Learning to Exhale

This blog has been woefully silent. I have many good excuses but perhaps not as many good reasons. Life, to put it simply, has been nuts. No, not nuts, stressful. Really, truly, dreadfully stressful. 

Health issues, COVID, a flooded basement, more health issues, little league baseball season, did I mention health issues and a flooded basement?  It feels as if I have been holding my breath for months.

And amidst all the weeks and months of stress, I plodded on. Some days barely getting my assignments to my clients and editors on time. Taking care of my kids in a hazy cloud of exhaustion. And my house? Let’s just say it’s a good thing no company hasn’t been over for a while because it is just now getting back on track, minus the flooded basement whose carpet we had to rip up.

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During all this stress and angst, the thing I typically forgot to do was take time for myself. Instead, I became the last priority, which only caused me more stress, deeper depression, and further anger and resentment. 

In those moments, I tried to focus on gratitude. Yes, I had water leaking into my basement, but at least the only thing damaged was the carpet. I still had a home with a soft bed to sleep in at night and a fridge full of healthy food. Yes, my health has been a roller coaster which is still going, but I am still here, working on it, and I’ve managed to lose 33 of the 40 pounds I set as a goal last March. 

33 pounds in 15 months is slow but steady, and I’ve done it, even with all the added stress. I also stopped drinking alcohol, significantly improving my weight loss and mental health. I’ve lost 22 of those 33 pounds in the six months since I stopped. If that’s not an endorsement to stop drinking, I don’t know what else is, mainly since most of my other habits have stayed the same. 

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So I have a home, a job, two healthy children, a supportive partner, and people who love and care for me; my health is crazy, but I am working on it. Reasons to feel grateful. But I still wasn’t taking time for myself, or at least not enough.

Writing is one of the things I enjoy doing and use to do just for me. But, since it’s become my job, like most hobbies turned professions, it became daunting to do even more of it for myself. So, I journaled here and there but couldn’t find anything meaningful to write about except complaining and ranting, and no one wants to read that. So, I didn’t blog.

But in not blogging, I perhaps took something I needed away from myself. Maybe, the exact thing I was too tired or stressed or angry to do was the very thing that would have helped me. So as I sat here working on an article that I am actually ahead of schedule with (wonder of wonders), I started thinking about blogging. 

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I stopped working on the article, and I started this blog. I wasn’t sure where it would go, and I’m still not. It’s very stream of consciousness right now. But I am getting myself on the page. I am taking a few moments out of my hectic day; more doctor appointments, more baseball… and doing something solely for me. 

I don’t expect life to be a piece of cake every day; I know people are dealing with far worse challenges and issues than I am at the moment. However, that doesn’t take away what I was feeling. It doesn’t negate that nearly every stressful thing that could happen to a person seemed to happen to me simultaneously. I felt pulled in so many directions I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if even a feather touched me; I would shatter.

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I don’t often share these moments. Instead, I come off as a perky, positive, happy person, and I am those things.

But I am also

A patient who sat down on the floor and started crying at 8:45 on a Wednesday morning because, after nearly six months, yet another set of blood work and tests gave her no answers.

A woman who looked at her partner several times in recent weeks and felt like she hadn’t had 10-minutes alone with just him that wasn’t discussing something kid, health, or house related. 

A homeowner who sopped up water and washed towels five times a day for nearly a week before discovring where the leak was coming from or could get a contractor out to take a look.

A writer who was stressed one week because she didn’t think she’d have enough work to cover her bills and then the following week had so much work didn’t think she’d make all her deadlines. 

A mother who wanted to cling to her children and not let them out of her sight after the tragedy in Texas. But was so exhausted at bedtime simply wanted to put them to bed and spend 15 minutes alone with a book. 

A Mom and step-mom who grocery shops for six people, works from home, manages the house and pays the bills, tries to keep the house clean, and plays chauffeur to baseball, gymnastics, and drum kits. 

A mom to an 8-year-old with combined presentation ADHD and borderline OCD and his 30-minute bedtime ritual.

A mom to an 11-year-old with anxiety who this week is obsessively worried about needing his wisdom teeth out in eight or nine years. And despite having good grades all year convinced he’s not advancing to 5th grade because of a comment his teacher said to the class, which he can’t remember, so I can’t help explain. 

And I imagine I’m not the only one, so I’m sharing. Because while my story is entirely mine, it’s not unique.

Slowly last week, some of the pieces began to come back together, and I could breathe. I could pause and enjoy the trees rustling in the wind outside my library window. I could breathe and enjoy a board game with my 8-year-old without my mind wandering to ten different things I had to do next. I had time and the ability to see the beauty in the world again.

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I could breathe and enjoy an evening out with my partner and some quiet time on the couch with him. I could look forward to a baseball game my 11-year-old was playing and relax and watch the game. 

I read a book. I took a shower I didn’t need. I ate a bowl of real ice cream; because what’s the point of losing 33 pounds if you can’t have real ice cream once in a while? I wrote this blog. I exhaled. And I took those moments back and made them mine. 

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Humanity for our Teachers

I want to give a shout-out to all the educators who have been working tirelessly since last spring to ensure our children had a safe place to learn, whether virtually or in the building.

While my situation allowed me to leave the classroom and stay home with my children, I realize that is not the case for many, and I understand how fortunate I am.  I spent a mere two weeks teaching and trying to juggle childcare for my children before I was furloughed and then eventually decided to stay home.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot put myself in the shoes of anyone out there still navigating the work and childcare battle, but I know it is hard. I spent years struggling with finding subs when my kids were sick, and I had no one to watch them because their father was a full-time student.

I spent years being the one who missed work because it cost less for me to stay home than it did their father.  I’ve felt the unsurmountable stress of finding a babysitter for the weekend or evening school event.  And, I’ve been home, extremely ill with two small children because I didn’t have anyone to drop them off or pick them up, or when I lived in Chicago, the drive was too far.  

Since I switched to writing full time, I have had my calls interrupted by my kids.  I have had my work stopped because there was a nerf battle going on in the basement, or someone fell outside during recess and was injured.  I have had days where I’ve been interrupted so many times to help with school work I eventually gave up on what I was writing for the day.

I have cried in frustration too.

I understand the plight of the working parent.  But I also understand what our educators have been going through.  And many of these educators are also working parents.

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People are constantly worried about kids falling behind; I admit I have had my moments too, but then I stopped and asked myself, “What are we so afraid of them falling behind?” 

Math scores?  Reading tests? Arbitrary numbers and statistics that we are told our children need to meet to be the best.  We’re continually telling ourselves and our children that they have to be the best.  And again I questioned, the best at what?

I want my children to be the best at being human, being kind, empathetic, helpful, compassionate, and understanding, and that starts at home with parents and caregivers.  

We can start by showing educators compassion and understanding.  

I believe my son’s 1st-grade teacher is a saint as I watch and listen to her daily try to wrangle 17 first graders to pay attention to a screen, to help them one at a time to navigate through which button to push or link to click and she never sounds impatient or mad. 

Do I think most children would do better in a physical classroom? Of course. My son with severe ADHD would benefit significantly from being hands-on in a school, but it has not been an option where I live nor for many around the country. 

As an educational advocate, I also understand that the playing field isn’t equal, and virtual schools make it even less so for some.  My heart aches daily for the children going hungry or being abused and who lack the school building’s safety to come to for eight hours a day and may miss getting a warm meal, or any meal at all.

I feel for the children with shaky or no internet access, whose parents can’t or won’t help them with their work, or who are struggling without the aid of tutors, mentors, and that special human touch of an in-person caring teacher.

But much of this is out of my control. And every teacher I know who is virtual is aching to be with their kids again; they just want to ensure it is safe both for them and their students.  So what is this country doing yet again to its teachers?  We are throwing them under the bus.   

I know personally, first hand more teachers than I could count, I’ve listened to their stories, I heard their fears and concerns, I watched them struggle as they too learn new technology, new ways to create and present lessons, new ways to engage children over a screen, new ways to teach.

How often in your career have to been asked to throw away 85% of what you know and, in a few short months, been told, figure out a new way? Oh, and it better be perfect because if not, we’re judging you and then going to bully you?  I hazard to guess you’ve expected to do that zero times.

But somehow, it has become ok to bully teachers because they are not perfect.  Somehow, once again, it is the teacher’s fault that our child is not “the best.”  Somehow we are again blaming schools and educators for everything wrong with society.

And people wonder why there is a teacher shortage.

I get sick to my stomach when I see comments like “go back to work,” “stop being lazy,” “you need to do your job.”

If you think teaching 20 kids over a screen while simultaneously not losing your cool, trying to offer individualized instruction, and trying to make sure something you are presenting sticks, then please, by all means, try it.

Oh, and add to that the hours you spend off-screen planning lessons, adapting them for online and hybrid learning, grading and assessing work, answering parent emails and phone calls, and attending meetings on how to continually better the system that has been evolving day after day.

My older son’s third-grade teacher is buying science experiment supplies, driving around to each child in her class’s home this weekend, and delivering the materials so every child in her class can participate.  She also dropped off goodie bags and supplies before the school year began and before winter break.

Teachers.  I applaud you.  I support you.  I respect you.

The thing that really gets me, though, is that my kids HAVE learned this past year.  They have advanced academically and picked up skills they didn’t have a year ago, and I would assume that my kids aren’t the only two who have learned new information and skills.

So what exactly is there to be angry at teachers about?

They have also learned adaptability, flexibility, problem-solving, computer skills, creativity, resourcefulness, how to think outside the box, patience, acceptance, and that life doesn’t always go as one would like.

In my opinion, valuable skills.

The truth of COVID life is, many careers have had to switch to a virtual setting, but I don’t notice anyone giving other professions a hard time or calling them lazy as they perform their work from home.

Yes, children need socialization, we all do, and this has been extremely challenging; I miss my friends and all the things I used to do too, but why does society think that everyone gets a free pass except the teachers?

Why and when have we, as a country, stopped valuing what they do?  

Why are we supporting hundreds of other industries that have been effected, but the industry that produces our most valuable resource has been vilified?

Frustration is high, but people are also scared, and the last time I checked, people have a right to feel that way.  This has been a scary and unprecedented time in our history.

It seems insane to me that a medical condition has become political, that so many refuse to believe what science says. Still, this is new and scary, and information comes from a thousand different places, so maybe I do get it.  You have people who still believe vaccines cause autism.  They don’t.

I do not claim to have the answers, but I know that being kind goes a long way.  Perhaps in place of fear and blame, we could try compassion and support because, in the end, above all else, that is what I hope my children learn from this experience; not multiplication or that the first word of the sentence needs to be capitalized but to rally in a time of confusion and fear instead of tearing one another down.

I hope they learn how to be human.

ADHD and My Child: the battle with healthcare

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My youngest son is the equivalent to the Tasmanian Devil at times, and I don’t mean the actual animal that lives in the bush, I mean that little cartoon guy that just spun everywhere and caused destruction in his path. It has been a challenge dealing with his lack of control at times, but there is only so much control he has. At the age of 5 he was diagnosed with ADHD, and it’s severe. As an early childhood educator I knew something was off developmentally a few years earlier but ADHD and ADD are not typically diagnosed until school age. All we knew was that he was struggling, a lot, in preschool due to his inability to keep his hands to himself, his lack of self control, outbursts both positive and negative, and the Tasmanian devil that seems to have inhabited his body.

After conducting research on my end, talking to his teacher and other professionals in the field, we came to the conclusion that he should be evaluated for ADHD. Luckily for us, his pediatrician also turned out to be the leading expert on ADHD in the area. That gave us extra peace of mind as we went through this process. After meeting with the doctor privately and conducting evaluations with our son we decided we would try medication. Deciding to use medication was not a snap decision. We had heard horror stories about children turned into zombies and the last thing we wanted was for him to lose was his spark. When he is not in tailspin mode destroying all in site he is an intelligent, funny and entertaining kid.

He wanted his hair to look like Sonic the Hedgehog this summer!

My son loves Michael Jackson and Bon Jovi. He was so obsessed with the Broadway Musical Newsies that the age of 3 he was the main character, Jack Kelly for Halloween. He’s creative and silly but he also has no impulse control, yells his favorite phrase “Booty-Butt” without warning at the top of his lungs, and used to greet people by hitting them in the crotch. Not forcefully, but enough to hurt, particularly if you were a man. We knew he couldn’t continue on this path and be successful. This wasn’t just your typical case of a child gone wild. I am a career expert in Early Childhood, his father has an undergraduate degree in Psychology. We knew what we should be doing to help him and nothing seemed to work.

The first medication we tried him on cost a whopping $60 a month after insurance. $60 a month for something my child needed to function. We saw results but he was still struggling. Especially as the evening wore on and the medication wore off. He became next to impossible to corral into anything productive. He started therapy with a psychologist and we were hoping to see major results. Unfortunately they seemed slow to come. On the upside he was getting much better reports from school and I was more confident about him starting kindergarten in the fall. At home he still wreaked havoc, knocked things over, ran around and caused general frustration for everyone.

Yes we tried discipline, time outs, meaningful chats, loss of privileges, positive re-direction. If it was in an expert handbook, we tried it. Nothing seemed to work for him. The only plan that has seemed to work is ignoring the negative behavior and over the top praise the positive choices. I have been reading the book Transforming the Difficult Child by Howard Glasser and his advice seems to be the first and only thing outside of medication that has had a positive effect on my son. And I love that feels built up by praise. I want to cheer him on and praise him and give him confidence, but there are only so many times I can hear “Booty-Butt” screamed at the top of his lungs while he claps his hands loudly. These aren’t discipline issue, these are impulse control issues. His brain is simply wired differently.

Amidst Cornoavirus shut-downs, he turned 6. We went in for his physical and I asked if there was something new we could try. After talking to me and performing the evaluation the doctor offered a new option. He said it was taken twice a day, was more potent and should have a more lasting effect. I was ecstatic. I went to get the prescription filled and they wanted $365. I’m sorry, for one month? On insurance?! That was simply not sustainable but my child potentially needed this to thrive. After frantic searching I found a manufacturer’s coupon that cut it down to $185 a month. The upside, it seems to be working wonders for him. I am seeing a more calm and engaged child. I am better able to hold conversations with him, and I see him able to focus for longer periods. In addition, it is not suppressing his appetite the way the first one was. These are all wins. The downside is I have to pay almost $200 a month for a medication, for a mainstream mental health disorder in order to help my child succeed and function they way a typical 6 year old should.

What does this say to you about America’s health care policies? Put simply, they are garbage. My son’s father is a doctor, he works for a major corporation, he should have top notch insurance, yet this is what he is offered. A plan that doesn’t even cover medications aimed at treating a common mental health disorder. It angers me and disgusts me. We are fortunate that while it’s not easy, we can afford to pay this amount each month to help our child, but what about all the people who can’t? Without insurance this same medication was over $600! As a mom and an educator I am calling out the U.S. Healthcare system and pharmaceutical companies. How dare you make billions each year and rake us over the coals for our basic needs. How do you expect America’s children to thrive and meet their potential when many don’t have access to their medication needs? It is an absolute travesty that in what is supposed to be the country of Freedom and Liberty the average American child does not have access nor can afford basic health care costs.