Recap

My Patient Patient

Stella stayed out of the Jersey Shore drama and just soaked up the rays.

Father-Daughter Bonding

Me at the Derby!

When I was a kid, I kept a diary religiously. Except when I didn't. There'd be an entry or two every day for years, then suddenly a year with nothing. When I picked my diary back up and realized how much of my life was omitted, I figured I owed it to my future adoring fans (or the mourners who'd find my diaries after my death, if I was in a dark mood) to recap the year. So there'd be one quick entry with bullet points describing the high- and lowlights of the previous year. Then I'd quickly transition into mooning over some unrequited crush.

Well, fear not: there are no unrequited crushes these days (I'm sure Dave's relieved to hear that). But I am anxious to start writing about daily life because, as these blogs go, mine's pretty interesting at the moment. But first, a recap of my year sans blogging.

• Illness/surgical procedures. A slipped disc in my back - lots of meetings with people who insisted I needed surgery. Then, finally, against my own prejudices, a chiropractor who righted my life again (let me know if you want his info - he's a miracle worker). Also, a very embarrassing and painful surgical procedure that shall remain nameless. All this made me pretty miserable and lethargic for a long time.
• I went to the Derby for the first time in my life, which is insane, considering how obsessed with it I am (just ask my NYC friends who ate benedictine at my annual parties).
  
• Crazy trip to NYC. I mean crazy. First of all, we drove. (With a 3-year-old.) We rented a beach home to hang out with friends on the Jersey Shore, and I guess that shore rubbed off on us because we had some serious inter-friend drama. Then a visit with Dave's family, and a blow-out with Dave's sister over our misuse of her home's marble. (Somehow during my illustrious youth in Upton, KY, nobody ever taught me that I can't put any toiletries at all on a marble, nor am I allowed to get water on it.) There was, thankfully, a fabulous wedding thrown into the mix, which was good, because I needed to dance off some aggression. Finally, a sweet trip back to Brooklyn to visit with wonderful friends, causing us to feel conflicted about our move to Kentucky. Good times.
• My mom was diagnosed with melanoma. This is what led to my grandmother's passing, and my brother survived it not long ago, as well. Thankfully, they were able to remove all of my mom's cancer through an operation, but it was an emotional time to say the least.
• My brother, Jason, and his wife endured a heart-breaking trip to the Ukraine, certain they'd bring home an adopted child or maybe two, only to run up against a million brick walls.
• School - a new year, a new grade, new everything. The kids are incredible this year - very hard-working and polite, but I'm a perfectionist as always and I continually strive to turn them into world-class writers before the year is over. A realist, I am not. Which is why, frankly, I think I'm a good teacher.
• The Moth Storytelling Series came to Louisville! I repeatedly said that Louisville would be the perfect city if it only had the Moth, and it's absolutely true. Now we're a little liberal haven with excellent theater, art, food, music, friends and THE MOTH! I've performed in it twice, and won the December slam! That was totally a dream-come-true moment. And then it got better. Much better. Because I found out that my story is going to be on the podcast. The podcast that I'm obsessed with. I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy! (I'll totally post the link when it is up.)
• Dave came down with septic staph, an illness we thought at first was just strep throat. When he got to the hospital, his EKG was abnormal, so the nurse called me to inform me my husband was having a heart attack. Thank God they were wrong, but the muscle of his heart was inflamed, causing it to beat irregularly. He received amazing care from Baptist East Hospital. Seriously amazing. Made me so grateful we moved here, because we never had such a competent, caring, attentive stay at a hospital in New York, and that's including my amazing labor and delivery experience. And we were touched beyond belief by the selfless generosity of my family and our friends. My mom and sister scoured our dirty home, my brother Kerry researched doctors and sent us a care package, my other brother, Jason, and his wife, Nikole, fetched groceries and other treats for us, and my brother-in-law, Brian, took Stella out with her cousins so she could have some fun. My mom was on full-time Stella duty and was my emotional rock. And our friends brought us food and visited Dave in the hospital and reminded us what a wonderful community we've established for ourselves here. This experience shook Dave and me to our cores, reminded us how lucky we are to be alive, to have each other, to have everyone in our lives.
• And now, finally, at the age of 39 and 36 respectively, Dave and I are looking into home ownership. Because in Louisville, you can actually get a place in a non-scary neighborhood with more than 1.5 bedrooms for less than $600,000. And that still kind of blows our minds, especially if you read about any of our real estate drama in NYC.
• Stella has really grown out of a lot of her Sensory Processing Disorder, with the help of a wonderful occupational therapist and her terrific preschool, AJ! She is social, sweet, creative, brilliant, and most amazingly of all, a fantastic sleeper!
  

I guess those are the main traumas, er events. I think you see why blogging shifted to my back burner for a while.

In terms of the here and now, Stella is watching "The Cat in the Hat" and eating toast, Dave is at the hospital for the intravenous injections that he's been receiving since his hospital stay three weeks ago (he's got one more week to go), and I'm sipping coffee in my PJ's. It's gearing up to be a sweet day off at home, if I can push aside the more than 150 papers I have left to grade.

Until I blog again...

Sabbatical

What a year it's been. Not that you'd know. Because I stopped writing on this blog...

Well, I'm back, and there's no stopping me now. (Even if you really want to.)

So stay tuned, because stories of parenting, public school teaching, and general merriment are coming your way. (But not right now, because I'm going to go see a movie.)

Things I Am Sick Of:

• Being fat
• Being sick of being fat when I know I'm working my butt off to lose weight, have CRAPTACULAR genes, and honestly do believe that beautiful people come in all shapes and sizes
• Never feeling beautiful, no matter what my shape and size
• Giving a crap about this stuff when it is NOT IMPORTANT, and being a mom and a teacher really are
• Being sick - asthma, skin conditions, coughs and colds, foot problems - pretty much constant since I got preggo 3 years ago
• Feeling like an outcast because my inner guiding voices sound different than most people's inner guiding voices
• Not having enough time to spend with Stella and feeling EXHAUSTED when I finally do find time
• Going to the damn doctor
• Being in the apartment all the time that I'm not at work
• Being the butt of adolescent anger and angst when all I want is for kids to do their work and improve
• Working out, working out, working out
• Being sore, being sore, being sore
• Driving without a working radio/tape player/CD player (my own voice frankly sucks)
• Driving so freaking much
• Complaining on Facebook when I know I hate it when others do the same
• Worrying about every decision I've ever made
• Still feeling sad about things that happened decades ago
• Missing my NYC friends
• Being tailgated
• SNOW AND ICE
• Wanting to change the world, even though I have no clue how and the constant battle frustrates me
• A messy apartment and no energy to clean it
• No energy to do anything
• Not being able to breathe and wheezing constantly
• Not having a sense of humor and feeling like this
• The fact that I lack a filter that prevents me from making a fool of myself

Please do not feel the need to comfort or say nice things. I just needed to get this stuff off my chest. I'm in an illness-induced funk and it will pass.

Leap of Faith

When I was little, I had a lot of fears. Fear of the first day of school. Fear of public speaking. Fear of getting in trouble. Fear of nuclear holocaust.

My mom's sage advice for handling these phobias was to "pretend that you're an actress playing the part of someone who is not afraid." For the record, this is amazing advice.

And it has worked. I no longer fear the first day of school (I've had many now), I love speaking in public, I don't fear getting out of line when necessary, and I just don't allow myself to think about nuclear holocaust.

And I can vividly remember those moments when I did something I was afraid to do. The first time I had to sing for an audition of Funny Girl, for example. I'm a terrible singer, anyway, and all the cool kids (well, as cool as musical theater kids can be) were there. I played the part of a confident singer, and on the outside, I probably looked fine. On the inside, my heart was pounding, my stomach aching, and my body threatened to run. I had to endure a persistent voice in my head that kept saying, "You can't do this. You CANNOT do this. I'm not sure you heard me, but this is really not something you can do." And then, and this is the case in every instance where I overcame my fear, I basically stepped outside of myself, shut my brain off, and let body do what it thought it couldn't. I had to take a leap of faith.

And thank God I did, because it led to so many amazing events in my life. Asking a boy out (what if he says no?), saying yes when a boy asked me out (what if he breaks my heart?), studying abroad (I can't be away from America for six months), moving to NYC with $1,000 in my pocket (am I CRAZY?), starting a family (in this messed up world?), and being the catalyst for our move across the country (what if I'm WRONG?).

Each and every time I just acted, pushed myself, taking that step off the cliff and just knowing that something would catch me. And something did. Every time.

But these are all rational fears. It's the irrational ones that I have more trouble with.

Car wrecks. How can I trust other people won't be drunk or high or just terribly reckless?

Kidnapping. How could I possibly let Stella out of my sight when someone might take her and...I can't finish that sentence.

Terrorism. After witnessing 9/11 from my apartment window, I still feel plagued at times by a fear that a bomb will go off at a crowded event or my plane will get hijacked.

And my most recent one: school shootings. Tuscon really shook me up. It reminded me how much hate is out there, and how relaxed our gun laws are. It made me think about how I'm an opinionated, outspoken liberal in an area where opinionated, outspoken liberals are considered by some to be disciples of Satan. It reminded me that some of my students hate my guts.

And just when I thought I was feeling better, I read about not one but two school shootings this week in California. These were much smaller than Columbine, thank God, but no less scary. The world is filled with hate, children are sponges for that hate, guns are plentiful and easy to acquire, kids get mad at each other and their teachers. Sometimes it just seems inevitable to me that it will happen in my life at some point, in some way.

I know. Irrational. Dave already told me. Especially when you look at how rare school shootings are. But that fear is there, regardless, and it's hurting me.

So now I have to play the part of the confident teacher, the woman whose only thought is how to instruct 13-year-olds to find the main idea of Nelson Mandela's autobiography, not peeking around the corner to see if someone's holding a firearm. This is a difficult leap of faith to make.

And yet, I will. Because I'm where I'm supposed to be, doing what I'm supposed to do. And, if you think about it, most any career can be deadly. Just ask my wise momma - she works at the Post Office.

How a Couple of Fad Diets Made Me a Health Foodie

How did I go from eating bacon as a snack on Atkins to getting giddy about buying organic greens at a Farmer's Market? It's not as crazy as you'd think.

When I started the Atkins Diet about eight years ago, I honestly thought it wouldn't work. My family "dared" me to join them, and I thought I'd prove their crazy fad diet wrong. Instead, I lost around 60 pounds.

I remember day three of the diet, hitting a major CRASH and feeling like I would die if I didn't eat chocolate - STAT. If you don't know, Phase I of Atkins involves no sugar, no starch, and carbs that come only from vegetables. It's intense.

But I had no idea that giving up candy would be such a big deal. Until that moment, I hadn't realized that I was consuming some on a daily basis. Daily. Um...really?

As the diet went on, I noticed many other things about my previous eating habits. Like, for example, how many foods I consumed from bags or boxes. Chips, crackers, frozen Boca burgers -- if it was processed by a factory, I was there. I rarely ate vegetables, other than forms of potato, and, contrary to its meat-centric reputation, Atkins forced me to eat my roughage (let's just say a certain bathroom function isn't possible without it). And I ate a lot of things that didn't fill me up and made me crash - unlike candy and Pirate's Booty.

Atkins and I had to part ways eventually, because the idea of a life without bread was just too depressing to take. And that's when I met South Beach - Atkins' handsome, more laid-back cousin. Sinful foods such as beans and low-fat milk were cleared for Phase I, making it instantly more doable. I lost weight at a slower, steadier pace, but I felt less desperate and likely to steal someone's bag of Doritos.

And, again, I learned about myself. Since the diet focuses on lean proteins, vegetables, and, in Phase II, fruits and whole grains, I had to cook almost every meal. (You can find a lot of frozen South Beach meals now, but they were almost nonexistent at the time.) That seemed impossible at that point in my life. I worked full time and so did Dave, and it seemed ridiculous to me that we could have the energy to come home and fix a meal. (Little did I know that this whole equation becomes 6,000 times more exhausting when you throw in a toddler...)

But we bought a second South Beach cookbook - a quick meals one - and we found that it was not only doable, it was fun and delicious.

And I found even more success on this diet - getting super skinny for my wedding, then settling at a heavier, healthier weight for me and maintaining it...until pregnancy made me regress into my old eating self. But that's a whole other post.

And now that I'm on South Beach Phase I again - with a few modifications (I'm shying away from the fat free stuff, because I think it's too processed), I'm finding it so easy that I feel ashamed that I didn't do it sooner.

It's so easy because not only do I know how to cook - I enjoy cooking and take pleasure in it. It's also easy because, over the years, I've developed a love for many healthy foods - like basically all vegetables in existence - and I've cut down on the daily bad habits - like the afternoon Snickers bar. And because I'd been eating too much starch and consuming too many caffeinated beverages pre-diet, I'm reeling from the natural energy and good mood that I'm gleaning from my current eating habits.

And the organic, Farmer's Market greens? The initial Atkins-inspired awakening that I experienced concerning my eating habits caused me to look at all aspects of my eating, to evaluate everything that went in my body. If cutting down on the carbs made me feel great and lose weight, how would I feel if I took out all the processed crap? What if we ate less red meat? How about no artificial sweeteners?

I watched "Supersize Me" and read Fast Food Nation, leading me to cut down on and eventually cut out fast food. And I started equating my political views with our family nutrition. If I think the meat-packing industry is corrupt and immoral, how about I stop eating their meat? If I want to have a cleaner Earth for Stella, why don't we buy foods that are grown and produced locally?

Speaking of "Supersize Me," my fellow language arts teachers and I recently showed this film to our 7th graders as part of our persuasive writing unit. There's a scene at the beginning where Morgan Suprlock's girlfriend prepares his "last meal" of healthy food -- a vegetable tart, a quinoa veggy salad, an artichoke, and a simply dressed green salad. I stood there salivating (it looked delicious), but I heard several kids groan as if they were looking at something vile and disgusting. And I remembered thinking the same thing the first time I saw the movie. Who'd have thought Atkins would change my mind about THAT?

Sensory Processing Disorder

Stella starting to "zone out" at All About Kids.

She still had tons of fun, though!

Her adorable friends. Whom she's completely ignoring.


A few weeks ago, Dave and I took Stella to a birthday party of one of her classmates, Alex. It was at a fabulous place called All About Kids where they teach gymnastic classes and have bouncy gyms and ball pits and general awesomeness. Dave takes her there many weeks when the weather's bad, so we knew she loved it.

However, when we got there, we were confused. Although Stella seemed excited to play, she completely ignored all the other kids, walking to a secluded corner and sort of zoning out. A couple of times, she even lay on the floor, face down, ignoring us.

I'll admit, I got peeved. Here we are spending our weekend eating store-bought cake (you know how I feel about that) and drinking Kool-Aid so Stella can be with other kids her age, and she just ignores them?

So, I emailed her teachers (like the over-attentive yuppy mom that I am) and asked if she's social at school. I expected them to tell me that I'm overreacting and that things will improve with age.

Instead, we got an email back saying they were in the process of emailing us about similar concerns.

Well, crap. Crappity crap crap.

I did what I do best - jump to far-fetched conclusions. Not interacting with other kids, rarely liking to hug or touch, an obsessive personality that caused her to learn her alphabet, numbers 1-15 and all her colors more quickly than I could have imagined. Obviously, she was autistic.

Thankfully, her amazing preschool teachers calmed me down and led us to a great resource - First Steps, Kentucky's early-intervention program. They were responsive and friendly, and set up an appointment with us right away. We filled out questionnaires about Stella's ability and social skills, and had a couple of counselors come over to do things like roll a ball on the floor with Stella and ask her to "read" a book to them.

And the conclusion they came to was Sensory Processing Disorder. And my little teacher brain said, "WELL, DUH!"

I have no clue how I missed this, considering I learned about it in grad school, spent two weeks over a summer at an intensive training course learning more about it and other disorders, and even had a couple of students with it. How did I not see?

Sensory Processing Disorder is a huge umbrella term and can explain a lot of different behaviors, but its definition is: a neurological disorder that results from the brain's inability to integrate certain information received from the body's five basic sensory systems.

Stella has a very mild version of it, which is great, and it can be vastly improved or even reversed with occupational therapy, which is also great. And best of all, catching it this early is the most effective way to work with it.

What this is all means is Stella has a really sensitive system. Which explains why she basically didn't sleep for 16 months. The world was too bright, too loud, to smelly, TOO MUCH to allow the poor girl to sleep.

It also explains some of her other quirks - like why transitions MAKE HER SCREAM, why she hates to have her face washed, why certain foods make her gag, why really loud places cause her to "zone out" and seek seclusion. And friends? Friends are too unpredictable, touching you at odd times or screaming in your ears or, sometimes, even smelling funny. Friends are simply sensory overload for a kid like Stella.

SO WHY DIDN'T I CATCH IT?

I'm also amazed that I didn't recognize the same condition in myself. How many nights did I simply lay awake as a child because the car lights on the street were distracting or because I could hear my sister breathing? How many times did I sob at the hairdressers because combing my hair felt excruciating? How many times have I had a friend ask if I was paying attention to the conversation because I kept looking around at all the other people and lights and displays at the restaurant?

Stella got this from me, and heredity is the most common cause of SPD.

I learned to adapt to being very sensitive, but it did make things more difficult for me. I remember my legs simply ACHING from sitting all day at school. I remember hating getting my hands dirty but refusing to say anything about it because I didn't want to be made fun of. And I was very tentative and scared on the playground because I dreaded getting hurt.

How on earth did I manage to have a natural labor? Because I'm just that awesome, yo.

Anyway, her teachers thanked us today for being so receptive to hearing this about Stella and so proactive in seeking early intervention. I was floored. Shouldn't I be thanking them for keeping such a close eye on our kid?

They said many parents refuse to listen to this sort of feedback because it makes them feel bad. But I feel relieved to have an explanation for Stella's more puzzling behavior, and thankful to have a FREE resource to help her (and us) find natural ways to deal with it.

I'm also grateful to have any insight into my amazing, gorgeous child and the knowledge to not only be patient with her differences but also proactive in helping her. Nobody's perfect, and if I'd be OK getting a math tutor or an allergist to help her, why wouldn't I want an occupational therapist to teach her how to process the intense sensations she experiences so she can enjoy this vibrant, loud, kooky world we inhabit?

The Top Ten of '10

Au revoir, Brooklyn!


My sister's Christmas card was fabulous this year. Rather than a long letter of all her family's triumphs and woes, she made a bright, vibrant top ten list of their stand-out moments. Seeing as she's a wonderful graphic designer, it was not only poignant, it was visually stunning.

Mine will just be poignant. Maybe.

After the horrible year we experienced in 2009, 2010 was a year of reconstruction - pulling ourselves together after the brutal wars we fought. The war against a corrupt landlord who refused to dispose of both lead paint and a violent neighbor properly. The war against my possibly nearly fatal (TMI?) post-partum depression. The war against our budget after Dave lost his job at Forbes. The war Dave and I fought against each other as we tried to make sense of the constant sleeplessness we were experiencing combined with seemingly constant moving.

2010 was definitely an improvement. We had settled into an apartment that was devoid of lead paint and had a reasonable neighbor. I'd gone back to work part-time at my beloved school in Brooklyn. Stella, thank God in Heaven, had not only begun to sleep, but began to be possibly the best sleeper in her class -- middle-weight toddlers. And, despite Dave's work situation, we'd tightened our apron strings sufficiently to avoid going into debt or claiming bankruptcy.

We had climbed far enough up Maslow's hierarchy of needs to stop simply surviving and start self-actualizing.

For me, that meant being brutally honest with both Dave and myself about the fact that I couldn't stay healthy as a "middle class" (i.e. impoverished) parent in NYC with no family support. I had to stop finding a way to try to fit my square self in that round hole and just start searching for a freaking square hole (they're hard to find).

So, keeping that long-winded prelude in mind, I present to you The Brooklyn/Bluegrass Baby Momma's Top Ten Profound Moments of 2010:

10. Getting bed bugs - TWICE - and dealing with record low temps and large amounts of snow while living in a place with limited heat.
9. Finally convincing Dave that we had to give moving back to Kentucky a shot, after the above events showed us that just moving out of Little Russia wasn't going to solve all of our problems and that possibly NYC was simply not for us.
8. Working my butt off to find (and succeeding in that endeavor) what people told me was an impossible situation: working for a rural, high-needs school an easy commute away from our urban life in Louisville.
7. Moving to the nicest apartment we've ever inhabited without seeing it first. (Thanks to my brother and sister-in-law for finding it!)
6. Finding that I love being a middle school language arts teacher, and that I really do love being back in a school where I feel needed.
5. Reconnecting with wonderful Louisville friends while missing wonderful NYC friends.
4. Finally finding a spiritual home at Adath Jeshurun after years and years of searching.
3. Finding so much joy in the fact that we can afford to send Stella to preschool here without knowing the mayor or president or dishing over her entire college fund.
2. Watching with glee as Dave has the time and energy to write awesome freelance stories and perform his wonderful, original music in a band composed of cool, sweet, trustworthy guys.
1. Getting to be with my family again in a normal way (well, as normal as we get) after 12 years away. And the best part of that is watching Stella fall madly in love with them and vice versa.

This is the kind of year that really showed me the power of prayer and positive thinking. I really thought this move, this job, this drastic change would never happen, but once I set my mind and heart and soul into trying to achieve it, it's amazing how things just fell into place.

I hope that we can all keep that in mind in 2011. We are our own worse enemies. Our fear and doubt and self-loathing and petty differences all serve to distract us from our awesome potential.

What does your heart really want for you in 2011? Are you willing to shut up the negative voices in your head and just GO FOR IT?