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smilesbymiles
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Name: Michelle
Gender: Female
Interests: Writing, Choral Music, Photography, Scrapbooking,Interior Decorating, Cardiology, International Travel, Child Development
Expertise: Organization, Iced Tea, Hosting Guests, Speed Reading
Occupation: homemaker, photographer
Message: message me
Member Since:
8/14/2006
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| Today I am crying ... angry, selfish tears.
I was so excited about Thanksgiving because unlike most menus, I thought the traditional meal sounded like something that Liam could at least eat a little of. If nothing else, he could eat turkey and I can bake a sweet potato for him on the side.
My aunt, Frieda, always makes the turkey when my mom's family gets together at Thanksgiving and it is always super moist and so yummy. I volunteered to make it this year when David's family gets together (they rarely eat the traditional Thanksgiving foods since the guys aren't turkey and mashed potato fans). Today I checked the marinade recipe. Sure enough. Butter. Worse yet, I just found out that most turkeys are dusted in flour during processing.
I feel so angry inside. Why? Why does this have to reach out and affect every single part of our lives? I never knew how much our social life is wrapped around food until Liam showed up with all these allergies. We can't go to town unless there's a Chick Fil A close. Even then, he gets a plain, grilled, non-marinaded chicken filet specially made for him and the waffle fries. That's it. We still don't dream of traveling out of state. Everything has to be planned for carefully. A spur-of-the-moment "let's go to Dad's after church for coffee and ice cream" thing means Liam probably won't have anything to eat ... except maybe marshmallows or certain kinds of chips or strawberries if it happens to be a day he agrees to eating them. A "hey, it's cold out and cozy in let's make brownies" inspiration means, "oh, what about Liam?" A shared latte with Adam means Liam gets left out. Finding a babysitter means taking all his food and snacks and drink or then tediously going over the list of cans and can'ts. Can't we have one thing that just sails through? Just one?
Most of the time it doesn't feel like a big deal anymore. I cook for him and for us or sometimes substitute for us both. When we just stay home, it's kind of become routine. I can even go to town and know we'll be ok as long as there is Chick-Fil-A. And most of the time I am extraordinarily grateful this is food allergies we are dealing with. How minor. Liam's second cousin has leukemia. They had to hibernate for nearly a year socially compared to my eight weeks. They had family disruption after disruption, missed tons of events, worried all day every day about keeping him away from germs. He is doing so much better now and is on maintenance chemo. Still, they may not be able to come for Thanksgiving because there is chicken pox in our community and chicken pox is still life-threatening for Logan. Tomorrow I will be thanking God because He is so GOOD to me and I am so grateful to only have to deal with taking Liam's food to the reunion for my happy and healthy little boy.
But today I am crying. I just feel so sad. | | |
| Last night I kept walking through the kitchen and touching my book as I passed it, trying to reassure myself that it was actually true. It was completely overwhelming this morning to see the affirmation and celebration from you guys! I felt so energized and yet completely discombobulated today. Shellshocked might be a better word!
I thought that I had been relatively normal last night; but when I read my blog again this morning, I realized I never really introduced Andrew's family. And neither did I really tell you how these books happened. I have been formulating the gist of this post in my mind for months and then I didn't even write it. Apparently I was floating around in exuberance more then I realized.
I love to scrapbook and ever since Adam was two, he has loved to look at the ones I have done. He also (ever since he was too little to talk) loved when I told him stories. Even better then having stories read, he loved when I told him about life around us. I often did this when we were driving down the road. For example, when he was two, I explained to him how the mail gets to our mailbox. Now we discuss things like the difference between deciduous and evergreen trees. But in the months just prior to our move, almost every trip he begged me to tell him about "when we move to the new house." I began to see even more then ever how much it helped him to cope with life when he understood what was going on. Even though, sometimes, he hardly knew how to word the questions to get the information he really wanted to know.
After we moved, he pored over the pictures of building. He always chose the yellow photo album because it had the most pages of "tools." One day I decided to make my own little book for him. I compiled pages with the story of our building project and added photos. He loved it and begged so often to have it read that he soon had all twenty pages memorized. Several people encouraged me to publish it; but especially my SIL Emily kept giving me the little pushes I needed to try. "Think of how many other little boys would just stare at all those construction pictures. It's every little boys dream book!"
Bigger then the construction factor though, is the story about a little boy who moved from one house to another and still felt safe and loved. His toys came with him and life is still good. I will melt into a puddle of tears the day I hear from a mom who says her child was insecure or afraid of moving and this story helped her to understand what will happen and to relieve some of her fears.
And so I tried to publish it. And failed. It's too expensive to print full color pages they said.
And then I ran into a friend who is in publishing and she got all excited when I told her about my project. "Send it to us," she said. I said I would. But I didn't. Because I was scared. And I didn't think it would happen anyway. They called two more times and finally I sent it. Imagine my surprise and exuberance when they also said it was great! And yes, it would cost more to print; but it's also worth more and children will certainly like it better then black and white illustrations.
They saw potential for more then just Adam's story. Like me, they knew there are a lot of real life situations that can be difficult for kids to process. They told me about their life-long friends, Keith and Jeanne, who had four children. Their second son has severe handicaps. "It's quite a story and we'd love to see it in print."
I was nervous. Actually, that's an understatement. I was scared spit-less. How was I supposed to write the story of a family I had never even met? But from the minute I first talked to Jeanne on the phone I knew everything was going to be ok. She was so easy to talk to and started telling me the gist of the story of Benjamin's life. I started scratching notes as she wrote.
Knowing that it would be impossible to accurately portray their story without really getting to know them, we arranged a day for me to visit them. I fell head over heels in love with their family. Sweet, sweet kids and Keith and Jeanne are amazing. Jeanne and I had a lot of things in common. We both scrapbook, our youngest both have milk allergies, and we both love to talk! There were lots and lots of phone calls between us and they didn't all stay on the subject of the book because we soon felt like friends instead of book partners.
Most of all I wanted to get to know Andrew since he's the one telling the story. He was nine and I didn't know very much about how nine year old boys think, or how they say things. Jeanne and I talked, and pored over pictures trying to decide which ones to use, and went to visit Benjamin at his school. He is the happiest kid with a million dollar smile. And then Andrew got home from school. And then I got a little bit nervous. I knew I only had a little bit of time left before I needed to leave for home .... and I knew that you don't just ply a nine year old with questions like, "so tell me about what it's like to have a brother like Benjamin."
Jeanne offered us some cookies and Andrew and I headed outside to talk. I asked him a few questions while he traced lines in the dirt with his shoe or got up to pace around me in half circles. And then all of a sudden he said, "Do you want to play some ball?" And then I knew I'd won some trust.
We played pitch and catch and frisbee in the back yard and yelled a few questions and answers as the ball sailed between us. I hope Adam will be as polite and kind a kid as Andrew when he's nine.
I learned a lot from interacting with Andrew's family. As Jeanne said once, "you know, I would never ask for this; but I wouldn't want it any other way either." I think I know a little what she means. Liam's food allergies have given me a perspective of life I didn't have before. But I would NEVER ask for the experience or wish it on someone else. I knew that having a child like Benjamin would affect your life a lot ... but I never thought about how much it affects your life (and the life of your children) every single day. They are amazing parents. I came away from their house that day overwhelmed with one thing. They take such good care of their children. It is so obvious that those kids are loved. Benjamin takes an enormous amount of care and there are many things they can't do (like go on vacation) because of him. Yet I sensed no resentment. Only love. All siblings have to give and take but Benjamin's siblings have to do a lot more give then most. Yet I sensed no resentment. Only love. And even though Benjamin takes more time and care then most, the other three children responded freely in ways kids do when they are happy, secure, loved and cherished by their parents. I think God has given them grace and unselfishness to stretch around in ways I can hardly imagine.
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Some of you asked questions about the books in my last post. I tried to answer them in comments and got a little overwhelmed replying to everyone so I thought this might be easier.
These are children's books. They retail for $8.99 plus shipping. While I have my copy here, the bulk of them are not actually at the warehouse yet; but they should be here in a week or so. I will be more then happy to sell them to you (and yes, I am taking orders now) or you can purchase them directly from Vision Publishers. And yes, I will autograph your copy for you. (Why does it feel so funny to say that?) I started a list so if you specifically messaged me or commented that you want me to send you one, you are on the list and I replied to your comment / message. If you haven't heard back from me definitely and you want to order one, please message me here, on facebook or on "the mom forum."
Both books are hardcover and have photos on every page. (lots of photos I might add)
Oh, and while they are called a "series," the books are not related to each other and you can buy one without the other and not miss half the story. The reason it's called a series is b/c they are both related to adjustments kids have.
We Build A House is geared toward younger children ... I'm not terribly good at this because Adam likes stories that I think should be way over his head; but I'm going to say in the 2-6 yr old range.
My Brother's Keeper is for kids a step older ... like 5-10 yr old range approximately
It feels like I missed something ..... hmm, maybe I haven't quite landed after all. | | |
| I cannot believe this! I am actually, really, and truly an author. Jumping up and down and doing jumping jacks and I'd stand on my head if I could! Some projects take so long to do you kind of wonder if it's not just actually a sort of mirage and you really won't ever, ever get done with it. You will just always be working at it and stressing over it and not actually accomplishing anything.
Today Jeanne* called me and asked, "Did your UPS driver get there yet?" I said no and she said, "Well you should get your book today. I got mine." Lucky her having a UPS driver who shows up at 8:30 in the morning. I waited all day long. Adrenaline rush, then nervous; excited, then prickly.
The FedEx guy showed up about the time I normally see our UPS driver and I thought, "hey, I bet they sent mine FedEx." I was way too eager and opened the door long before he got to the steps. Inside I glanced at the box. Oh. A box for David. About work. Whatever.
FINALLY, five minutes before we had to run out the door (and 90 minutes later then he normally is), he showed up. And here it is!
The books are a series on real life adjustments kids face. You know how kids run into these real life stressors and sometimes they are too young to know how to ask the questions to find out the information they really want to know? And then they ask the same questions over and over and over and over. Or they act out. Or they withdraw. Or they revert to baby behavior again. That's why these books were born. As we were building our house I realized how important it was to talk to Adam a LOT and explain even the things he wasn't asking about.
I'm not sure why book #2 showed up before book #1; but it did. And it really doesn't matter. This one is about Andrew ... a nine-year-old boy who explains what it is like to have a physically handicapped brother. The other book is the story of us building our house -- from Adam's perspective. (I will upload a photo as soon as I have one.)
The books are hardcover and illustrated with full-color photographs on every page. They would make excellent Christmas gifts, I think! The books were done through Vision Publishers and you can buy them through them (they don't have them up on their website yet or I'd do a link) or from me.
Excuse me while I go pinch myself again.
*Andrew's mom | | |
| Some time I want to go out with a few friends for an evening and encounter only polite, friendly people. All day every day it seems, I am reminding two little people to remember to say "please", or "remember to wait until daddy is finished talking", or "can you say excuse me"? So when I get to go out with grown-ups, I expect them to practice good manners without me wishing to remind them.
A few months ago around the end of August (I think), three girlfriends and I managed to get away for an evening out. We had fantastic food at Cafe Europa and talked non-stop until they closed at 8:30. Not nearly done talking, we headed to Barnes and Noble for coffee and found an empty corner with huge arm chairs. There were people in the store; but it was surprisingly uncrowded. We dived right back into conversation where we'd left off.
You have to understand that I (and most of the other girls) r.a.r.e.l.y get out like this. I'm not sure why because none of our husbands seem to mind at all. In fact, I think they rather like the energized wives that return. Maybe it's just a bad case of unnecessary mom guilt. Who knows. Whatever the reason, it had been months and months and months since I'd been out of the house with friends, sans kids.
We'd barely been there five minutes when a middleaged man walked by, threw us a few sideways glances, and moved on to the next aisle where I could tell he was trying desperately to eavesdrop. Normally I wouldn't have noticed but the look he gave us as he passed by made me keep an eye on him. Apparently he couldn't hear quite well enough because what do you know, he came back and plopped down on a chair IN OUR CIRCLE without so much as a by your leave. He pretended virtuously to be reading his book; but he was clearly faking. We rolled our eyes at each other and tried to continue our conversation; but it felt forever stilted. There were plenty of empty chairs all around the store. WHAT was the idea??? I really, really, really wanted to say, "Are you always this rude?" but didn't want to embarrass my friends so I refrained. After what seemed like forever he got up as though to leave, smiled a funny smile at us, and moved back to the next aisle. We thought we were safe only to see him come back with another book and sit down to fake read some more.
I have grown somewhat accustomed to getting strange looks simply because I am Mennonite and obviously stick out in a crowd. But this was fascination gone a little too far for my comfort. When he stood and turned his back the next time, I signaled to the girls and we slipped off to the completely deserted children's section. So let's just see if he has the nerve to come join us a third time. Janelle excused herself to use the restroom and the rest of us were merrily giggling away, trying to figure out what could have possibly been so amusing to him. I mean really. He must live a boring life if the conversation of four housewives is enough to make him act like that. All of a sudden, Emily looked up to see a man's face (different one this time) peering over the dividing wall at us. "oh, uh, good evening" he stammered. Thirty seconds later Janelle rounded the corner her face flushed with suppressed laughter. "Did you know there was a man standing up on something peering over the wall at y'all? He got down just as I was getting out and looked all sheepish and ran off." Uh, yeah, we caught him.
Thursday night I got to go out for coffee again. Every year Edenali takes their employees out for a Christmas supper. This year we ladies offered to plan and host a formal dinner. Since the five of us getting together means there will also be nine kids (or eleven if school is over for the day) and moms will be jumping up like popcorn, we opted to have our planning meeting in the evening when the dads could do childcare. All went well and we were having a great time in a deserted Starbucks until I got out my camera to take a few pictures. Immediately a head popped over the counter, "We don't allow flash photography here." I was dumbfounded but apologized, told him I had no idea, and turned off my flash. They kept throwing us cold looks all evening long and clearly informed us when it was ten minutes to closing time without any politeness. We walked out and all four said, "don't think I'll be coming back here anytime soon." I looked up the Starbucks website the next day and found absolutely nothing about flash photography. I called the manager who said it is forbidden because everything down to the paint color is trademarked; "but I usually let it go when it looks innocent which it sounds like you were." She apologized for the cold mannerisms. I rarely get to a store that has such poor PR that when I do, it always takes me for a ride. Why would you work somewhere like that if you don't enjoy being friendly? We went next door to McDonalds where everyone was super friendly. Do I like McDonalds better then Starbucks. Of course not. That's a no-brainer. But where would I opt to go if given the option between those two? McDonalds. Why do businesses not get that figured out?
The next time I get to go out, I think I'll just go to the park. | | |
| I just realized that many of you probably read my blog yesterday but not the comments. Among all the lovely wishes and encouragement (thank you!), two people shared simple yet profound truths. Judging by the number of other people who said they have days like that, I think perhaps many of us should plaster these words all over the walls of our hearts.
from Kim: "If we were all we should be and wanted to be.. there would be no need for Jesus."
and from Zonya: "You are not defined by how well you meet your own expectations."
I wonder if they had any idea how much I needed to hear that yesterday. | | |
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