Looking back on this December, it's no wonder it seemed to me like it's been on steroids. In addition to the usual holiday stuff, I had my final two weeks of classes, followed by a graduation ceremony, smack in the middle of the busiest time of the year at work.
It really was on steroids.
I've been goin' 240 with my hair on fire since about a week before Thanksgiving, and I think my body's trying to tell me something. This week, in the aftermath of Christmas, I've been ready for bed by approximately eight o'clock each evening.
I'm gonna go ahead and take my body's advice, in the interest of not completely burning out. Stay tuned for updates about graduation, Christmas, and everything else that's happened this month.
Just as soon as I catch up on some rest.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
'Twas the Week After Christmas
For all of my fellow customer service professionals (especially my coworkers, for whom this was really written), this post proves I spent way too much time over the weekend fantasizing about how dead work would be this week.
And, so, without further ado, I give you: 'Twas the Week After Christmas.
And, so, without further ado, I give you: 'Twas the Week After Christmas.
***
‘Twas the week after Christmas, and all through the site
You could hear a pin drop; it was quiet as night.
No cutting, no ripping, no tape-tearing sound,
No more scraps of paper fluttering to the ground.
The gift card rack looked pathetic and light,
But at least there was time to make everything right.
Just over the shell-shock, all the reps took a gasp.
We surveyed the damage and got down to the task.
The gift cards were straightened, the paperwork stowed,
The leftover gift wrap tucked away with the bows.
Email inboxes were cleaned, and reminder lists;
Cryptic Post-Its deciphered and handled and pitched.
Shelves were straightened and desks wiped down,
Decorations gathered from all around.
Computers, printers, and faxes unburied,
To their rightful places the last objects were carried.
Having just lived through the week that is our biggest fear,
We reps can now rest and ring in the New Year.
Though the battle scars are fresh and our backs still in
pain,
We have almost a year 'til we do it again.
***
***
Friday, December 16, 2011
Story Time: Part Two
Feeling emboldened by our recent "successful" story time (and by successful, I mean she stayed in the same room with me and the book remained intact), I thought I'd give it another shot.
Around 8:00 on Tuesday evening, I grabbed my Winnie the Pooh treasury, held out my hand for The Princess, and we walked into her room together. What happened there was nothing short of extraordinary.
She hopped up in bed and snuggled up with Arlington and DP, her twinkling eyes looking at me expectantly.
I started reading.
She smiled and squirmed around a little bit, and - at one point - left the room for about thirty seconds.
I kept reading.
She came back in, surveyed her surroundings, and climbed in my lap. Arlington joined us, and the more I read, the more The Princess melted into me.
We got through the entire second story in this treasury, one about Pooh and Piglet building a house for Eeyore. When I stopped reading and closed the book, my girl turned her sleepy little eyes on me and gave me a hug before settling in with Arlie and DP again.
The Hubbs and I tucked them all in, and I'm still amazed.
Story Time is becoming a nightly occurrence in my house. No doubt about it.
Around 8:00 on Tuesday evening, I grabbed my Winnie the Pooh treasury, held out my hand for The Princess, and we walked into her room together. What happened there was nothing short of extraordinary.
She hopped up in bed and snuggled up with Arlington and DP, her twinkling eyes looking at me expectantly.
I started reading.
She smiled and squirmed around a little bit, and - at one point - left the room for about thirty seconds.
I kept reading.
She came back in, surveyed her surroundings, and climbed in my lap. Arlington joined us, and the more I read, the more The Princess melted into me.
We got through the entire second story in this treasury, one about Pooh and Piglet building a house for Eeyore. When I stopped reading and closed the book, my girl turned her sleepy little eyes on me and gave me a hug before settling in with Arlie and DP again.
The Hubbs and I tucked them all in, and I'm still amazed.
Story Time is becoming a nightly occurrence in my house. No doubt about it.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Today is the Day...and I Done
Graduation is tonight!
*
A few nights ago, The Princess came into the living room holding an unidentifiable object. When I asked to see what she had, she brought it to me and immediately handed it over.
Upon closer inspection, the object revealed itself as a completely harmless piece of paper. As soon as I realized this, I returned it to The Princess.
She took it for a split second, smiled, and handed it back while looking me in the eye.
And then she said, "I done."
And she walked away as though this is nothing out of the ordinary.
Me? I'm still trying to catch my breath.
*
A few nights ago, The Princess came into the living room holding an unidentifiable object. When I asked to see what she had, she brought it to me and immediately handed it over.
Upon closer inspection, the object revealed itself as a completely harmless piece of paper. As soon as I realized this, I returned it to The Princess.
She took it for a split second, smiled, and handed it back while looking me in the eye.
And then she said, "I done."
And she walked away as though this is nothing out of the ordinary.
Me? I'm still trying to catch my breath.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
1...and Story Time
One more day until graduation.
*
The Princess is four and a half years old. She does not speak. She will stim all day if you let her. She rarely (if ever, depending upon who you are) responds to verbal requests, though this particular point is getting better on a daily basis for those closest to her. She has sensory issues. The littlest thing can set her off. Try as I might, I can rarely figure out what triggers her meltdowns. All I can do is hold her and soothe her the best I can.
All of the autism stuff aside, this has got to be the most generally happy kid I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I consider myself lucky as hell that God chose me to be her momma. I feel blessed every day for what I have with her, her daddy, and our splendiferous pooches.
But my heart breaks a little every day, too. Other moms of four-and-a-half-year-olds are taking them to see Santa at the mall, having their pictures taken with their smiling faces reflected perfectly in the camera lens. These other little ones are writing their names and holding amazing conversations. They sit quietly in their rooms and read, because they want to.
The Princess couldn't possibly understand an abstract concept like Santa Claus. She can't tell anyone what she wants for Christmas, because she doesn't speak. She also has no interest in television or most other things that are marketed for kids her age, so it's a moot point, anyway. Taking a picture with a stranger in a loud, hot, crowded mall? Forget about it. Writing? Not yet. We're still in the I'd-rather-eat-crayons-than-draw-on-the-paper stage. Conversations? I'd be happy with the ability to say yes and no. Hell, I don't even care if it's verbal. Shaking or nodding her head would be the coolest thing in the history of the world. Reading? More like tearing the pages out of books and stimming to her heart's content with the scraps.
Our girl has received many books, as most little ones do. The difference between her and these other kids is that she doesn't seem to understand what books are all about. After a few misguided attempts to let her figure them out, the surviving volumes have been moved to a safer place, out of her reach and - largely - out of our minds.
The Hubbs and I love to read. I know a lot of people say this, but we mean it. When given the option to watch TV or read a book, we'll almost always choose the latter. Throw on a little bit of classical music and we're good to go for the entire evening. In case you're interested, we've been playing the heck out of Pandora's Mannheim Steamroller Christmas station lately.
Sunday evening, The Princess climbed up on the loveseat with me while I was reading, and she snuggled up next to me in the sweetest little hug. After drinking in her affection for a few minutes, I slipped to the basement where her books are, and I grabbed two choices: the original Winnie the Pooh treasury and Wet Albert.
I brought both books upstairs and gave her a choice. She chose Pooh Bear, so I put Wet Albert away for the time being and The Princess, Pooh, and I went into her bedroom.
I read her the entire first short story, one about Piglet and a Heffalump, before bed. Did she sit still? No. Did she hang on every word? No. But she paid attention in her way. She spent those 20 or so minutes in constant contact with me, climbing all over me as I read her the story. From time to time, I asked what she thought, and she mumbled back at me. Not in English, but hey...I'll take what I can get. I stopped a couple of times to either rearrange myself or take a breath, and she went forehead-to-forehead with me until I started again.
She loved it.
I loved it.
Finally. She's four and a half, and I can finally have story time with my daughter.
*
The Princess is four and a half years old. She does not speak. She will stim all day if you let her. She rarely (if ever, depending upon who you are) responds to verbal requests, though this particular point is getting better on a daily basis for those closest to her. She has sensory issues. The littlest thing can set her off. Try as I might, I can rarely figure out what triggers her meltdowns. All I can do is hold her and soothe her the best I can.
All of the autism stuff aside, this has got to be the most generally happy kid I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I consider myself lucky as hell that God chose me to be her momma. I feel blessed every day for what I have with her, her daddy, and our splendiferous pooches.
But my heart breaks a little every day, too. Other moms of four-and-a-half-year-olds are taking them to see Santa at the mall, having their pictures taken with their smiling faces reflected perfectly in the camera lens. These other little ones are writing their names and holding amazing conversations. They sit quietly in their rooms and read, because they want to.
The Princess couldn't possibly understand an abstract concept like Santa Claus. She can't tell anyone what she wants for Christmas, because she doesn't speak. She also has no interest in television or most other things that are marketed for kids her age, so it's a moot point, anyway. Taking a picture with a stranger in a loud, hot, crowded mall? Forget about it. Writing? Not yet. We're still in the I'd-rather-eat-crayons-than-draw-on-the-paper stage. Conversations? I'd be happy with the ability to say yes and no. Hell, I don't even care if it's verbal. Shaking or nodding her head would be the coolest thing in the history of the world. Reading? More like tearing the pages out of books and stimming to her heart's content with the scraps.
Our girl has received many books, as most little ones do. The difference between her and these other kids is that she doesn't seem to understand what books are all about. After a few misguided attempts to let her figure them out, the surviving volumes have been moved to a safer place, out of her reach and - largely - out of our minds.
The Hubbs and I love to read. I know a lot of people say this, but we mean it. When given the option to watch TV or read a book, we'll almost always choose the latter. Throw on a little bit of classical music and we're good to go for the entire evening. In case you're interested, we've been playing the heck out of Pandora's Mannheim Steamroller Christmas station lately.
Sunday evening, The Princess climbed up on the loveseat with me while I was reading, and she snuggled up next to me in the sweetest little hug. After drinking in her affection for a few minutes, I slipped to the basement where her books are, and I grabbed two choices: the original Winnie the Pooh treasury and Wet Albert.
I brought both books upstairs and gave her a choice. She chose Pooh Bear, so I put Wet Albert away for the time being and The Princess, Pooh, and I went into her bedroom.
I read her the entire first short story, one about Piglet and a Heffalump, before bed. Did she sit still? No. Did she hang on every word? No. But she paid attention in her way. She spent those 20 or so minutes in constant contact with me, climbing all over me as I read her the story. From time to time, I asked what she thought, and she mumbled back at me. Not in English, but hey...I'll take what I can get. I stopped a couple of times to either rearrange myself or take a breath, and she went forehead-to-forehead with me until I started again.
She loved it.
I loved it.
Finally. She's four and a half, and I can finally have story time with my daughter.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
2...and Spaghetti-O's
Two days until graduation. Eee!
*
Remember when I told you about the pistachio pudding? Well, apparently Spaghetti-O's are right up there.
This weekend, The Princess carefully spooned four bowls (in a row...my little bottomless pit!) into her mouth. Sitting at her little white table (topless...I'm no fool), she shoveled that stuff in like it was goin' out of style. Looks like we're entering yet another growth spurt for our little bean pole.
We've also noticed recently that she really seems to favor her right hand. Seems like we might have a little righty living in the room next door. :)
*
Remember when I told you about the pistachio pudding? Well, apparently Spaghetti-O's are right up there.
This weekend, The Princess carefully spooned four bowls (in a row...my little bottomless pit!) into her mouth. Sitting at her little white table (topless...I'm no fool), she shoveled that stuff in like it was goin' out of style. Looks like we're entering yet another growth spurt for our little bean pole.
We've also noticed recently that she really seems to favor her right hand. Seems like we might have a little righty living in the room next door. :)
Monday, December 12, 2011
3...and the Potty
Three days until graduation.
*
So many things happened this weekend, I don't really even know where to start. I guess I'll just start at the beginning and split into separate posts for each accomplishment.
Really. They're all that big.
Well, here goes.
After work on Friday, I looked at The Princess and asked her if she had to go potty. I wasn't expecting any more of a reaction than simple eye contact. I'm not new here. I know how this goes.
Not only did I receive the expected eye contact, but she also smiled, walked across the room, pulled her pants down, sat on her pink froggy potty, and went.
For those of you who may be missing the magnitude of this event, let me spell it out a little more clearly for you.
My girl followed a verbal request. My girl. Verbal. No coaxing. No leading. No modeling. I asked her something, she immediately understood, and she did it.
Now, going on past experience, I'm well aware of the fact that these breakthroughs can sometimes be a shot in the dark. Some people call them "Elvis sightings," a term with which I am in love. It's the perfect explanation. You never know when or where they're going to happen, but when they do, it's amazing. And you never know if they'll happen again. Like, ever.
Let me just reassure you here: this was no Elvis sighting. By Sunday, she was pulling her pants down and walking to the potty herself when she had to go. Okay, so the sequence is something we have to work on. We don't want her letting the cat out in public to show she has to go potty, but, hey...this is progress.
Baby steps, y'all. Gigantic, wonderful baby steps.
*
So many things happened this weekend, I don't really even know where to start. I guess I'll just start at the beginning and split into separate posts for each accomplishment.
Really. They're all that big.
Well, here goes.
After work on Friday, I looked at The Princess and asked her if she had to go potty. I wasn't expecting any more of a reaction than simple eye contact. I'm not new here. I know how this goes.
Not only did I receive the expected eye contact, but she also smiled, walked across the room, pulled her pants down, sat on her pink froggy potty, and went.
For those of you who may be missing the magnitude of this event, let me spell it out a little more clearly for you.
My girl followed a verbal request. My girl. Verbal. No coaxing. No leading. No modeling. I asked her something, she immediately understood, and she did it.
Now, going on past experience, I'm well aware of the fact that these breakthroughs can sometimes be a shot in the dark. Some people call them "Elvis sightings," a term with which I am in love. It's the perfect explanation. You never know when or where they're going to happen, but when they do, it's amazing. And you never know if they'll happen again. Like, ever.
Let me just reassure you here: this was no Elvis sighting. By Sunday, she was pulling her pants down and walking to the potty herself when she had to go. Okay, so the sequence is something we have to work on. We don't want her letting the cat out in public to show she has to go potty, but, hey...this is progress.
Baby steps, y'all. Gigantic, wonderful baby steps.
Friday, December 9, 2011
6...and Lighter
Six days until graduation.
*
I woke this morning before my alarm clock went off, and I was really, truly awake. I don't remember the last time that happened when someone wasn't sick. The digital display glowed 6:13 in my face, and I had no desire to turn back over to embark upon my daily battle with the snooze button.
Getting out of bed, I felt good. In the last fifteen minutes or so, I've noticed that my shoulders aren't hunched. I'm sitting and standing a bit straighter. My back doesn't hurt today. I'm smiling for no reason. I feel lighter somehow.
Last night, I completed my oral final in Spanish. My math class is done. All that's left is the written Spanish final, and that will be done from home.
I hadn't been able to see how run-down I'd become with the weight of all these classes. It's like suddenly letting out that whoosh of air when you didn't even realize you'd been holding your breath.
*
I woke this morning before my alarm clock went off, and I was really, truly awake. I don't remember the last time that happened when someone wasn't sick. The digital display glowed 6:13 in my face, and I had no desire to turn back over to embark upon my daily battle with the snooze button.
Getting out of bed, I felt good. In the last fifteen minutes or so, I've noticed that my shoulders aren't hunched. I'm sitting and standing a bit straighter. My back doesn't hurt today. I'm smiling for no reason. I feel lighter somehow.
Last night, I completed my oral final in Spanish. My math class is done. All that's left is the written Spanish final, and that will be done from home.
I hadn't been able to see how run-down I'd become with the weight of all these classes. It's like suddenly letting out that whoosh of air when you didn't even realize you'd been holding your breath.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
7...and Hammy
7 days until graduation, y'all. I'm gettin' anxious now.
*
My brother, Hambone, is fifteen months and sixteen days older than me...not that I'm counting or anything. On this very day in 1979, he entered this world.
I've known him for my entire life. I can't remember a time in my childhood when he wasn't there; we were inseparable. To paraphrase one of my favorite Forrest Gump quotes, we was like peas and carrots. Where he went, I went. What he did, I did.
Rollerskating.
BMX jumping, racing, you name it.
A brief stint with skateboarding, the most interesting part of which for me was when Pop stole Hammy's board and flew down the hill toward Mr. Burger's house, going @$$ over apricots without ever spilling a drop of his beer, jumping up in a Superbowl-worthy victory dance. It's one of those heroic things only a daddy can really pull off, and I'll never forget it.
Art.
The CB lot, fox hunts, a whole new group of friends.
As we've gotten older, things have gotten a bit more complicated. Now there are separate households to run, jobs to work, responsibilities that weren't there ten, fifteen, twenty years ago. But here's the beauty of being a sibling: complicated or not, he's still my big brother. More often complicated than not, I'm still his little sister.
We may not agree on every point, but there's one thing I know for sure. As long as I walk this earth, I'm here for him.
Big brother, if by some weird twist of fate you're sitting in front of someone's computer and reading this, I want you to know that - no matter what - you've got a friend in me.
I love you.
Happy 32nd birthday, Bro.
*
My brother, Hambone, is fifteen months and sixteen days older than me...not that I'm counting or anything. On this very day in 1979, he entered this world.
I've known him for my entire life. I can't remember a time in my childhood when he wasn't there; we were inseparable. To paraphrase one of my favorite Forrest Gump quotes, we was like peas and carrots. Where he went, I went. What he did, I did.
Rollerskating.
BMX jumping, racing, you name it.
A brief stint with skateboarding, the most interesting part of which for me was when Pop stole Hammy's board and flew down the hill toward Mr. Burger's house, going @$$ over apricots without ever spilling a drop of his beer, jumping up in a Superbowl-worthy victory dance. It's one of those heroic things only a daddy can really pull off, and I'll never forget it.
Art.
The CB lot, fox hunts, a whole new group of friends.
As we've gotten older, things have gotten a bit more complicated. Now there are separate households to run, jobs to work, responsibilities that weren't there ten, fifteen, twenty years ago. But here's the beauty of being a sibling: complicated or not, he's still my big brother. More often complicated than not, I'm still his little sister.
We may not agree on every point, but there's one thing I know for sure. As long as I walk this earth, I'm here for him.
Big brother, if by some weird twist of fate you're sitting in front of someone's computer and reading this, I want you to know that - no matter what - you've got a friend in me.
I love you.
Happy 32nd birthday, Bro.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
8...and Feelin' It
Graduation has been something of an abstract concept to me during the past two years. Spending all of my time running between work, school, being a wife, homework, projects, being a mom, and everything else that goes along with all of that, I haven't really had time to stop and think.
I got my cap and gown yesterday.
Graduation is a week from tomorrow.
I'm finally startin' to feel it. This is real. It's happening.
I actually teared up a little when I tried on the cap and gown last night.
All of a sudden, the abstract doesn't seem so abstract after all.
I got my cap and gown yesterday.
Graduation is a week from tomorrow.
I'm finally startin' to feel it. This is real. It's happening.
I actually teared up a little when I tried on the cap and gown last night.
All of a sudden, the abstract doesn't seem so abstract after all.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
9...and the Spoon
As we get closer to Christmas, I have a feeling my posts will be getting shorter and shorter. This is our busiest time of year at work, and it's getting a little crazy already.
The Princess has been working very diligently at school to improve her self-feeding skills, and the results are...well, let's call them spotty.
Last night, The Hubbs made instant pudding for an evening snack. Our little girl sat patiently at her table, working carefully with her spoon until every last bit of that pudding was gone.
This is the first time in her life she's managed to "clean" a dish using only a spoon. Not a morsel ended up on the table, the floor, her fingers, her face, or her clothes.
Not a morsel.
To say I am proud would be a gross understatement.
The Princess has been working very diligently at school to improve her self-feeding skills, and the results are...well, let's call them spotty.
Last night, The Hubbs made instant pudding for an evening snack. Our little girl sat patiently at her table, working carefully with her spoon until every last bit of that pudding was gone.
This is the first time in her life she's managed to "clean" a dish using only a spoon. Not a morsel ended up on the table, the floor, her fingers, her face, or her clothes.
Not a morsel.
To say I am proud would be a gross understatement.
Monday, December 5, 2011
10...and Draggin'
This weekend, the Hubbo Family got a lot done. And when I say a lot, I mean I'm not quite sure how we did it.
One of the biggest things for me was actually getting the Christmas tree up and decorated. Every year since we bought the house, I've made a point of decorating for Christmas on the day after Thanksgiving...until this year, that is. Somehow, it just didn't feel like time until yesterday.
The only place in our little yellow house big enough and out-of-the-way enough for our tree happens to be in the front corner of our living room, blocking the door that leads into the front yard (don't worry...everyone comes in and out through the garage, especially during the winter, so it's not like we're shutting ourselves in!). Last year, I had this idea while looking at the tree...you see, my front door really isn't all that pretty, so it doesn't make the greatest backdrop for the tree.
So here's what I did this year:
That's right: I wrapped the front door. Apparently, all the gift wrapping at work has begun to pay off, because I don't know if I could have pulled this off as well before getting all that practice.
After a day of dragging boxes up and down stairs, hefting the tree around, stretching in odd ways to wrap the door, listening to Christmas music and addressing cards, watching Scrooged and Rudolph, my butt is draggin' a bit this morning.
But it's totally worth it. You should see The Princess. She's completely enthralled with the tree again this year. I'm going to try to get some useable video at some point to share with you here.
Annnnnd...10 days to graduation. Boy, am I ready.
One of the biggest things for me was actually getting the Christmas tree up and decorated. Every year since we bought the house, I've made a point of decorating for Christmas on the day after Thanksgiving...until this year, that is. Somehow, it just didn't feel like time until yesterday.
The only place in our little yellow house big enough and out-of-the-way enough for our tree happens to be in the front corner of our living room, blocking the door that leads into the front yard (don't worry...everyone comes in and out through the garage, especially during the winter, so it's not like we're shutting ourselves in!). Last year, I had this idea while looking at the tree...you see, my front door really isn't all that pretty, so it doesn't make the greatest backdrop for the tree.
So here's what I did this year:
That's right: I wrapped the front door. Apparently, all the gift wrapping at work has begun to pay off, because I don't know if I could have pulled this off as well before getting all that practice.
After a day of dragging boxes up and down stairs, hefting the tree around, stretching in odd ways to wrap the door, listening to Christmas music and addressing cards, watching Scrooged and Rudolph, my butt is draggin' a bit this morning.
But it's totally worth it. You should see The Princess. She's completely enthralled with the tree again this year. I'm going to try to get some useable video at some point to share with you here.
Annnnnd...10 days to graduation. Boy, am I ready.
Friday, December 2, 2011
13...and Lucky
Funny enough, the number 13 always makes me think of luck. I know plenty of people who steer clear of it...and plenty more who count it among their good luck charms.
When the gears in my head started turning, I realized I don't say this enough: I am the luckiest girl in the world. I've been blessed with a wonderful husband, a one-of-a-kind, super-special daughter, the two best dogs I've ever met, and a fabulously charmed life.
Yes, I work Monday through Friday.
No, I don't make a fortune. Not even close.
But that's not what it's about. After a busy day at work and a tough night at school, I get to come home to my beloved family.
Really, who could ask for more?
When the gears in my head started turning, I realized I don't say this enough: I am the luckiest girl in the world. I've been blessed with a wonderful husband, a one-of-a-kind, super-special daughter, the two best dogs I've ever met, and a fabulously charmed life.
Yes, I work Monday through Friday.
No, I don't make a fortune. Not even close.
But that's not what it's about. After a busy day at work and a tough night at school, I get to come home to my beloved family.
Really, who could ask for more?
Thursday, December 1, 2011
14...and Five
Give me five!
Now, what's the first thing that pops into your mind when you hear that? A very small child gleefully slapping your hand in response, right?
For me, it's the absolute shock and awe I feel every time The Princess does it. I hold up my hand and say the words. She makes eye contact, smiles, and slaps my hand repeatedly, sending herself into a giggle fit.
She was four and a half years old the first time this happened, just a month or two ago, and this little victory keeps getting sweeter and sweeter every time it is repeated.
Now, what's the first thing that pops into your mind when you hear that? A very small child gleefully slapping your hand in response, right?
For me, it's the absolute shock and awe I feel every time The Princess does it. I hold up my hand and say the words. She makes eye contact, smiles, and slaps my hand repeatedly, sending herself into a giggle fit.
She was four and a half years old the first time this happened, just a month or two ago, and this little victory keeps getting sweeter and sweeter every time it is repeated.
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