You are here: Home / Archives for Family
Apr 29, 2011

Anglophile

By ·

Yes, I’m watching the royal wedding this morning. Well, I’ll be recording it this morning, since work and taking Mira to preschool will be cutting into my royal TV time.

I know some people can’t wait for the wedding to be over with, but I’m giddy with excitement. Truth is, when storks were dropping off babies in the 70’s, my stork clearly read the address wrong and brought me to Ohio when I should have been delivered to some family in the British Isles.

I’ve been an anglophile for many, many years, appreciating nearly everything about the British people, culture and government. I spent a summer in London in college, and during my time there I felt more “at-home” with my surroundings than I ever have in my life. I considered skipping my flight home to pursue citizenship, but came to my senses when I realized I had no money and still no college degree yet. I left that country vowing to return again someday.

When Diana Spencer walked down the aisle to become Princess Diana? I watched it. I was proud that her first-born son, William, was born on my birthday. (Although a few years later than me.) During my time in England, I lived in a dorm in Kensington and remember playing soccer on the green just outside of Diana’s primary residence, Kensington Palace.

Many years later, when Diana was in the car accident that took her life, I watched the story unfold on CNN. I wished and prayed that she would survive, and then sobbed when they announced that she had died. I watched her funeral from start to finish, stunned that this stunningly beautiful humanitarian – a woman who used her power and influence to bring notice to those who suffered and needed help – would be taken from us so young.

And now her son is marrying his college sweetheart, and I couldn’t be happier for them. The royal family may seem like an out-of-place establishment in the modern world, but I think it still has relevance. They provide a living connection to the history and very nature of their culture. And as I’ve often joked, a monarch that is groomed from the beginning for their role in the government (even if it is a very minor role now) provides stability and continuity that I often feel is lacking in our constantly rotating parade of politicians in the United States. Prime Ministers may come and go, but they have the benefit of seeking advice from the one person who has seen the government through many changes and is well-educated on the topic.

(I don’t want to get into an argument over which government system is better or calling for a return to the feudal monarchy system – I’m just pointing out that there are some advantages to a constitutional monarchy.)

Anyway, I’m looking forward to the wedding. I can’t wait to see demonstrations of the history, ceremony and style of the British people, but even more, it’s about the pleasure of seeing the genuine happiness of two people who love each other very much making the ultimate commitment to each other.
And to get in the spirit, Mira is already practicing her royal stiff upper-lip while wearing her tiara. She’s available for any discussions of betrothal contracts with princes who like trains and can promise her lots of dresses and a pink castle.

Formal portrait of HRH Miranda of Ohio
Filed Under: memories, Mira, pop culture · Tagged:


Apr 26, 2011

Drowning

By ·

As a young child, I loved to swim. On more than one occasion the words “like a fish” were used in discussing my love for the water. I spent my summers at our local community pool, practicing flips and handstands in the shallow waters, and fetching pennies from the pool floor of the five-foot deep area.

I remember one time I was at a party, and the hosts happened to have a pool. All of the kids were in bathing suits, swimming and playing with various pool toys. I don’t remember the details, but at one point one of the preschoolers had thrown some plastic beach-type toys in the deep end of the pool, where they rested under ten feet of water.

I think one of them asked if I could get the toys. Or maybe I just volunteered myself, since I liked helping others and was quite confident in my swimming ability. Either way, I was the foolish kid (I couldn’t have been more than eight years old or so) going to the bottom of the pool.

Never having learned to dive properly, I stood on the edge of the pool, pinched my nose shut, and jumped in feet first, using the momentum to help me sink a few feet into the pool before orienting myself head down and kicking my legs furiously to reach the bottom. Ten feet felt a lot further than I thought it would be.

Once at the bottom, I gathered up the plastic toys, pushed off from the floor and kicked back towards the light.

If you hear my grandmother tell this story, you’d think I nearly drowned. I know I scared her pretty badly. I’m not sure how long I was down there, but it was long enough to worry the adults at the party. When she told the story years later, I laughed it off and said I had it all under control.

The truth, however? I’ve never been so close to drowning in my life as I was in the pool that day.

The deepest pool I had ever been in was eight feet of water. Ten was really pushing my limits. By the time I reached the bottom, I realized I needed to get back up quickly. But I wasn’t going to look like a failure, so I made sure to grab those toys.

As I pushed off from the floor, I could already feel my legs were weakening. Looking up, I could see the light reflecting off the top of the pool, but it felt so, so far away. How did it get so far away?

I kept kicking my legs, but my chest was on fire. My lungs were nearly collapsing in a reflexive effort to take a breath, yet I kept my nose pinched and mouth clamped shut. I was focused on getting to the surface, even though the light at the top looked a little darker and I started to feel lightheaded.

I lost the grip on my nose as my lungs forced air out and I started to panic that I wouldn’t reach the top in time. It was just as water was starting to come into my mouth that I broke the surface, spitting out the water as I gasped for air.

Clinging to the side of the pool, I weakly offered up the toys to their owners and smiled as my heart pounded. Nope, not going to look like a failure today.

I still remember some of the details of that event for a few reasons. First, I’m actually still very scared of drowning, even though I love water. And second, because I think on how many times in my life I’ve nearly (figuratively) drowned because I didn’t want to look like a failure.

Taking on too much is commonplace for me. Like Ado Annie from the musical Oklahoma, I “cain’t say no.” I never want to miss an opportunity, and I never want anyone to think less of me, so I will often agree to do far more than I’m capable of. Problem is, I then find myself at the bottom of that ten-foot pool, wondering how I’ll make it to the top without running out of air.

I look around at other working mothers and wonder how they do it, only to realize that either they’re better at saying ‘no’ to all of the requests on their time, or they’re smiling on the outside while panicking on the inside, just like me. Only they make it look far easier than I do.

One day I hope I can come to terms with the reality that I’m not superwoman, I can’t do it all, and occasionally I do fail miserably. That sometimes you don’t have to be the hero: you can instead hang out in the shallow end sipping a martini while your kids splash around you and let someone better suited to the job  – someone who has practically no chance of drowning – dive to the bottom of the pool.

Filed Under: me me me, memories ·


Apr 13, 2011

Geek Squared

By ·

When I graduated from high school, family and friends all asked the same question that every university-bound teen is asked: “What will you be majoring in at college?”

I’ll admit that they were disappointed when I told them elementary education, or maybe liberal arts.

At my graduation party, there were a lot of whispered conversations between my relatives and my mom. “But why THAT?” “She’s selling herself short.” “She’s got so much potential in other areas.”

And then my mom: “I know. But I can’t force her.”

Everyone expected me to become a scientist. Or maybe a doctor. Anything related to the sciences, really. Truth is, I was a whiz at math and science.

Math (other than geometry, which I still have problems with) was a breeze, and even my math teacher was impressed at my speed with calculus proofs. The math award was given out to one senior each year who had the highest math grade for all four years of high school, and that year I was the recipient.

Science was equally simple as long as I avoided physics. (Geometry getting in the way again.) I scored a perfect score on the science portion of the ACT. Chemistry equations were like a second language to me. Some classmates considered me a snob for not helping them balance chemistry equations, but it wasn’t that I didn’t want to help them – I just couldn’t really explain how I did it. I’d try to explain, they’d still be confused, and then at some point the phrase “It’s easy to see” would slip out of my mouth and they’d storm away.

Yep, I was the perfect nerd: good at math and science, poor at sports, and socially awkward. You can guess how many parties I got invited to, and chess club doesn’t count.

But back to college: I wasn’t interested in being a scientist, and becoming a doctor sounded like it would take forever and be boring. I wanted a new challenge, so of course I jumped right into areas where I often did poorly, beginning with elementary education (I wasn’t good with kids), then switching my major to theatre (yes, I have panic attacks on stage) and finally ending with a BA in History, which happened to be my “worst” subject in high school. I didn’t switch majors because I found the others hard – I simply wasn’t as interested and kept trying to find my passion. Or maybe I only wanted to pursue topics that were hard for me.

Of course, a degree in history isn’t very useful if you don’t pursue graduate school, and after one quarter of a dull graduate school experience, I quit. I had a natural talent in technology, so I worked for several years as a technical writer for e-learning courses. My abilities in the sciences came in handy for that job.

I’ve since gone back to school and have that science degree in nursing. I think my family is a little more accepting of my career at this point, if only because my job options are a little more secure. And while I resented their opinions in high school, I’m lucky that I grew up surrounded by successful women who believed that a girl could do well in science. I never experienced any expectations based on gender other than their hopes that I wouldn’t let gender stereotypes hold me back.

As the mother of two daughters now, I can already see their strengths emerging. Cordy has a natural ability with patterns and numbers, while Mira is curious about the world around her and wants to know how everything works. I’ll continue to encourage them in learning about their world, embracing technology, and developing a love for science, just as I was encouraged as a child.

And if they want to pursue degrees in art and classical mythology someday? I’ll try to remind the relatives that they’re free to do what they want.

—
This post was inspired by my friend David Wescott and his call to bring together mom bloggers and science bloggers for his #scimom project. If you want to join in, go visit his blog and learn how!

Filed Under: geek paradise, me me me, memories, school ·


Apr 11, 2011

Soccer Mom

By ·

On Saturday, I officially became a soccer mom.

My inauguration was supposed to be the week before, but a brief case of food poisoning kept Cordy from making it to the first practice.

Cordy has been interested in soccer since she was two years old. She’s always loved kicking the ball around the backyard, head down, focused on having her foot make contact with the ball. For all of her lack of coordination, she’s surprisingly good at kicking a ball.

Signing her up for a soccer league is something I’ve been considering for some time, but I’ve been plagued by a lot of doubts every time I get close to doing so. She doesn’t like a lot of loud noises, and she certainly doesn’t like cheering. Coping with losing is not a strong point for her. She’s not very focused on group activities, preferring anything she can do alone instead.

But this year I’ve been getting some positive reports from school that made me think that now was the right time. Her teacher e-mailed me last month and said that Cordy learned to play kickball and was now playing with the other kids at recess. She then e-mailed me another day to let me know Cordy scored a home run kick that day. And then the next e-mail stated that the principal taught Cordy how to pitch the ball for kickball, and she can now pitch for her team! I was honestly shocked that she had become so interested in a group sport.

I still didn’t feel comfortable with signing her up for a soccer group, until I learned about a local soccer league for special-needs kids. The league is for all ages (they separate the kids into age-appropriate groups), and the focus is on simply doing your best and having fun. Each child received their own uniform, and there are lots of volunteers to help guide the kids and keep them motivated.

When I took Cordy to her first practice, she really didn’t want to go. “But mommy, my team will lose!”

“You don’t know that, Cordy. You might win. And either way, you’ll have fun.”

“But I might lose, too. I don’t wanna lose.”

Her anxiety was high when we got to the indoor soccer facility, made even worse by seeing the image of a flaming soccer ball on the outside of the building. (“Why is that soccer ball on fire? Will we get burned in there? I don’t want to catch on fire!”) As I checked her in and got her uniform, she stood off to the side pacing and hopping, looking uneasy.

I took her to the bathroom to change into her uniform, answering questions about what she was going to do and why she had to wear the uniform. I decided to skip the shin guards completely – strapping something tight around her lower legs probably wouldn’t go over well at the moment. Once she was dressed, it was like a switch flipped. “Mama, I look like a real soccer player!”

I took her to her assigned field, where several kids were already kicking balls around. Cordy took one look at all the balls and ran right in, eager to kick as many balls as she could.

Soon it was time for practice, and all of the balls except for one were removed from the area. The coach led the kids in some stretches and warmups, which Cordy mostly participated in. Then half the kids put on blue tank tops while the others kept their yellow shirts only to separate them into two teams. The rules were explained, and off they went!

The first goal was made by Cordy’s team. She ran right over to me, shouting, “I won! I scored a goal!” I reminded her that it was only one goal, and there was a lot more of the game to play. (I decided not to point out that she wasn’t the one who scored the goal, either. She wasn’t anywhere near the ball that time.)

The second attempt resulted in a goal for the other team. Cordy again came over to me, this time looking sad, and said, “We lost, mama. I want to go home now.” A little more encouragement, and she was back out with the other kids again. If she planned to do this each time, it was going to be a long, emotionally draining hour.

Cordy did fairly well on the field. She didn’t like to get in close with other kids, and so she wasn’t good at going after the ball. But when the ball happened her way, she often gave it a powerful kick to send it back down to the other end of the field, leaving others on her team to score the goal.

About 40 minutes in, Cordy started begging to go home. She was tired and didn’t want to play anymore because the other team kept scoring. I reminded her that kids who stayed for the full hour got a snack, and that was enough motivation for her to finish out the practice.

While I would have been worried about her behavior in another soccer league, in this group she fit right in. Other kids had meltdowns, didn’t want to go near the ball, kicked it the wrong way, picked it up with their hands, or just sat down on the field and refused to move. And the parents just cheered them on and provided encouragement.

No one though twice if a child had to leave for a few minutes to calm down. Parents were allowed out on the field to help their child if needed. It was a supportive environment filled with love for our kids, ending with all of the parents standing side by side in two lines, putting their arms up to form a “tunnel” for the kids to run through while the parents cheered and told them what a good job they did.

After we got home, Cordy told me that she had fun and wants to go back again next week. I’m hoping this will be a good introduction to group sports, and perhaps if she does well in this league, we can try her in a more competitive league in the future.

Filed Under: Autism, Cordy, daily life ·


Mar 31, 2011

Poisoning Kids With Bright & Colorful Foods

By ·
When Cordy was first diagnosed with autism, we looked into everything we could to help her. Therapy was expensive and involved long waiting lists, but in the meantime there were several doctors promoting supplements, medications, and diets that promised anything from a little help to a complete miracle.
I tried to be skeptical, or as skeptical as one can be when first finding out your child has a lifelong neurological condition that you would pay nearly anything to see disappear. I dismissed the big promises as junk science, but one topic kept coming up over and over: food additives.
Eliminating artificial food additives from my daughter’s diet was a simple enough solution to try, I thought. After all, it required buying no supplements or paying for some guide to the secret foods she must eat to behave properly. I just needed to read labels a little more closely, right?

Ha.

I don’t know if you’ve been reading labels lately, but just about EVERYTHING has artificial food dyes in it. Candy, mac and cheese, juices, fruit snacks, crackers, grape jam, cereal, baked goods, applesauce, chips – the list goes on and on. If it’s designed for kids, it’s even more likely to have artificial dyes in it. When I first tried to swap out her regular favorite foods for dye-free foods, it was nearly impossible. Everything had dye in it, even when it didn’t need to. (Why would something WHITE like white cheddar mac and cheese need dye in it?)

Now the FDA is turning its attention to food additives this week – specifically food dyes – and I’m carefully following the news to see what conclusions they draw. Since Cordy’s diagnosis, I am now convinced that food dyes play a role in her behavior, and when she avoids them her behavior is much better. She’s like a Jekyll & Hyde depending on if she’s ingested artificial food dyes or not.
Research shows that many children exhibit signs of hyperactivity when they consume artificial food dyes, and limiting the diet to remove these dyes often results in a dramatic improvement in behavior. The proof is enough for the European Union to require warning labels on foods containing artificial food dyes, resulting in fewer foods containing the dyes in European countries.
I’ve done my own experiment. It went something like this: Detox Cordy from all dyes for 5 days. Then give her a candy that has nothing artificial in it. (Plain rock candy sticks are great for this test.) Wait for any behavior change. In this case, no behavior change.
Then the next day, give her candy with food dye in it. (Blue lollipops are her favorite, and also her downfall.) Wait for any behavior change. After eating it, 30-45 minutes later she was a monster: unfocused, quick to tantrum, hyperactive, irritable, unsettled and sometimes feeling tired and ill. These changes can sometimes last 3-5 days from one exposure.
Suddenly it all made sense. I now know why holidays and birthdays were so traumatic in the past (colored icing on cakes and cookies!), why she always acted up more after a lollipop, and why cupcakes made her sick to her stomach.
Artificial colors are poison to my daughter. They alter her behavior, cloud her mind, and leave her unable to cope.
The worst part? They’re in most kid foods, and there’s no need for these dyes. Their only purpose is to make junk food look pretty and colorful so you’ll want to eat more of it. And there are plenty of perfectly good natural dyes that can be used in their place. Just look at the Annie’s brand of fruit snacks – all natural colors, but still bright, and my kids still beg for them.
It is maddening to find dye-free foods for my family. We often have to shop in the organic section of the grocery store to find safe foods, and because they’re in the organic section they cost more.
Teaching Cordy about what she can and can’t eat has been difficult, too. She is old enough now to understand that dyes make her sick. She’s even admitted to us that she feels “bad” (as in sick or unwell) when she eats something full of dyes. She can’t read labels yet, however, so she has to rely on adults to tell her what’s safe and what’s not. (Although she’s getting good at seeing most brightly colored candy and saying, “That will make me sick.”)
But we still have to take away 80% of her Halloween candy and trade it for safe snacks. And it’s hard when even the schools encourage her to eat Skittles as rewards in the classroom, or popsicles on the playground because all of the kids are getting them. They think they’re being fair to her, but they’re only hurting her. Fair is actually NOT giving her the popsicles the other kids are eating, so that she’ll be able to function in the classroom after recess.
I’m tired of food manufacturers saying that artificial food dyes are safe. They’re not. Most are made from coal tar or petroleum. Some have been labeled carcinogens. I don’t need Red #40 in my ice cream to know it’s strawberry – that’s why I have taste buds.
I e-mailed Kraft Foods over a year ago and asked why they needed to add yellow food dye to their famous blue box of mac and cheese when there are safer natural yellow dyes that could be used instead. The response was that the FDA had declared it safe to use, and they have no plans to change their ingredients. It was a beautifully written pat on the head with an underlying tone of, “Well, bless your heart, you poor crunchy nut. We don’t care what you think because kids like neon glow in the dark mac and cheese.”
I hope the FDA won’t bow to the lobbying from the food industry this time and will, at the minimum, require warning labels on any foods containing artificial food dyes. And then maybe Cordy’s favorite mac and cheese will decide it’s time to change their ingredients so she can eat it safely.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
Filed Under: Autism, big issues, Cordy, daily life, healthy living ·