Jun 25 2009

There's nothing systematic about my desensitization

It seems like at least once a day, for the last two weeks or more, Andrew winds up translating something one of our children said for me. Many times he is just repeating for me, more loudly, what one of them has said.

I was beginning to think that I need to go get a hearing test. But here's the thing... I hear just fine. Seriously, 99% of the time, when I am away from my children, I hear great. I hear the phone ring. I hear knocks at the door. I hear the garage door open. I almost never have to ask and adult or someone on the phone to repeat themselves.

There can be only one logical answer. I've begun blocking out the sound of my children's voices.

When I was but a single gal, auntie, I used to marvel at how mothers could simply ignore their children desperately trying to get their attention. Mommy! Mommy! Mom-meeee!!!!!!! (I'm not naming any names, and I think I managed to keep my mouth shut and not judge. Here's hoping.) But now I totally understand.

There seems to be a limit to what I can or am willing to listen to on a daily basis. In the morning, when we're getting ready for the day, I am mommy-on-the-spot with all kinds of helping hands. By dinner time I am reduced to someone who not only can't hear when one of them is talking to me, can't always distinguish one voice from the three usually going at the time... And I am even sometimes sloppy about responding. Sometimes I respond to what I think I heard and don't bother to clarify.

Fortunately for me, however, I have a built in hearing aide. How so? Each evening Andrew comes home for dinner and steps in to filter whatever important is being said up to me. How can he do it after a full day of work? Perhaps sometimes the voices of small immediate needs are much more enjoyable to hear.

For me, silence is golden. It revives me and charges my batteries. Someday when too much of my time is full of this golden silence, perhaps I'll miss the cacophony. For now, even I have limits.

Jun 23 2009

Is it me?

If I ever wonder aloud how I got such a Pollyanna child, remind me that I almost started crying while coaching my daughter how to be tough this morning.

In fact, I did start crying when asking one of the teenage counselors to watch out for the bullying. But not until I was walking away.

Avoiding blaming the victim at all costs, but encouraging my girl to stand up for herself is hard, OK? I kept making suggestions and all she would say was, "Mom, I don't want to hurt his feelings."

The fact that he's hurting hers? That doesn't seem to matter so much. Except that she mentioned possibly not going back to camp today. Grrr!!!

Finally, I got her to agree to say, with force, "If you can't be nice, you can't be my friend."

Let's hope that helps.

Now, really, who's surprised I'm entrusting my $1.25 million former micro-preemie to teenage YMCA counselors anyway? I know I am! Not that there's anything wrong with them, just that I am a freak.

Jun 23 2009

Somebody Save Her

If I can't save the world's biggest wide-eyed Pollyanna from a boy who professes to be her friend but insists on terrorizing her... What good am I, really?

Jun 20 2009

Green Day, ADHD and Man-O-Rexia

If you know me at all, you are aware that I love Green Day. Truly.

I'm not one to dive into new albums, or even pirate them. I get around to them in my own sweet time.

So when my father in law told me to Tivo Carson Daly's new show last week, so I could see Green Day perform all week, I did.

After attempting to watch the last show, I think that the reason they call the show "Last Call with Carson Daly" is because you must be drunk to enjoy it. OK, maybe not completely drunk, but at least a little buzzed or have ADHD.

Why? Because once they get through with 8 different circular nausea pans over the crowd and stage, the band flows from the into into lyrics and no shot is held for more than 3 seconds. I timed it. It is insane.

The songs? I don't know. My brain is too pissed off about the flick-flit-flap of the crap camera work.

Carson? Dude. Los Angeles is surely more health conscious than NYC, but seriously? Won't your producers buy you at least one sandwich? You don't even have to put mayo on it, man. Please, please, someone buy Carson Daly a sandwich.

Thank you.

Jun 17 2009

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Annabella and Redding were eating breakfast together.

Annabella makes some silly growly noise and Red loves it. Every time she stops he yells, "Again!"

Growl...

Again!

Growl...

Again!

Again!

Again!

"Red, can you stop saying again, please? You're kind of freaking me out."