Pinch me...

I am in disbelief...


I got a call today from the ED for United Way [of Larimer County] and he told me that basically he'd volunteered "my expertise," to the people working on this HUGE economic development project in town. HUGE!


First, I had to laugh - "expertise?" That I've magically accumulated in all of my 6 years in the worforce - I mean really?

Yeah, he meant really.

See, the hub of this re-development project is the Poudre River corridor, an area which is populated with the camps of many of our chronic homeless. My job will be to advise the committees of this project about:

1.) homelessness in Fort Collins - both chronic and transitional

2.) how different industries (i.e. retail/service) perpetuate the problem with non-living wages

3.) how aspects of the project will affect the homeless, either positively or negatively

The woman he directed me to, for purposes of working together, noted that Fort Collins may be implementing a program very similar to Denver's Road Home project, a project that I have watched and admired from afar for about 2 years now, but have felt that was impossible, due to the discrepancy in resources that non-urban areas receive for these issues. Thanks to an anonymous donor, the seed money for such a program could be available!

Huge exposure opportunity for me. Huge opportunity to effect change and truly help those in need!

Good thing I rediscovered my mojo, eh?

Rediscovering My Mojo

Earlier this month, hell, even just last week, I would have told you that Hammy had totally lost her mojo – in pitiful rendition, rivaling that of Austin Powers’ when he’d lost his zest for shaggin’.

I felt completely wiped out in a sea of turbulent overwhelm. And thusly did a crap job in: keeping close to God, being a friend and partner, mothering, my job as a civil servant, school, housekeeping, and whatever else usually lies front and center on my plate.

I was having the “what should I cut out so that everything is balanced” discussions with myself in my head – you know, that seemingly harmless little “I gotta take care of me so that I can take care of others” battle we women do? It’s innocent enough in the beginning, but let it breed and this reevaluation and quest for “balance” soon consumes my life such that I’m taking care of me for the sake of taking care of me, to the point of unbalance (irony is a funny, funny thing, no?) and the initial intent of making myself a better person for others gets lost along the way.

The other things that this funk had me doing were 1.) overanalyzing, to the point of talking myself out of things that God has very clearly put me up to (school – yes, I really was considering saying, “stick a fork in me I am D-U-N, done”) 2.) sending my normally confident (sorta, that one’s complicated) mindset into a rapidly descending abyss of insecurity.

But, ya’ll the rainbow has come out.

Charlie Brown has been in a bit of a funk himself lately, but the past several weeks he has been very, extremely, and sweetly supportive. Like. A. ROCK. That is always there, and always holding up whenever I happen to fall prostrate across it. That weathers everything that comes its way, and still remains. I need to appreciate that more about him.

I caught a break or two in the scholastic realm. Somehow the online professor, “knows I’m not a slacker” and gave me a break on a very craptastic job on the midterm. I don’t feel like there’s been enough info exchange for him to possibly know this – so I’m curious to know if my advisor and him talk? And my weekend professor? The one whose syllabus was not accessible until the Monday before the first class (the fist class where we were supposed to have a huge book report due) – he decided that whoever turned in the book report, early or late, so long as it was turned in before the end of classes, got an A. He told us that after I scurried to get my paper in by the end of lunch yesterday – hoping to get the dreaded B- in graduate school. So…those two things? Totally made my month.

Finances are coming up. Work is bearable again – oh, and news alert! I got a fun new project with other key players in the community today! Fabulous excitement as a new challenge is here to pique my brain!

Kiddos were good to come home to, and so was my new furry baby – Stella the kitty. She is preshus. And should be MYYYY preshus, except I have to share with my children (can you believe it?!?) – the very people for whom Stella made her way home with Charlie Brown on Saturday.

Life is good. And so is rediscovering one’s mojo. I can do this. We are balanced where we're at, we just had some stressors of late.

It's [almost] REALLY Happening!!

:me, sighing with giddy excitement:

Remember my unbloggable scholarly excitement?

Well, we are in negotiations/proposal phase now, and I'm all super-dee-duper hopped up about the increasing potential of it.

But, again, because it is not for sure yet - you should e-mail me if you are interested in hearing the juicy (uhm, academic - so whatever you make of that) details.

Tah-tah...

Singing My Personal ABC's

Scott, a new reader of my ramblings, tagged me with this meme - here goes.

A - Activist - in my daily actions and longterm goals. I long for action that makes society more loving and inclusive. See C below.

B - Brown eyed and auburn hair has made for many a comment about my autumn coloring

C - Christian believer

D - Doggie owner...and puppy is not in good standing with me. She has a chainlink kennel with a cover, since she began jumping our fence a while back. Today, she was out when I got home - the darn thing has figured her way out of it! grrr...

E - Excited b/c my BFF just told us that they were expecting!!!! :-D It's their first.

F - Frugal fashionista...today I'm glammed up in my second hand GAP tweed skirt, Old Navy deep V cardigan with a lace top cami, beads on the neck, hoops on the ears, and my bargain, high heeled calf-boots - total cost of the whole look? Under $30, and the boots were originally priced at $70 alone!

G - Girlfriend - I love to hang and dish with all my friends, gals and guys alike.

H - Heather, HAM, Hammy, Hoot, Hootie - all my names start with H

I - Initiative...I have a tendency to initiate lots of things, whether apologies, controversies, projects, or a little hubba hubba with Charlie Brown, I like to get things started.

J - Joker...of the very dry, sarcastic variety

K - Kitchen queen - see T

L - Linguistics fanatic...whether it is grammar, spelling, or etymology (I go off on the origins of words all the time at work; The Boss refers to me as the Human Dictionary)

M - Mama...what a double-edged and sharp piercing sword motherhood is. Our hearts are never the same...they bleed with joy and pride at times and others with the most gutwrenching worries for our children

N - [excellent] Notetaker [and transcriptionist] - or so I'm told on the first part...I take minutes for several boards and commissions. Also for class.

O - Open book - what you see (or read) is what you get with me - sometimes this can get me in trouble

P - Procrastinator extraordinaire

Q - Questioner, of people, of faith, of tradition, of authority, of "limitations"

R - Redhead...though auburn is what most people would call my hair - except occasionally for the color-impaired folks who've asked me, re: Punkinhead, "Where did he get his red hair from?"

S - Seeker of truth, see Q

T - Talented, or so people tell me. I have a particular affinity for publications design, writing, planning, organizing, singing, and cooking. Notice that only one of those is a domestic trait.

U - Unaware of my true capacities for stress - though I would like to say, "Lord, sometimes I wish You didn't think so much of me!"

V - Vulnerable to self-doubt, guilt, and depression

W - Wife to Charlie Brown

X - [often] X-asperated, see W, add in LMNOB's sensory processing disorder, and my life of chaos in general

Y - Young[ish - still hanging on to the 20's for another year and a half or so]

Z - Zany - I am a bit crazy at times, but what's life without some zest, eh?

"Helo Diyury"...Shocking Ramblings of My 6 y/o Girl

So this weekend we bought a girly girl notebook and some gel pens as a bribe, erm, incentive towards good behavior on the premise that the girl likes to write.

As I glanced over her shoulder this morning at church, I wanted God to smite down her little thought process.

LMNOB is 6, remember, a mere six years of age.

Helo diyury,

I wish i code [could] Love a boyfrend. but How?
I cowde [again, could] pray to the Lrod [Lord - a little transposition
there].

No, no, no, no, NO!

All day long my melodramatic, mama worrying wheels have been spinning on this one.

SIX - She's six, she canNOT be thinking about that yet!


Oh dear Lord, no. She's deriving her sense of worth based on her success with the opposite sex. Crap - she'll marry the first man that comes along and pays her any attention.

It's those books that the teacher bumped her up to. They're too emotionally mature for her and now they've primed her to tween-age angst.

It's a sign. A sign that she's not having enough positive interactions with her father and is seeking out male attention to plug that daddy shaped hole. Must talk with Charlie Brown.
And then...
WTHeck kind of spelling is this? She reads 4th grade books, and yet writes like an avid LOLspeaker??

No matter. So what did I do? I let it fester all day in my brain.

Tonight, before evening prayers, I told LMNOB that I'd seen what she'd written in church and that I wanted to discuss it with her. She was embarrassed, and grunted repeatedly and kicked me from underneath her mountain of blankets (her own self medication of her propioceptive issues - I honestly do not know how she doesn't spontaneously combust at night).

"Hey...I know, sweetheart - it's private and I promise you I wasn't snooping, you were right there in the open, remember? I just happened to see it while you were writing."

I got a one-two with a grunt and a kick. Then she shrunk from me and retreated into the solace that only a blanket can offer for a six year old - you know, because if you can't see them, they aren't really there, right?

"Honey, don't be embarrassed, or think that you're in trouble...I just want to find out more about what this means to you.

More grunting and kicking.

"Heeeey...this is just like Junie B. is [Almost] a Flower Girl - at the beginning of the book, her mom is talking to her about sort of the same thing."

LMNOB's head popped out, and indignantly muttered, "Yeah, but Junie B was only in kindergarten!"

Seriously, my unspoken thought process went something along these lines:
1. Haha, made ya talk to me. I knew my inner nerd could tap into yours; and
2. Oh, the horror of my obtuse disregard of that critical distinction, you are so very right.

To make a long story shorter, we talked. And basically, she's lonely - not fitting in with her peers as well as she could, and her one BFF neighbor-girl schoolmate has paired up with a boy at recess, leaving LMNOB alone. So a boyfriend is what she thought she needed, when in fact any friends will do to help her feel better about herself.

I'm worried about my girl. Academically she is excelling. Developmentally she is progressing (no more fecal matter issues, and her core strength is improving). But socially, it's like she is retreating into herself and growing more and more socially backwards. More tantrums with us at home, and more crippling shyness with others.

Case in point...

Last Wednesday's incident.

It's overwhelming. Mothering is hard enough. Adding special needs just plain sucks sometimes.

Categories...

On Wednesdays LMNOB'school does an early release.

She gets off the bus, crosses the street and goes to our daycare provider, M's, home, at approximately 2:30. Usually M has had the door propped open for her on Wednesdays, but this last Wednesday was fairly cool, and M got distracted, and forgot to prop the door as a result of both factors.

At 3:00, she went to take some diapers out, and lo! There was LMNOB on the doorstep. M felt horrible that she'd forgotten - and honestly I don't blame her at all, because it could have happened to me just as easily.

But what's off here is that LMNOB was just standing there...and had been for 30 minutes.

She wasn't distressed, she wasn't finding something else to do to pass the time, she hadn't wandered off.

Moreover, she had never even knocked or rung the doorbell. At age 6, this should have crossed her mind!

All I can do is thank God that nothing happened to her - but that is not sitting well with me. I want to prepare her and better equip her.

BT the OT wants to do some social groups with LMNOB, as well as some categorical associations type of work, and sequential patterning. I.e. find all the green shapes, or among varied shapes, find all of the rectangles. And then we'd break down tasks into step by step instructions, and she would order them correctly.

Because then we can extend that kind of rational thought process to "a shut door is still like an open door, however to walk through a shut door, we need to knock/ring the bell, wait for it to open, and then walk through."

I never imagined I would have to tell my above average intelligence daughter how to think with the aid of categories.

Math Has Always Been the Bane of My Existance - the Mothering Edition

Monday night was a doozie of a night at Casa del Meyer. I will not be able to properly convey the frustrated rage that it created, but generally, you’ll get the picture.

LMNOB was in top I-have-sensory-processing-disorder-so-I-do-not-have-to-listen-to-A.N.Y.T.H.I.N.G-you-parental-types-have-to-say form. And yes, before people correct me about the nature of the disorder where it’s not so much a have to listen distinction as it is an ability to listen, let me assure you I am well aware of this particular distinction.

So, when we started her very first Monday Math homework, and she cut the paper dominoes’ dots that represented quantitative data instead of the dotted lines signifying where she was supposed to cut (and therefore tear forever asunder from each other) said “dominoes,” I immediately suggested, “Why don’t you go get your [weighted] vest so that your brain is getting input and you can make better sense of what you need to do.”

She then told me she didn’t know where it was, then tearfully and all, please-have-pity-on-me-because-you’re-right-I-CAN’T-do-my-homework-without-it (in other words – she latched on to the opportunity to stall with a deathgrip) begged Charlie Brown and me to help her find it so that she could be a good student.

We fell for it hook, line and sinker.

And when we discovered that she’d lied to Charlie Brown about the whereabouts of said vest (A very conscientious “Oh, Daddy, it’s not in my closet”…and yet indeed it was in the closet), she began to throw a screaming fit.

Funny, nothing is her fault, not even the words that she uttered forth of her own volition.

Yeaaaaaaaaaahhhh…..Thing is? Mama don’t play that way. AT ALL.

We got the vest put on her and made her jump on the tramp…well, that last part was really halfhearted, anyway – and not so successful – but nevertheless she was getting proprioceptive input, right?

Then, Charlie Brown and LMNOB sat down and played the domino math game that she was assigned to do, while I prepared a sumptuous feast of Tex-Mex cuisine. Or maybe just tacos and refried beans from a can. Whatever…

After dinner and the subsequent clean-up, I revisited the homework assignment, telling LMNOB that there was another piece to the puzzle before she was finished: She needed to read the directions on the worksheet and then write what they were asking for before I could sign off that she’d done her homework.

She then said, “No, YOU read it to me.”

I told her that she could read it and that I would help her with the writing activity once she read the directions. HERSELF. I mean for Pete’s sake, she’s reading 4^th grade level books, she can for certain read instructions on a 1^st grade math worksheet! I am a big proponent for individual responsibility and empowerment – for me to read her something that she was perfectly capable of reading herself, and that was more appropriate for her to read (since it would give her a better understanding of HER work to be done than if I had read it) is enabling this behavior – and I refuse to be an enabler!

Enter WWIII. She threw a holy fit, and I yelled, Charlie Brown yelled, and at one point I prayed that none of the neighbors could hear.

At 8:00, I declared the war over, determining that LMNOB had run out of time for homework and that she would have to face the music for her poor choices at school.

She wailed at that, and for the next 40 minutes both children howled from their bedrooms.

Throughout the whole evening, it had been unbelievably hard not to cave – but firm I remained.

The next morning, she glared at me when I put her homework folder back in her bag, with detailed notes to her teachers about why the work was not done.

This morning, her math teacher stopped her in the hallway and said, “LMNOB, at first recess this morning, you are going to come into my room and we are going to work on the rest of your homework.”

Said teacher later told me that I’d done the right thing by not rescuing my child, letting her face the natural consequence.

Validation is nice.

Go Do This! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaase?

If you see this picture over on my side bar:

Will you pretty, pretty, please click on it and tell BlogHer what you think about my blog? Or whatever it is that their SHORT little survey is asking?

With sugar on top?

Because I’d really like to grow as a writer, and YOU could all help BlogHer make it happen.

Also?

It would mean, as the sign says, that you LOOOOOOOOOOVE me.

And, awwww, if that isn’t the sweetest!

I love you all too.

Mmmmmuah!

How I found the Bermuda Triangle...in COLORADO

Or, due to my lack of mechanical knowledge and the overabundance of a thick fog, perceived that I was entering the Twilight Zone this morning.

First...

If judged by its cover, my car is a certifiable POS. I contend that it is a 12 year old Subaru with almost 130k miles, that has rarely been garaged, and thus the outer appearance is...well, let's just say the elements have not been kind. But it's PAID for. AND it gets me where I need to go - often when nicer cars cannot perform. So, nyah!

So, I'm driving to work this morning in the groundclouds that made it dark and gloomy when I got to the newly added stop light, replacing a 4 way stop, and cursed the nuisance of this new light.

At green, I began to go again, and my li'l navy blue wonder had to be prodded a bit.

Ok, more gas, that's more like it. Oh, wait...WTH was THAT?

That, was my speedometer needle going up and down like a diving board would after Ralphie May gave a good jump off. And the RPM needle.

Well...hmmm...car's still goin' though, right? But cripes, what next, a full Linda Blair revolution?

As it would turn out, no. It did peak up high and then just die, only to rest at 0mph, despite the car following closely behind the vehicle in front. Then the ABS light came on. Slight shudders could be felt through the gas pedal.

Holy schnikes, I thought, as Maximum Overdrive came to mind. Not that I've watched it recently, or that it was that great of a movie, but it used to scare the hell out of me as a kid.

As I rounded the corner by Horseshoe Lake, the fog got REALLY thick, and the guage needles suddenly revived themselves again - only to plummet back to 0. Then, my airbag light went on. And my heater and radio just went poof!

Creepy...Let's just hope I get to work in one piece.

I get to work, call Charlie Brown - who is a Subaru guru, if you remember - and before I even got all the story out, he says, "It's the alternator. I'll be by there for lunch and put a new one in."

Ok, then - so now I'm left wondering how many Bermuda triangle instances were really fritzing alternators?

Blog Action Day

I've been looking around the blogosphere today and finding that it is blog action day.

Cool beans.

I found the most fascinating quote over at Larry James' today:

"True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar; it comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring."

--Martin Luther King, Jr.
Sermon at Riverside Church for Clergy and Laity Concerned
New York CityApril 1967

It sums up the longing in my heart - true progress towards social justice will come about with the restructuring of our institutions.

But, lest I become guilty of "looking [solely] to the institutions to solve complex societal and individual issues" (per my class this weekend) let me remind you that institutional changes start with our every day lives.

As such, Blog Action Day is great, but in the end, just A day. What about the remaining 364 in our years?

I want my LIFE to be about acting upon the causes I care for, for the people I care for.

That want makes it easy for me to go to work each day and study each night.

We can change the world.

But it takes time. Don't waste it. Let today be the beginning of your life of action.

Back, With Tales from D Town

Class was good.

Overwhelming - given the little communication glitch - but the prof was much better in person than via e-mail. So that was nice.

It was a large class too - like 40 grad students - so there was a lot of diversity in experience, which I enjoy.

Meeting Heather was also fun and awesome!

Hotel Chez Neff is the bestest out there. The hostess is sweet, extremely accommodating, and TOTALLY FOR REAL. I recommend her hospitality :-) And the entertainment - made me not miss my kiddos quite so much, since there was plenty of their sweetness to go around. I had a blast - even if bogged down with
homework and class time.

We went to Bonefish Grill for a girl's nite out dinner Saturday night and giggled like schoolgirls when the hostess asked us for a name for our party...

"HEATHER" we chimed in exuberantly. At the hostess' "Uh, I see...I don't get it," look, Heather explained that we were in fact both Heathers. She still wasn't impressed, and you probably aren't either, but it seemed funny to us at the time.

Then as we were eating...an older gentleman behind me got down and dirty. Heather's eyes got big and she mouthed, "Look behind you..." so I did, only to find man breasts and a flabby belly exposed for all to see. Ok, then. Dude needs a Bro, I thought.

Heather's chicken had not been done at first bite - which meant the mgr came out, apologized profusely, got her more chicken, done right this time, and told us dessert was on the house.

When dessert came, the waitress asked us if were ready for dessert. Heather said she hadn't seen a dessert menu, and the waitress said (almost in a flirty way), "I am the dessert menu..." and then rattled off the choices. I about bust up laughing at Heather's facial response.

Left: Heather N. Right: Me!

Dinner was later summed up by us in that we'd seen some serious skin and then were propositioned by another woman, lol. When we told Heather's husband that on our return, he looked VERY confused. And oh did we laugh.
But the best part?

Last night as I came home, my family had missed me, and honored me by assuring that the home was CLEAN upon my arrival!

And the smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted through my abode, welcoming me in.

I was surprised - for certain.

But it was blissful to be back home, with the smells of baking, cool in the air, and cozyness of Charlie Brown and I on the couch, snuggling with my blankie (after I got LMNOB to relinquish it from her room - the little thief - she has her own!), reading more of the book that I have not yet finished for school, and him watching the Rockies. Who won. Again!

The only thing that would have topped it would have been a little adult recreational activity - but we were both weary, so it's ok...we'll get to that.

Ah, contentment, it is a nice feeling....