P.S. Jackie

Who’s Got the Problem Now?

Jackie — Thu, 17 May 2012 03:13:24 +0000

In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t blog much lately. I continue to struggle with the balance of writing about life experiences that others may relate to and the idea that I’m exploiting my kids. But this one had to be told.

The following is a recent conversation between my almost 8-year-old son, who is on the autism spectrum, and me. I’m interested in hearing your thoughts on this one.

J: I asked [insert boy's name] if he wanted to have a play date.

Me: Oh yeah, what did he say?

J: One word: “NEVER.”

I could feel my stomach, heart and throat begin to mingle together, ready to get into a quiet yet violent battle within my body. I could feel my face get hot, while my breathing began to pick up the pace. Before I could ask any questions, he continued.

J: He said never because his parents told him that I have problems and he can’t play with me.

My eyebrows raise and my mouth drops. What made this conversation so interesting is that the boy in question and one of his parents were only about 50 yards away from us, getting into their car. I can feel my body leading me quickly up the street and toward them but I force myself to stay in the conversation.

J: I don’t understand, though. What problems do I have? I know I have autism but I was born with that and it’s not a problem. Does he mean because I have autism? Is that the problem he’s talking about?

I wish I could say we got in the car and went out for ice cream and lived happily ever after. I did explain that some people, even grownups, are too closed minded to take the time to get to know us and embrace each other’s differences. I also shared my feelings that there is no one I know in this world who doesn’t have some sort of special need that is unique to just them, requiring special care, services or understanding. I told him I was proud of him and that he’s right, while autism may be a challenge from time to time, it certainly doesn’t mean he “has problems.”

But then I turned to my friend, asked her to walk to the car with my kids, and I marched up the street and came face to face with the parent — and it wasn’t pretty.

Because if you tell your kid that my kid has problems, you better believe you’ll have a problem.

The Upside of Autism

Jackie — Sun, 04 Mar 2012 01:01:14 +0000

People often talk about the difficulties associated with parenting a child with autism. But this post isn’t about that. I want to recognize and celebrate the upside, or at least one teeny tiny part of the upside, of autism. It’s a blessing we parents are given somewhere, somehow — packaged up in a huge gift I like to call “perspective.”

You see… hundreds, if not thousands, of parents in my community got their kids up this morning and fed them breakfast, before heading off to soccer. They braved the chilly winds of the 8am game, juggled multiple kids’ schedules and sat in the hot sun for the afternoon games. They cheered the kids on as they sipped their coffee in their portable chairs, aware that this was just the first in a series of Saturdays they’d hand over to AYSO.

But I’m willing to bet most of those parents took it all for granted.

From afar, my day probably looked very similar to that of these other moms. I, too, woke up earlier than I prefer on a Saturday morning to get one kid to the field 30 minutes before the first game (seriously, 7:30 am?). I whooped from the sidelines and served up an extra dose of encouragement when my 6-year-old suffered a sizable defeat to the other team, appropriately named “The Sharks.” When it was over, we went home to do some chores, give the kids a little down time, and feed them lunch before packing it all back up for the afternoon game.

It was that 1:00 pm game that clearly separated my husband and me from many of the parents at the field. For our 7-year-old, officially diagnosed with autism two years ago, it was the first time he had ever suited up for soccer, and years since we had tried a team sport (what with the t-ball debacle and all).

My nervous energy was palpable. My incessant pre-game pep talk… the way I paced back and forth before the game… I was practically jumping out of my skin with anxiety (and a little excitement) over how it would all go down.

Fortunately, my son’s coach is no stranger to special needs and has empowered us to communicate throughout the game what works for Jacob and how he can help. We were all on the same page… if he gets overwhelmed, a sub will be called in. If he loses steam, he can sit down. We were grateful for the accommodations but I couldn’t help but hope with every ounce of my being we wouldn’t need to use any of them.

Learning a few tricks over the years, we did our best to set Jacob up for success. A little water in his hair to help keep him from becoming overheated (a common trigger) and keeping the focus on one seven-minute period at a time seemed to make things more manageable. Removing myself from the equation, letting his coach (with some help from Jeff) take the lead also proved to be a good decision. Because for the next hour, our little man played — and he played hard. He ran and kicked and ran some more. The glow radiating from the smile on his face rivaled that of the hot sun. He was part of a team… he belonged to something bigger than himself… you couldn’t miss the pride he felt — he carried it in every step, in every kick.

Then he was knocked down.

I thought I heard my husband gasp and hold his breath, only to discover it was actually me. Because where another child might get up, shake it off and keep going, one of the most stressful challenges for us is finding the ability to persevere when faced with a challenge, not letting a small setback become a huge issue.

For a second there, I could feel the earth screech to a halt. It was as if time stood still while our son lied on the grass. Would he recover? Would this be the very thing to sideline him and squash his enthusiasm for the rest of the season? “Come on, come on, come on, please, please, please, please,” my mind begged while my mouth stayed quiet. Things were going so well, please don’t let this be it.

What felt like an eternity was actually about three seconds. Jacob popped up and was back on his feet in no time. As he recovered, I could see that question in his face, “Should I give up?” I don’t know what happened during his inner conversation, but I know who won — the side that told him to keep on keepin’ on.

Jacob played four seven-minute periods today, only sitting out a couple of times like the rest of the team. While the team took a pretty big beating (just ask a kid with autism to not keep score), seeing my son leap out of his comfort zone and give it all he’s got on the soccer field was a huge win for Jacob, and for our entire family. And you know what, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Because right along with the struggles, it’s those typical no-big-deal moments other families often take for granted that feel like huge, tear-inducing, heart-swelling victories for us. And it’s those victories that make life all that much sweeter.

Who Wore It Best: Harry Potter or Jeff MacDougall?

Jackie — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 04:02:46 +0000

yahoo.com" target="_blank">Yahoo’s homepage features a pic of 22-year-old Daniel Radcliffe (AKA Harry Potter) doing “an odd move that not many people can do.”

Maybe not many but Jeff MacDougall sure can. A man twice Radcliffe’s age, Jeff has been entertaining muggles (AKA our kids) with the same stupid human trick for years.

Who’s the wizard now, Harry?

(PS Let this also serve as a public apology to my husband who will not appreciate my somewhat creepy post)

School Takes Away Preschooler’s Lunch

Jackie — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 20:17:43 +0000

It happens all the time, stories are reported on where schools, authorities or other parents behave badly, creating outrage everywhere. That is, until we get the rest of the actual story, which often makes us go, “Ohhh, okay, that makes sense.”

But here’s one I just can’t figure out. A preschooler at an elementary school in North Carolina had her lunch taken away, not by a bullying classmate, but by a state inspector who declared her lunch not nutritious enough, according to U.S. Department of Agriculture guidelines. The lunch in question consisted of a turkey and cheese sandwich, chips, banana and apple juice.

What did they replace it with? Chicken freakin’ nuggets. I kid you not.

There are so many things wrong with this story. The guidelines are one serving of meat, milk and grain, plus two servings of fruit or vegetables. I understand the point of wanting balance in a child’s lunch but with all the food allergies and individual dietary needs, it’s unbelievable to me that they would dictate what’s in a child’s lunch. How many kids would never touch meat? One of my kids is gluten free and his dairy intake is very much reduced — would his lunch be sent home? And if they were to give my kid chicken nuggets, his stomach would get so jacked up, he couldn’t poop for a week. And what if a family has cultural or religious dietary restrictions? Should schools have the right to mess with our children’s bodies by forcing them to eat processed crap behind our backs?

I see what’s served in the cafeteria.. And as much as I love our school, we don’t allow the kids to buy hot lunch, except on a rare occasion. While I applaud our country — and North Carolina — moving in the right direction when it comes to nutrition and fighting obesity, I think they should at least hire someone who knows what good food looks like and maybe send a warning home to parents instead of poisoning our children in the name of good health.

What do you think about this story? Share your thoughts below!

COMING SOON: Remember “Operation, Eat Your (Freakin’) Veggies”? I’ll have an update!

I Heart Overachieving Moms

Jackie — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 20:35:09 +0000

It’s funny to think it was just four short years ago that I brought my oldest son to his very first preschool Valentine’s Day celebration. We had made a special trip to the store where he browsed for quite awhile, before carefully choosing Lightening McQueen cards to share with his 3-year-old classmates. He was so excited and I was just an emotional mama watching him reach yet another milestone.

But when we got there, I was shocked and saddened to find that we were the only ones who brought valentines. That’s because all of the other moms had gone above and beyond (see: overachievers) and put together little goodie bags for the kids.

What the WHAT?

How did I not see this coming? Had I missed a note that came home? Was there a motherhood club meeting that I had blown off? “Come on, Moms,” I thought. “Help a girl out, already!” I had two kids a year apart, a job and a skill set that did not include crafting at the kitchen table. What the heck do you do all day that you have time to assemble goodies, pencils, stickers and whatever other unnecessary Valentine’s Day-related items into a cellophane bag adorned with a bow and personalized tag? Do you hate other moms? Are you trying to make us look bad?

I couldn’t help but look at those sad, pathetic Lightening McQueen cards and see them as a symbol of yet another failure. My son was cursed with an ordinary mom whose idea of homemade cookies were those she broke apart before baking. Couldn’t I at least step up and provide him with Valentine’s Day goodies that would make a preschooler proud?

About ten minutes later, I realized my kid didn’t care. In fact, none of the kids cared. The valentine exchange was so chaotic, they barely even knew from whom each valentine came and it didn’t seem to be something that even crossed their tiny heart-shaped minds.

Waaaaaait a minute. You mean if I skip the ridiculous guilt and own the fact that the bare minimum for made-up Hallmark holidays is enough, my kid and his classmates will still be pumped up with sugar and arrive home with enough red and white pencils to last through college?

SCORE!

I’m sorry, moms. I’m sorry for the judgement… the resentment… the dirty looks in the preschool parking lot. Because you’ve taught me so much about myself, my kids and why doing things half-assed truly is the way to go.

But more than that, thank you. Thank you for the endless supply of sugary goodness you send home for Valentine’s Day, Christmas, your child’s birthday or just because you’re that good of a mom. My taste buds and ever-growing behind truly appreciate your thoughtfulness.

You really didn’t think I let my kids eat all that crap, did you?

Do You Return Gifts from Your Own Kids?

Jackie — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 20:13:48 +0000

not actual earrings

I’m one of the lucky ones. Every year, for my birthday, Christmas and Mother’s Day, my husband takes the kids out to pick out something special for mom. It’s actually one of my most favorite things, not because I get a gift out of it (although that does kind of rock), but I love how excited the little ones get and find it adorable (and a little hilarious) when I see what they choose as something Mommy must have.

My sweet 6-year-old always heads directly for the jewelry counter. Well, not the counter exactly but the area by the counter. Well not the area by the counter but the area behind that. You know, the place where the 17-year-old girls go to pick out those shiny jewelry-esque accessories, some of which are covered in feathers, colorful “stones,” beads or some combination of the three embellishments. With pride and as much gusto as my little man’s body can muster, he carefully, yet enthusiastically, makes his selection.

“These,” he chooses, with his dimpled grin and smiley eyes looking up at my husband as he hands the ear ornaments over, excited to wrap it up and present ‘em to Mom.

Flash forward to Christmas morning when I unwrap the package and discover the youthful, bright blue, dangle earrings. “Put them on, Mom,” my proud son practically begs. Of course I do, because I’m not Joan Crawford here, people. I wear them all day and all night and watch my son’s face beam every time he looks at me.

But here’s the question. How often does one have to wear the jewelry in order to be considered a loving, supportive mom? Every week? Do you leave the house or wear them as your cleaning day best? Some moms admitted they somehow “misplace” the earrings after that Christmas day. That just doesn’t seem right to me.

Do you wear jewelry hand-picked by your little ones?

Ellen Degeneres is Evil

Jackie — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 03:44:58 +0000

Being a mom is the hardest job in the world. No, I’m not talking about the endless cooking, cleaning, driving, nose-wiping, blah blah blah. I’m talking about the blood, sweat, tears and full time hours it requires moms each and every day to protect our children from the likes of scary, evil people like Ellen Degeneres.

That’s right, comedienne, film and TV star, Ellen Degeneres. Click here for the full story…

What’s the Going Rate for Integrity?

Jackie — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 23:41:00 +0000

I sat across the table listening to the pitch. The assignment, should I choose to accept it, would be to record myself reviewing a shopping app, giving my honest opinion. Let’s see… combine my video and Web experience with my love for expressing my never-ending opinion? Where do I sign up! Plus, for less than an hour of my time, I would be compensated what some people make for a week of full time work. Not a bad gig, right?

Here’s the problem. The app, and subsequent review, would also be indirectly promoting a retail giant that I just so happen to despise, a company I have written about in the past (and not so favorably). In fact, it’s the same evil chain that I continue to boycott, for several reasons ranging from their clueless employees and dirty stores to unfair business practices and corporate bullying of the little guys.

But Mama’s got mouths to feed, people. At least that’s what the little money-hungry devil on my shoulder tried to convince me. “Just take the gig and dance your way around the store portion of the review,” Little Lucifer taunted. “Readers would totally understand that you, like millions of other Americans, have to make decisions that best work for you. If that means swallowing your integrity to support your family, so be it!”

I swatted at my shoulder-devil, knocked him to the floor and stepped on him until his little imaginary guts spilled onto the painted concrete. Then I politely declined the offer, explaining that I would be happy to partner on a future project. Because more than new shoes or a family trip to the movies, my kids need a role model, someone who stands up for what she believes, and isn’t afraid to be unpopular.

Now if you added a zero to that offer, that’s a whole new ballgame.

How much is your integrity going for these days?

No related posts.

Coming Soon to a Kindergarten Near You…

Jackie — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 21:28:19 +0000

For many readers, you’ve been there since the beginning when I started blogging about our adoption journey back in 2007. You were there when we received our referral, matched with a 7-month-old baby girl. You read about our sadness over missing Lucy’s first birthday when she was still in Taiwan and shared in our excitement when we gave her a do-over nine months later. You saw her hit the tireless twos and grow into a spunky, adorable preschooler.

So how could we not share Miss Lucy with you today, on her 5th birthday. The little baby I thought would never make it home into our arms is a smart, sassy, energetic and hilarious five year old who’s just a few weeks away from signing up for KINDERGARTEN! I have no idea how that happened when all I did was blink but, I do know, it’s never boring when Lucy is around!

In celebration of the big day, enjoy some pics of our Lucy Goose, shot recently by the very talented Renee Bowen Photography. Enjoy!

Does Your Little Girl Feel Like a Heel?

Jackie — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 17:56:47 +0000

As I sat at a red light, rocking my sweats behind the wheel of my Hotyssey , I couldn’t help but notice them. It was like they had just stepped out of some magazine I would never buy and onto the cross walk in front of me. Dad, looking like a cross between a surfer dude and a suburban dad… Mom, put together perfectly, with long, golden locks and a stylish baby carrier (minus the impossible-to-get-out milk vomit like my carrier used to sport). Even big sister (who I’m guessing was around 5 or 6) was catwalk-worthy, pushing her doll in a stroller, wearing some cute outfit and pink wedged boots.

Wait, what?

I watched the little girl walk across the four-lane street, slowly and awkwardly trying to make her way in her (what I could only guess) were her new “big girl” boots. While they certainly were cute — I might wear a pair like it myself — I wondered, is that really a good idea for little ones to be wearing shoes with a heel — even a wedge?

I turned to pediatrician Dr. Paul Horowitz to get his take on it. According to him, there’s no physical reason a kid can’t wear a wedge — no development risks, scoliosis or foot issues (yes, I asked all of those). However, his face seemed to tell more of the story as he expressed his concern over letting little ones dress well beyond their age. If they’re wearing heels at 6, what will they be wearing at 13?

What’s your philosophy on kid fashion? Does anything go at your house or where do you draw the line?