Parenting is hard.

Parenting is hard. I think it's even hard for parents of "typical" kids, though I wouldn't exactly know. I know we're all exhausted, that's a given, right? Yet because of the idiosyncrasies of my children and the unique challenges they face, it's difficult to give up their care, even to the most well intentioned village, if only for an evening away. We're ever vigilant, always on guard, and yes, definitely over protective.

I also imagine that all parents worry, mine still do and I'm grown with children of my own! But maybe parents of typical kids have a little less to worry about. I know there are commonalities among what parents worry about, I just feel like parents of kids with disabilities have a greater number of those worries at any one time. I'd start a list, but I'd like to maintain some semblance of denial.

I can imagine that raising kids is like a roller coaster ride for most parents. There are enough highs and lows to go around, though I think that parents of "special" kids might be experience higher highs and lower lows. Milestones are not taken for granted or expected, instead they are hoped for and celebrated. We flinch when parents joke about the "agony" of having a mobile toddler to chase around. When our kids can stack 3 blocks we jump up and down, much like a parent might do when their child learns to ride a bike. And a milestone as simple as shoe tying may be something we never witness. I'm actually still waiting for that one, and my boys are 13 and 7. Yes, in the grand scheme of things, not such a big deal, but an example of the little things we don't get to take for granted.

The lows on our roller coaster are followed by loop-d-loops, aka the grief cycle. We grieve for what our kids are not or will not be able to do. We grieve for the future we imagined, then turn to the task of creating a new one. We learn quickly that there really are no guarantees, for reals, no joke, seriously. And though coming to terms with that makes life "easier," we're still sometimes resentful about it.

I'm not sure that I'm doing a good job of articulating what it is that I'm trying to say. The emotions I'm experiencing at this moment come and go, in various degrees and for various reasons. Tonight it's because I, along with a few dozen parents, sat through a 3 hour meeting with the special education directors and superintendent of our school district. The purpose of the meeting was to address parent concerns regarding reorganization of special education services due to budget cuts. 

What this boils down to for me, right now, is that I am faced with making a decision of where Parker will spend first grade. Will he continue in his cluster class? Or will he go to his neighborhood school? We also had to make this decision last year. The question isn't as simple as it may seem, there are several factors to consider. I know it's just first grade, but it might as well be college, that's how the weight of it feels to me. I'm afraid to choose because I don't want to make the wrong choice, if that makes any sense. And it's only in hindsight that I will know if it was the right choice, or more accurately, the better choice. 

So yes, to wrap things up before my venting turns into droning, I believe that my experience might not be too different from what it is now if I was parenting typical kids. And though most parents of typical kids probably don't have over a dozen doctors, therapists, clinics, etc... listed in their contacts, I do know one thing we definitely have in common, love for our children.   

Ski Lessons

After Porter's incessant requests for ski lessons, he got his wish. Last week was his first lesson provided by the National Ability Center, a world renowned program that allows for people of different abilities to participate in recreational activities. We are very fortunate to have access to this service so close to home.

On our way up last week, Porter assured me that he was going to be awesome because he is "one-of-a-kind." He definitely has had quite a one-of-a-kind determination and persistence since birth. Not being able to something the "typical" way has never been a deterrent. Porter just finds another way, a different way, an alternative.
After arriving at the ski resort, checking in, and picking up equipment we finally met the instructor. Both of us were surprised to see that Porter's instructor has a physical disability and skis using adaptive equipment. Truthfully, I was surprised, Porter thought it was cool.
There were many different physical and intellectual disabilities among the ski and snowboard students. It was such great reinforcement for Porter, who seems to notice all that people are able to do, and not just in spite of their limitations. I think it's great that Porter can see in others what he sees in himself, ability.

He's such a great kid. I'm lucky to have such an inspiration as a part of my life. I am grateful to watch him tackle his latest conquest. Cheers to lesson number 2!

Mom, Mommy, Mother...

As the beginning of the new school year approaches, and I prepare to return to work, I must reflect on an age old argument. And by reflect on, I of course mean to get on my soap box about. Sorry, but I must vent, just a little.
Let's start with a question: When your kids address you, do they call you "Stay-at-Home Mom" or "Working Mom?" I think not, so why do we do that to each other? We're all moms, right? Stay-at-moms work hard and working moms don't love their any children less.
The saddest thing about these assumptions and others regarding different types of moms, is that they mostly come from moms and are directed to other moms. We are harder on each other than our children and spouses could ever be.
Being a mom is not easy, no matter the forum or circumstances. I have been fortunate enough to experience both sides, working during the school year and staying at home for summers. Motherhood is a tough, 24/7, tiring and rewarding job for ALL mothers.
Let's end with a question: Why aren't we more supportive of each other in this challenging yet magical endeavor?

Kellie "Like"

Sunday morning Clint says to me, "You're not being very Kellie-like," followed with, "What happened to go with the flow?"
Kellie "like." Hmmmm.  What exactly does that mean? It means something different now than it did 10 years ago. And though Clint was applying it to a couple of specific situations, it really applies to most aspects of my life. I don't believe I'm a different person per se, just that I think differently. Here's what I mean:
Kellie-like then meant a plethora of wrist watches and Franklin planners. Now it means NEVER wearing a watch, losing track of time and managing my calendar instead of my calendar managing me.
It meant believing that things happened for a reason and now believing that good and bad things happen and you make reason from it, as you choose, for better or worse.
It meant being more cynical and suspicious while now I can't help but give everyone the benefit of the doubt and believe good can be found in every person, often to the point of naivete.
It meant not wanting company because the house was a mess and now it means not wanting to miss out on company even if the house is a mess.
It meant getting by on being deceptively fit, and now it means being a runner.
It meant files, ledgers and balancing the checkbook, and now it means that Clint is bewildered as to why Directv won't let him order the fights because the bill hasn't been paid. (Thank goodness he opened the one that threatened to shut off our power!)
It meant being the go-to-girl for graduate school projects and organization to becoming the girl that was going to everyone else for due dates, instructions, and follow-through.
It meant getting from point A to point B without any variation and now it means we might stop for an overnight stay along the way to our destination. No hurries, no worries.
I'm sure there are things that have been more constant over time, only those of you have known me before, after and during truly know. I personally feel that I've evolved more than I've actually changed, that some tendies were suppressed while others became more enhanced.

Most importantly it means moving along a continuum from judgement to more compassion, from making assumptions to taking the time to know and from taking things personally to realizing that it's so much more than just about me.  

Which is why I went with the flow and gave in on getting a family dog, then topped it off with a Kellie-like thing and insisted we get two! More on our new families will be posted soon!

 

Two Weeks Notice!

Race for the Cure is TWO WEEKS from today! I'm very excited to be participating as a runner, team member and fundraiser! My team is in the Top 10 for fundraising! BUT we haven't reached our goal, YET! Please, please, please contribute or join our team ASAP!
If you register by MAY 6 then your bib and t-shirt are mailed to you! Woohoo! You can actually contribute money up until May 31 for it to count as Race for the Cure funds, but I will stop bugging people about it after the race.
Once again, here is the link to my team page: http://slc.info-komen.org/site/TR/RacefortheCure/SLC_SaltLakeCityAffiliate?team_id=204249&pg=team&fr_id=2479

You can donate to the team in general, or to any of the individual teammates listed. Porter and Parker each have a goal of $5.
The Race for the Cure will be my FIFTH race since turning forty, and it celebrates 5 years of being a survivor! We are also dedicating this race to my dear friend Lee as she starts her fight against cancer!

On a slightly different note, I did my third race today, Color Me Rad. It was a family and friends effort and way too much fun! Parker was able to volunteer through the Utah Down Syndrome Foundation, and Dad and Porter were his volunteer buddies. Fun was had by all!

Lake Powell Birthday

     

How do I even begin to describe the most perfect 40th birthday! I can't, but you can see it in pictures. Surrounded by extraordinary views, wrapped in the sun's warmth, rocked by the waters of Lake Powell; experiencing all that with some of the best people on the planet! Beats the hospital bed I was in 5 years ago! So grateful for my life and all that is part of it!

Keep Proving Me Wrong!

I did something tonight that I've been afraid to do. I went to Porter's wrestling practice. Not being there was more than just about not wanting to see him fail. It was about not wanting to see what broke his spirit last week. It was about not wanting to see him fail while he was putting every once of his being into doing his best while failing. It was about not wanting to see how much easier it was for the other kids. It was about me wanting to protect him from disappointment. It was about me not knowing how to be there for him, a determined boy being sabotaged by his own body.

He's the one on top.

We actually had a little talk this afternoon before practice. In fact it's been one of a few that Clint and/or I have had with him about his wrestling venture. We know how frustrating it's been for Porter. We wanted to give him an "out" without making it seem like he was quitting or giving up. I think he took that out at least 3 times, including today right after our talk. And then at least 3 times, one time for each time he "quit," he quickly reversed his decision with an emphatic "I'm NOT giving up!" which he repeated a few times for even greater emphasis.
After our talk he went to get ready for practice, shouting "I'M NOT GIVING UP!" a half dozen times as he was changing. So I decided that in order to be there for Porter, I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and be there to cheer him on. I'm so glad he decided not to quit and even more glad that I decided to go to the practice. He did so great! And according to Clint, there has been improvement. There was not a trace of the disappointment and frustration that I saw last week.
As we were walking out Porter turned to me and said, "Mom, are you so proud of me." Yes! Yes! and Yes! Those of you that know us well, know that this isn't the only time Porter has proved us wrong. When will I learn to stop doubting this persistent, determined, and extraordinary kid?

Playoff Osmosis

I'm a sports fan by osmosis. It's part of my life because it's a part of Clint's and Porter's life, oh, and my BFF too. It's not that I don't enjoy sports, its that I don't prefer them. I do enjoy them, live. We've been to four NFL games to watch the Patriots play. Every game was more than fun to watch and every trip was a blast. I've enjoyed the numerous Jazz games I've been to and the occasional baseball game. I love U games, especially when tailgating is involved. I even like school games and matches. I guess I'm more a fan of the goings on around the actual game of whatever sport it might be, the social aspect. I'm sure I talk way too much during the event to be consider a true sports enthusiast.
I've been slightly more interested in this NFL playoff season for various reasons. One, the Patriots are doing well. That's always a good thing at our house. Porter was surprised that Clint had people over to the house for the game against Denver on Saturday. Clint feigned innocence as Porter explained that it would be embarrassing if Clint said bad words like, "Stupid and beeeeep, beeeeep." Porter actually said beep, not the swear words the beeps were intending to mask. It is a it of a worry, but luckily it was a total blow out in the Patriots favor, so we were saved from apologies.
The Saints lost to the Niners, as I'm sure everyone else already knows. I was torn as to who I wanted to win. Alex Smith, the quarterback for the Niners, played at Utah but Ellen likes the Saints. When Porter found out the reason for my confusion he said, "Really mom? Really?" Yes, really. I was once a Dolphins fan because I like dolphins, so there. I did know that I wanted the Ravens to win their game, though that would mean they would be playing the Patriots next week. Haloti Ngata is a former student of mine. In eighth grade he went by Harold. I remember him as a big, friendly kid with great manners.
Sports, whether it be the NBA, NFL, ESPN, NCAA, will always be a part of my life because that's what families do, share a life! (and Clint thinks I'm the one associated with annoying acronyms, ha!)
P.S. Tim Tebow is an extraordinary person. Check him out! The Tim Tebow Foundation

September 20, 2010 "Buddy Walk"

Parker’s Buddy Walk was yesterday. On Monday, I found out that this year there would also be a 5K, so Lexi and I made a last minute decision and signed up. We thought it would be good practice, and a good experience to learn from before we ran our 10K in October. It was not the experience we thought we’d have, but still fun. We did finish in the top 10 (out of a dozen or so people) and we didn’t run a full 5K (the route was about ½ a mile short). But I did run around a 12 minute mile, which surprised me. I knew tand hat I wanted to step it up for the race, but wasn’t quite sure how to keep myself running faster than my normal very slow rate (15 minute mile), and not too fast (interval running) as to burn out. The answer was Cadence, an app for my iTouch. I am not a techie person, but this app is amazing. It took all of the music on my iTouch and arranged it in order by bpm (beats per minute). So I just set it at the bpm I thought would work, and off I went, jogging to the cadence of songs that kept me going and going and going. We finished the race, Lexi before me, and were happy with our efforts. We’re looking forward to our next race!The walk was fun, as always. Seeing so many cute kids, families having fun, and all of the support was great. Parker especially liked the inflatable slide and obstacle course. We could only get him away from those when he saw the train “zoom” by. It was great to see the performance of Rachel Coleman from Signing Time. Parker was following along in his own way, throwing up his arms, waving his hands, and singing. The walk was short and something Parker wasn’t too interested in, but we made him do it anyway. He survived, but was pretty much done after that. It was a beautiful but hot day, he had been going non-stop for a few hours, and after we ate, he was a crabby and stubborn little guy. Clint took the boys home and Lexi and I stayed for the raffle. Parker did get his name drawn and we got a big bowl full of movie treats. All in all it was a great day. Next year, we’re going to organize a team and do some major fundraising to celebrate Parker turning five. Stay tuned!

December 5, 2009 "Goodnight Moon"

“In the great green room

There was a telephone

And a red balloon

And a picture of –

The cow jumping over the moon.”

Those words are from the beloved children’s book Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. Throughout history and across cultures the moon has been an object of fascination and curiosity. This impressive object has also been viewed by some with a little trepidation and fear.  I remember as a child when my dad would remark whenever he saw a “trolling” moon. It was a crescent moon with a single star trailing behind. The star was a bobber, the moon a fisherman. The moon is at the center of one of Korea’s biggest holidays. My mom would celebrate the large harvest moon of fall with food and friends. Unfortunately for us, the moon has become an object that creates a fair amount of angst at our house.

It has been a challenging month and half or so. It has been awhile since I last wrote, I didn’t want to sound hopeless while in the midst of the turmoil. It seems that October, and now going into November, has been our most difficult month year after year. Things are now returning to normal, namely Porter has slept in his bed, all night, since last Saturday evening. Previous to that, it was a good 3 weeks of him sleeping in the basement on a couch. When he wasn’t sleeping he was wandering around the house, or watching tv, or eating, or drinking…

How did we get to that point? Good question. I know specifically that this time, we gave up. Before that 3 weeks of Porter sleeping downstairs, he was trying to sleep anywhere but his room. We’d wake up and he’d be on the floor beside our bed, or in the recliner, or even on the floor in the bathroom. Often, he would end up in these places after waking up in the middle of the night, then waking us up in the middle of the night, and “fighting” us about going back to his bed. As many of you know, parenting is exhausting enough, so we gave in. “Sleep where you want,” we’d say, mostly so that we could get a decent night of rest ourselves.

But sound sleeping isn’t so easy when you’re worried about your child’s physical and mental well being. Because prior to all of the above, going back to when we moved into this house over 3 years ago, Porter began to develop an obsession with the moon. He has anxiety about it and exhibits obsessive and compulsive behaviors because of it. A typical day for Porter would be mentioning and talking about the moon from the moment he woke up until bedtime and all in between. Before dusk he would check out the windows, numerous times, to see if he could spot the moon in the sky. Then while in bed, he would get up and look out his blinds, easily more than a dozen times.

This is a tough situation. There are no easy answers, at least not thus far. We have consulted with psychiatrists (he’s a little young to go that route and we really don’t want him on meds), and he’s met with a naturopathic pediatrician (who has pointed us in to a possible, yet difficult to treat, disorder). Then of course there’s the wondering how much of it is within the realm of developmentally normal, and how much can be attributed to his disability. And finally, questioning our parenting over the years, going back and considering what we did or didn’t do to encourage his challenging bedtime behaviors, though the challenging behaviors are definitely not just limited to bedtime.

There’s so much more I could say, so much to sort out, and though it’s been complicated, even tough at times, life continues to also be wonderful. I’ve always said that for all the ways my boys are challenging, they are easy in so many others. I’m thankful for that and for them.

November 2, 2009 "...celebrate everything"

  

This year we were members of the rock band KISS. Porter’s into KISS, mostly because his best buddy Liam is into KISS (which is also why Porter has defected from the Patriots to the Bengals).  I started with basic black, then embellished with lots of silver. Clint, always a little reluctant, helped with the masks. (I should clarify that he’s not reluctant to help, just to the idea of having to dress up.)
Halloween isn’t really one of our favorite holidays. It’s a holiday that kind of creeps up on us. All of a sudden it’s here and then we’re stressed to complete costumes. But the actual dressing up, hanging out with friends, and trick-or-treating is very fun. And it’s a reason to celebrate, right?

“Until further notice, celebrate everything…” Just last week I was given that saying on a sign made for me by my dear friend’s dear mother. Celebrating everything is what I do a lot of the time. I feel like “celebrating” the different aspects of my life, all the different situations I find myself in, all the people I associate with, and all that I learn along the way. That may sound a little cheesy, or like overkill, but I mean it.

I had a hard day last Friday, probably the first real “bad” day since chemo ended. But it wasn’t too bad, just a little on the unpleasant side compared to all the wonderful days I’ve had over the past two years. And it was actually a buildup of several situations over a few weeks added to a sleep deprived state that finally made me hit a wall. I just let some things get to me that I shouldn’t have regarding interactions with colleagues. In the midst of my pity party, someone said something to me that helped me snap out it. “I can understand how you feel bad about not having any friends,” at work. What? Wait a minute, is that what it sounds like I’m saying? What I meant was that I’m just not really enjoying some of the treatment I’m getting from some of my colleagues. And guess what, they’re not my friends, and thank goodness. Not so sure that I want mean people to be my friends. And another thing, I do have some great friends that I work with, and that’s where my focus and energy should be.
So, I quickly refocused on the friends that are in my heart, both at work and elsewhere, and I became so overcome with emotion so quickly, it really felt as though my heart would burst. I really am so incredibly fortunate to have such wonderful people in my life. And that’s something absolutely worth celebrating.

“… celebrate everything…” because you never know when the event, person, item, relationship, etc… will be gone.

October 12, 2009 "Halloween Costumes"

Halloween: a favorite holiday for some, sacrilege for others, parties, candy, and costumes. My mom doesn’t believe in it. The whole idea actually offends her (which in large part has to do with her religion). My in-laws celebrate it with a whole family party, a tradition started eight or so years ago. It’s a fun holiday, not my favorite(Thanksgiving is), but fun none the less (even though Porter has little interest in candy). 

We started family themed costumes when Porter was 2. Here we are, Porter the Patriots football player (he has since defected to the Bengals), Clint the crazed fan (which he truly is) and me the cheerleader (which I never was). The next year we went with Willy Wonka (Clint), Violet Beauregard (me), and our little Oompa Loompa Porter.

The year before Parker was born it was a law theme. Porter was a motorcycle cop, I was judge, and Clint was the criminal.

The next year Porter was six and had some ideas of his own, though he did before as well. I was just able to sway him to what I wanted. He was into Power Rangers that year, and his favorite color was and still is red. So I incorporated the family theme around him. Parker, a mere 5 months old, became a hotdog. Clint was a chef, I was mustard, and Porter doubled as a red Power Ranger AND ketchup.

The year after that we were going to do a Popeye theme with Clint as Bluto, me as Olive Oyl and Parker as Sweet Pea. That was a crazy month and only Porter’s costume was ready for Halloween. And, just to emphasize how crazy the month was that year, we don’t even have a picture of Porter in his awesome costume.

October 8, 2009 "The Love Master"

Tonight during class I sent off a text to the sitter to see how things are going with Porter. She texts back letting me know that Porter has been sad because of Rachael. I ask for a little more info. It took a couple of texts and a conversation with Porter to piece it all together, but I finally got it figured out.

Rachael’s grandparents live a few houses away. She visits them often and plays with all the kids in the neighborhood. She is a VERY nice, thoughtful, and cute little girl. Porter has known her for 3 years, but this summer he began to develop a “romantic” interest in her. He talks about her often and a couple of weeks ago told me he wanted to ask her to be his girlfriend. I told him two things: he’s too young to have a girlfriend and she was too old for him anyway. Rachael is twelve and Porter is nine. Porter countered with, “How old are you?” I tell him, and then, “And how old is Dad?” I answer that too. “See, Dad’s older than you are.” Yes, but a three year difference is a lot less at our age than it is at his.

Today he went over to Rachael’s grandparent’s house and asked for her phone number, which they gave to him. He then used his sitter’s phone to call her. He told her he thought she was beautiful, nice, and that he loved her. Then he asked Rachel to be his girlfriend. Porter told us that she turned him down because he was only nine. Which is exactly what we emphasize when we talk to him about this whole situation, “You are only nine…. There will be plenty of time for girls and dating when you get older…. You are too young to have a girlfriend….” He said it would be nice to have someone to hold and cuddle with, and of course we agreed, though again emphasizing that there will be plenty of that for him in the future.

Clint told Porter how proud he was that he showed such courage to call a girl and tell her how he felt, even if it didn’t turn out the way he wanted. We talked to him about heartache and that he would most likely experience a lot more of it. And that though now wasn’t the time for this romance to happen, who knows what’s in store for the future. “But I’m the love master,” a self-appointed title.

After a little more discussion, we just laid it out for him and told him, bottom line, he would not be dating anyone at nine years old. It just wasn’t going to happen. Then Clint goes on to explain the parameters under which it would happen, “You’ll be sixteen, or close to it. It will probably be to a school type function.” Whoa, whoa, whoa. We don’t need to discuss this now, do we? And after Porter’s next comment, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t listening to Clint at all anyway. He says, “I want to make out.” Excuse me? And where did you get that from? Thank you Uncle Jesse from Full House, Porter’s new favorite show and second favorite “cool guy.” (His first favorite cool guy is Danny Zuko.)

I am so proud of Porter, of course right? I’m his mom. But it’s more than that, I’m amazed by him. Nothing stands in his way, not his disability, not his speech difficulties, not his age, nothing. I worry about him, probably as much as any parent worries about their child, but then he does something as brave and bold as this and I know, I just know that he’s not only going to be just fine, but that he is just fine now, and in fact so much more than that, he’s AMAZING!

September 12, 2009 "Too Sexy?"

There’s a fashion deputy that lives at my house. His name is Porter. There’s little chance I’ll ever leave the house looking like a hussy under his watch. Porter had a meltdown at the shoe store last week, but let’s start at the beginning.
Last summer, we were invited to an afternoon pool party at the neighbors. It had been over a year since my body had had a good dose of sunshine (chemo, surgeries, etc….). I wasn’t going to get in the pool (still going through reconstruction), but I definitely wanted some sun. I came downstairs wearing a tank top, sat down for breakfast, and was almost immediately accosted. Porter reached over and grabbed the middle of the tank top, pulled it up, and informed me, in his own words, that my boobs were showing and that was not acceptable for a mom, and more specifically, for his mom. I explained that since we were going to a pool party, that a tank top was indeed acceptable attire, and that he’d just have to live with it. Little did I know…
Porter is my shopping partner. We shop pretty much everywhere together, though I think those times are becoming numbered as he is growing up and growing bored of the whole process. Shortly after the pool party, I took Porter to a store with me to find more tank tops for the rest of the summer. I looked around, put some in the carts to try on, then approached a halter type top, a sleeveless one that tied at the neck. As I reached for it, Porter blocked my arm and says, “No way, not my mom.” So I asked him what was wrong with the top to which he replied, “It’s too sexy.”We’ve had other incidents since then with other outfits and even with my hair. I have been told that I can’t wear my hair a certain way because I’m a mom, not a kid. And he’s never liked my hair pulled back. The latest was over a pair of boots, the ones he had a melt down over. I looked all last year for a pair of knee high boots I could wear with capris and skirts. So, of course, I find a pair when I’m not meaning to. Before I even try them on, Porter tells me that I’m not going to get them. I try them on, and he’s getting anxious. Then we go through the “Not my mom,” rants and he tells me it’s because they are too sexy and his mom doesn’t wear sexy clothes. I try to calm him down by showing him boots with stiletto heels and other shoes that are “sexy,” but he’s not having it. In fact, at one point he said to me, “Who are you?”

Porter modeling the "too sexy" boots.

Porter went into full meltdown mode when I told him that I was indeed going to purchase these boots. The quivering pouty lip of his babyhood was front and center. Big crocodile tears were rolling down his face. I elicited the help of the sales lady to give “her opinion” of how “professional” the boots looked. Porter had to go to the restroom to try to get himself together. It didn’t quite work. I finally told him that if we took them home and Dad said they were too sexy I would return them. Of course I knew Clint wouldn’t say that, because as you can see, they are not too sexy. I wonder what brought all this awareness on? how long it will last? and if Halloween will be the only time I’m allowed to leave the house looking like a hussy?

August 30, 2009 "Back to School"

“I gotta go back, back, back to school again… Whoa whoa, I gotta go….Back to School….AGAIN!” Porter loves Grease, especially Danny Zuko, so I thought that would be a fitting intro for this post.  Just like many others, we all headed back to school this week. Parker started preschool and Porter started fouth grade. I went back to work the week before, the kids came back this week. I also started school, again. I’m taking a couple of classes towards my admin license. I’m just a school junkie!

So, our tiny Parker started school. Hard to believe he’s 3. He’s still not there in clothes size, but he has grown, a little. Clint has been very worried about Parker going to school. He is being transported by bus from daycare, two mornings a week. Clint has had very disturbing thoughts of Parker getting lost, left on the bus, wandering off without notice, etc…. “He’s just so small…” Clint made a plan to observe the drop off process and after dropping Porter off, went straight over to Parker’s school. I called him later that morning to see how it went. Clint said, “I think I made it worse,” and I replied, “Made what worse?” Then Clint tells me how Parker started crying when he saw Clint. “WHAT? He saw you?” Ay yi yi! “You didn’t just watch from the truck?” “No, I got out and he saw me,” then Clint went on to explain the exiting process, the adult to kid ratio, and how Parker got “carried” off the bus and the other kiddos got help “walking” off. Needless to say, Clint seems to feel okay with the process now. Phew!

Apparently, there is a party at Porter’s school each morning before the bell. He walked to school one morning with his best buddy, which I wasn’t aware of until the next morning (Clint gets him ready for school and I had a couple late nights away from home this week). He was begging to call his buddy (at 7 a.m.) to see if he wanted to walk again. I told him he had to wait a little while; it was just too early to be calling people. Then he told me about how they walked, got to school early, and “Mom, it’s like a party! Kids are playing football and basketball. We’re talking and hanging out!” Wow! I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard school described in quite that way, but I’m definitely excited that he’s still excited about school. It amazes me, that in spite of his challenges, he enjoys school so much, and it’s not just the social aspect, he loves to learn, even if he doesn’t do it in quite the same way as other kids.

As for me, I’m not a classroom teacher this year. I’m the data specialist for our school, a new position and one I’ll be inventing and reinventing along the way. I’m excited to work towards improving instruction for our students, which means working on equity and the achievement gap. My admin classes and job go together nicely, and it doesn’t hurt that I should have a more flexible schedule. Though I do miss having students, I still get to see the ones I had last year, and hope to be getting to know the incoming seventh graders too!

August 3, 2009 "Moments"

“Live in the moment.” This is much easier said than done. It’s definitely become much easier for me to do because of all that’s happened in my life, especially the threat of life ending. So I did that, especially well this past week while I was in San Diego for a business/pleasure trip. I worked hard and played equally hard. While in class, I was focused on the task(s) at hand. When out and about, I enjoyed whatever it was we happened to be doing. I didn’t worry too much about before or later, tomorrow or next, what ifs or might have beens. I just lived in the now, the moment as it was happening. This is probably why “Feel out of sorts; not sure where to start?” was my facebook post upon my return.

I do feel a little out of sorts. I finished a big project before I left on my trip. I finally got our master bedroom totally and completely unpacked (after having moved in 3 years ago). Laundry was caught up before I packed and my mom and Clint did other various cleaning and home projects in my absence. While away, I did not watch tv, not once, didn’t even turn it on. I also didn’t read any newspapers, which I do on a daily basis while home. My life consisted of learning about AVID (Advancement Via Individual Determination)and vacationing in San Diego.

I managed to talk to my family each day I was gone. Porter had a meltdown a couple of days before I was going to leave, afraid that I would somehow “die” while away, or on the way, or when on the way back. He ended up going with Clint to take me to the airport and was fine about it. But something happened with Porter that made me feel that I missed a big moment here. He went from a size 3 shoe to a size 5! How is this possible in a week’s time! How could my “big boy baby” grow up like that! Whoa! Slow down! Truth be told, his 3s were probably a little too small, and the 5s a bit too big, but still. Parker also looked much more grown up, due no doubt to a week on grandma’s feeding schedule.

It took a full day for my body to recover, sleeping most of the day after my return. I call this the “vacation hangover.” My mind is still recovering, which is the “not sure where to start,” comes in. I’ve been easing back into normalcy. I’m caught up on news, updated my book journal, and have been playing with Parker and reading. Truth is, this is not normalcy either. Normal will be when I return to work after 2 more weeks of summer vacation. I don’t want to think about it, so I’m going back to living in the moment, starting with this moment.

July 9, 2009 "Picture Perfect"

Family Reunion / Henry's Lake, Island Park

Inconvenient location, forms to fill out, long lines, terrible service; any guesses? I’m headed to the DMV today to replace my stolen license, a license that has been missing since May 22. That should give some indication of how eager I am to do this. In fact, I brought my passport from when I was 2 (had my birth date on it) and my University ID to the last girls night we had so that I could get into a bar. Talk about inconvenient!  So this morning I will be preparing myself for my “photo,” one that will last into the next decade, if not lost or stolen before then.

I’ve become a bit of a stranger to pictures, especially if you consider my history. My high school years were spent in a darkroom, mixing chemicals, loading film, and developing pictures as a photographer for the school paper. I also spent time at athletic games and other school functions capturing moments of high school high jinks. Then as a teacher, I was the yearbook advisor at my middle school for 6 years. For many years of my life a camera was pretty much just an extension of my arm.
In the first year of Porter’s life, I went through at least 50 rolls of film. Clint would often joke that we needed to add another line item to our budget for film purchase and developing alone. That wasn’t far from the truth especially if you figure in all the portraits we had taken (3 months, 6 months, 9 months, etc…) In fact, I documented each day of the first 20 days of his life, the entire time he spent at Primary’s in the NICU. That was the first album I did for him and I filled several more after that, diligently “scrapbooking” my way through the next 5 years of his life.
I would always have a camera at different gatherings of friends and family, snapping away to create those perfect memories for future enjoyment. What I eventually came to realize was that my need to create memories was interfering with the actual moment I was supposed to be enjoying.

Fast forward to now. I haven’t done a scrapbook for Parker, not one. I had Parker’s 1 year pictures taken on his birthday, which happened to be the day my wallet was stolen, and I have yet to go in and place my order (also on my list for today). I now often hear “I’m surprised Kellie doesn’t have her camera. She always has a camera.” I have once again become the yearbook advisor, but this time around I forget to bring my camera more than half the time and have to go back to my room to grab it, hoping that I remembered to charge the batteries.
I know when it was that things changed, it started after Parker was born and continued as I went through chemo, surgeries, and recovery for breast cancer. I did document Parker’s early life, he too spent time in the Primary’s NICU. But I did not like the fact that we were having a repeat performance there. To be honest, I was having a difficult time dealing with the fact that Parker had Down Syndrome. I continued to take pictures of his development, skipped the 3 month portraits, but got the 6 and 9 month ones. So I have pictures of Parker’s first year, but none are in an album or scrapbook of any sort.

Unfortunately, the end of Parker’s first year corresponded with my breast cancer diagnosis and the beginning of my treatments. By his first birthday I was bald. There are very few pictures, comparatively speaking, of our family during 2007. And since then, I have found that I just want to be in the moment and taking pictures seems to interfere with that. Looking through a lens seems artificial to me now, with all the posing and posturing. I often feel like taking a picture stops the momentum of the experience that is unfolding in front of me. I want to see things as they are. I know there is a compromise and I’m searching for it. Photography was a love of mine, not that I hate it now, I just think of it differently. The challenge is being able to create what I really do see in the moments that I see them and for the pictures I take to reflect that. The picture above illustrates what I’m attempting to explain. It is one of the few pictures I took during 2007.

July 7, 2009 "Bare Feet"

I love the way Porter smells of sweat and sunshine after a long day of summer play. I also love staying up late, sleeping in, and snoozing in the middle of the afternoon. I get to enjoy reading the paper, drinking coffee, and eating all while outside on the deck. There’s also sleepovers, sprinklers, and swimming; baseball, bikes, and barbeques. The list of what I love about summer could truly go on and on. But I’ll conclude with an explanation of just one more thing I love about summer, bare feet.

After a long winter, one of the things I most look forward to is when the weather cooperates with my desire to shed my socks. Conversely, one of the low points of fall is finally giving in and putting those socks back on. I start no-sock season as soon as I can, usually with a pedicure and leg shave, then I try to make it last for as long as possible.
I used to be a little self-conscious about my feet and would never wear open toed shoes or sandals. I finally realized that life is too short for such nonsense, and this was even before I had cancer. I now have lots of open toed shoes, sandals and flip flops and I get lots of pedicures too.
So for me, bare feet include sockless feet as well as going bare foot, which I also enjoy. I love that I can  feel the cool grass, warm pavement, hot deck, and wet pool. I also love looking at the bare feet of my kids, especially Parker’s chubby little feet. I remember a piece of random advice from a parent of a child with Down Syndrome. She told me that Payless was a good source of wide shoes since kids with Down Syndrome tend to have wide feet. The interesting thing is Parker’s feet are not wide in width but in height. It’s a little challenging to get his feet in shoes and sandals because of the “fat” or “chub” that rounds out the tops of his feet.

Bare feet are a huge issue for my mom. We grew up not wearing shoes in the house. There was always a pile of shoes down by the door where we took off our shoes as soon as we entered or put them on right before we left. When we brought friends home, as soon as we cracked the door to go in the house we would immediately here, “TAKE YOUR SHOES OFF!” My mom would always feel the need to remind us, even though we have lived with her our entire lives and know the expectation.
I have to admit; at times it made me feel awkward to make my friends take their shoes off. I already felt different enough. This was also the era of Converse high tops, with all the laces, not to mention the possibility of sharing sweaty, stinky feet. At least my mom didn’t make our friends wash their feet while at our house, she reserved that just for us.
Though I consider my mom’s behavior regarding shoes and feet to be slightly obsessive, I have witnessed her friends who vacuum immediately after company leaves and who wear shoes inside which have been designated for indoor use only. Inside shoes do not go outside and outside shoes don’t come in.

I did a little “research” on this topic (surfed the net) to try and find an explanation for this practice. Koreans do a lot of living activities on the floor. They sleep on the floor, sit on the floor while eating, and hang out on the floor when visiting with company. So it would make sense that you wouldn’t want to be soiling the floor you eat off of. It definitely is a “cleaner” way to go and makes for a lot less wear and tear on flooring. It makes sense, it’s just inconvenient.

July 4, 2009 "It's Complicated Part Dul*"

As usual, I thought of more to say related to the “It’s complicated….” post. For starters, how many of you give much thought to the boxes you check on numerous applications that indicate race? I’ve always had to think about it. It’s never been just a quick X, and on I go. Over 20 years ago is when I first started filling out applications, first for jobs, then college, then credit cards and so on. I always felt like checking only Caucasian would be a denial of my mother and checking only Pacific Islander/Asian would be denial of my father. I also always wondered why Pacific Islander and Asian were put together, though lately I have seen them as separate choices.
I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t check only one box. So I would either put an X in two boxes, or I would actually write ½ in each box. Sometimes I would check Other, and give no further explanation. Sometimes I would write “bi-racial” for Other and leave it at that. The more applications I filled out, the more frustrated I got with the whole process. I know that most of the time it’s optional, but I still felt the need to enter my info, more to show them that we all don’t fit in a neat little box than anything.
Over the years, the boxes have changed. Some of the classifications have changed to make them more politically correct. I’ve even seen bi-racial, and sometimes the directions will say check all that apply. America is a nation of variety. My paternal grandparents, born in the United States, were full Swedes. You’d never know that by looking at me, but they are.

A friend reminded me of a term used to describe me when I was young, “half and half.” It wasn’t meant to hurt or insult me, and I didn’t take offense to it. In fact, I think my friend who is half Japanese and half Caucasian came up with the term. And though I know I’m part Asian, I still feel a little surprised when someone puts a lot of emphasis on it or labels me in that way. I feel American more than anything. I was and still am influenced by my mother’s culture, but I grew up here in the States.

Here’s another interesting thing about my heritage. When Parker was born, and there were quiet whispers in the delivery room, we suspected that he probably had Down Syndrome. We already knew it was a possibility, and the reactions of the OR staff pretty much confirmed it. Even so, I remember visiting with the pediatrician later that day. He was going over some of the characteristics of Down Syndrome that he saw in Parker, all the while comparing them to Asian features. He has almond shaped eyes, as do Asians. He has small features, as do Asians. He had a small nose with a flat bridge, as do Asians. The consensus was that he most likely had Down Syndrome, though having Asian ancestry made it just a little more complicated to confirm. We waited 3 weeks for that confirmation.

My sister has a blond haired blue eyed daughter. If I hadn’t been there for her delivery, I would probably still be wondering about that one. You’re probably thinking, “Oh, it must be the Swedish grandparents.” All I can say for now is, “Nope,” and that maybe there will be an explanation in a future post.

Still happy to be an American, and a representation of many cultures.

*Dul is the Korean word for two. Just wanted to clarify that my mom is from South Korea.

July 3, 2009 "It's Complicated"

“Where are you from?” is a question that is a pretty common one for me. I always say, “Idaho Falls,” an answer that usually puts a perplexing look on the inquirer and was obviously not what they expected me to say. Since the inquirer is not satisfied another question is asked, “Where were you born?” to which I answer, “England.” Now they’re really thrown off. So, I help them get to the point and I ask the next question, “Do you mean why do I look the way I do? It’s because my mom is Korean.” Sometimes after that I get one more question, “What is your dad?”

Sometimes a person may ask me about my “heritage” or “ancestry” but most of the time they ask me where I’m from. I guess that means they think I’m from a different country, and I am, just not one of the ones they initially thought. Usually they assume I’m from China or Japan, Korea is never usually their first guess. Every once in awhile, someone will ask me if I’m Hawaiian. Nope, I’m half Korean and half Caucasian, though on paper I’m considered Eurasian since I was born in Europe. In fact, I used to think that I was a Raisin, not as in the dried up fruit, but as in the name of a race. I thought this from the time I was given that information until sixth grade when my teacher corrected me. That was when I found out that my dad told me I was Eurasian, not “You’re a Raisin.”

It was interesting growing up in a predominately white area, and when I say predominately I mean easily over 95 Caucasian. I was teased and made fun of, but who knows, that might have happened even if I wasn’t half Asian. I was also asked if I was related to any other Asian that anyone happened to know that lived in our city. I would have to explain that so and so was actually Japanese or Chinese and then sometimes even go on to further explain that yes, that was different than being Korean.
I remember a time when my friend and I were leaving one of our college classes. We had just been given our test scores, which were graded on a curve, though it didn’t help much since there were students who scored relatively high. My friend said something like, “I wish those Asians would go home and go to school in their countries.” Whoa, what was that? I quickly replied that most of the “Asians” in our class were probably born here in the States, and regardless, it’s not their fault that she didn’t do better on the test. I was also thinking, “Do you see me?” She didn’t consider me to be Asian, for whatever reasons, maybe I wasn’t smart enough.

I became a naturalized citizen of the United States when I was around 9 years old. I was born in England because my dad was in the Air Force and he was stationed there. I consider myself fortunate to be an American citizen. I look at the many various countries and all the different people and think that I could have been born anywhere, but I was born to an American father. That, in and of itself, has given me opportunities that many can’t even imagine. Our country is facing some challenges right now, but in comparison to what other countries are dealing with, I’ll take it.

“Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty… I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.” -  Theodore Roosevelt

Cheers to being an American!