Author: Dre

Categories
Life in general Travel

The Ewww Factor

Have you ever put your driver’s license in your back pocket for easy access?

I have.  In fact, my license spent a good portion of this past weekend cozied up against my tush, while my family and I traveled to Oklahoma and back.

I love my drivers license.  All my previous license photos have been hideous, which I think is the standard, isn’t it?  But this one is downright flattering.

I flash this baby every time I get a chance, especially since, as you can see, it’s set to expire in just a few short months.

There my license was, tucked safely in my pocket as I took Alison to the airport bathroom on our return trip.  She went, I went.  She’s incredibly sweet in that she always covers the automatic toilet flusher sensor for me so I won’t get an unexpected hind-end shower.

I stood up.  I pulled up my pants.

Do you know where this is going?  Are you cringing, yet?

The back of my jeans bumped against the front rim of the toilet as I pulled them up. 

My license fell out. 

I watched, in slow motion, as my favorite drivers license fell into a public toilet, a toilet in a major airport toilet no less, full of my pee as well as my daughter’s and I couldn’t get turned around fast enough to try and grab it as it fell.  

Oh, and there was toilet paper, too, let’s not forget the toilet paper.

I was seriously torn between letting the automatic flusher carry my license away and sticking my hand into the toilet to fish it out.

*GAG* *Wretch* *Cringe*

The deciding factor was my vanity.  I have a few more months of flushing flashing that photo before it gets replaced with some hideous monstrosity that will plague me for the next five years.

I fished it out, swiftly, and scrubbed it in the airport sink for at least fifteen minutes, dry heaving all the while.  And when we got home, I soaked it in piping hot bleach water. 

I still don’t want to touch it.

I may just go ahead and get a new license, after all.  Because, ewww. 

Just, ewww.  *gag* *wretch* *cringe*

Categories
Kids Special Needs

Little by Little

Blythe’s therapist met with me and Jeremy recently and we all shared a laugh about the thought of teenaged Blythe wearing footie pajamas on her first date. 

When I closed my eyes to imagine the scene, I giggled as I picture her getting ready.  Her hair is washed but uncombed, because she doesn’t allow people to touch her head.  She’s wearing biker shorts instead of pan.ties because the elastic irritates her skin. 

Standing in front of her closet, she is trying to choose between jammies adorned with hearts versus kitties.  Her shoes, of course, are either froggy boots or sandals purchased several sizes too large, so that they can strap over the bulky fabric covering her feet.

She is graceful and sweet and full of laughter as she zips up, covered from toe to neck in fleece, her protective suit of armor.

—

Before she started therapy, Blythe wouldn’t wear anything but footie pajamas.

Slowly, though, she’s expanding her wardrobe.  The first step forward was wearing things over her jammies.  The second step was wearing a soft cotton dress for a few minutes at a time.  The third step was going to Target and getting to choose a beautiful Spring dress, all by herself.  Fourth step?  Wearing that gorgeous dress every evening after dinner, while she danced.

And now, finally and suddenly, my girl is getting dressed every. single. day.  In real clothes.  She’s even playing dress up – with itchy clothes.

This?  Is astonishing.  Amazing.  Incredible.  I am weeping behind my camera lens.

I am so proud of my little princess.

Categories
Life in general

Bumps in the Road

I know the overall feel of my blog has been… different in recent months.  Has it been a year?  Possibly.

I want to say, for the record, that my days aren’t filled with sadness, it’s just that when I sit down to purge my thoughts, those are the ones that bubble to the surface and show up on the screen. 

I find joy in my life every single day.  I laugh.  I sing.  I dance.  I love.

But it’s the other things, the parts of me that fester in the nooks and crannies of life, that need to find their way out.  Here, they come out and give my mind room to breathe.

There are many, many things I don’t write about here.  Some, because I don’t have time.  Others, because they are far too personal to put out there for just anyone to read.  

Last year, 2009, was beyond difficult.  I am still struggling to overcome some of the bumps that popped up in the road that is my life.  But I am trying.  I don’t feel defeated – most of the time.  But when those inevitable times come, when I’m feeling as though every bump is a mountain to be climbed, I find solace in writing in this space.

I live an isolated life.  I work from home, on a ranch with very few neighbors, on the outskirts of a small town that I love, in many ways, even if I don’t exactly fit in with the locals.  As an introvert, I actually like the isolation, a lot of the time.

Occasionally, I feel lonely.  I often times feel so awkward in the presence of others – even people I know and like – that I can barely speak, let alone have a real conversation.  All that changes when I interact with all of you, my invisible friends.

You add so much joy to my life.  You make this isolated life feel so much less so.  You support me when I’m sad and cheer for me when I’m happy. 

I just want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making the bumps in this road seem less daunting – even when I’m not able to share them with you.

Categories
Life in general Motherhood and Pregnancy

Enough

I was vacuuming under my couches the other day, marveling out how quickly cat hair and dust accumulate, and it got me thinking.

When did little accomplishments like conquering dust bunnies stop being enough?

I used to feel so fulfilled as a *cringe* housewife.  Yes, it’s true, that’s what I was.  A housewife.  And I was a happy housewife, at that.  Not that I ever would have let anyone call me that.

What was it that made me feel like I needed to be doing something more, something intellectual, in order to take pride in what I was doing with my life?  Why did I take so much offense when people commented that I was “just” a mom, and rush to list my many academic accomplishments?

I graduated magna cum laude , people.  I was a research assistant that took part in important studies that were published in fancy schmancy journals.  I am not just a mommy.  This is me flexing my brain at you, and you, and you over there, too, just in case you missed it.

And yet.  Those were the happiest years of my life, back before I somehow decided that it wasn’t enough.  That my life needed something more in order to be worthy of my pride.

But did it, really?  Shouldn’t enjoying the happiness in life, however it presents itself, be enough? 

How funny that it took a vacuum, and not a college degree, to teach me to embrace my own little version of happiness.

Categories
Madeline

For Lovely Madeline

Last Wednesday, April 7th, marked the one year anniversary of Madeline’s passing.

I wanted to write a post for Maddie on the 7th, but the words wouldn’t come.  Only tears, only sorrow. 

I knew last week would be hard, but I didn’t know that I would fight tears with every word I spoke, or that my fingers would refuse to type.

My family and I spent the day outside, and with help from Victoria  and her family, we planted a purple flower garden in honor of Maddie’s beautiful spirit.

   

 

 

 

If I could have just one wish, it would be that things were different – that Maddie could be here, with her parents and baby sister Annabel, where she belongs. 

It breaks my heart that my wish won’t ever come true.  I can’t build a time machine, can’t erase the last year and have a do-over.

What I can do is offer a few photos of Madeline that Heather and Mike haven’t seen before.  I took them on October 28, 2008, just a couple of weeks before Madeline’s first birthday. 

I had turned off my flash, not wanting to blind Maddie every time I took a photo.  The pictures turned out so dark, and my photo editing skills are so awful, that Madeline couldn’t even be seen.

But with a little patience, and a little bit of help from some half-way decent photo software, Maddie appeared from the darkness.

Heather. Mike.  Annabel.  I wish with all my heart I could give you a world with your sweet Madeline in it.

Madeline.  You are so missed, and so very, very loved.  Now and always.