The explanation: I learned about 10 on 10 from Alysha Gray (in January via Twitter, see my other 10 on 10’s) and believe it was started by Rebekah.  As Rebekah says “take a photo once an hour for ten consecutive hours on the tenth of each month. document a snapshot of your life and find beauty among the ordinary things of your day.”
———————

I had to run back over to a client's office (optometrist) to take pictures and I had Carrie pose for us. She's kind of a big deal.

Connor and his floatie!

Since I injured my back, this machine has become my new friend. Three times a week.

5-year-old Hayden would never have believed that 19-year-old Hayden would really know how to swing himself on a swingset.

Monkey Love

Noah was teaching Nonna how to smile for pictures

Taco ring by request

You can't buy your kid a book full of science experiments without finding random projects around the house.

Ramble, ramble – I got to do a 10 on 10 and edit it. Yay!
———————
The explanation: I learned about 10 on 10 from Alysha Gray  (in January via Twitter, see my other 10 on 10’s) and believe it was started by Rebekah.  As Rebekah says “take a photo once an hour for ten consecutive hours on the tenth of each month. document a snapshot of your life and find beauty among the ordinary things of your day.”
———————

This was a present to myself. I heart this warmer and the snowberry scent - happy me.

There are still little reminders of our Disney World trip around the house. SO FUN!

Jack's neighbor buddy, Chandler, turned 5 today and he sweetly offered me a cupcake.

Two minutes after meeting Granny at her car, Jack was making himself at home.

Emily is very sweet to share her Granny with Noah and Jack a couple times a year. Granny is one brave lady! BTW - Notice Sister's new braces!

My hero, trying to cheer me up and fix everything.

Our crazy Christmas tree. I like the crazy.

—————–

Bonus pic:
my favorite picture from Disney World was on my cell phone, so at least I have that one!!

—-

One of my favorite ways to start a day (she's grown a little since March: click the pic to see)

pretty

Mommy can have fun socks too

Scentsy is taking over my office - BTW order your Christmas presents from me: http://clairdevers.scentsy.us/ - click picture for link

In the mirror, up the stairs, over the rail - my sweetheart

Jack loves to point out things in the clouds. This one is a little dog being chased by a lion, he says.

see

About to cut that shaggy hairdo. He grew it out for his Edward Scissorhands costume (which was awesome). I will add a bonus pic.

Auntie Carra sent pins for our trip to Disney. The kids are excited about pin trading at Disneyworld. Wednesdays ("Family Night") we have been planning our trip. FUN!

This is actually from a couple days before, but since my computer won't let me finish - I figured I would complete my 10 with it. Daddy and Jack flying kites. Makes my heart happy.

————————

Bonus Pic - Awesome is the best word for this.

Cell phone pic - Loving Monkey's bike leash. We try to go for a ride everyday.

Picked up the cake from Jessicakes - combined we have a lot of kids!

Jessica made a yummy chocolate rasberry cake with less than one day notice. She rocks.

I have put this fortune in the trash 3 times. It has found it's way out 3 times.

MWD reading the letters the kids wrote to Rachel Robinson. We learned about Jackie Robinson (#42) all week and they told him all about it as part of his birthday. He was touched (and impressed).

Noah took this. Me & my Jack-a-doo

balloons + mexican buffet = gross

Happy Birthday, MWD!

When my sweet Sadie died after sticking by me for twelve years, I told MWD we could have a dog break. We would wait until there were no more diapers in the house and we had a fenced in yard again. That was about 7 years ago and the time finally came to get our family a dog. I searched the listing for a few weeks and finally found our little Monkey. She is the cutest little boxer you ever saw and smart too, even if I do call her “Dummy” at least twice a day.

Now that I have a Puppy, I remember all the things I forgot. So if you are thinking about getting a puppy, let me remind you of a few things:

1. Unlike babies who have a diaper on, puppies poop and pee on the floor and have to be housebroken. This means constant supervision for weeks. It means getting up in the middle of the night if they can’t hold it in the crate all night.

2. Puppies whine just like babies. When crated (at first) they whine and fuss like you are stabbing them with pins. They also screech when put outside in the cold for more than 30 seconds.

3. Puppies have to be trained; they know nothing. Sit, come, bed, outside, breakfast – these words mean nothing to the little minds of mush.

4. Puppies chew on everything. This includes (especially) human hands and feet. And even if you correct it every damn time and give them a toy, they still feel the need to chew and you have to wait it out.

5. Puppies terrorize the family cat. Poor Gracie hasn’t had it easy since Monkey came to town.

6. Puppies have horrible gas.

7. Puppies need exercise even when it’s raining.

The good news is that #1- #4 will definitely get better and maybe even #5. Tough luck on #6 & #7. I realize this is all an investment and a year from now I will have a happy little Monkey that fits right in our family, but this is harder than I remembered. And it’s work.

Emily summed it all up perfectly the other morning. She was sleepily trying to make her toaster waffles when Monkey kept biting at her shoes and tearing up her laces. After shooing her off for 10 minutes, she screamed at the top of her lungs, “MONKEY!” Then she spun around with a burning venomous look that immediately disappeared when her eyes made contact with that little cocked puppy face, “How can I stay mad at you, look at that cute little face.”

Soufflé is gross. At least that is what I thought most of my life. It always looks and smells way better than it tastes and seems like a grown up food (which is bad, right?). In addition, I have a niece that was traumatized once by quiche (which to me is a better version of a soufflé) furthering my feelings. We cannot see that sweet girl without her asking me if I’m going to make her eat quiche (which I never did by the way and I won’t name names of who did). Also it is kind of like setting yourself up for failure, isn’t it? Most kitchen failure stories involved a fallen soufflé or something to do with a soufflé gone wrong. Typically if I hear about someone making a soufflé I am 50% impressed by their culinary skills and 50% afraid they might ask me to try it. You might be surprised to learn . . . today I made soufflés. And I liked them.

As with the entrance of each new year for the past 15 years I decided to diet away my holiday pounds. For me this is usually a few weeks of hardcore low carbing and then slowly adding them back to a reasonable level with exercise. It works for me when I do it. At least 3 out of 5 reading this are thinking, “oh that diet is so bad for you”. Well my version is mostly salads for lunch, chicken/fish and a veg for dinner and sadly NO dessert. So don’t lose sleep. It does get boring though, so any new recipe with low carbs is of interest.

Last weekend while listening to one of my new favorite radio shows Splendid Table, Chef Patrice Olivon walked listeners through his cheese soufflé recipe and it wasn’t packed full of carbs, which meant I was interested. Even though he made it sound easy, I was intimidated. I printed out the recipe and worked up the nerve for a few days. Making a soufflé for the first time is scary. I read it over a few times, reflecting on the little bonus tidbits the chef gave up on the show. Then I decided to go for it. On the weekend, after I bought supplies, I would make a soufflé.

There were two cheeses required for the recipe. Parmesan was easy, but it took me ages of digging through the fancy cheese to find the Gruyere. Then I flipped it over to see that it was $9.00 for .45lb of cheese. What the hell? No turning back now, this better be a-freakin-mazing.

I read the recipe 3 more times and postponed as long as I could (1pm – Saturday – MWD: “Daddy Hungry”). Then I entered the kitchen with a strict “do not talk to me until this is finished” warning to MWD. He probably had a few piecrust flashbacks and ran to hide. I set most of the ingredients out in individual bowls to avoid screwing up (and it’s fun and pretty to look at) and went after it.

It was easy. I made four individual soufflés that were cheesy, yummy and low carb.  Happy me. It seems I have entered a new stage of my life. Now I’m a grown up . . . and just wait until my niece visits.

cell phone pics:

The $9 hunk a cheese. I only used a little, so I will have plenty left for my next attempt.

Happy about my souffle (PJs and no make up - dohh!)

Maybe a little more brown next time, but pretty good for a first time

This morning I was getting ready to head up to school for Emily’s big moment in the spelling bee. Thanks to my 2009 hair disaster (read my blog on vanity for more horrible details), I can’t wash my hair too much (maybe 2-3 times a week) for at least a few more months until it is healthy again.  Occasionally, to stretch things out on that last day, I apply a light dust of talcum powder to absorb some of the oils. I can get away with this since I am blonde and it doesn’t really show up or smell weird. I can’t handle things that smell weird. If MWD is around when this happens he always seems a little taken aback. I guess it is strange to witness. This must be what led my mind to consider where I learned this secret and suddenly a vivid memory popped into my mind.

It was kind of a beautiful memory at first. A memory of an attractive soccer mom in her suburban house leaning over her massive bathtub wearing sensible khaki pants and a silky white bra. She was powdering her long blonde hair. It took me a few minutes to remember the details surrounding the image since my memory is so tattered. She was a relative of mine that I never knew before or after the day the memory was imprinted.

Of course, one memory leads to another and I recalled the whole situation with both intrigue and embarrassment. Several summers in my youth were spent traveling the nation in my Grandmother’s motor home. I didn’t really appreciate these trips with Grams at the time and in some ways I still don’t, but there were some important experiences that occurred during the adventures that helped make me who I am.

To be honest I enjoyed my Gram about 50% of the time. She wasn’t like other Grandmothers who bake cookies and dote about their perfect Grandchildren. And I know these kinds of Grandmothers exist; I have met some. My Grams was (still is, but with less steam and means) a bit of an eccentric soul with a short temper and a camera. She can’t stay put too long, but will love to sit anyone down to show pictures and tell stories of her travels. When she loves you it is a wonderful feeling, she can make you feel like the most important person she ever met. But when she is annoyed with you she is wicked. You are smart to stay on the red headed Irish lady’s good side at all times.

When Grandpa Bill died, Grams sold the beautiful house on the cliff of Sunday Canyon that Grandpa built for her. I imagine that she couldn’t bear to be in the house without him, but this could be a little romanticized by yours truly. Selling almost everything you own (or giving it to family) and living year round in a motor home takes a special kind of attitude and Grams has it. She had a place for everything in that miniature home, even her two fuzz ball Pomeranians: Chi Chi and Buffy. Most of the time she had a coffee stained travel mug in one hand and a fuzz ball in the other.

We traveled from Texas to Minnesota most times with detours that were not at all on the way to see various family members or friends of Grams. Most of which I didn’t know and haven’t stayed in touch with. It was a new adventure everyday starting with both of us smiling and singing along with Willie to “On The Road Again” and ending with her screaming at me to stay awake and do my job (of keeping her company).

I learned the skill of maneuvering through a moving house quickly in order to accomplish my other jobs like refilling the travel mug (never occurred to either of us to wash it) or strapping something down that was missed before take off. She usually had a fly swatter close and if I didn’t respond quick enough or the way she wanted I would get a quick smack on whichever body part was the closest. Then I spent the next 10 minutes trying to listen to her and remember to wipe the bug guts off her target as soon as possible.

There were some good times and I met all kinds of people. Sometimes there were kids to play with or even better were adults who enjoyed the distraction of an interested gangly pre-teen. I really enjoyed meeting one set of relatives who had a huge stretch of property with all kinds of ponds and wildlife. Walking from Gram’s home to theirs I spotted at least three peacocks, which amazed me. In my mind these people had to be rich. Back at home in Dad’s apartment or Mom’s tiny duplex our lives were much less glamorous. On that trip I acquired some marble bracelets from my Great Aunt who told me fantastic stories of her travels and entertained me for most of a family reunion. She took them right off her arm and insisted I take them and I still have them buried in a jewelry box somewhere.

One of the downfalls of visiting anyone with Grams is that she usually arrived unannounced. Her closer relatives, brothers and sisters (she was one of 6) never seemed phased. They even had hidden keys for her to use if they weren’t about. I don’t recall which trip or even which state we were in, but on this particular visit from my memory Grams wanted to drop in on her niece (I think). The neighborhood we drove into was the kind I only saw in movies. All of the houses seemed huge to me compared to back home. As an adult I realize this was an average upper middle-class subdivision with some kind of home owners association, but back then all the meticulously cared for gardens and pristine properties seemed like mansions.

As Grams chugged her home on wheels up to the house, I felt myself slinking down in the seat trying to avoid detection. I don’t remember exactly what I was wearing, but I was under dressed and uncomfortable with any options I had shoved in my suitcase under the sleeper-couch/table I called my bedroom for that summer. Based on pictures I would guess I had some shorts with obnoxious loud print all over them, a tank top and some white Keds. My suggestion that I should just wait in the motor home was immediately dismissed and I was ordered to lead the way. The lady who answered the door intrigued me. I can’t remember her name so lets call her Jill. She was probably in her late 30s of early 40s and she looked like a TV Mom with long straight blonde hair and pretty delicate features. Her voice remained honey sweet even though it was obvious that she was not expecting us and was in a rush.

Jill invited us in and explained that she was having some friends over for a celebration honoring her teenager. I can’t recall if it was a birthday or some other milestone, but it was bad timing on our part and I assumed we would be leaving right away. Grams didn’t take the hint and we began following the pretty lady around her house watching her take care of various party preparations while she tried to play catch up with her unexpected Aunt.

After a little while she told us she really had to go get changed, but we were welcome to stay for the party. She was nice about it, but anyone would have known she was just being polite. Grams told her we couldn’t, because we were going to hit the road, but she kept following the lady and I kept following Grams. They chatted as we entered her massive bedroom suite and then her bathroom. It was the nicest bathroom I had ever been in. There was an oversized jetted tub with a separate shower. Instead of having two sinks there were actually two sides of the bathroom separated each with a huge sink and vanity area. Jill’s vanity area was bigger than our whole bathroom at home. After weighing her options she seemed to give up hope that we were about to leave and she began to get ready with us there.

This lady I had never met before stripped off her shirt and began putting her makeup on. All I could do was stare and think about how rude it was that we were in here gawking while she was changing instead of leaving her to her plans. I was embarrassed, but too young to do anything about it. I watched her chat away with Grams and apply her make-up in a frantic hurry with her daughter, who was much older than me and too cool to notice my presence, occasionally popping in to ask a question. Then she did it. Jill grabbed a container of talcum powder and leaned over the tub sprinkling her hair lightly all over.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She looked over at me as though it was the first time she had noticed I was there. Then her face softened and she said, “Oh this is a wonderful little trick I use when I don’t have time to wash my hair and it’ll work for you since you have such pretty blonde hair. Only us blondes can do this.” She winked at me which I realize now meant that she was probably a bottle blonde like I am now. “If I put just a little in, it absorbs some of the oils and looks much better. See? Just watch this.”

Then she rubbed her hands all over her head like a maniac princess and brushed it out in the mirror. Perfect. She was perfect.

I don’t remember much after that. I think we stayed for the first few minutes of the party and then headed out after there was nothing left to embarrass me. I suppose I was embarrassed because I didn’t belong in this perfect world and I knew we were imposing. But Grams never cared about that and I collected some beauty advice along the way that paid off 25 years later.

I am a slave to scent. It’s the true reason I save these bottles, as each one holds a secret memory. Mostly they are memories I will never share, not because they are top secret, but they would never mean as much to someone else. Some ladies have a perfume bottle collection and I used to do that, but I find it much more intoxicating to take a whiff of the actual scent than the empty half scent left in a bottle. Each one brings a flood of thoughts and memories to mind.

The oldest one in my collection is Youth-Dew by Estee Lauder. Not a fancy bottle by far, it is small with a light jade, rectangle shaped, plastic lid that has little specks of make up and other bits that were possibly from the bottom of a makeup bag smattered all about. Since it bears the words Not For Individual Sale stamped on the bottom I assume I procured this one from a sample set. But I don’t care a bit what it looks like; the amazing powers of the fragrance are what I covet. When I take off the plastic lid, the sprayer is old and stained brown probably from being thrown carelessly in the bottom of boxes and drawers of the previous owners and mine for years or maybe decades. This is my Nana’s perfume. What an incredible woman!

I do not mean that as a compliment as most would infer, because she was a bit of a lunatic. She loved me though, and I loved her. She was a large, beautiful blonde Scottish woman who loved to dress stylish and wear big jewelry. She traveled the world and had a collection of lovers and amazing stories. Nana was fabulously interesting to anyone who met her, but things usually turned bad due to her psychotic need to stir up drama.  I try not to think about her dark side when I inhale the scent or the fact that this neurosis is one I have flowing through my bloodstream. Instead I remember days of getting up early and climbing into her bed to whisper stories to each other until everyone else woke up. My parents always told me not to wake her when she would visit, but she never minded me crawling into her sheets before the sun was even up.

When we were staying at her home in Scotland with Mom during my parents divorce she would have me help her polish her silverware and her copper knick-knacks (I loved the smell of that cleaning solution as well). We would spend hours going through her massive collection of jewelry. It was mostly costume quality, but I was always intrigued by the stories of how she acquired them. She wore a bracelet with the most interesting charms you have ever seen. None of them were ordinary. I remember the tiny golden detailed globe of the world that could be unclasped and it would roll out into a cross. That was my favorite. She started a bracelet for me, but I was too young to wear it. Each time she got a new charm, she would take an older one off and put it on my bracelet in her jewelry box. I was 8 months pregnant when my Nana died, so I could not attend the funeral overseas. My Mother who had disowned her Mother (with good reason) signed away the executer rights to a family friend, David Rafferty, who made promises to send me some of Nana’s things but never did.

I have none of my Nana’s things, but I have this perfume bottle to remind me of her. It is worth nothing to anyone but me. I can’t remember where it came from, but it must have come from her. Everything she owned smelled like this: the clothes she wore, her jewelry box and even the warm sheets of her bed early in the morning.

The largest bottle I keep is Cinnabar by Estee Lauder. My Mother’s perfume. Mom and I have a complicated relationship. Actually we have had no relationship for over five years as she has little interest in being a mother and even less in being a grandmother. I have some fault in there too, but given her life choices while raising me (and my brother) it’s hard to see my own damage beyond my damn incessant judging.  Those aren’t the thoughts that come to mind when I inhale her scent though, I love that perfume! My favorite memories of Mom are after I would go an extended time without seeing her; maybe a few weeks during summer vacation when I was young or even longer as an adult. When I had not seen her in some time, she always seemed like she missed me. That is when I could feel her love the most. As I stepped out of a car or in through a doorway, she would charge and embrace me in a way that only my mother ever has. It was a long tight squeeze that would shove my face into some soft motherly area that smelled like my Mom. There are times in my life when I really miss her like when my second son was born. I was so proud of what I had accomplished and I really wanted my Mom there with me. Sometimes you have to accept that “it is what it is” and still enjoy your life despite the things it lacks.

The other bottles from my collection remind me of my own life. Even though I pretty much wear the same (Rapture by Victoria Secret) perfume that I originally began wearing almost 20 years ago, I have had scent phases. The oldest of these bottles, from my teen years, is a cheap white bottle with a black lid shaped to match it’s name, Exclamation by Coty. I don’t even know if they make it anymore, but it reminds me of making out with that boy whose name I can’t even remember, during my summer at Aunt Cheryl’s. It also reminds me of living in apartments with my Dad. In-between his unbearable moments of controlling and punishing while trying to learn how to be a single parent, we had some great times. That is one person I never doubted loved me. Ever. He can push me absolutely over the edge of insanity with his beliefs that I don’t usually agree with, but I love him so much. He is a good man who loves his family for better or worse. I’m lucky to know him.

Most of the other bottles are just phases of my life. Highlights include the Sunflower (by Clinique) phase from when I lived in Lubbock for college through my early 20s and actually collected sunflowers. Collections are a horrible thing. I had curtains and blankets and figurines. My poor boyfriend (eventually first husband) had to endure this phase by sticking as many manly broken computer parts and bicycles throughout our duplex to ensure that it was in fact his domain as well.

Another phase was Happy (by Clinique), which was mostly true. I got married to my first husband and had my first child during this phase. It reminds me of nursing my first child in the giant red recliner in the bedroom of the first house I ever owned. I had a great time planting that beautiful flower garden with my previous mother-in-law.  It reminds me of my sweet dog Sadie who was with me for 12 years. I remember spending quality time  there with my best friends Carra and Jason watching must see TV at my house and bonding over food and adventures. We are all far away from each other now and rarely see one another. I miss them.

Sadly the “Happy” phase also reminds me of divorce. Which no matter how called for and amicable it might be, is still hard. It reminds me of my brief stint as a single mother and how my good friend Jesica helped me through it. She would show up on early Saturday mornings to escape with my toddler for hours at a time and on weeknights to watch TV with me and keep the lonely nights full.

Those memories are all far away, but just one whiff and I am thrusted back in an instant. I am currently in a Heavenly (by Victoria’s Secret) phase, which is quite fitting. My husband bought me this perfume in Las Vegas a few years back. One day I will add this bottle to the collection and I will remember these days of our new home and our Wednesday family nights and our wonderful fireplace. At least I hope I do.

—-
I may dig up some old pics to add to this later in the week.

Over the years, I really couldn’t find information that matched up with our situation. I’m sure that is because most situations are unique on some level. Most people who read my blog probably won’t have much interest in this, but I am going to explain our situation a little to possibly help someone else who might have a similar situation and looking for input.

Going back, way back, Noah was a sweet and easy baby. His Dad and I use to joke (and still do) that he was perfectly average. Every doctor appointment was right in the middle of where kids were supposed to be. We were divorced when Noah was only one, but we communicate well and keep Noah’s best interest in mind. We share custody and live close. We have each remarried and we all get along just fine (which shocks most people for some reason). When Noah was about 3 he started have some behavior issues. He would act aggressively to other kids and occasionally throw giant tantrums to the point that I would just have to hold him tight until he settled down. Much of the time he was fine, but these little flare up were consistent until kindergarten. I excused this as being side effects from the asthma and allergy medications he was constantly on. He mostly outgrew the allergies in time for school. From the beginning he had a hard time with school except for reading. Noah loved to be read to. He could sit calm and patiently through long stories even with no pictures.

Noah is an interesting, inquisitive, sweet loving child. Those things were sometimes muddled down with the constant need to be told what he should be doing. He really had no initiative or direction. In some ways it probably confused the issue for him and us that we have another kiddo the same age. Technically Emily is my stepdaughter, but she has called me Mama Clair since she was two and she is one of my babies (like with Noah’s Dad, we are close with Emily’s Mom and share custody). Emily is in many ways the perfect child. Good grades, good attitude. We have always tried not to compare, but sometimes it is just unavoidable.

Over the years as the homework got harder Noah had to drop out of his extra curricular activities. There was no more guitar lessons or soccer, since he couldn’t keep up with the homework. And I’m sure it seemed unfair to him since Emily would come home and do all her homework (with no prodding) in less than an hour, while he was at the kitchen table all night with me constantly reminding him what he was supposed to be working on. It was frustrating for us all. I didn’t feel it was a learning disability (didn’t match up with the symptoms) so I looked into ADD or ADHD. He had some signs (easily distracted, cannot stay on task), but if I really stayed on top of him for every second I was able to keep these things in check even if both he and I (and all around us) were miserable. Over the years we developed systems and rules to keep Noah in check (behavior and school work) and most people didn’t realize there were issues. He had friends as well, so there didn’t seem to be social issues. I used to give him direction 5 minutes at a time with a kitchen timer, which helped for a few years. Also limiting his workspace distractions and keeping an eye on what kind of food he ate helped some. I was in constant touch with his teachers on what assignments were missing or never made it in. We had a contract that his stepmom came up with that seemed to help with behavior for a while. All four parents met with him and we all signed it and sent a copy to his teachers. We really tried everything. By the end of 4^th grade the situation had hit a wall. He did end up with A’s and B’s, but it seemed disingenuous since everyone else had to make sure the work was done. Thank goodness for summer vacation.

Through all of this I remained adamant that I was not going to medicate my child. I was sure that his sweet energetic personality would be quashed and he would become a little drone that did homework as he drooled out the corner of his mouth. Noah was so bright when it came to reading that it didn’t make sense. He was possibly the best reader in his grade constantly devouring chapter books before most of his classmates (including sister) looked beyond picture books. My husband and Noah’s Dad both seemed to agree with me, so no medication.

Then we started 5^th grade. The first three weeks of school were hectic. We moved to a new home and sold a business and had so many distractions in our grown up lives that I was not able to stay vigilant in giving Noah the attention I usually did and his grades plummeted. We tried to pick things back up again, but it was awful. There were tears from beginning of homework time until bed. I very clearly remember the breaking point for both of us. Emily and little brother Jack had already gone to bed and there I was with Noah sitting at the table at 9:30pm trying to get him to finish up a five-hour homework session. I felt so bad for him, he looked drained, depressed and despondent. He had tried all his usual tactics for getting out of homework. Lying to me about what was due (doesn’t work when sister has the same homework), throwing a fit about how stupid it is and mostly crying because he doesn’t understand the math problems. He eventually finished it up and I added a note to make a doctor appointment to my calendar for the next day.

We went a few days later and I told his Doctor I wasn’t interested in medication, but wanted to know her thoughts. She slowly and methodically asked both Noah and I questions about what kind of problems he was having. Some things that I didn’t even think were related like “does he have a hard time remembering things?” (oh hell yeah – he’s been in charge of the trash for 3 years and still can’t remember what day to take it out). After a long conversation she said that it did sound like he had ADD symptoms, but she understood that I didn’t want medication. All the alternatives she mentioned were things I had tried on my own. She never pushed her agenda. But for some reason I went ahead and asked her to explain the medication to me.

She told me that she could put him on a very low dose of a medication that would be out of his system the same day. So if the effects were not good he could quit the meds and they would not linger. This was not the kind of medicine that you have to be weaned off of, so that was another plus. Noah could skip days if he wanted and it wouldn’t hurt anything. She answered about 50 of my questions and then we both asked Noah what he thought. He was thrilled at the idea that a medication could help him. He explained to her that he just couldn’t stop thinking about other things when he should be listening to his teacher or me. I let him decide and he wanted to try it so bad I couldn’t say no.

After clearing things with his Dad, we filled the prescription, informed the teachers and nurse and sat back to see what happened. It. Was. Amazing. Within 2 days he was done with his homework at the same time as Emily. He does some of his work at school during downtime, so he won’t have as much homework. His handwriting is significantly better for some reason. I still remind him of some things, but it seems much more reasonable now. At one month we adjusted the medication because it was wearing off at 2pm and now he is good until after homework. He says that all the extra noise in his head is gone and he can pay attention to what is going on.

But his personality is what freaks me out the most. It’s the opposite of what I thought. We have the best conversations now that he can articulate his thoughts. And his creative side has been unleashed. For example a few weekend back he asked me to add all my Beatles CDs to his Ipod. I told him I would, but I didn’t want him to disappear for the day. He put on his headphones and got to work at the table drawing a picture of a yellow submarine and sat there for almost 2 hours focusing on the details of his artwork. He drew every little bolt. It was a remarkable drawing. Usually he bored after a few strokes and moved on to something else. It reminded me of the art from a Wes Anderson movie.

I don’t know if this will last. I keep an eye on his weight (his appetite is lower, but he still eats plenty) and his moods (mostly good) for any change. He has always had a hard time sleeping (like his Mom) and that is another side effect I keep an eye on. The doctor told us that we may need to adjust it over time to other things, but it is obviously what he needed.

Looking back now, I guess I thought an ADD child was running in circles and slapping himself in the face. Life isn’t always that obvious. I really had a great debate with myself over many years about the good and evil of medicating kids. I feel like I tried everything else, but the reality is that my kid needs medicine to help his true personality come out. With the right support from our doctor and even the extra attention and encouragement from Noah’s teachers, this was the right choice for him. I am working on being OK with that, so I can make sure that he is too. I love him with or without this medicine, but now I enjoy him even more.

 Tonight we played a game of chess and he was interested until the end. Noah will probably beat me one day. For now we are appreciating the fact that we can add some extras back into our lives and enjoy each other’s company.

Noah Drawing from 11/21/09

Noah enjoying some solitude

A drawing Noah did early in the year

My Noah!

On Thanksgiving night we watched Home for the Holidays. My Dad and I have joked for years about how much we can relate to the movie. It’s a decent movie with the exception of the obvious turd that was forced into (unnecessary love interest angle) the story to make it viewer friendly or hollywood happy or whatever. It did get me thinking about how bizarre and great family can be. The same people who can shove you into a giant red parka that you would never wear can also finish sentences and memories for you and sometimes guess things that you haven’t said.

The best thing I got out of the movie was a reminder that we all hang on to these little moments that we have recorded in our minds. It’s these memories of moments that were just tiny flashes of ordinary greatness that make us love and long for someone. I know I have many. I probably made a few of these moments this weekend. Unfortunately we can’t recall them all on demand. Maybe that is why I take so many pictures – to help me remember. The photos aren’t really of the moment, but they trigger some brilliant memories. Of course smells do this too. Everytime I add some turmeric to a recipe I think of this really cool lady I used to work with in Lubbock. And music triggers all kinds of memories. Don’t get me started on that.

Zillions of seemingly insignificant moments are what make up our lives. Sometimes they can change or influence a person in a way you never intended. That’s kind of a scary and powerful thought.

 All day yesterday and today I was thinking about this and then I got an email from my Mom tonight. We haven’t spoken in over 5 years and there were some quality reasons behind that action. I mean I have plenty of those seemingly insignificant moments with her that changed my life for the worse. My heart can’t lie though I miss that woman. I am cautiously interested in where this path is going to lead. I was just reminded after all  - never say never.

The Fam: Carrie, Dad, Hayden & Connor

Jack & Nonna

Grandpa & Jack