talk about beetles, college fight songs, water bottles and YouTube "bleeps" is fertile ground for getting myself on the Eightfold Path, and keeping me there.

I know that.

I know that I am blessed beyond belief to have a loving, healthy, happy family. I have a warm, safe, dry, lovely home big enough for us to spread out. We've had our electricity and Internet working beautifully throughout the last two weeks of foul weather. We weren't planning to travel, and our family is close by and our Christmas was lovely. Just really, really lovely.

And tomorrow I will find the camera cord, upload the pictures, put away some of the mess, and begin missing the season as it moves from "coming" to "going."

But tomorrow is years away from today.

Today is the day after Christmas, and most of the women I know liken Christmas to a marathon, and even if they've finished the marathon nicely, full of vim and vigor, the day after, they can hardly walk.

It's like that.

"Last Minute Gift Suggestions:

To your enemy, forgiveness.
To an opponent, tolerance.
To a friend, your heart.
To every child, a good example.
To all, charity.
To yourself, respect."

Author Unknown

WINTER SOLSTICE

I'm a day late in recognizing and appreciating the gifts and beauty of the winter solstice.

I'm late in recognizing and appreciating the gifts of pretty much everything today.

Day nine of being snowed in has taken its toll.

No walking/exercise.

No personal time.

No "normal" rhythm to the days/week, just hour after hour, day after day of talking about the beetle.

"Mom, can we have 4 games instead of 5 today? It's the only thing that takes my mind off the beetle."

So we upped the games to 4.

Then 5.

Today it'll be six, and so on, until that beetle shows up on Christmas day.

"I'm more excited for Christmas than I've ever been," he announced yesterday.

And it couldn't be cuter.

And he couldn't have more of the Christmas spirit.

And I couldn't have less.



* Photo from www.lwsart.org

HOLDING THE MIRROR

Rojo has me watching endless episodes of "Nanny 911." He likes it for the "bad words" which artfully get cut out, whereupon he tries to figure out what the missing word was.

Fun times.

I watch it and try to guess how long it's going to take the parents to "get it." Their behavior is the problem, resulting in their children's "mis" behavior.

Episode after episode this is the case. The parents call Nanny 911 to come and fix their kids, and the nanny fixes them, instead. And the parents always act surprised when they put two and two together.

Two and two - the hardest numbers to add in the universe.

Recently a woman I used as a "coach" asked for a testimonial. I wrote that she was most helpful to me by pointing out the obvious - which was, of course, not obvious to me.

When I asked the "random" person if she had a message for me, she also pointed out the obvious, which, in a nutshell, was that I was personifying the definition of insanity - continuing to do the same thing over and over, expecting different results. Although her message to me was particular to one situation, I could see how universal it was for me.

Two and two.

Very hard to add.

DO YOU HAVE A MESSAGE FOR ME?

I read the book, The Celestine Prophecy a LONG time ago - barely remember anything about it except the notion that when we keep bumping into people, it's because they have a message for us, and we might as well just come right out and say, "What's your message for me?"

Or something like that. That's my dim recollection of the book. And since then I've tried to remember that, that there is a reason why we "accidentally" keep hearing from, or seeing, the same "random" person.

This has been happening (again) to me lately. One person keeps "popping up." We've never met, but we know some of the same (significant) people.

Finally, yesterday, having a strong sense she would "get it," I just e-mailed to ask, "Do you have a message for me?"

And she did.

Wow.

Note to self: Don't wait so damn long before asking next time.


* Photo from http://thevoiceofwarning.com

ROJO AND THE REAL FRIEND

STM and I just watched this movie, "Lars and the Real Girl," last night - came highly recommended to us, but when we read the back we weren't so sure. Still, we brought it home, plugged it in, and sat back.

And were totally enraptured.

And maybe it's because we live with a boy that thinks Elmo is his soulmate. Elmo gives advice, courage, and company. Elmo is loved like the Velveteen Rabbit - in this house he became "real" a long time ago, and we all think of him as a member of the family.

And maybe it's because we live in a community like Lars', where everyone "goes along with it," where Elmo is a respected and contributing member of his society.

And maybe it's just because it's a great movie, that shows the power of love. Period.

RED, MEET BLUE

Look what came in the mail Monday, despite the snow, despite the ice, despite the fact that I didn't even 1-Click it until Thursday night.

Not sure why I doubted Rojo when he told me it would come Monday (just because the shipping information said otherwise, I guess).

Not sure why I doubted Rojo when on Saturday, before all hell broke loose with the weather, he adamantly insisted no school for the following week. (Probably because I didn't want him to be right, and I still can't get through my head that arguing is not a good idea, it doesn't really change the fact that he is tapped in.)

Not sure why it's taken me this long to just surrender - we're in for three weeks of togetherness ("vacation" was scheduled to start at noon on Friday, anyway).

So, today I will just go ahead and cancel my plans for the rest of the week. I will drag up the round card table from the basement, and pull up a chair. I'll find a great jigsaw puzzle and make myself cozy by the fire. I'll sit near him as he Googles, watches his latest litany of favorite TV shows (Bernie Mac, iCarly, Nanny 911), and we'll talk about "nothing."

And it will be everything I need.

But just don't know it.

Yet.

DAMN STRAIGHT WE WILL!

SNOW DAY(S)

No school today.

Rojo predicts no school for the rest of the week (and the weather forecasts seem to be backing him up).

Can't talk now, gotta go work on being grateful...


(My SIL just sent me this great pic. of their rooftop - love the Tibetan prayer flags in the snow!)

GOOGLE IS MY FRIEND

STM and I went Christmas shopping and left Woohoo with Rojo, to "keep him alive." When we returned Rojo was in front of his computer, fully engrossed in Googling something. He's an excellent speller, and can maneuver Google like you wouldn't believe - seriously, he's so fast and so accurate, it makes me dizzy to watch, so I don't. I just occasionally peer over his head to make sure he hasn't stumbled on anything inappropriate. He did find a bleeped out version of Sesame Street's The Count, but that's not so much inappropriate, as just plain funny.

Anyway. All this is leading to the fact that by the time I got home and took a peek, he'd been Googling for a good hour.

On blue water bottles with black tops.

For over an hour.

He has a red water bottle with a black top, and he'd really like a blue one, too, you know, for trading off when the red one is dirty. His teacher wants the kids to bring eco-friendly reusable water bottles to school, rather than the recyclable ones you use and "toss." Sometimes "Red" is dirty, and this can make for a rough morning.

He didn't grow impatient. He didn't grow tired, with dogged perseverance he just kept putting different key words into Google to try to find what he was looking for.

Finally I grew both tired and impatient, after only 5 minutes of watching from the sidelines. I got up closer, looked at his most recent Google search, and he had typed, "BLUE WATER BOTTLE LIKE THE ONE I HAVE."

He thinks Google knows him.

And his water bottle.

And what he means.

And who am I to second guess the boy?

Maybe Google does.

THANKFUL

THE ALL BEETLE CHANNEL

Rojo is in 6th grade, and his teacher, Mr. G., has a black plastic beetle he hides in the classroom each day. When kids have extra time, they can go look for the beetle.

EVERY SINGLE DAY when I pick Rojo up from school, he starts in on the beetle talk.

"I did not find the beetle today! Angelic found the beetle! Angelic always finds the beetle!"

or:

"My BFF, Maddie, and I found the beetle today!"

or:

"Mr. G. is only giving us clues about the beetle, but he will not just tell me where that damn beetle is!"

or:

"Mom, what does it mean it is spending time in jail? Mr. G. says the beetle is behind bars. What does that mean?"

I pick Rojo up at 3:15 and then we head over to pick up Woohoo at 3:30. For the entire 15 minutes it's all beetle talk.

Every day.

Since September 2nd.

So, I wasn't all that surprised when he started talking about asking Santa for a black plastic beetle for Christmas.

Now he's trying to spread the good idea around.

"Woohoo? Would you like Santa to bring you a black plastic beetle, too? I can ask him for two!"

"Daddy? Do you want me to ask Santa for three black plastic beetles, and I can give you one? Would you like a black plastic beetle?"

He hasn't offered to order me one from Santa yet, but I'm sure he will.

I'm sure he will.



* Photo from www.prekinders.com

A MOMENT OF SILENCE, PLEASE

There's been a death in the family, "someone" very near and dear to me and a part of my life for o, these many years, apparently has passed on. It was the stench of the rotting body that first gave it away - something just didn't smell right. She'd been acting a little funny, not her usual high-performing self, but I blew it off. I should have taken her to the "doctor," seen if anything could be done.

And now it's too late.

My fullycaffeinated e-mail address is gone. I hope she passed peacefully, knowing she'd lived a full life - no regrets.

I can hear her from the other side, and she says things like, "We had a good run, we came into each other's lives both needing each other, and now we don't - you're not fully caffeinated anymore, you're 1/2 caf, at best, and I prefer to live more authentically."

You gotta love "someone" with integrity.

Not sure yet what this means for the name of this blog, I can only handle so much abrupt and difficult change at a time - I'm thinking a subtitle may solve the whole "problem," so I'm open to suggestions.

Until then, a moment of silence, please, let us honor Fully Caffeinated for a life well lived.

(My new address is: carriewilsonlink@comcast.net)



* Photo from http://19thcenturyartofmourning.com

SANTA GOT IT

We went to see Santa yesterday after school - STM and I figure this is our 15th time, and, gulp, perhaps the last...

Woohoo was a good sport, we didn't make her tell Santa what she wants for Christmas, but we did make her pose for a picture - some traditions just aren't going to be broken no matter how old you are - sorry.

Rojo was all over it like a cheap suit. He talked to Santa for a long time, but when he got up to leave he realized he'd forgotten to tell Santa what he wanted. Santa could see his internal struggle, and got up OFF the chair, and followed Rojo all the way over to us, patiently nodding and listening as Rojo struggled to get the words out of his brain and into the loving ears of Santa.

Eventually the words came out, "I... want... you... know... it's black...it's pretend... it's small..., it has tape on it...Mr. G. puts it on the chalkboard...it's a BEETLE!"

Santa winked at me and said, "Okay, Santa will take care of that, but Santa is also going to bring you special things he's picked out JUST for you."

Rojo beamed, looked up at Santa (eye contact is rare) and said, "Oh! That would be great! Thanks!"

Earlier in the day rock star Jenn, had Rojo do his grammar work on the computer, and they tied it to Christmas. Here it is:

Christmas Presents

I like Christmas because every 12 months is Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Presentes are fun to open. What I want for christmas is a fake black beatle with tape on it
And playtao and new white board markers and books and candy. That’s what I realy want. I will open in it on the 24th.

I'm thinking Santa can get the job done for around $10.00, $15.00, tops.

A MOMENT LIKE THAT

There is a scene in the movie "Father of the Bride," where Steve Martin stands in his upstairs hallway and overhears his two kids calling out, "Good night, I love you," to each other. I get teared up just thinking about it.

When that movie came out in 1991 STM and I weren't even parents, but we looked at each other and said, "That's what it's all about."

On Saturday night we got all dressed up and went to a Christmas party. Woohoo was Rojo's hired babysitter, and he was downright giddy in anticipation. Often times we leave them alone, but all she has to do is "keep him alive," for which I do not feel the need to pay her. But sometimes I actually hire her to do more than just keep him alive, I pay her to engage fully with him, and he looks forward to these times like there's no tomorrow.

He had the whole thing planned, they would walk down to "The Little Store" and buy brownie mix, make brownies together, and he would stir and then lick the spoon. Then they would eat dinner, and at 7:00 they would watch the 2-hour Drake & Josh Christmas movie, allowing him to stay up until 9:00.

"9:00? I can stay up until NINE?" He asked me, incredulously.

"Sure!" I said, happy to let Woohoo have the honors of that extra 1/2 hour of "fun."

"Oh! This is the happiest day of my life!" he proclaimed.

When STM and I got home from our party, we went around the house turning off lights, putting dishes in the sink to soak, and taking inventory on the state of the health and happiness of the children.

As we passed the newly reutilized dining room space, we saw that there were two place mats out with little card stock tents at each place, marking their places. Instead of just getting a bunch of snacks and watching TV and calling that "dinner," they had set the table, pulled up adjacent chairs, and DINED.

Together.

A little like that.

That's what it's all about.

I'M EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

My e-mail is funky - only getting a few now and then, and apparently mine aren't being received, either, so if you're wondering what's up - that's the story! Hope to have it resolved ASAP! Thanks for your patience!

DON'T FORGET

So Rojo's up at 5:40 and giving me the to do's for the day, to which I'm too tired to argue, and simply nod and agree to every single one.

Finally he says, "You're in a good mood! You know, you could be in a good mood every day!"

"Good idea," I mumble.

"Don't forget!" he grins.

AMERICAN NOEL


If you're not already listening to this CD over and over and over again, well, then you're just not fully enjoying the season! Dave Carter and Tracy Grammer's holiday CD is not to be missed! To order yours, click here!

I've listened to it so many times I've nearly perfected my harmony. I e-mailed Tracy just to let her know I was all ready to do back up with her if need be... still waiting for that reply. I'm sure she's just busy, what with the holidays and all. : )

TOP 10 THINGS I'M LEARNING FROM ROJO AT CHRISTMAS TIME THIS YEAR

10. It's high time I embrace his ways
9. If you make a mistake, just write right over the top of it - who cares?
8. Left to right is just one way to write, not necessarily the only way
7. Top to bottom - again - optional
6. Everyone loves them a happy face
5. It's okay to send all your Jewish friends cards that say "Merry Christmas," because that's what Rojo wanted to say, and who are you to argue?
4. What's not to love about a 12 1/2 year old that is more excited for Santa than he's ever been?
3. It's okay to open all the windows and eat all the chocolate from the Advent calendar on the very first day
2. Some ornaments are just too precious to put on the tree - instead, put them under your pillow and have a "sleep over"
1. The Christmas spirit is alive and well, and living in our home

CLOSING THE CIRCLE

Well, I promised to let you know how the whole fence mending thing went, and so I will.

It went better than I could have imagined, in both cases. I tend to forget that I'm not the only person working to better understand myself. It was obvious with both these old friends that they, too, had done much "personal work."

Put two women with shared histories together, add a large amount of middle-aged, hard lessons won, put them in a safe, neutral environment, and voila - love.

I don't think anything will change on a day-to-day basis with either of them, the roles they once played have been filled, or simply no longer exist. There is no need for "more," but there was a big need for peace.

I feel like two ghosts that had been taking up room in my psyche, have been exorcised.

Whatever sacred contracts we had with each other, have been fulfilled.

Completely.

Now.

Amen.


* Photo from www.earthlight.org

“Come to the edge.”
“We can't. We're afraid.”
“Come to the edge.”
“We can't. We will fall!”
“Come to the edge.”
And they came.
And he pushed them.
And they flew.

Guillaume Apollinaire, 1880-1918
French Poet, Philosopher

PROJECTION

I took Psych 101 and 102 in college, circa 1981-82. There was no teacher, the class was "taught" on television, and I managed to go to one of the sites where it could be viewed, a number of times, the number being three.

I regret that.

I've spent the last 25+ years trying to figure out what I missed, namely the work of Carl Jung.

The term "projection" has been bandied about, and I always had a rough idea what that meant - basically that the people that drive you the most crazy, are the most like you, or something like that.

As I retroactively learn about Jung and his theories of Individuation, Shadow, and Synchronicity, I have approximately one "aha" per minute. And maybe I wouldn't have gotten it back then even if I had attended class with a good teacher. Maybe at eighteen there is a limit to understanding that only is lifted when one goes through the second rebellion: Midlife.

Or maybe now I just need to get it in a way that I didn't as a teenager?

As part of my relentless search for surrender (very similar to my recent "aggressively letting go" operation), I am really trying to individuate, to re-claim those parts of myself that I've projected on to others: The good, the bad and the ugly. All. Of. It.

That's what was really "under" one of my recent coffee dates/Operation Fence Mending. I was able to look into the eyes of a person upon whom I'd projected all over the place, and say, "Okay, I'm ready to have those parts of me back. Thanks for holding them until I was ready."

So, here I sit with a bunch of aspects of myself that aren't all that "neat," but they're parts of me, none-the-less. I'm now working to let go of the labels I've attached to them, "bad," "scary," "dangerous," and just Eckhart Tolle (touch with gentle awareness) the hell out of 'em.

Literally.