If You Never Feel Like Your Life is Together

My kids and I were riding in my friend’s car.  The two of us were chatting when my 5-year-old daughter, from the backseat, casually asked my friend “are you a grown up?”  My friend, who is about 15 years younger than I, paused for a moment and then said thoughtfully, “yes, but most days I don’t feel like I have things together.”  I chuckled and agreed with her; then my daughter piped up again from the backseat and in a confident tone said, “I’m together.”

When it happened, this cute exchange just made me smile, and I quickly moved on with my busy life.  However, as I took more time to consider, this short and simple conversation caused me to think about that little word which seems to relentlessly pursue us as moms: “together.”  We need to have our stuff together.  We need to be together as a wife, mom, employee and as a person in general.  We usually don’t feel together at all.  When we don’t feel together, we get frustrated with ourselves and this frustration often spills over and impacts the ones we care the most about.  How is it we can let one little word overtake us and cause us to chase such a vague concept?  What on earth does it mean to be “together” anyway?

It sure seems to me that when we use that word, we are basically trying to achieve some elusive, unattainable idea of perfection.  When we talk about feeling (or on most days, not feeling) together, what we really mean is that we’re supposed to do everything well, from every aspect of life, all the time.  We are supposed to have all the laundry done on schedule, cook all the healthy, but also good tasting, meals, keep the house clean, spend lots of quality uninterrupted time with our kids, while also being a wonderful wife and thorough and hardworking employee, as the case may be.  I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted just writing that, much less trying to accomplish such a list!

I think it’s time to drastically modify our definition of having things together.  Why are we driving ourselves crazy trying to be something that isn’t even possible?  For my part, I’m working on seeing “together” as something much simpler.  My kids were fed, bathed and dressed today.  We had some time to play and, at other points during the day, I did some (but not all) of the housework while they played without me.  We are a homeschooling family, so I focused on the essentials of their schooling for the day.  The basic necessities were done, although perhaps not in the most orderly and smooth fashion.  There are still things that need to be finished, and that’s okay!  Let’s start being realistic with ourselves and each other; life is already hard enough without us putting such burdens on our own shoulders.

Let’s be okay with doing the best we can and stop trying to attain perfection.  Our kids need to see us slow down and not be so consumed with being everything to everyone, all the time.  We need to show them that, yes, we should work hard but also to have realistic expectations of ourselves and others.  We need to learn how to be all right with delayed projects, untidy rooms at times and days when the kids eat boxed macaroni, nuggets and fries.  None of these things mean that we have failed as an adult; they’re just an example of real life.  We’re not meant to be the perfect wife, mother, and employee all the time.  No human being can be perfect at even one of those things.  It is freeing to realize this simple, yet profound, truth.  Yes, absolutely work hard for your family but don’t despair when you don’t get it all right all the time, or even some of the time.  I personally don’t want to be a grandmother who still feels like she’s “not together.”  My daughter, only being 5 and not understanding the nuanced meaning that we have added to that word, viewed being together in a more straightforward, literal way.  It meant, to her, nothing more complicated than just being with family or friends, with no extra pressure.  We have made such a simple word needlessly complicated.  I think we would all do well to take her simple, more easygoing approach to that word and to life in general.  It would probably do us all some good.

A Letter to My Son: Keep Overcoming

Dear son,

I remember when I first met you in that eastern European orphanage.  You couldn’t walk, but rather stumbled and stomped about, and only when a worker held you up by your hands.  Your legs were weak and your steps extremely uncertain.  Your skin was pockmarked, and you were so thin for your age of seven and a half years.

It is not our proudest moment to say this, but your dad and I were nervous.  We had been told that you were blind, just as your sister and I are.  We were familiar and comfortable with blindness; it was already our normal.  However, we were also told you had cerebral palsy, but to what extent, we had no idea.  We honestly didn’t know much about cerebral palsy.  We were told repeatedly by the orphanage staff that your entire left side was weak, and we should avoid things like holding your left hand, for example.  When we visited you at meals, all you ever had was runny soup and a piece of bread.  You didn’t know any English, and our questions to your caregivers about your schooling were met with vague, roundabout answers.  But son, please do not be angry at those who cared for you before you became ours.  They were doing the best they could with what little time, information and resources they had.  We hold no malice towards them, and I hope you won’t either.

 Please believe me when I say that I’m not bringing up any of these things about your past to shame or humiliate you.  On the contrary, I want you to know where you came from so you can all the more easily see how far you’ve come!  I want you to see how truly incredible you are and how your determination has impacted your dad and I.  I want others to learn from your perseverance and strength of will.  You’ve only been home with us for 17 months, but in such a short amount of time, you have overcome in so many areas!  You have astounded so many people, including us.

Keep overcoming your supposed physical limitations.  When you first came home, we wondered if you would be able to climb the stairs, unassisted.  Within two days, your dad had taught you how to use both hands on the railing for support and you were navigating those stairs!  Within a couple weeks, you had learned to scoot around the living room and you reveled in this new-found independence.  When we first took you to physical therapy, it was doubted whether you would ever be able to walk on your own.  You started to use a walker and loved it but we weren’t sure if you would ever be able to be without it.

 Within three months of coming home, you took your first tentative, unassisted steps at grandma’s house!  I wish you could understand how proud of you your dad and I were at that moment and what an incredible feat you were accomplishing! You were so scared but determined, and you let the excitement of getting to ring that musical doorbell at grandma’s front door, motivate you to walk farther and farther on your own. 

 

When you first came home, you were afraid to use your left hand for anything.  Now, you know that God gave you two good, strong hands and you are using them both to play piano.  When you first came home, the heaviest thing you most likely ever lifted in your orphanage life was your shoes.  Now, you are gaining the upper body strength to hold your own growing body weight on one of the uneven bars at your sister’s gymnastics facility.  In your orphanage life, you mostly sat on a couch, with only a TV or radio for amusement.  Now you are running down our hallway, jumping on your trampoline and even jumping some without support!  Your legs continue to grow even stronger; you are now also able to pedal your new adaptive bike!

My son, keep overcoming in your learning.  You have grasped English incredibly well for how short a time you’ve been home with us!  If I were suddenly uprooted and thrown into a place where no one spoke my language or understood anything I said, I’d be a bawling mess!  But not you.  You aren’t afraid to put yourself out there and just talk to people.  I love seeing you at church, the playground or restaurant, talking with whoever will listen.  You have learned so many new concepts since you’ve been with us.  You can read short sentences using embossed print letters and braille as well. You have a knack for phonics and spelling and are grasping the basics of grammar.  You are learning how to add and subtract and are even learning about the geography of United States, this new place that is your home.

You have already become so much more than I think anyone in your home country would have imagined.  Honestly, you have amazed me.  Yes, your dad and I try every day to give you the opportunities, encouragement, and tools to overcome.  We try and challenge you to learn and work as hard as you can.  But if you did not have the desire to overcome, to become more, the drive to push yourself, even when it’s hard, none of what we do would matter.  My son, keep overcoming!  My son, keep teaching us and everyone around you that a person doesn’t have to be defined only by their disability, current circumstances or for that matter, their past.  We are so glad to be a part of your journey of overcoming and can’t wait to see how far the next years take you! Your dad and I are so proud of you.

Your Parents

Challenges My Kids Often Face When Playing With Others

This is one of those emotional posts to write.  As a mother, I try to balance my maternal desire to protect my kids from all discomfort with the realization that life is not always easy and they need to learn how to deal with life not being fair.  That said, I feel this is something I can speak to without crossing that line of coddling my children, or at least, I certainly hope you would all agree.  I want to talk about how sighted kids interact, or to the point, often don't interact with my blind kids.

Let me try and explain.  My kids are not as fast as sighted kids.  Now, from a selfish standpoint, sometimes that is nice for me.  They can't run away from me, and they often avoid much mischief only because they just don't know something is available to destroy.  But this also makes it more complicated for them to play with sighted kids who can freely and quickly run throughout the house or playground.  My kids can't just take off with them, at least, not without help.  I often see that my kids are excluded from much of the play that occurs, not due to any conscious ill-intent by the other kids, but perhaps just due to not being aware of this fact and its consequences.  As a result, they often end up just playing with each other and not getting to interact with others.

Now let me be clear about what I am not saying here.  I am by no means saying that sighted kids should cease all physical play when my kids arrive.  I am not saying that they should only be playing in ways that are the easiest for my kids.  I am not saying that the world revolves around them.  Despite my best efforts, they already think it does enough as it is. :)  But what I am saying is a few things that I hope will give you an idea of where I am coming from on this matter.

I am asking you, parents of sighted kids, to try and teach your children about differences.  Try and explain (in my kids' case) that blindness makes it harder, not impossible, to run or be as active without help.  Tell them that my kids still love to play just as much as they do.  Offer them suggestions about how to bring my kids into their physical/active games.  Especially in Lexy's case, my girl loves to run and climb.  Talk to your kids about something as simple as walking up to her and saying “Hi Lexy, it's so-and-so, we're playing tag, want to run with me?”  or “Hi Lexy, we're playing hide and seek, want to help me look for everybody?”  I am very sure she would heartily agree!

In Jon's case, as he is less mobile, “Hi Jon, we're playing hide and seek, want to help me count?”  Or “Hey Jon, we're going to play music and dance, want to come?”  Even if he didn't dance, he would still enjoy the music and would probably clap or otherwise keep good rhythm.  Let's go beyond games.  Try and teach your kids to just come over and strike up a conversation.  Jon loves to talk and wants to be social; he just needs encouragement from others.  I am trying to teach social skills; I often give them ideas of things to talk about with other kids, depending on the context of where we are going.  This can't work if no one will talk with them.

Please explain to your kids about eye contact and that, due to blindness, my kids can't look them in the eyes, but that doesn't mean they don't want to talk with them.  Often, I'll hear my kids saying something presumably to a child whose voice they've recognized, (or introducing themselves to a child they don't know) but since they can only look in their general direction, the person they were addressing has left before the full sentence was out.  As a side note, this still happens to me, I'll be in conversation with someone and they have to quickly step away and I don't realize it.  I take no offense to it, but it can be awkward at times.  If someone is able to tell me that they will be right back, it is always appreciated.

Please explain that they could, once in a while, consider other activities that my kids could more readily participate in, such as blocks or Legos or coloring (yes, my kids love to color, isn't that cool?)  I have known many awesome families who have done this, and it is the most wonderful thing to see. And my kids love it and remember it. :)  Thank you to those who have, you don't know the joy it brings to me as a mother to see my kids playing like that.

I am thankful that in elementary school, I rarely remember feeling rejected by my peers.  That changed entering middle and high school.  Now, to be fair, some of that was due to the general self-imposed ridiculousness and drama of teenage years, but I do think that some of it was due to my blindness.  I don't want my kids to always have that hovering over them. I want them to be confident children and adults and to learn how to interact and do well in a sighted world. But they can't do this alone and I can't teach them alone.  I need your help.  It's not my place to come and try and interject myself into your kid's life in that authoritative, teaching way.  Come alongside me and teach your kids beforehand, just as I try and teach mine about interacting and social skills, so that our teaching efforts will work together.  If you homeschool, incorporate this kind of thing into your weekly routine.  Let's get together, as much as is possible, so our kids can all learn and interact together.  This will not just be doing a service for my kids but will be of value to yours as well.

Things that Drive this Mom Crazy

I have been blind since birth, and up until recently, this fact really hasn't bothered me or been much of a concern. I have to say, that is changing now that children are in the picture. I am finding instances in parenting where vision would be pretty darn helpful and convenient, not to mention just simply more efficient. So for hopefully an amusing read, I thought I would share my five most vexing issues of parenthood without sight. I hope you all enjoy, here they are in no particular order:

1: Finding my children's toys

Now, I completely realize that this is a huge pain for any mom, but it is extra annoying to try and accomplish this task (which occurs at least 100 times each day) without sight. I mean seriously, my daughter (my son is a bit more responsible in this area and generally remembers where he has put things, for which I am so grateful) will often ask me to find some obscure, tiny trinket that has suddenly become the only thing in the house worth playing with. And, of course, the last place she remembers playing with it was "in the living room." Well, we have a fairly big living room, and it is so ridiculous and time consuming to try and walk the whole length and width of our living room, hoping with every short, shuffling step that my feet haven't missed that one tiny section of carpet where the blue snowflake bead is sitting. Assuming, of course, that she was correct and it is actually in the living room and not upstairs, on the porch, or at grandma's house in Florida. And the worst part is, I know if (by a kind act of God) I do find it, she'll play with it for maybe another minute before deciding to run off and go lose something else.

2: Identifying the color of my daughter's clothing

Now to clarify this point, I am not referring to matching her clothing. It's actually fairly easy to remember what goes with what. I mean knowing exactly what color everything is for when she inevitably asks. For those who know my family well, the fact that my daughter cares about the color of her clothing at all may seem strange, as my daughter is completely blind, with no perception of color whatsoever. But oh that doesn't stop her from being obsessed about what color each article of her clothing is (and she has like 5000 articles of clothing), and she will ask me incessantly to identify what colors she is wearing. I have so much going on in my head as it is and I can barely remember my own wardrobe, there is no way I am keeping track of hers as well. I know what outfits of hers pair together based on textures, but keeping an inventory of their color shades isn't happening. I have to give her credit, though, she has learned to just go ask daddy. And in case anyone is curious, she has a favorite color that has remained consistent for some time now. It is yellow. And no, I have no earthly idea why. To further prove her color obsession, here's a fun little side story for all of you. Our kids have these two toy phones that are exactly identical in every way except one is pink and one is green. Lexy will repeatedly ask to play with Jon's, to which we reply that they are THE SAME PHONE! Lexy will insist that, no, they're NOT the same because “his is green!” But you don't even know what that really means!!! You can't see colors!!! That fact doesn't affect your experience of the phone in the slightest! So yeah, I find myself having to know what color every random thing is for the sake of a kid who can't see color but still wants to know what color everything is but has a mom who also can't see color. It's not fun.

3: Finding Socks

Again, I know this is a universal problem for which mankind has not yet found a solution (except perhaps moving to Florida and never wearing socks again), but I seriously think the sock population has figured out that 3 out of 4 in our household can't see. They are even more masterful at escaping or literally just disappearing out of existence. (And on a side note, I am chuckling to myself as I write this, imagining the secret conspiratorial meetings of our socks. This is what motherhood is doing to me.) I mean, I will take the laundry pile to the washer and account for all the socks and then when I take them out of the drier, one out of each pair is often just gone. It is incredibly vexing and I think if I had vision I would at least be able to recover SOME of the escapees and have a bit more sanity in my life.

4: Matching my kids' socks.

All right, anyone noticing a theme here? Apparently, I have sock issues. But be that as it may, there really is no easy and practical way without vision to match their socks effectively. I get (at least in theory) the desire for kids to get to wear colored socks that match their outfit perfectly... But is it really necessary? I mean, black or white socks would go well with just about anything, and I could find a way to label which was which or buy different textured ones. When more varied colors are added, it just becomes crazy. I usually just ask my husband (as the one sighted member of the family, he gets to do all the driving and color matching) or I have resorted to having a child I am babysitting who is sighted help me match socks. (Hey, it gave her a task and helped me out.) Maybe that's an idea, as long as relatives buy colored socks for my kids, I can see if parents want a 15 or 20-minute break and they can send over their sighted kids with appropriate color knowledge and help me match socks... Maybe?

5: Cleaning up poop

So I know I had said these weren't in any particular order, but I think this might be my biggest issue. Although I consider myself a decent writer, I don't even have the words to adequately describe how much I hate doing that task. I mean, it should be fairly obvious, but it's so hard to know if I've gotten it all or not. There are, of course, ways to be sure of that without sight, and I do utilize them, but it's just plain gross. I either have to smell or use my fingers... enough said, I think. It's an awful task anyway and factoring in the no vision clause is just adding insult to injury.

I have to say, though, in spite of my complaining, being a parent has really stretched and grown me. I have realized that I can do a heck of a lot more things blind than I would have thought; before our daughter came home, I was utterly terrified at the idea of caring for a child in any capacity. After her arrival, then babysitting others' children, and now also having our son, those tasks which petrified me seem commonplace. But I suppose that's one of the gracious aspects about parenting that God gives us is the chance to grow, to sacrifice for others and go way beyond what is comfortable and convenient. It is a crazy, exasperating undertaking, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.