Veteran’s Day….

Veteran’s Day means many things to many people.  It’s a day for us to remember our fallen, all who have served this nation of ours, that protect us and our ideals.  No matter if you agree with all the reasons any war is fought, how it is fought or how long, I do believe that respect for the men and women of our armed forces is something we all owe them.  To me it also a day to remember and salute those who serve now, at a time in our nation’s history when it is perhaps the hardest ever to serve.

For me today I’ve felt a lot of tears creeping into my eyes.  I am thinking of my beloved grandfather, who trained flyers in the Army Air Corps which became the Air Force.  He was, still is,  one of the strongest influences in my life, one of the most positive.  One thing I taught my children from his Army Air Corps days was something I watched him do until he died, “Eat your dessert first, you might not have time for anything else.”  My grandmother would always put a bowl of pudding, or fruit or whatever was for dessert on the table with dinner, and he would greedily grab his up and eat it before anything else.  As a child it was a great treat to have this implicit permission and later to understand what it meant literally and figuratively shaped many things for me.

Of course, thinking of my grandfather brings me to my daughter, who will serve our nation in the Air Force.  And that STILL makes me cry.  Not that I’m sad she is doing so, or that she is leaving me, no.  I’m comfortable enough in how close we are to let her go, to know it is the time for her to go and to understand her decision, to support it.  I cry because I’m SO proud of her.  I can’t even explain it completely as I sit here typing with yet another tear sliding down my cheek.  She tested in August to see what jobs she would qualify for.  She was disappointed that she is an inch and a half too short for flight school which she qualified for otherwise, so unlike her great-grandfather she will not be a flyer.  She has qualified for many other jobs and is thrilled with the ones she has chosen though and her decision to be a fourth generation Air Force Airman.  Her father’s father was in and her father’s uncle so they told her at processing that with her great-grandfather that makes her fourth generation and made a big fuss over her.

The day she was sworn in she had my grandfather’s wings with her.  The captain there was thrilled about that, also that she was the only girl in the class.  She is the first woman in either side of her families to serve.   Chloe’ is a Buddhist/Taoist which some people find hard to reconcile with her wanting to be in the military but somehow I never have.  We’ve had long talks about how she feels about both and the obvious conflicts one might see, she doesn’t.  The captain who swore Chloe’ in said that he had been a practicing Buddhist at one point and respected Chloe’ greatly for signing in as such.

I look at her, and so many of the other amazing young people who server our country with such bravery and who always have and wonder about people who protest and take out their anger about wars on our soldiers.  Do they even know who these young soldiers are?  How they feel?  What they want or what they believe?  I tend to get very angry at these people.  More so now.

I’m disappointed also.  I watched on the news in the past days, and online, the reactions of people to the Fort Hood incident.  Right away there is a jumping on of people who would be separatists shouting out against Muslims in the military, in our country.  There are always those who don’t believe that gays or lesbians should serve.  I’m sure some think a Buddhist should not serve, or maybe say a pagan.  What would we do if we started excluding everyone but right thinking, right sexually oriented, Christians in our military?  What is this had always been the standard?  Would we be a nation today?

It would be nice to think that our military is the best example of ourselves as a nation, that it is somehow better.  The reality is they are human beings and human beings who go through all the things we do and worse.  They face death, injury, separation from family and friends.  It’s a difficult life.  Yes, they choose it, but who can ever be one hundred percent certain how they will respond to things?  I do not condone what happened in Fort Hood or any of the other tragedies which occur among military populations in the extremes but I do try to weigh out that these people live an EXTREME life.  They are constantly reminded of how short and how hard life is.  People break, they make mistakes.  And in that sometimes the military is very much like the rest of society except we judge them more harshly, hold them to a higher standard.  Let’s not point fingers at religion, lifestyle or sexual preference, but at the reality of being human in a very non humane job.

Okay, done on the soapbox.

To our veterans-past, present and future, a heartfelt salute of thanks today.  Perfect or imperfect, you have served, do serve your nation bravely and assure us the constant right to agree to disagree.

Perchance to Sleep

Have you ever found yourself at work fantasizing about sleeping?  Been so tired that getting home and crawling into bed to sleep the day away, okay for the rest of you-the night?

On night 10 of 11 last night that is where I was at.  I just wanted to get home and sleep, knowing I only had one more night to make it through before my three days off.  Sleep, I wanted it and was almost falling asleep in the car on the way home.  No, thankfully, I was not driving.

I get home, start falling asleep watching the news on the couch with the hubby.  I decide to go up to bed, crawl in get all comfy and….nothing.  Hours.  Literally.  I run lists, that usually helps.  No.  I go through reasons I should fall asleep.  Nope.  I try to clear my mind, meditate, put a droning show on the tv.  Nothing.

I got back up for a few hours and hung out with my son and husband again, watching some documentaries for school.  That should make me sleepy.  It did.  Back up I go….four hours. After laying there for an hour arguing with myself about why I needed to sleep.

Four hours should get me through night 11, right?

And then of course I find this article…now they tell me!

12 Surprising Things That Are Making You Tired – 1 – MSN Health & Fitness – Sleep Disorders Slide Show.

contemplate peace/good wishes proverbs. Take time to think. www.contemplate.us

contemplate peace/good wishes proverbs. Take time to think. www.contemplate.us.

Too Much

Do you ever wonder when it is too much?  We say yes to too many things, life throws too many things our way and suddenly we feel like we’re standing in the center of a tornado.  I’d say a hurricane, but that implies the quiet eye.  Lately the eye has not been so quiet so maybe for me it’s been more like the core of a tornado where everything is spinning it’s tightest.

Breathe….in…out…..November should be a quiet month here, the going to sleep month as nature has begun the process.  It is “stick season” or as the resorts call it “serene season” here.  The leaves have fallen.  The tourists have mostly gone away.  Restaurants and hotels close down completely or part time.  Many people go away during November here.  The weeks between Halloween and Thanksgiving should be a slow meandering into winter before the chaos of ski season begin.  Do I take advantage?

Of course not.  I sign on for NaNoWriMo, NaBloPoMo, take on covering two vacations (which means two weeks of 11 nights straight through.) Last year we had the twist of recovering from the house fire.  This year, Greg is injured and half way through November will be undergoing spinal surgery.  We found out October 29th that he would be having the surgery, and still I forged on with my plans, with only one minor adjustment in the vacation coverage (great thanks to my co-worker who is not going away for his vacation and is willing to let me have off for the surgery!)  We have a home school group Egyptian feast and museum display to prepare, Thanksgiving projects to complete, and regular lessons to continue.  Of course in the midst of getting ready for having Greg completely out of commission, me having to do all of Thanksgiving on my own and working the night before and night of Thanksgiving I decided we have to do more winterizing.  Oh, and I just agreed to be interviewed with my daughter and husband for a radio station here at home so I will have to clean like a maniac.

The man at the blood drive Friday asked if I was surprised that my iron level was too low.  I laughed at him.  I had already worked 7 of my 11 nights, was awake when I would normally be asleep, and had a to do list that could keep 5 or six people busy for a week.  Ummm, no I wasn’t too surprised.  I’m just a little worried where it will be by the end of the month….

What I find most surprising though is that in talking to others, watching others is that I feel like I don’t do much, like I’m leaving things out!  Gah.  I actually sat back the other day and plotted out the hours and minutes of my day to figure out why I couldn’t get more done, be a more complete mom, wife and human being, a better blogger, twitterer, etc.  Being Type-A I just had to figure out what it was I could do better.  And then I remembered…..breathe……in…….out.

With all our conveniences, all of our gadgets, all of our technology have we made life easier?  Or have we simply made more things for ourselves to do?  Created more expectations for ourselves to which no one can really stand up?

 

Bah Humbug-A shopping nightmare.

I saw a sale ad the other day while preparing the morning newspapers. Insulated curtains for the bay window in the office seemed a great idea at the price they were. We could also pick up a few other items for winterizing and some vitamins we needed on the shopping trip. It takes us 45 minutes to get to the stores where these things are so I figured we might as well make the trip worthwhile. We decided to go when I got off work, be there when the stores opened at 8 am.

It’s November 7th. Just a week after Halloween. I’ve barely seen any Thanksgiving decorations, heck we just took down our Halloween decorations. Imagine my shock when we got to the shopping center to find they had already erected their Christmas tree and there were giant shiny bows with holly everywhere!

“Christmas Sale,” “Best Prices of the Christmas Season,” signs were everywhere. Christmas cards, Christmas candy, decorations, gift baskets so thick you can barely walk the isles. Want a Thanksgiving decoration? Good luck.

We spent about an hour and a half shopping. The two stores we went into were overcrowded and loud already, more like Black Friday than the first Saturday of November. We went wanting some simple items to get ready for winter and were bombarded with a holiday we may or may not get to do much with this year. We walked out of the stores shell shocked, feeling worse about our economic situation than ever and thinking that we are getting old and scrooge like. It’s too early. It’s too forced, it’s too rushed. And indeed, it’s taking all the meaning out of the season.

It’s In the Blood

My mom had RH negative blood.  Which has nothing to do with this blog really.  But, it meant that having babies could be a precarious thing for her.  It didn’t effect me, but each of the boys my mother ever was pregnant with had problems because of it.  She lost one baby.  My youngest brother had intrauterine transfusions and still was a very sick baby who was born over two months premature in 1976, which was a considerable amount back then.  After he was born my mom learned that they were making a drug to help women like her have healthier babies, have live babies.  What it required was plasma donations from RH negative women.  Mom being mom, became a regular plasma donor.  There were times she should have been turned away, times her veins rolled out or burst.  There were times she looked like a junky.  She was religious about it though, it was something she could do for other women and other babies.  If it was time that she was allowed to give again, off she went to the labratory.  I used to go with her when I was younger and then when I could drive I’d go with her because I didn’t think she should be driving afterwards.

Mom was this skinny woman who drank too much coffee and never ate enough.  A regular blood donation drive these days would laugh at her.  The drug industry labs loved her though.  She was a tough woman.  Looking back now I understand her passion and her drive and what this all meant to her even though at the time I was often more scared for her and by her drive.

So now I have a 17 year old daughter who looks and is very much like my mother.  Somehow, even though my mother passed away when Chloe’ was 8, my daughter has her mannerisms, eats like her, has her tastes, ideals.  I sometimes think she is more like my mother than like me.  She looks more like my mother, is built like her.  Notice, she turned 17 this year, she is now eligible to give blood.  She started this past spring at the first drive, which happened to be at her high school.  She was very excited.  Like her grandmother and mother, she was close on the iron count, but she was able to donate.  (I’ve often been “deferred” because of anemia.)  In July she was very excited because I became eligible to donate at the same time she was and there was another local drive.  We convinced my husband to go along and made an afternoon out of it, dragging Aidan along as well.  He amused the workers and the local radio station DJ was thrilled to see an entire family out at the drive and mentioned it on the radio while trying to get people to come out to the drive!  The Red Cross coordinator was also excited to have all of us showing up.  He was even more excited when we all showed up again on September 11th.

The July blood donation was a little harder on Chloe’ than her first experience had been.  Her first vein collapsed.  Rather than walk away she told them to hit her other arm.  Imagine my feelings sitting in a donation chair on one side of the room seeing my daughter ghost white sitting with one arm in the air, a needle in her other arm!!!!  I cried though, what a kid! The man taking my blood said most teens, most adults would have walked away after the first vein collapsed.  Everyone thought she was amazing considering she looked ready to faint.  She just smiled through all the pats on the back.

A big day for Chloe’ was the day her blood donor card arrived in the mail.  She loves her monthly mailings about what good her blood does.  She marks on the calendar when and where drives are and when we are all eligible to donate again.  The September 11th drive was especially important to her, for obvious reasons and also because it would be her first donation as an Air Force reservist.  She was all proud when we picked her up from school.  She was wearing her FireFighter’s T-shirt from NYC.  We got to the drive and she got told that she didn’t weigh enough.  They had changed the weight requirement.

Me?  I would have gone and sat and drank my juice and relaxed until everyone else with me got done donating.  But this is where I differ from my mother and as was proven that day…my daughter.  Chloe’ sat with Aidan for a few minutes while Greg and I were donating.  I noticed she looked like she was stewing.  And then I noticed she was gone.  The man drawing my blood pointed to the back of the room.

She was in the back, talking to the organizer.  In fact, giving him the “business” as the man drawing my blood put it.  Indignant would be a nice way of putting Chloe’s mood about the weight change requirement.  If she weighed that much she told him, the Air Force would not be happy with her.  Why didn’t they tell people they had changed the weight requirements?  Why such a high requirement when doctors and everyone else is complaining about all the obese people around?  Why is it her fault she’s a healthy weight?  Why was her blood suddenly not good enough when she had already donated twice at her current height and weight?  I sort of felt bad for the man being accosted by a self righteous 5’2″ 17 year old.  He looked shell shocked.  He explained as best he could.  She said she understood if she was a new donor but they had already taken her blood, and nothing about her had changed…..they went round and round.  He finally suggested that she come to the next drive and wear baggy clothing and “fudge” her weight.  Yeah, really.  And that was after he apologized MULTIPLE times to her.

The men drawing Greg’s and my blood found the whole thing quite amusing.  I might have.  Except it was just sooo like my mother.

And then came this past Wednesday.  Another blood drive at the school.  Chloe’ has been preparing for it, trying to stay healthy while some 30% of her school population is out sick.  She wore a baggy top.  She knew what weight she had to tell them she was.  She bounced off to school.  I went to bed.  Greg got the text…”Deferred because of iron.”  I’m glad I wasn’t there.  Apparently she was the first deferral of the day.  They told her her fingertips were cold and that could throw it off.  Apparently she argued about this.  Several other kids got deferred over other things including blood pressure so low the boy should have been passed out cold.  She was still steaming when she got home.

There’s a blood drive back at the VFW today, where we’ve all been going.  And so, we will pick Chloe’ up from school and do the family outing to the blood drive again.  They gave her a list on Wednesday of iron rich foods to eat.  She’s a vegetarian so it’s a little difficult for her.  She’s been chowing on whole grain breads, cereal and eating copious amounts of raisins for two days (carrying around the grocery club sized container everywhere.)

I’m not sure what drives her to want to do this so much. Why it’s so important to her.  She latches on to some things with such dogged determination it almost frightens me at times.  Yes, I am extremely proud of her, truly.  I love that something like this means something to her.  I love her determination, most of the time. It reminds me that some things are apparently nature not nurture.  It’s something that passed me over in the genetic line when it comes to doggedness.

I just pray they let her donate today….lol.

And remember…Give Blood~ It’s the gift of life!

Our Condolensces to the Families at Fort Hood

Officials: 13 killed, including gunman, in Fort Hood shootings – CNN.com.

 

As we watch the news and get updates from some friends with family members in Fort Hood we are simply sending out our condolensces for those lost today.  Whatever drove this man over the edge, we also send condolensces to his family as well.

We have two close friends who have family living in Fort Hood and working there, we are much relieved that they are all safe tonight.

 

It’s hard enough having family deployed and in the military, it’s even harder when things like this happen.  rough day.

 

Handing Our Kids the Bong

SU – Can Marijuana Help Kids with Autism? | momlogic.com.

http://www.doublex.com/section/health-science/why-i-give-my-9-year-old-pot-part-ii

 

No, it’s not about parents letting their kids smoke pot.  It’s about using a plant to heal.  My inner devil’s advocates are waging quite a debate.

I’ve been talked to about the benefits of cannabis for pain.  At this point I haven’t taken that route but I do know quite a few adults who do, legally and illegally.  Cannabis is used for cancer patients, MS patients and chronic pain patients all the time.  My choice is that at this point, I’m doing fine with my electronics (which have only one side effect from the batteries) and low level medications with very few side effects.

I’m concerned with all the band wagon jumping.  While part of me would love to think there is a plant source that can cure all ills, the other part of me is a screaming skeptic.  I’ve seen news reports about the way things are done in California, pages and pages of ads for medicinal marijuan doctors, producers, suppliers, claiming cures for all kinds of ills.  It’s not like that here in VERmont.  Yes, it’s legal, but good luck finding a doctor that will prescribe it for you. (One chronic pain patient I know reports a doctor who stopped seeing him because he simply asked if it would help him.)

Part of me thinks this mother is brave.  They have tried multiple treatments, some worked for awhile but then didn’t or the side effects were too harsh.  But, on the other side, they have jumped in and tried so many different treatments.  How long is the marijuana tea and cookies going to work for her son.  I do indeed hope it is the answer for him, because it seems to have made the biggest difference in his life so far.

As a parent of a child with an autism spectrum disorder, I do know it’s easy to look for miracle “cures” or anything that helps the worst of the behaviors.  My son has never harmed himself like this boy did.  He has never hurt others or purposely broken things.  (My husband and I will both tell you we are “lucky” in the world of ASD parents we know, our son is actually fairly easy, most days.)  We get asked all the time what treatments we’ve tried, what diets, what medications, what therapies.  Honestly, not that many in the the less than three years since his diagnosis.  We study, we research, we talk to people about them all, but usually we back away from the extremes.  But is giving your child a cookie laced with pot infused oil extreme?  Is it different than rolling a joint for your child?

 

Heroes In Disguise As Everyday People

We often hear about “the younger generation” and how corrupt they are, how lazy they are, etc., etc., etc.  We may hear on the news about the great exceptions who go so far above and beyond few can match it, the ones who get thrown into heroic situations.  What we miss, or forget to commend too often, are the heroes disguised as everyday people right in front of us.  This is too true for teens.

A few months ago I put a note on my Facebook page, where a large number of my daughter’s friends are also my friends, asking if anyone would be interested in mentoring our 8 year old.  It explained a little of his situation and why we wanted a mentor.  My daughter also posted the note on her page so that all of her friends had access to it.  Of all the teen boys on her friends list (more than makes her stepfather comfortable) only three stepped forward as candidates.  She talked to them all about scheduling and what we were looking for more in depth while they were at a party.  All of them were still interested but only one took the step of actually texting me and setting up a date and time.  He was the one we had least expected. Kyle was the “cult of personality” in Chloe’s group of friends, looking like a “slacker dude” on purpose, always with a smart mouth and silliness.  He and I had chatted a few times online and I knew there was more to him but it was still a shock when he stepped forward and became the one we would choose as Aidan’s mentor.

That was two months ago.  Since then Kyle has come to spend time with Aidan at least once a week all but one week.  The week he didn’t come was because everyone but Aidan was sick here.  The next week Kyle came twice.  Many mentors have a very strict schedule, spending a precise amount of time with their mentee, usually an hour or two.  The time is alotted to specific activities.  It hasn’t gone quite that way with Kyle and Aidan.

We sat Kyle down on day one and went over everything about Aidan.  The worst that could occur while they were out somewhere, Aidan’s issues.  We thought perhaps he’d change his mind, or at least show concern.  He took it all very seriously and thought about it all but never flinched.  He asked questions and felt comfortable with what we told him of how to handle the situations.  On the first day Kyle stayed for three hours with Aidan, taking him for a hike in the woods, to play at the playground and then came back and stayed for dinner. Most visits since then have been at least four or five hours.  They do a project, everything from carving pumpkins, paper mache’ to crystal making and play games.  Kyle has seen some of the worst case scenarios suddenly occurring right before him.  Once he looked like a deer in headlights, most likely because of the suddenness of the onslaught of a panic attack, but he quickly figured out what to do and was never caught off guard again.  In fact, he adjusted and became adept at helping Aidan through some fears.

Aidan adores Kyle.  He has become like a big brother and more to him.  He greets him at the door with a hug and gets a little sad when Kyle leaves.  He takes guidance from Kyle differently than he does from the rest of us, which was part of why we had wanted a mentor.  Kyle shifts and adjusts with Aidan.  He picks up on what Aidan needs, sometimes being able to cajole him into that versus what Aidan wants. Kyle can give Aidan advice, guidance and even criticism about things without strong reaction from Aidan.  He also gives him lots of positive reenforcement.

What we have learned and have been telling others is that mentoring is an amazing thing for an autistic child of any kind.  We have seen Aidan grow and change over the times he has spent with Kyle.  He is more outgoing, more likely to share with people other than us how he feels, what he thinks and sees.  His vocabulary is growing, not that he didn’t have it before, he just wouldn’t use it as much no matter what we tried.  He makes more corny jokes.  He’s more likely to try things he wouldn’t before.

We’ve also been reminded that heroes do indeed come in all shapes and sizes, from everywhere.  They don’t always have to perform miracles.  Don’t underestimate anyone you meet along the way, they just may be a hero in disguise like mentors are.  Don’t write off that teen with the hat tilted to the side and the long hair and baggy pants, he may just be making a huge difference in someone’s life.

 

 

 

My Dog Ate My Blog……..

Okay, so a little after midnight I realized I had, on only the second day of the month, blown away my chances for completing one of my self challenges for November.  I didn’t blog yesterday.  I had a topic.  Had written some in my head.  And then I went to bed.  (I sleep from 9-ish am until 4:40-ish pm.)  I have no clue what happened.

However….at 1 am, while getting carried away by Nano, I came up with a stunning array of excuses for not Nablo-ing yesterday.  Around 3 am I started jotting them down and laughing at myself.  It’s like the flair I have on Facebook….”At 3 am, everything is funny.”  Yeah, even when you work at night, especially when you work at night, everything is funny at 3 am.

 

So what happened yesterday?  Ummm….here we go….my dog at my blog, I overslept, I forgot, I got carried away with cleaning (rofl), the laundry was just too compelling, the cat shredded my hard drive, my computer went on the fritz, are you buying any of this?  I caught up on emails, I took some calls from friends in need, umm, ummm…..I feel like I’m in high school again.

Reality?  I got caught up in trying to figure out if my new sleep pattern is working, hung out on the couch with my son reading, harassed my daughter about what she served us for dinner and decided that as I’m in the midst of an 11 night stretch I was taking an extra hours nap.  So yeah, that’s my story…..sorry, sad…but, yeah….so….ummm….may the Nablo gods forgive me and I’ll write an extra one later when I wake up….I swear!  And it will be good!!!  And worthy!  Yawn…..but sleep…she is a calling me now!