Wednesday, November 14, 2012

What your iphone is teaching me, an open letter from a child to her parents(a not so wordless weds)

Dear Mom and Dad,

This photo takes me back!  Look how small I was!  Look at that iPhone, what was that 4, s4, or 5? In any case it was years ago!  I remember you taking me to the playground.  I would get so excited to go play.  Playing was the best!  You would call my name and ask if I wanted to go to the park.  You would tell me to get my clothes on, sometimes I needed your help with that, but you were busy looking at what that one guy from high school was posting on facebook.  I wined in an attempt to get your attention, and you yelled at me to get my clothes on so we could go already.  I learned quickly not to ask you for help.  I would get dressed, get my shoes on and hope beyond hope that iPhone would be left behind.  You would lovingly tuck iPhone in your pocket as not to lose it.  We would get to the park, I would run to the swings hoping you would tell me a story while you pushed me.  You would help me up, give a few pushes, and then out would come iPhone. 
I would try to talk to you, but all I would get was a distracted mm hum.  My swing would come to a very slow stop.  I would plead for another push or two. Remember what you would say? "One second." In a very annoyed tone.  Well those were the longest one seconds ever!  I would sit in that swing for what felt like an eternity.  I would sit and wait and hope that you would remember I was there.  I would finally lose it and start to cry to get out of that swing so I could go run and play.  You would finally put iPhone in your pocket and get me out.  My feet would hit the ground I would turn to see if you were following to play with me.  You weren't you had iPhone back out.  Remember the day I put the apple sticker on my forehead?  You guys laughed and laughed. You took a picture of me and posted it on facebook with the caption, "maybe I'll get your attention now."  Cause that's what I said.  Fun times huh? 
Well now we barley talk, and I hear you guys wondering whats wrong with me.  Why don't I want to talk to you?  What did we ever do.  Well I'm hoping that this letter will shed some light on those questions you have.  You see while I was learning how this world works, how relationships work, you were teaching me that I wasn't very important.  That my words didn't matter, that your time with iPhone was more valuable to you than time with me.  You taught me to not really pay attention to the words you says, by not paying attention to mine.  You taught me to answer with short uninterested replies.  You taught me to love my gadgets more than anything.  There is nothing wrong with me, I am just treating you the way you taught me to treat people.  Email, texting, tweeting, facebooking are the most important things in life, we take them where ever we go, and pick them up when ever they make a sound, no matter who we may hurt doing it. 

A kid just trying to help you understand

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

9/11 We will never forget

I admire the firefighters who witnessed their brothers deaths and still walked into the unthinkable.  There are no words.  So today as I remember, and teach my sons about that day 11 years ago,  I share these images with you.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

My gifted homeschooling survival kit

I have written a post about the things that keep sane while homeschooling my gifted kids.  Head on over the An Intense Life to read it.  Feel free to add to the list with your comments. 
Happy Monday,

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Emotional seashore

I can't sleep.  I have been wrestling with my own giftedness as of late.  This feeling deeply and intensely is taking its toll on me.  There is something about me that causes others to open up to me, share things that I can see surprise them, why am I sharing this is writen across their face. During these times tear always flow.  It drains me, and I don't know how to turn it off.  I really wish I did.
You see I feel what others feel, we make a deep connection.  Going that deep scares people, and I feel them distance themselves from me.  I will admit a lot of the time I distance myself from people as a defense.  It's the only way I know to "turn it off.".  As a result I feel like there are very few people who really get me, can go deep with me, and not run away, who actually crave the deepness.
I am beyond thankful for those people in my life, my hubby and kids, and good friend kelly. 
My family is grieving the loss of my grandfather.  I crave that close deep connect now, but feel very distant and pushed away from my family, who don't want to feel deeply now.  I sometimes feel like I don't fit it, sometimes we are close, sometimes we are not.  It's an emotional seashore, waves coming in not touching my toes, and rushing away.  Other times waves coming in, barely touching my toes
And rushing away again.  Every once in a while those waves come in rushing up past me knees.  It takes longer for the wave to recide, but it does, and leaves me waiting on the shore for those moments to come.  So do I just keep standing at the shore waiting, or do I give up on the waves altogether?  I'll keep standing here on the shore, because I don't have to be deep in the waves to enjoy the ocean.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

What does "Back to school" casue in our kids?

Back to school… those words fill me with anxiety.  I remember going school clothes shopping, having tiny panic attacks in the dressing room, as I realized the inevitable end of summer was getting closer.  You see school was not so great for me.  I spent my first grade year with a trash can next to my desk, because I would throw up at least once a day.  I was afraid of having to read out loud, work a math problem on the board, or to be called on by the teacher. 
My teachers couldn’t figure me out.  I seemed like an intelligent kid, I retained anything read to me, but ask me to read, or write, or work a math problem, and I struggled like a fish out of water.  I was quickly placed in the lowest level groups in my classes, the teachers made this very clear to the whole class.  In my teachers opinions I was bright, but didn’t do the work, so therefore must be lazy.  I received lecture after lecture about living up to my potential, please stop being lazy, stop playing so much and start working.  I would plead to them crying, I am trying SO hard, I’m not playing.  They didn’t believe me.  I figured if the teachers were telling me I wasn’t trying, and I knew I was trying as hard as I could, then I must be stupid.  It wasn’t until 4th grade that a teacher finally believed me.  The only problem was I was in a small private school, and this teacher had no resources to help me.  She suggested I get my eyes checked, nope 20/20 vision.  She suggested getting my hearing tested, nope perfect hearing.  That’s where the help stopped. 
Flash forward to the end of 6th grade.  A learning disability specialist came and offered a free screening at my small private school.  I remember going home and giving the letter to my mom, who asked, “What is a learning disability specialist?”  Luckily my teacher strongly encouraged my mom to send me to the screening.  The specialist referred me for further screening.  I was tested for many disabilities and diagnosed with dyslexia. 
I have learned to compensate for it, but I still struggle at times.  I have a hard time spelling, and reading words that I am not familiar with.  Teachers lengthened test times for me, gave me C’s with an asterisk.  It took a long time to heal from those experiences, and I still have some healing to do.  The most important thing I gained from the diagnosis, is realizing I am smart, gifted in fact.  It’s taken me 30 years to finally believe it.
 I wonder what our children face when they hear the words “back to school?”  Are they filled with anxiety, fear, hope, curiosity?  When the intensity arises, and boy does it, my initial response is to react to the intensity.  Then the 8-year-old-me cries out in my head, “Don’t be like the teachers you had!!!”   I try to take a second to breath, calm myself, and then ask what is coming up for my boys.  We talk about the source.  Sometimes the talks take longer than others, but once they get it out, I can physically see them relax, and the whole house can breathe again.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t always get this right, and there are plenty of times that my own intensity takes over and intensifies everyone’s intensity.  But I am reminding myself to focus on progress and not perfection; progress in the developing emotional health of my children as well as their academic well-being.
As we are preparing for our children to go back to school, let’s also focus on the emotional aspects our children are facing.  Ask them how they are feeling, and take in their responses.  Spend some time reflecting on your own educational experiences; allow the memories to come back, so that you can share your experiences with your children.  Listen to their concerns, brainstorm with them about possible ways to address their concerns.  Be the advocate you wish you would have had in your corner when you were a child.  Watch your children physically relax and breathe in the calm with them.