I've been blogging since January, and I just realized today that I should explain the title of my blog!
First of all, and those of you who know me in real life already know this, but I used to be a huge Grateful Dead fan. I'm not quite the Deadhead anymore, but I still enjoy their music. And that period of my life (no, I never followed them on tour or anything, but I did see them) was really fun. In fact, my pseudonym, Sugar Magnolia, is the title of one of my favorite Dead songs. I wish I could be like many bloggers I have found and post my real name, my kids' real names, and photos, but I am not comfortable doing so. Hence, the pseudonym.
But beyond that...I truly am grateful. I know people may look at my life and wonder why. My husband has Young Onset Parkinsons Disease. My daughter has myriad physical issues, including a trachostomy, hearing loss, a soon-to-be-removed feeding tube, and just started to walk independently at the age of 3 1/2. My son is "typically" developing, but while he is amazing, typical also comes with the usual problems kindergarten-aged boys have. I never seem to have enough money, time, energy, or patience.
And yet.
And yet I am grateful. I am grateful for a husband that loves me more than anything. I am grateful for his job, which provides for us to live a comfortable lifestyle. I am grateful for the opportunity to raise such a smart, kind, empathic son. I am grateful for the gift I was given in the form of my daughter, who has introduced me to new worlds and made me realize the true meaning of gratitude. I am grateful for a nice house to live in, food to cook, laundry to do, a minivan to drive. I am grateful for my parents, my sisters, my brothers-in-law, and the rest of the family who love MY family and support us every step of the way. I am grateful for my friends...some close friends without whom I'd never be able to do this journey, and many, many other friends who have supported me, rooted me on, and been there for me.
Without my particular family situations, I would never be grateful for food stains on clothing (that means my child is eating!), for toys strewn around the house (that means my children are engaging in appropriate play!), for phone calls and emails to return (that means I am loved!). I would never be grateful to fight insurance issues (thank goodness we HAVE good insurance!), to chauffeur my children all around town (I have dependable wheels and places to go!), to welcome my husband home each night with a freshly cooked meal (which means not only do I have food on the table, but a husband who comes HOME and is a great father to our kids).
Yes, I am grateful, in every sense of the word. Don't get me wrong...sometimes I allow myself to throw a pity party, but they don't last long. I have true gratitude for my life and those in it, and I hope that my blog reflects that.
And the Grateful Dead WERE a great band!
April 7, 2010
April 6, 2010
The Wonderful Land Oz
Last night I let D stay up late and we watched "The Wizard of Oz" for the first time (well, his first time, my millionth). I had been holding off showing him this movie, because I remember being scared of the flying monkeys and the Wizard as a child, but I figured if Star Wars doesn't scare him, this won't.
I'm glad I showed it to him...he loved it and wasn't scared at all! It was fun to watch him watching it, especially during my favorite scenes: when Dorothy opens the door to Oz and it changes from black-and-white to color; when the trees throw apples at Dorothy and Scarecrow; when the Wicked Witch melts. His eyes would widen during these, and other scenes, and it was obvious how much he was enjoying it.
I couldn't help but relate the movie to my journey with A. I often feel like I am fighting the powers-that-be (the Wizard, the Wicked Witch,) to stand up and advocate for my daughter. Insurance issues, Medi-Cal, IEPs, hounding doctors to refill her meds on time (lions and tigers and bears, oh my!) Most of all, though, what I related to in the movie was the Cowardly Lion. He sought courage, which he really had all along. He was terrified to go talk to the Wizard of Oz, was petrified to go to the Wicked Witch's castle to kill her to get the broomstick...but he did it. I love the quote:
All right, I'll go in there for Dorothy. Wicked Witch or no Wicked Witch, guards or no guards, I'll tear them apart. I may not come out alive, but I'm going in there.
Substitute my daughter's name for Dorothy, and that's the story of my life. I get nervous being an advocate...I don't like confronting people, and dealing with bureaucracy drives me nuts. But when the well-being of my children is threatened, my Mama Bear claws come out, and I will tear them apart. I have spent hours upon hours on the phone, talked to supervisors, researched with peers and online, everything I could to arm myself to fight those powers.
As the Cowardly Lion says, I hope my strength holds out. I know it will....I have become very strong since becoming a mother, and that strength increased tenfold after the birth of A. And A is the strongest person I know. Together we are invincible.
I can't wait until SHE is old enough to watch "The Wizard of Oz" too!
I'm glad I showed it to him...he loved it and wasn't scared at all! It was fun to watch him watching it, especially during my favorite scenes: when Dorothy opens the door to Oz and it changes from black-and-white to color; when the trees throw apples at Dorothy and Scarecrow; when the Wicked Witch melts. His eyes would widen during these, and other scenes, and it was obvious how much he was enjoying it.
I couldn't help but relate the movie to my journey with A. I often feel like I am fighting the powers-that-be (the Wizard, the Wicked Witch,) to stand up and advocate for my daughter. Insurance issues, Medi-Cal, IEPs, hounding doctors to refill her meds on time (lions and tigers and bears, oh my!) Most of all, though, what I related to in the movie was the Cowardly Lion. He sought courage, which he really had all along. He was terrified to go talk to the Wizard of Oz, was petrified to go to the Wicked Witch's castle to kill her to get the broomstick...but he did it. I love the quote:
All right, I'll go in there for Dorothy. Wicked Witch or no Wicked Witch, guards or no guards, I'll tear them apart. I may not come out alive, but I'm going in there.
Substitute my daughter's name for Dorothy, and that's the story of my life. I get nervous being an advocate...I don't like confronting people, and dealing with bureaucracy drives me nuts. But when the well-being of my children is threatened, my Mama Bear claws come out, and I will tear them apart. I have spent hours upon hours on the phone, talked to supervisors, researched with peers and online, everything I could to arm myself to fight those powers.
As the Cowardly Lion says, I hope my strength holds out. I know it will....I have become very strong since becoming a mother, and that strength increased tenfold after the birth of A. And A is the strongest person I know. Together we are invincible.
I can't wait until SHE is old enough to watch "The Wizard of Oz" too!
April 1, 2010
A glimpse into someone else's life
Do you ever have those rare moments when you get an uninvited, raw glimpse into someone's life? I had one of those moments yesterday, and it was pretty powerful.
I had a few hours to kill; A had physical therapy in the morning, and my in-laws were arriving to visit a few hours later. I didn't want to go home after therapy, be there for an hour, and then have to backtrack to the airport to pick up my family. So I took A to the mall, where we had a blast. I'd received a gift card to Tiffany for my birthday, and A had fun helping me pick out a few pairs of earrings. We had lunch, bought some clothes for her at Gap Kids (boy, my little fashionista sure has some opinions about what she wants me to buy for her!) and new lipstick for me. We capped the trip with a stop at Sweet Factory; nothing like candy for the ride home!
By the time I got back to the car, I realized I was running a bit late. My in-laws' plane arrived at 1:30, and it was already 1:05. The airport was not far away from the mall, but there was a lot of traffic exiting the mall, and I was getting anxious. I hate to be late.
At the corner of the mall, right before the turn to the main road, a man stood. The sign he held said "Injered [sic] at work...no workers comp...please help". Of course, I did nothing. These people are all over the place, holding up signs. I have become very jaded over the years, I guess. And no, the irony is not lost on me that this man was panhandling right in front of the poshiest mall in San Diego, with every designer from Michael Kors to Louis Vitton having a retail store inside.
Anyhow, the car right in front of me stopped, and the driver got out and walked over to the man. At this point, I was about to lose it; I had to get to the airport! What was this driver thinking? Get a move on! But soon I saw: he had his doggie bag of leftovers from PF Changs, a high-end Chinese restaurant in the mall, and he handed it to the man.
Color me shocked.
The driver ran back to his car, got in, and drove away. I looked at the man holding the sign (and now the bag of food)...and he was crying. Sobbing. This random act of kindness had touched this man, and his emotions were let loose. I can't imagine what he was feeling: gratitude? embarrassment? joy? shame? Most probably a combination of many emotions. It was a private moment for the two, and by being in the car behind them I unwittingly got to witness the giver's selflessness and the recipient's reaction.
As for me, I made it to the aiport right on time. But I need to examine MY reaction to these people asking for money/food/work. I know many people are out of work (heck, I have MANY friends that have been laid off during this recession, several of them still looking for work). I can't shake the feeling that much of the money people give go to drugs; maybe that's because I worked for years with drug addicts who lived on the streets, panhandling for their fix, so I know first-hand. But I hate being so jaded. And I'm glad I got to witness this random act of kindness. It was worth the stress of *almost* being late.
I had a few hours to kill; A had physical therapy in the morning, and my in-laws were arriving to visit a few hours later. I didn't want to go home after therapy, be there for an hour, and then have to backtrack to the airport to pick up my family. So I took A to the mall, where we had a blast. I'd received a gift card to Tiffany for my birthday, and A had fun helping me pick out a few pairs of earrings. We had lunch, bought some clothes for her at Gap Kids (boy, my little fashionista sure has some opinions about what she wants me to buy for her!) and new lipstick for me. We capped the trip with a stop at Sweet Factory; nothing like candy for the ride home!
By the time I got back to the car, I realized I was running a bit late. My in-laws' plane arrived at 1:30, and it was already 1:05. The airport was not far away from the mall, but there was a lot of traffic exiting the mall, and I was getting anxious. I hate to be late.
At the corner of the mall, right before the turn to the main road, a man stood. The sign he held said "Injered [sic] at work...no workers comp...please help". Of course, I did nothing. These people are all over the place, holding up signs. I have become very jaded over the years, I guess. And no, the irony is not lost on me that this man was panhandling right in front of the poshiest mall in San Diego, with every designer from Michael Kors to Louis Vitton having a retail store inside.
Anyhow, the car right in front of me stopped, and the driver got out and walked over to the man. At this point, I was about to lose it; I had to get to the airport! What was this driver thinking? Get a move on! But soon I saw: he had his doggie bag of leftovers from PF Changs, a high-end Chinese restaurant in the mall, and he handed it to the man.
Color me shocked.
The driver ran back to his car, got in, and drove away. I looked at the man holding the sign (and now the bag of food)...and he was crying. Sobbing. This random act of kindness had touched this man, and his emotions were let loose. I can't imagine what he was feeling: gratitude? embarrassment? joy? shame? Most probably a combination of many emotions. It was a private moment for the two, and by being in the car behind them I unwittingly got to witness the giver's selflessness and the recipient's reaction.
As for me, I made it to the aiport right on time. But I need to examine MY reaction to these people asking for money/food/work. I know many people are out of work (heck, I have MANY friends that have been laid off during this recession, several of them still looking for work). I can't shake the feeling that much of the money people give go to drugs; maybe that's because I worked for years with drug addicts who lived on the streets, panhandling for their fix, so I know first-hand. But I hate being so jaded. And I'm glad I got to witness this random act of kindness. It was worth the stress of *almost* being late.
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