Sometimes Your Heart Just Breaks

My middle child is a smart, handsome 12-year-old. He's kind and empathic and wants everyone around him to be happy and comfortable. He's polite and accommodating and most of the times selfless in his endeavors. Sometimes I'm not sure if he's real. My middle child is also deaf, and although he has bilateral cochlear implants, he's still deaf and he operates and functions every single day with greater effort than I can probably ever comprehend. He has to try harder to hear what's being said, he has to concentrate harder than anyone around him to keep up in some measure with any conversation, any directive, any social happening. He's usually on the fringes of any activity---hearing enough to not be completely outside the circle but not hearing enough to be in the center of it and to really "get" it.

Most of the time, I think he cruises along okay. That's what I think. But then every now and then there's a night like tonight where, in tears, he admits he wishes he wasn't deaf. Tears because of the impatience of his peers as he struggles to catch all the conversation, the exasperated "what?"s of his unworthy peers as they try to understand the thing that he's saying. His hearing is excellent when you consider that this is a boy who is completely deaf. His speech is excellent when you consider that this is a boy who---without his implants---wouldn't hear a jet landing ten feet from him. He'd feel it and probably know it was coming before you did, but he wouldn't be able to hear it. He wants to be the same as everyone else.

But when you're 12, you don't think about how much harder life would be if you didn't have implants. You don't think about how much luckier you are because you can hear and talk. You don't think about how much greater your life is going to be because you're a kind person and nice and you care about other people and you're not a jerk and self-centered. You don't realize the importance of those things when you're 12. You only know that you're different and the struggle to fit in and be the same is overwhelming some days. You only know that you're not "with it" and not inside the unworthy circle at all times. You don't know that that circle doesn't even matter, because when you're 12, 13, 15, 16, it does matter. And I say "unworthy" because most of them aren't worthy of the selfless, kind boy that he is. So many of them are unkind, punky, mean, impatient, foul-mouthed, snotty kids. Many of them are not, I know, but many of them are---the ones who hurt his heart are. And they're not worthy.

And so your heart breaks. I would become deaf if he could hear. I would lose a limb if it meant he could be hearing---in the full, true sense of the word. But I can only, painfully, stand by and know that he has to grow up deaf in a world that hears and he has to learn how to navigate it for himself. I know he'll do it but the process can be oh, so painful.

And in case that's not enough, his 10-year-old brother is deaf as well. His hearing is excellent, his speech is excellent....but he's deaf and he'll soon be 12 and in middle school and trying to fit in with a bunch of kids who won't have the maturity to be patient or kind.

And my heart will break all over again.

Do You Suffer From Apocolocynposis?

In case you're not sure, let me explain. Apocolocynposis is the fear of turning into a pumpkin. That's right. Turning Into A Pumpkin. So if you're hiding in your house, jumping at the sight of anything round and orange, fearing Halloween and midnight, not sleeping lest you awake a pumpkin--you now have a name for your pitiful condition.

Are there really possibly enough people with such a phobia that there's actually a name for it?? How is that possible?

Defense Against The Dark....Weather

Parts of this country are getting completely bombarded with terrible weather---now it's horrible rain and floods everywhere. It must be terrifying to be swept away by massive walls of water. Makes me feel almost guilty for enjoying the sunshine and mild temperatures we've been having here in the northern part of this fair state of California. At any rate, I know the conditions are terrible in places (Missouri comes to mind) and I don't mean to make light of people's suffering, but I have to admit that this photo made me laugh (notice the guy):

Do you think that little pool floatie around his waist is going to do the trick? Poor guy. I hope he doesn't count on it too much.

"Grand Opening"

Saturday was the Grand Opening of the place where the kids play hockey. The definition of a "grand opening" is apparently open to interpretation because we've been going there for at least a year. But at any rate, it was a fun day---a lot of the Sharks hockey players were there (yeah, the real thing!) and the kids got to get their hockey jerseys autographed, so that was fun for them. There was food and music and, of course, all the hockey games to watch (all the boys won, and that's the most important part, of course). And last but not least, there was face painting. Only my youngest was game:

Up Up And, Sadly, Away

I listened with fascinated horror to the news about a guy who thought he had a romantic and original way to propose to his girlfriend. And he did, though he might've wanted to give it a wee bit more thought. In short, he put the $12,000 engagement ring (that's right--$12,000) in a helium balloon with the thought that as she popped the balloon, he'd pop the question. Clever, eh? And you can guess what happened. Oh, and this wasn't some playboy with money to burn---he was a carpet/floor layer and probably had been saving for ages. Or went into some serious debt. (I have a whole other rant about the engagement ring scam, but I'll save that for later). So, I was feeling sorry for the poor dumb fool, but when I read the story in the news and read about his girlfriend's reaction, I really felt sorry for him. You can read about it here but basically she's refusing to talk to him until he gets her a new ring. Excuse me??!! Not: "I'm so sorry you just spent your life's savings and it went up into the ether! I'm so sorry that you wanted to do a romantic thing and you lost it all. Oh, how sweet of you and I'm so sorry." No. Nothing like that. The silent treatment until he coughs up another one. Well, here's what I hope happens: I hope he magically, by some amazing twist of fate, gets the ring back. I hope he returns it and puts the money straight into the bank. And then I hope he dumps her. She doesn't deserve him--or at least he doesn't deserve her. Or maybe he does. I don't know. There clearly could be more to the story that could possibly (doubtful) justify her response. But outside of that, I find it just tacky and self-centered and immature. Maybe he should fish a new ring out of a Cracker Jack box and give it to her. That seems more fitting.

Jerk

Is there any other term for you: nameless, faceless person who took a key and swiped it across the side of our vehicle? Is there really any other name to call you? And a mini-van?? It's not like it's a hot little sports car and you're jealous that another person who worked hard and earned the privilege of owning a fun car is getting to drive it instead of punky you. Actually "jerk" is mild compared to what some people in my shoes would probably call you. Why don't you get a job and get a real life, earn some money and get a car for yourself and then maybe you'll understand and appreciate the cost of repairing even something as minor as a key mark down the side. That's always an option.

Things Are Not Always As They Seem

Years ago I read about----and possibly it's an urban legend----a girl who was in a terrible car accident. When those responding got to her body in the car (this was before airbags), they found a book lodged between her and the steering wheel. So naturally there was outrage and disbelief over how crazy it was that this girl had been reading while she was driving. Possibly she was, but I just bet that she was doing what I do all the time:

I like to read and I read a lot---but because of coming and going and busy schedules and being a taxi driver for my kids, much of my reading happens in the car. Not while I'm driving, mind you! but while waiting for a kid to get out of class, waiting at an appointment, or---most commonly--waiting at a red light. Many a book I've read in fits and starts while waiting at a light. So here's how it goes: I've got the book open to the page and read a line or two, maybe even a paragraph, while the light is red. The light changes to green, I lay the book (open to my spot) on my stomach, and continue to drive. There'll be another red light just up ahead and I can thus quickly pick it up and read the next line or paragraph. And so on. It works like a charm. Not as pleasant a reading experience as, say, curled up on the couch with a diet coke handy, but still it works. And I just think the possibilities are great that this girl I mentioned was doing just that. She wasn't reading while she was driving (though I know sometimes people stupidly do) but she was just creating a reading shortcut.

So the next time you read about someone in an accident and there's a book lodged between him or her and the airbag, don't just assume it was some crazy who was reading while driving! It was just someone really smart with a clever system and the accident was completely unrelated.

That's all I'm saying.

The Eye Of The Beholder, or something

Okay, I know that art is subjective. What one person likes, another person doesn't necessarily like. Modern art is particularly this way. There are things I've seen in modern art that a toddler does every day, "art" that gets tossed in the trash, masterpieces gone--never to be seen again. Even an animal could manage some of this modern art---oh wait! A rat is doing just that!

To me, this is a combination of: your-pet-is-not-a-human-and-isn't-thinking-anything-creative-sorry! and if-you-think-this-is-art-you-need-your-head-examined.

That's just my humble opinion.

(I think my favorite quote--and there were many--was: "What Tony has created is of his own initiative; it's not with my influence at all." Uh....yeah. Gotcha.)