I have been noticeably missing from My Sister’s Jar for two months….well, at least I noticed I was missing. We have had another bump in the ever bumpy road of our lives, but we carry on, get back in the driver’s seat and plead for God’s help once again.
It was May when our little Colombian princess was tested at a reading specialist and several (meaning more than 5!) different learning differences were detected. This was an AHA! moment for me as well as a WELL- DUH! momentmixed together. I assumed some of the difficulties were because Nora has only been speaking English for four years. This didn’t seem to apply at all once the road blocks to learning were identified.
I believe I have mentioned on here before some of my frustration teaching my own children who can’t seem to remember what I’ve taught them, and don’t really care that they can’t remember, and just want to go outside and look at clouds and dig in the dirt. I handed over Nora’s math teaching to her two older brothers for several months at the suggestion of our principal, my husband. It saved me from the desire to bang my head on the kitchen table when there was no recall of ANYTHING she could do yesterday.The boys didn’t seem to mind re-teaching carrying, borrowing, multiplying with zeroes over and over and over and over and over again. I did mind. It is a weakness of mine, as a homeschool mom, to want my children to learn and retain and move ahead, especially in phonics, reading and math.
With Austin, now 19, he was shown the letter F for 63 straight days of my ever-loving-homeschool-teaching-journey. He finally read the blinkin’ English language when he was NINE. That’s almost TEN. You know, three years before being a teenager. There weren’t any learning differences. He was just a late reader. (Insert mother justification….) He designed and installed our backyard sprinkler and drip system when he was also nine. He’s a smart kid. I kept the faith that God would touch the brain inside that hard, blonde head… and He did! Thank you, Jesus. It still brings me to tears when I relay the story of the first time in his life when Aus read… anything…it was a sign at Sequoia National Park, “Do not feed the deer!”
Back to the Colombian princess. When I heard the phrase “auditory processing” I wasn’t sure what it meant, so of course I googled it. Lo and behold, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, and good golly why didn’t I remember this… a website popped up of a lady WHOM I KNOW! Oh yeah, she teaches on learning differences. She gave me great suggestions ten years ago when I was trying to get Austin to read C-A-T without the far-and-away look in his big blue eyes. Here is what I discovered: MAGIC! There were 16 symptoms listed for people who have learning differences in the area of auditory processing. Nora has all 16! WHAT? (I pride myself of being an overachiever too!)
Nora is attending reading classes with a specialist who understands left brain/right brain connections that need to be established. The “reading class” consists of physical activities outside to help cross the mid-line of the brain. School has taken a decidedly different look this year, with WAY more focus on my part, which has introduced me to a new level of exhausted. From 9:00 p.m. to midnight was MY time to get my work done. Now I’m dragging through dinner and looking at the clock longingly at 7:30 p.m. without the energy to get anything done. But God knows what He is doing. None of Nora’s challenges were made apparent until Austin was graduated from high school. The Lord knows what we can handle and what would throw us head over heels into the loony bin, and obviously teaching Austin and Nora (the new way) together was beyond my capabilities. And I am thankful we learned about all this when we did!
So as I start each new day, as a homeschool mom, around 8:30 a.m. or 9:30 a.m., I remind God that these are really His kids, and I need His help once again to leave my bedroom and teach them how to learn, how to love God and how to succeed in life! I could not do this on my own! And that’s a fact, Jack!
Today was the long awaited day when I took the Colombian princess to a reading specialist for testing to determine if this homeschool mama had just “lost her touch” or if there is something else going on in that cute little dark-haired, dimpled head. As requested upon arrival, I sat at the table with the teacher and my daughter the whole four-hours-when-I-planned-on-getting-stuff-done time. When she initially stated “stay during the testing” I translated that to “be in the house” not “pay attention for four hours.” My mistake.
So this is what I learned from the testing: I have OCD WAY worse than I originally anticipated. There were crumbs on the table…. WITH the animal flash cards and the blue and white bottle caps used for Morse code. I believe I was the only one who noticed them. Miniature crumbs…. a red hole punch, bread crumbs, half a staple and (gag-reflex warning) a fingernail. EWWWW. Just EWWW! But my self control is also WAY more advanced than it used to be. Those items are STILL on that table… and I’m not there to worry about them any more.
The plaid and sunflower placemat would have needed to be removed for me to put ten animal flash cards in line. WAY too much going on for this sister. I’m not sure what that means…. it could also be OCD, but visual clutter makes me crazy. Hmmmmmm. This could explain a few mountains I have to climb every time I want to work at my desk.
My auditory memory is quite good for letters and words, but not for numbers. This was a test for an 11-year-old and I knew I couldn’t pass it. A sheet with numbers 1-100 (in order) was placed on the table and she was given three sets of instructions before she could follow the directions. “Draw a line from 27 to 34. Draw a line from 78-79. Draw a line from 17-20.” Bam. That was it. By the time drawing commenced, I could barely remember the last combination of numbers, let alone the first two sets. And math was my favorite. I love numbers. I simply don’t remember them. This may explain why I can’t tell Mr. Wallet how much groceries were upon returning from the store. I don’t know! Look at the receipt, Mr. Math-a-Holic!
Walking backwards on a balance beam is hard, especially toe to heel.
The good news is, after discussing my case of dyslexia for the first time in history with a professional, mine is a very minor impediment. A one on a scale of 1-5. Which I knew, but it was my very first diagnosis and I’ll be the last number of the 40’s in a few weeks. That’s a long time to go through life knowing something is different and never having discussed it. All my skeletons are now out of the closet.
So the testing was all worth it. We got a two-fer! 2 for 1 and the specialist didn’t even know it.
One of my favorite book series is Anne of Green Gables. The summer we drove across Canada and camped on Prince Edward Island, Anne’s home, I read the series as we passed the Lake of Shining Waters and the White Way of Delight. Lucy MM’s writing is superb. The words that come out of Anne’s mouth are hysterical! She is so full of imagination and wonder at every little thing… and highly dramatic! So funny!
Several months ago, I started reading a shortened version of the book to Nora, our little adopted daughter. I wondered how it would affect her, hearing about Anne’s heartbreak at not having a family. The book glossed it over pretty well and got right into the daily events on Anne’s life at Green Gables. Yesterday, I found the movie online for Nora to watch. It is over two and a half hours long so it took three sittings to finish it all. Nora sat on the end of her chair the entire movie! It was priceless.
This tentative look on Anne’s face as she waits for Matthew at the train station…. it’s the same one I saw on Nora’s face the day we got her. “Will they like me?” “Am I okay?” “Will they keep me?” “Will I be safe?” “Everything changes today.” WOW!
The movie does not sugar coat the fact that no one wanted the red haired orphan in the beginning. Nora didn’t say much, other than looking at me with wondering eyes and asking, “They do keep her, right?” I watched most of the movie with her, but never looking through the eyes of an adopted child until yesterday. She must have related to so much of the story. It broke my heart when the two women in the very beginning call Anne “trash”… good heavens. I didn’t even remember that part.
I understood a bit more now about how Anne wanted to be called Cordelia, hoping for a different life than the one she had been given that lead her to the depths of despair. Marilla’s line was superb, “To despair is to turn your back on God.” So true!
We’ve had two nights of reassuring talks that Nora is ours forever. That God never left her without someone to take care of her. That we prayed for her for four years before she was part of our family. That God chose her for us and us for her. I don’t think we can ever say those words enough. Ever.
Our summer travels for 2013 have come to an end. For three weeks I have been away from home (2 of those weeks without my family!) and I have learned several valuable tidbits that I feel compelled to share with you, faithful reader.
Trip #1 Nashville, Tennessee. I learned that I really am a jewelry diva…. you may be surprised I didn’t admit this until now, but I seriously outfitted my roommates with GREAT accessories several times! On this trip to the South, I realized that I love the South. I haven’t been there for several years and the greenness is intoxicating. The rolling hills of swaying grass call to me. The magnolia trees waved in the moist breeze enticing me with their ivory blooms and the brick homes with their neat and tidy yards make me wanna spit at the desert and move tomorrow. The grand finale of the trip was touring Hermitage, President Andrew Jackson’s plantation. Oh, did he spend good money paying an English gardener that is still making women swoon at the aromas of the flowers he chose!
Trip #2 Southern to Northern California. This was a high school girl’s roadtrip that reunited five friends after 30 years of separation. It was non-stop laughs and stories of yesteryear. One of the roadies brought us all Superwoman t-shirts with hot pink capes and tiaras with pink bling bling. You couldn’t really miss us…. AT ALL. It was great fun but tiring for this mama. By day #4, I was a bit of a party pooper. I’m still not back to my old self and the car accident was almost five months ago.
Trip #3 Family Vacation at Lake Tahoe, California. Please see the last blog as to my dire straights due to my husband’s negligence. So, here is the REST of the story. In addition to my light blue ONLY shirt, I ended up purchasing one t-shirt, a pink v-neck that had tasteful Lake Tahoe lettering on the front. I tried it on in the hardware store dressing room, yanked off the tags and wore it to the register. The attendant commented, “Oh, wearing it out! Showing your Tahoe pride!” I shook my head and blurted, “You don’t know half the story!” So, I wore each shirt on alternating days while the other was in the wash. I wore my jeans every single day in Tahoe, save one when it was warm enough for shorts. And my two pair of socks took turns hugging my feet or wiping the insides of the washing machine.
Thanks to my hubby and parents who had pity on me, I flew home so as to avoid my already painful arm from sitting in the truck for 15 hours straight. Yes, on the plane rides I wore my jeans and my blue t-shirt. This was like a flashback to our trip to Colombia where we only had three shirts each for a month! On the first flight, a neat-as-a-pin 20-something gal sat next to me with her head aimed at her book the entire flight. She didn’t say a peep to me (and I kept my nose in my current historical novel as well) until she popped open her hand sanitizer and with pressurization it squirt all over my jeans that I have been wearing for nine days. I thought it comical that they probably did need sanitizing at this point, but I didn’t feel like telling a stranger that I haven’t changed my pants in over a week.
Not nearly as entertaining as my flight from from Nashville sitting next to the narcoleptic man, I was in LAX on a layover and knew my seat number was 5D. It is a smaller plane with only two seats on each side of the aisle. Fine. However, there was a family with two little blonde haired bundles of screams and energy also in the waiting area. I hoped and prayed they wouldn’t be seated near me. I mean goodness sakes, I was only 45 pages into an enrapturing tale from Reformation times set in the Netherlands. Screaming + Reformation = NOT ON MY WATCH! Right before boarding commenced, I visited the little girl’s room. When I wandered back to the gate I heard the quite loud mother of the two girlies tell her husband matter-of-factly, “Whoever is holding the baby is supposed to sit in seat 5C.” NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! This was an emergency situation of gargantuan proportions in my mind. I went straight to the desk to ask to be moved. The kind lady at the counter asked, “What is your name, please?” Not sure why she needed the information, I simply retorted, “Crosby.” She looked down and then handed me a new boarding pass, adding, “I’m sorry, but we had to move your seat to 8D.” If we weren’t in an airport surrounded by 87 travelers with cellphones that take photos, I would have jumped over the counter and hugged her little neck and kissed her over-rouged cheeks!
Our story ends with me blogging at our home computer, contented to be in my own house with my two dogs licking my feet, sitting here in my jeans and my blue t-shirt. :o) Safe travels!
I’m thankful that I am still here to write a blog for your reading pleasure. The airbags did their duty, probably a bit more intensely than required at 35 mph, yet I am trying to keep a sense of humor in the midst of it all. Please excuse any humor that may seem off color in our circumstances. Remember also I am currently using narcotics.
My cute husband and I were enjoying a moment of peace and tranquility on the back patio yesterday morning, holding hands and loving the balmy Phoenix weather in March. He squeezed my hand and conveyed a heartfelt, “I’m so glad the accident was not that bad. I could have been going to two funerals this week!” BAH! I told him that his sentiments were kind but I knew he was WAY too cheap to pay for two funerals…. there would have been just one.
This morning I visited the spinal surgeon. He had good news and bad news for me… but the good news outweighed the bad by 98%. I am not free to discuss my injuries to the world at large, but spinal surgery was negated. Thank God! Then he proceeded to tell me that my spinal condition is appropriately degenerated FOR MY AGE. What the heck was that supposed to mean? I’m in my 40s!! If he were a car salesman, this was the equivalent of kicking the tires and saying, “She’s got a few more miles in her despite the apparent neglect.” Good grief!
It has been 11 days since the accident and today was the first day I had a surge of energy and applied makeup! Small steps. It was my fourth or fifth visit to the chiropractor since the accident. As I graced the waiting room the receptionist hollers, “OH MY GOSH! You look so much better today!” Yeah, thanks. It’s just makeup. I feel the same… still sore, achy and drugged. My Dad always said, “If the barn needs painting, paint it!” I gathered from her exuberance that my natural beauty was more in my mind than in reality.
I arrived home exhausted from more outings than my typical one-per-day. While sitting at the table eating another wonderfully fabulous dinner that was delivered to us by our rockin’ homeschool peeps, my 9-year-old says to me, “I like your hair.” Okay, seriously? It is a day #2 hairdo with the back completely oily from a massage, and one flat side from my nap. She kept going with her sincere flattery, “It makes you look like a teenager, Mom. It’s pretty the way it’s not all puffy like usual.” Wow. What do you say to that?
By day of recovery #5 I finally felt like reading. I read four whole pages of the 1850’s historical fiction of which I was in the midst…. during days 6, 7 and 8. Yes, only four pages. Then day #9 my reading juices were regenerated and I finished the book. It was the last 1850’s historical novel I had in my possession and I was still on the couch for the better part of the day. CRISIS! I perused my bookshelves and discovered several stories that we were supposed to read for American History last year. Yesterday and today I read Farewell to Manzanara biography/history lesson about an internment camp during WW2 for 10,000 Japanese Americans on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevadas in California. Every summer when we drive to Lake Tahoe, we pass right by the historical marker sign that reads <—– MANZANAR. Being the history loving nerd that I am, the desire to stop has surfaced every single time we pass the sign, but we have yet to stop. Now that I’ve read the story…. we are stopping, baby. 10,000 American citizens who were considered dangerous simply by race… put in a “camp” like prisoners for THREE YEARS! Unbelievable. I’ve added this story here because I was hoping to see barracks, a mess haul, latrines, a pear orchard, etc. The end of the book describes Manzanar today as a dusty, deserted piece of land with a few cement slabs if you know where to look for them. Maybe I don’t need to stop as badly as I thought I had for the last 12 years. We’ll see this summer.
Never have I been accused of being an animal lover. We had a few pets during my childhood in suburbia Northern California, but never a dog and only once for a short time, a cat. The kitty caused my brother’s eyes to swell shut, so she didn’t stay long at all. But I did have the joy of picking out Meow Mix back in the day when the Meow Mix song was popular, hence making me popular. I was nine, it didn’t take much.
Fast forward to my ten-year-old daughter praying every night that God would change her mother’s heart (ME!) so that she could get a dog. I about coughed up a lung the first time I witnessed her heartfelt petition to the God of the universe. Anyway, the two-year vigil ended with God changing my heart… and for the past 9.5 years we have had Trixie, the Rat Terrier burrowing into our hearts and lives.
Foolishly I read Dr. Doolittle to my children years ago. Unmistakably, that was a cockamamie move on my part. Yes, we did do a stint with younger boys who NEEDED tadpoles, then frogs of course, lizards, mice, a hamster named Teddy, chickens, fish, turtles, and a hermit crab named Elvis. Truly I felt that I did my time. Of course there were requests for a horse. Thankfully we live in an HOA that doesn’t allow for horses.
Then Christmas 2011 did me in. It was December 23rd at 10:15 p.m. and my husband and I were sitting on the blue couch when my cell phone notified me of the arrival of a message. Who would be texting me that late? Of course it was a friend who had a friend who had a baby wiener dog FREE for Christmas. Good grief. We were sitting ducks. The next day I called another friend who got a baby wiener dog for Christmas the previous year and DIDN’T keep it! I gave her all my reasons for not taking the free dog, and she solved each dilemma as it arose…. we would need a crate. She had one. We would need a doggy door. She had one. And her reason for returning the puppy was because she was never home to train it….. she pointed out that we are ALWAYS home. We homeschool. We don’t leave the premises unless it is for church or a library trip. So we got sucked into Ringo the wiener dog who has been snuggling with us for over a year now.
I still cannot believe I have two dogs. Linda Ann Crosby… NOT a dog person, has two dogs, and probably will have two dogs for another five to seven years. Unbelievable! I can hardly believe I am writing a blog about dogs. I am not a dog person. Didn’t I already say that?
So the moral of the story is DON’T READ DR. DOOLITTLE to your kids if you truly want to do little. BAM!
When I found myself in the Edmonton, Alberta airport last month, surrounded by snow and folks wearing parkas, I decided on a book purchase instead of a trip out of doors. Don’t get me wrong. I love Edmonton. Three of my favorite people were born there. But there was snow. My flimsy nylon traveling sweat suit kept me behind the thick windows. Never have I purchased a book in an airport…. I didn’t have high hopes. But my brain needed stimulation and there were four blank hours staring me in the face. At the overpriced shop, I came upon this gem:
On first perusal of the contents, I realized that the entire book was written in letters. I reminisced with heartwarming thoughts of one of my favorite children’s books The Jolly Postman and Other People’s Letters.
Oh was I in for a treat. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society ended up being historical (my FAV!) set in France and England just after WWII. The story involves a writer and all of the unique and utterly unbelievable people with whom she corresponds. I cuddled with every jot and tittle. Now I yearn to travel to Guernsey to see the steep shores and the stone houses and the green countryside. The creativity dreamed up for these folks in horrible times was amusing and very well written. My interest was held until the last page was turned.
Then tonight, my heart skipped a beat or two when I discovered this:
2013… NEXT YEAR the movie will appear on the big screen for me to love all over again. Mom, we’ll have to go on opening day just like we did for The Help!
I am strong and healthy. I am strong and healthy. This is what I quote to myself out loud when the first signs of sickness raise their feeble heads in my body. Be gone plugged sinuses. Get thee behind me, nasal drip. My offspring stand clear when they hear their mother muttering, “I’m strong and healthy!”
The S&H phrase has been my mantra all day. Many a cure have been applied, sniffed, soaked up and swallowed to no avail. So as the red numbers read 12:34 a.m…. the green tea in the kitchen cupboard called to me. You know I’m not healthy when I drink tea. Tea reminds me of wet cardboard. Hot wet cardboard. Yes, I have tried chai and it simply tastes like sweet hot wet cardboard. But I digress.
So I have been reading adoption blogs while waiting for my cardboard-flavored tea to get down to “children’s temperature”, as a kind Starbucks employee once described MY temperature of choice. Whatev! Lately I have been messed up by a book called 7. Yes, it’s a single digit number title. Kind of like 1984, but with only one digit. At a later date when I am truly strong and healthy, I will expound on this tome and impress you with my knowledge of things I have only read about.
Anyway, the author, Jen Hatmaker, adopted two older kids. I can relate. She had three bio kids at home… a girl and two man-children. Same same. And aside from her story and her tales of woe leading up to the referrals, etc., I have been experiencing AMG… adoptive mama guilt. Tonight I came to the trusty home computer (in the family room for ALL eyes to see what anyone may be viewing online….. side note: once I sat on the couch that is 10 feet behind the screen… and behind the viewer’s back, I used binoculars to READ THEIR MAIL! Yes I did.) and after reading a few adoption blogs I realized I NEED to confess and repent of some AMG.
But as I leaned forward to see the keyboard in the dark of the night, my nose dripped in my green already-gross-tasting tea…. and I decided to lament the whole scene and blog about AMG tomorrow…. when the sun is shining and I am strong and healthy.
Frequently I am asked what book I’m currently reading. The question always makes me chuckle because I am NEVER reading only one book. There’s simply too many good books out there to get hung up on one! So, for those with inquiring minds, here’s the current book stack on my bedside nightstand:
Top to bottom, here are my current reviews by of the following books that I have partially read.
1. The Busy Homeschool Mom’s Guide to Romance by Heidi St. John. I’m on page 82 of 172. This greatly captured my interest as I met Heidi at the Arizona homeschool convention and was impressed by her down-to-earthedness, if that’s a word. Heidi talks about the importance of keeping your marriage strong in the midst of homeschooling. So far my favorite line is, “There is no time for romance inside the vortex because in the vortex, Latin is more important than lingerie.” Which should not be true if you are keeping your marriage in the right spot of priorities, but homeschool moms blur the lines of priorities sometimes. An informative and necessary topic for homeschool moms.
2. The Sweetest Thing by Elizabeth Musser. Yes, it’s a historical romance. I simply can’t keep my hands off them. My sister read it first then told my mother to read it and so on and so on. I’m on page 105 of 397. I love love love the quirky girl from Chicago who is transplanted to Atlanta. It’s set in the heart of the depression and is beautifully written.
3. Under God by Toby Mac and Michael Tait. Yes, it’s true, Toby Mac wrote a book. I suspect this is more of a token idea of Toby and Michael’s, with a handful of researchers who gathered the historical stories. Anyway, this is the “story of men and women of faith who forged our nation.” I’m not really on a certain page because I have skipped all over to read the stories of the signers of the Declaration of Independence since that is where we are in American History class right now. Remember the story of bulletproof George? It’s in there, plus many more. I believe this is a must read for those who are under the illusion that our great country was founded on anything other than God.
4. Mixed Signals by Liz Curtis Higgs. Page 73 of 370. This one should probably be moved to the pile of books on my bookshelf that didn’t hold my interest long enough to finish. But I did start it and it’s a cute story about some people mixed up in radio life… but, not my fav by far.
5. The Right Choice – Homeschooling by Chris Klicka. Page 128 of 453. I’m in a homeschool mentoring class right now, yes, after 10 years of homeschooling, I thought I would see how this is supposed to be done. The first chapter of our manual listed MUST READS for homeschoolers. Shamefully, I had only read one or two… and I’m a self-professed homeschool die-hard. So, on our trip to Missouri, I wandered through a used book store (which I might add was COMPLETELY different in selection from our Arizona used book stores) and picked up this gem. It’s hardcore, baby. And I agree with almost all of it. Funny thing was, I showed it to my flying companions, who are also on the AZ homeschool board, and none of them had read it either. I’m in good (unschooled) company. Anyway, it lays out the Biblical basis, and frankly the logical basis for homeschooling. Don’t read it if you plan to keep your kids in public school.
6. The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. Page 31 of 302. This was a freebie at the Treasures for Teachers store in Tempe, so I took it. I never saw the movie and didn’t know what it was about. But I’m always up for a good read. Sadly, I started reading it right before school started and now it is way down low on the pile.
Welcome to My Sister's Jar. The story behind the blog lies in the original post on Feb. 2, 2008. Type "giddy moments" into the search box to find it.
I'm a homeschool mom who loves to speak and write, encouraging moms to press-on in motherhood. Two of my books are available NOW! Laughing in the Midst of Mothering and Laughing in the Midst of Marriage. See them at www.LindaCrosby.com or www.cbd.com.
I have four children, one of whom is adopted from Colombia, so there are LOTS of adoption tidbits here.
~~~~~~ Linda Ann Crosby
My Sister's Jar 