Sometimes

I haven't posted in awhile. I don't know why exactly, except for the fact that things haven't been too exciting or different lately.

But hey, who needs exciting when every day normality is fine, too?

Some days are like Clara's morning hair: out of whack.

Other days are crazy, but we endure it with a smile.

Some days feel organized and put-together.

Others feel productive.


And other days bring feelings of satisfaction.


Hope your day is going well.

Once upon a time . . .

. . . there was a little girl, waiting for snow.

She got her wish, and gleefully romped through a world of white.

Then her father and mother built a snowman . . .

. . . with the help of some neighbors who supplied man power and essential snowman eyes (potpourri lime halves) and buttons (pine cones).

But in the night, the snowman got heavy. And forlorn.

It couldn't hold its head up any longer.

So the little girl and her parents built it again as a slightly smaller version of its former self.

And the little girl was happy.

The end.

Edelweiss

Tonight I resisted my usual practice of hurrying through her bedtime routine--prayer, brush teeth, story, song--and got into bed with Clara, snuggling under the covers with her as we read the Friend and a couple of books together.


For once, instead of thinking about other things, I savored the moment. I felt her warm breath on my nose as we snuggled close together, she in her bunny bag (footie pajamas), and me in my ratty sweatpants and stained "pajama" shirt.

I asked her, "What song do you want me to sing tonight?"

"Edelweiss," she responded.

I obliged, kissed her good night, tucked her in, turned out the light, and closed the door, treasuring a happy memory.

. . .

Of course, moments later, I hear her yelling, "Take the (too-loud ticking) clock down!" (more on the clock on another post), and so I enter the room again and take it down. She then informs me that she needs another animal in bed with her--she gets her baby doll--and her yellow blanket.

I again acquiesce, tucking her in a second time.


Edelweiss she certainly is. Even when manipulating the Mama during the bedtime routine.

Book Review: Disease-Proof Your Child

Disease-Proof Your Child: Feeding Kids Right is authored by Dr. Joel Fuhrman.
This book's jumping-off point is his first book, Eat to Live, which I haven't read. Basically, the entire premise is that our society is focused on remedy and medication to solve health problems instead of using the body's natural defense--good nutrition--to prevent disease and illness in the first place.

His philosophy is that it isn't enough to just reduce saturated fat, or eliminate artificial dyes or sweeteners, etc.--you have to EAT MORE VEGETABLES (and fruits, but especially vegetables). He makes the case that it is the specific phytochemicals and nutrients in plants that give your body the tools it needs to prevent cancer, asthma, viruses, etc. from successfully gaining ground in a child's body.

He is a proponent of vegetarianism and veganism but also points out that you can be a healthy omnivore so long as you limit consumption of animal products and especially make sure that you are eating lots of veggies.

Overall, I found the book an interesting read, as well as a thought-provoking one. The whole dairy disagreement that so many in the diet/nutrition/health world debate is one that is probably outside the scope of this post (or blog, for that matter).

Whether you agree with his philosophy or not, it might be worth a gander.

Whatever it takes

I have a problem.

I like using onions when I cook, but they absolutely kill my eyes.

After incredulously seeing a pair of "onion goggles" in a store awhile ago, I had an epiphany.

Who needs fancy onion goggles when these stylish yet inexpensive safety goggles work perfectly?

P.S. Onions are really good for you.

P.P.S. Thanks for all your kind comments lately. You guys rock.

Book Review: The Parenting Breakthrough

As usual, this book was a recommendation by one of my wonderful sisters-in-law. I actually BOUGHT it, which tells you that it has to be pretty darn good (of course, that might also have been because I couldn't get it through inter-library loan).


Merrilee Browne Boyack is a mother of four boys, a lawyer, and a Mormon. Her writing style is, shall we say, ebullient, not to mention slightly quirky, but it's not annoying and makes her personal perspective refreshing and real.

The entire point of the book is teaching your children how to be independent and realizing, as she mentions, that we don't have children to keep them in the house forever. She shows her readers that chores should be used as opportunities to teach valuable skills and are a means to an end: raising an independent, responsible human being.

Check out Boyack's list ("The Plan" as she has dubbed it) for the skills to teach a child at each particular age:

Age 3: dress self, use toilet independently, beginning to brush teeth, pick up toys, say prayers, clean glass tables

Age 4: Brush teeth, make bed, make own breakfast, make sandwiches, beginning to clean room

Age 5: Straighten room, vacuum, empty garbage cans, set table, clear table, make own lunch, warm up canned food, get allowance

. . . and it continues . . .

Age 13: sew simple items, shop for clothing and other items, find bargains, plan parties, have own recipe files, shop for groceries, use ATM, type without looking, understand prescriptions . . . order something by phone, order something by mail, order something on Internet, read Book of Mormon through, check fluids in car . . .

Et cetera.

WOW.

"The Plan" should obviously be dependent on the child and on your personal priorities; e.g. I am not willing to let Clara brush her own teeth because (1) she doesn't want to do it, (2) she does a bad job, and (3) my husband is a dentist. (I'm not quite sure how that third reason comes into play here since he often can't be there to brush her teeth, but psychologically it's very important.)

Another very thought-provoking aspect of the book is her discussion of the importance of teaching children financial skills and how she goes about doing it.


We've been working on Clara's self-help skills for a while (tidying her room daily, getting dressed alone, etc.) but we're expanding our efforts. And on that note, I'd like to introduce you to Pirate.


Pirate is Clara's plant (a.k.a. one of her chores). Why she named it Pirate is anybody's guess.

I'd also like to introduce you to the dungeon. The dungeon is where the silverware prisoners are locked up to prevent them from escaping. Occasionally a stray fork or spoon likes to try to sneak away, but fortunately Clara is the the dungeon guard and prevents that from ever happening.

Now whether the prisoners are locked in their correct cell, well, that's still a work in progress.

I'd recommend the book. It's a good 'un.

A new perspective

As we've approached Clara's fifth birthday, I have been pondering on how different our life is than I think I imagined it would be when our little girl turned five. I think everyone makes plans about the future they expect, albeit often subconsciously.

I had planned on having at least one--probably two--more kid(s) by the time Clara turned five. That unfortunately hasn't happened, but that's another story. I subconsciously pictured our little growing family, a picture-perfect glimpse of happiness as my husband finished his last year of residency and we embarked on a new life. I naturally assumed Clara would be precocious and talented, just like her parents (haha). I'd relish being a mom, despite its challenges, and would commiserate with friends on frequent playdates. Life would be ideal.

However, life doesn't always happen the way we plan.

Words that I'd never thought much about, or even heard of, are now familiar friends to me (well, I wouldn't go quite to friends . . .). Autism. Aspergers. Pervasive developmental delay not otherwise specified (PDD-NOS). Central auditory processing disorder. Dyspraxia. Motor planning. Sensory processing disorder. Adaptive aquatics. Physical therapy. Occupational therapy. Speech therapy. Individualized Education Plan. Special education.

I realize with some chagrin that our challenges with Clara are minute compared to the much more serious or life-threatening difficulties that some parents face with their children--cancer, spina bifida, poverty, cerebral palsy, diabetes, displacement by war, abuse, etc. But as this is my blog, in my vanity I am focused on myself. Sorry.

I have felt many emotions. Disbelief. Shame. Disappointment. Embarrassment. Confusion. Uncertainty. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Pain. Self-pity. Grief.

I've heard on more than one occasion something to the effect of "Oh, but my kids do that, too! You just only have her so you don't have anything to compare her to." I think sometimes people don't believe me, or think I'm exaggerating or just being paranoid when I talk about my concerns. And while I'm sure that many of my emotions are ones felt by all parents traveling on the parenting journey, I have also seen, babysat, taught, and interacted with enough children to know what is "normal" and what isn't.

And you know what? I've decided it's okay to not have a child who is "normal."

So I must add to the emotions above. Joy. Surprise. Mirth. Love. Silliness. Pride. Astonishment. Admiration.


Having Clara has helped me feel more deeply. I have savored the sweet victory that comes from a child learning to take her shirt off by herself after I've worked with her about two hundred times. I give thanks that my child now often likes to hold my hand (I used to watch in longing at a mother and a daughter holding hands together). Perhaps this is egotistical of me, but I feel that we appreciate many little things that most parents take completely for granted. I appreciate being able to walk at a somewhat normal pace with my daughter instead of having to drag her along as I used to. I rejoice in a spontaneous kiss and an unexpected "You look like a princess!" comment. I am thankful when she can tell me something she did at school that day. Or when she doesn't growl at a stranger and says "hi" instead. I feel such pleasure knowing that my daughter enjoys drawing now more than she used to, even if she prefers to draw small nonsensical circles on the paper.

Our journey with Clara has introduced me to a whole world of people--good, good people: therapists who have become friends, teachers whom I can call when I need advice, doctors who care about Clara's success and potential. People at church--and elsewhere--who have taken Clara under their wing and love her inexplicably. I confess that I have sometimes wondered why they love Clara when she doesn't always reciprocate in kind. And yet they do, because she is easy to love. With all her wiles and mystery, her rigidity and incomprehensibility, she is a sweet, precious soul. One who wants to please her parents and who is learning to make good choices, albeit painfully at times. She adores books, which makes her mama proud and grateful. She loves music and can sing on pitch, which brings me immense pleasure. She is learning to pray. And she is beautiful--when she laughs and looks into your eyes, the world is a magical place.


There are days when I want to give up, but those days aren't as frequent as they used to be. When Clara asks me for the umpteenth time, "Can we do something else?" but can't think of what she wants to do, or when she can't answer my question or have a normal conversation, I grow frustrated and sometimes angry. Why can't she just count the stinkin' animals? Why can't she just SHARE?!! Why can't she just be normal? Why couldn't I have the kids that all my friends seem to have? Why do I feel so isolated and alone? I don't know if I can do this, I think to myself.


But then, each new day we find--or are given--more strength. I have felt God's love in so many ways--through the people who help Clara, through my amazing husband, through her own actions, through prayers--her guileless ones, ours, and the prayers of others--and sweet experiences. Little by little, I recognize that even if I could, I would not go back and change things.

If she were more neurotypical, I couldn't be the person that I hope I am becoming. I wouldn't be learning the lessons that I so obviously need to learn: learning to let go of what people think of me (and my child), the importance of depending on the Lord, learning to recognize what I can control and what I can't. I am so thankful for Clara, for both the challenging and the wonderful that she brings to us. Being her mother is a gift. I am grateful for a loving Heavenly Father and for His Son, and having a strong testimony that through temple covenants we can be together eternally provides additional fortitude.

Yesterday an acquaintance was talking to me about Clara, and I told her a little about her situation and she said, "I'm sorry." I was a bit taken aback with my own inner reaction because I realized, I'm not sorry.

I read in a book that happiness is when you don't want to be doing something else. And I am happy.

I can finally say, "Life doesn't always happen the way we plan. Fortunately."

Small and simple

Lately I have been thinking a lot about words like consistency, diligence, perseverance, and the scripture that "by small and simple things are great things brought to pass." I have been reminded that it is truly the small things in life that matter most, and that the largest influence we can have is actually through the smallest of ways. The Savior Himself is a perfect example of this true principle: Born as a baby to a poor mother and earthly father, living in an inconsequential country ruled by Romans, in a largely unpopulated world, Jesus Christ lived a quiet life, and most people didn't know He even existed until after His death and resurrection.

And yet today, we see Christianity spreading across the world with millions having come to the knowledge of Christ as their Savior and Redeemer.

Small and simple is the way to go.

And on that note, I'd like to introduce a new small and very simple aspect of my life:

Clara's picture schedule. (It's on a black piece of foamboard, which is difficult to see.) Based on the PECS concept (Picture Exchange Communication System) that is frequently utilized for children on the autism spectrum, this chart that I made and illustrated has pictures of activities that occur during the day. Clara often has a difficult time thinking of what she wants to do, so she'll just ask, "Can we do something else?" about a million times a day. It has gotten pretty wearing. Now I can just say, "What's on your schedule?"

She can participate in planning the non-scheduled events. Another big bonus is that it helps her to visually see that yes, she can watch a show, but only after she has tidied her room, done her chores, and done her physical therapy exercises (aka gymnastics moves).

The pictures are laminated and have velcro on them.

I think is my favorite one.

Here are some more of the ones I made. As time goes on I'm sure that we'll have to add more pictures, but for now this is--as Martha Stewart would say--"A good thing."

Christmas 2009

Christmas was a good one. I wish I had taken pictures of the traditional Weiler Joseph and Mary dinner that they have on Christmas Eve, but perhaps it wouldn't have been appropriate. By candlelight we eat foods that Joseph and Mary might have eaten that night in Bethlehem: pitas, fish, olives, cheese, grape juice, and figs (newtons). Granted, it was probably much nicer than what they ate. It is such a neat tradition.

Clara digging in to her stocking.

Woohoo! A six-inch doll!

Michael's youngest sister, Melody.

The merry clan (not everyone, unfortunately, but we'll take who we can get).

Clara with Grandpa.

My favorite Christmas gift, grace a (pardon the lack of accent marks) my brother and his wife.

Instead of going out to eat, we decided to make a fancy dinner at home with sirloin steak, roasted carrots, and roasted new potatoes. Who needs to go out when you can eat this way at home for less and try out a new recipe?

A few days after Christmas, Clara came down with a stomach bug. She watched a whole lot of my parents' Barbie movie collection: Mariposa (four times?), the Princess and the Pauper, and Mermaidia. Her stomach and her brain are now fried. I then caught the plague, as did my parents. My dear husband took care of us, drove back home, let me go to bed at 7:45pm, took all the Christmas decorations down today and then packed them meticulously away while I was mostly unproductive and spent time in a fetal position.

And for our New Year's Eve feast? Chicken noodle soup and generic Pedialyte. Oh, and Michael got beef enchiladas.

Happy 2010--we know things can only go up from here.

Angel we have heard on high

Clara was an angel in her preschool Christmas program. As with other recent public events (Sacrament meeting program, Thanksgiving program), we and her teachers were concerned right up until the actual event about how well she'd be able to handle it.

Once again, she surprised and impressed us with her on-stage abilities. I think she really enjoys being on stage, once the difficulties and newness of rehearsals are overcome. She did the actions and sang well. We savored the moment.

We were pretty darn proud.



And here's a sneak peek into our angel's choir in all her glory.

Introduction to Jan Pienkowski

A sweet friend gave Clara this book for Christmas. I was unfamiliar with its author, Jan Pienkowski, and this book made me wish to become more closely acquainted.


Jan Pienkowski was born in Poland in 1936, and his work seems to be much more prominent in England than here. He is especially well-known for his silhouette books.


Check it out. Wow.

My meager photographic efforts do little to convey the beauty of these pages.

And the coolest part is that it ties together and makes a carousel.

I am definitely going to be remembering this author and looking out for his work in the future.

Genius

One of Michael's former co-residents gave Clara this Play-doh dental set for Christmas.


I find this disturbing on so many levels. (Notice: tongue caught partially in cheek)

1. It comes with an electronic drill. Batteries not included. Do you think I am dumb enough to (1) unscrew the tiny screws to fit a battery inside, and then (2) freak my noise- and dentist-sensitive child out by drilling away on play-doh teeth? (You'd think that my child, being the daughter of a dentist, would be okay with dentists, or people being in her mouth. Think again.)

2. Here's the commercial I am imagining: "Hey kids, see how fun it is to put gold fillings on these teeth? It's even more fun to drill out the decayed tooth first! Now you can see in advance what your mouth is going to look like eventually. Who needs to brush and floss when you can have shiny gold crowns and fillings instead? Ooh, pretty."



3. It comes with tweezers to extract the teeth. No joke. (The teeth are gold in the pic because someone wouldn't share the white play-doh with me). "Gee, isn't pulling teeth fun, son? This is what you can look forward to having happen to you someday."

I guess a "how to take care of your mouth" play-doh kit for kids doesn't have quite the same down-and-dirty appeal as the "doctor drill 'n fill" kit does.

So apparently they're prepping future dentists? That looks like a great business strategy.

When life gives you a fallen cake . . .

. . . make cake balls.

This is the remains of a cake that fell depressingly in the oven due to my attempt to bake a pizza at the same time (and hence had to open the oven door several times).

Fortunately, all was not lost, thanks to Bakerella and Pioneer Woman. If you haven't heard of them, you're in for some serious eye candy.

Not that those who are reading this have ever had a cake fall, but just in case, here's an idea for you.

Mix the crumbled cooked cake in the mixer with a can of frosting. Mix the cake until it's evenly incorporated.

Form the cake into balls (mine were a little smaller than golf balls). It probably makes a few more than this, but quite a few managed their way into our mouths instead. They taste pretty amazing. Better than cake somehow.

Next, a couple of squares at a time, melt chocolate bark in a deep bowl (I used a wide glass) in the microwave. Put the balls individually into the chocolate--spoon the chocolate over the ball instead of stirring the ball around--and then gently place on a pan. They dry quickly. Swirl chocolate over the top if you'd like.

With any extra chocolate bark, mix in goodies (I used peanuts) per instructions here and make holly jollies. Genius! And super cheap and easy, too.

Ta-da.

Or you can pretend like me to be eco-conscious and use old peanut butter jars for some muddy buddy chex mix.


With all these uber-healthy treats to give away, we thought about an appropriate gift message:

"From our heart to yours. Literally."

Heavenly peace . . . ?

Michael informed that the other night, Clara was listening to the last phrase of "Silent Night":

"Sleep in heavenly peace."

Clara: "Heavenly pee! . . . Heavenly poo!"


Y'know, there was probably some of that going on along with the sleeping.

Paying attention

In the past several months, I have lost two expensive items: our keys (with electronic key fob) and my new prescription glasses. I have also almost lost (i.e., on my knees praying for help and then gratefully finding the said object) my wedding rings on several occasions, as well as some software CDs.

Why?

I don't think of myself as a particularly scatter-brained person, but I realized that the number one reason that I have lost stuff is that I am not paying attention. I am not focused on the task at hand because my mind is on something else. Another case in point: Having to go back inside the house to check the stove because I wasn't paying attention when I turned it off the first time.

Not only has losing these things made me feel helpless and ticked off that I have to use money that I would have spent otherwise on replacing said items, but these experiences have made me feel very acutely a skill I need to improve: living in the moment.



I have read/skimmed two very interesting brain books of late: The Brain that Changes Itself by Norman Doidge and Think Smart by Richard Restak (partly because I feel like my brain is somewhat mushy these days). These books cover lots of ground, but the three biggest take-home messages for me were the following:


(1) The brain is plastic and can be changed in very powerful ways. The intelligence you were born with, once thought to be largely unchangeable, is now known to be the opposite: you can make yourself smarter and modify your brain, even despite considerable weaknesses, i.e. from a stroke, etc. Of course, you have to consciously focus and work on areas where you are weak in order to improve on them. Ay, there's the rub.

(2) Memory is a crucial element of strong brain performance. It doesn't matter how much you learn if you cannot remember it when you want or need to. These books discuss techniques, brain games, etc. that you can play to improve your memory and other thinking skills. Adequate sleep, exercise, and diet all influence the brain. (I hope that Santa has heard my request for a crossword puzzle book and dictionary.)

(3) Focus on the task at hand. Here's a powerful thought from Think Smart:

"Increase your capacity for sustained attention and concentration. To do this, resist the pressures to multitask. In most cases, multitasking serves as a substitute for prioritizing. Even worse, it chisels away at your ability to remain mentally focused. And if you can't focus, your brain remains stunted and incapable of achieving its true potential."

When we live in the moment, we are fully aware of our experiences. We can understand the information we are learning more easily, and we can remember it later more effectively.

And how about the effect that living in the moment can have on our relationships? I imagine that I'm not alone in admitting that sometimes when I'm on the floor playing with my daughter I'm actually thinking about what I have to make for dinner, or when I'm praying I'm actually thinking about the movie I just finished watching, or when someone is talking I'm sometimes only focused on the very intelligent response I want to give him/her instead of what he/she is actually saying.


Here's a good rule of thumb I made up for myself: If the task is important to me, then pay attention. If it's not, feel free to multi-task. So if it's important that I remember where I left the keys, I'll pay attention when I'm putting them down. Hopefully my newfound resolve will prevent me from losing things so frequently.



I don't really like cliche sayings and quotes. But this one is true:

Wherever you are, be there.