Buses in Israel

Last night as I went to sleep, I suddenly realized that those of you who do not live in Israel may not really understand my last post. People in America do not interact very much with each other of buses. For people not to have commented when I corrected Ricki would be expected.
Oh, but in Israel, it’s not like that. Riding buses in Israel is an experience.
First of all, Israel is a small country. And people care about each other. Remember when that lady was killed in the US (in the early 60’s) and cried out for help for half an hour, and no one called for help? That would NEVER happen here.
First of all, when you get on a local bus, you are very likely to meet up with a neighbor, friend, daughter’s former teacher, etc. And even on a non-local bus….occasionally you meet that old neighbor that moved away, your neighbor’s sister, etc. And of course, these “meetings” on buses are often not just acknowledged with a cursorily nod. People will gladly exchange places with you so you can spend your ten minute (or more) bus ride “catching up” with what is new in your friend’s life.
And even if you don’t know anyone on the bus.… well, people here have no qualms about expressing themselves. If you would go on a bus with a baby in a sweater in the summer (maybe you just came from an air-conditioned building), people would tell you “Lady, can’t you see that your baby is hot? For G-d’s sake take the sweater off!” New young mothers hate this off course, but it IS because people care.
And if you think that you can have a private conversation with your daughter in a foreign language (not Hebrew), think again! Whether it’s French, Spanish, English, German, or Portuguese, you are likely to get a tap on your back. “Excuse me” someone will comment in that language, “Where do you hail from?...... Oh, from __________? Maybe you know my Aunt So- and So who lives there?” Now “there” may be a huge metropolis, and you have a better chance of winning the lottery than knowing her Aunt Tessie from wherever…… although, amazingly sometimes you actually do!
And, in Israel, people actually DO stand up for the elderly and the infirm, and for pregnant women. It’s because it’s a mitzvah (good deed), and besides, someway, somehow he is probably related to someone you know……. and gosh, wouldn’t YOU give your neighbor’s 2nd cousin’s granddad a seat?!?

One Step Forward, One Step Back? Maybe Two Forward….

Gee, a lot of little interesting things have happened lately. At least it will give me what to write about!
Today, coming home after dance class, I went to the supermarket to get (cheaper) diet ice cream sticks. (An essential in the hot, humid summers we have here…..) Unfortunately they were all out…..
BUT Ricki acted very good in the store. One step forward.
One step back:
But then, when we got on the bus to go home, she went to the back and was either given, or she asked for, someone’s almost-finished bag of potato chips. I of course did NOT put up with this. In no uncertain terms, Ricki was told that “We do not accept gifts from strangers”. So she quickly acquiesced.

Two forward?:
The nice thing was that for once, no one piped up that she is cute and sweet. That I should let her have it, etc. One reason may be because the lady who gave her the bag was way to far away to protest. But I saw a few faint smiles as I told Ricki that she is not a charity taker, and I think people understood. Also, I spoke without raising my voice, which of course is good in any case

The Most Important Lesson- Re: “Special” Children

(see first today's earlier post)
It is extremely important that we convey a message of love to our children with special needs. For them, the need is even greater. Why?
1. We tend to push them to learn new things; they may interpret failure to learn something as an inhibiter to our love.
2. People on the street stare at them, not always kindly. This may make them feel unlovable.
3. People may gush and say platitudes, or demean the ability of our child. Almost all kids with special needs will eventually come to realize that this is also a demeaning of their worth.
So our children are very vulnerable. What can we do to show them our love?
1. Explain to them what their disability is, and what its effect are. This is an ongoing process of several years in some cases. Be sure to not sound negative about the condition, as it is a part and parcel of their existence. If their disability is visible, explain that they will have to learn to deal with staring. (You can help them learn to deal with this.)

(When Ricki was small, I made a book about children with disabilities, and the “aids” that each person needs. The hard of hearing person needs a hearing aid; the person with CP needs leg braces, etc. On of the disabilities was Down syndrome, with the picture of a friend’s child, not of Ricki. I said that this girl, who had trouble learning, used a computer (in the meantime) to write. Later on I told her that she also has Down syndrome, and what that meant to her life at that time. (On later occasions I have updated that “what it means to you now” part of the conversation. Once when she was talking about getting married, I shared with her the knowledge that Down syndrome will make finding a spouse harder. –See “We Plan and They Plan", November 21st’s blog)

The main point here is to show that the disability is something they deal with, but not them. And that it does not affect your love for them.

2. Yes, you can push your child to learn things. But it has to be fun, and with love. Try to make the study connected to things that he enjoys.
Its OK to sometimes say:
- “I see you’re tired. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
- “I see you didn’t learn this yet. Don’t worry, you tried, and that’s enough.”
- “I really see that you are trying hard. But that’s enough for today.”
(With Ricki we had a phrase: “We try a bit, and try each day, and in the end we will succeed.”)
Above all, study time is not a time for anger. And if he isn’t trying? See the next point.

3. When the child misbehaves, doesn’t try, etc. etc, consider using POSITIVE BEHAVIORAL SUPPORT., not punishments. For those unfamiliar with PBS, I recommend highly the book: Parenting with Positive Behavior Support, published by Brookes
(see: http://www.brookespublishing.com/store/books/hieneman-8655/index.htm )

4. Insist that others speak to your child, not through you, and that they address him by his name, or otherwise appropriately (and not, “sweetie”)

The Most Important Lesson

There are SO many things that we have to teach our children. But the first is that we love them. And this lesson is one that must be taught again and again, until the child feels it through his bones and then more.
And if you ask me: “What, Isn’t fear of G-d more important?”
Well, if a child doesn’t know that you love him, he has no way of imagining that G-d does. After all, if his OWN parents don’t love him, than he can only feel unworthy of ANY love. Who will love him if his parent’s can’t? And I will add that the best way to get a child who is “off the way” to return is to accept him and love him.
Now, I am sure that ALL of my readers know that they love their children. But do they know it? Did you ever look in a mirror when yelling at your kids? Do you know how awful that looks?
I will be honest enough to admit that I yell at my kids. I am not proud of it, but I am not pretending here to be perfect.
But I also:
1. Listen… even when my 20 year old admits that he no longer wants to live the type of life I would like him to. I may mention that fact in passing, but I will be sure that he knows that I love him despite this. And that I admire other aspects of his personality. And that he must stay in contact with me, I will not compromise on that.
2. Can give a warm caress, a tussle of the hair, even a hug, even though in general I am not the demonstrative type. This applies also (in private) to those teenage sons who blush at a quick hug.
3. Can be flexible. Rethink that request; give up my plans for the evening in order to watch a movie my teen brought home; trust him with something I was hesitant about.
4. Am civil. Even when denying something, do it nicely. He may still scream at you “I hate you!”, but he will see by the HOW if you hate or not.

And while you can say “I love you” it helps. But actions, and words, speak louder than words.

Gee, They Grow!!

My sixteen year old son recently bought himself a new suit. Then he got a haircut. I don’t know why this made such a difference, but suddenly he looked much older, and more mature. He suddenly appeared a bit like his older brothers. He doesn’t look like Rickis slightly older brother, but like a young man! Gee, He’s growing!

Mommy Does Do Something

I think that I finally have an answer to those family members who say I do nothing but sit on the computer / study with Ricki or prepare materials / volunteer for Down syndrome organizations.
I should have taken a video on my arrival home after four days at the Down syndrome conference. Despite my son having “done the dishes and the laundry” at least once, the house was a wreck. The bathroom needed disinfecting; the sink was full to overflowing with dishes. In addition, the table in the living room was piled high with assorted toys and games, crayons and scissors. And there were about 4 loads of dirty laundry waiting for my attention. (This is despite the fact that I had washed all of the family’s clothing down to the last sock before my departure.)
Thus, it stands to reason, that normally, in addition to preparing study materials for Ricki, I :
-Do all the things we hired people to do while I was at the conference.
-Do the things we forwent when I was gone (taking Ricki to private dance/ swimming classes)
-Do what family members did instead of me during my absence
-Do what usually gets done, and wasn’t done during my vacation.

Case rested.

Good versus bad

This is an approximate version. I am not sure I remember it word for word......

At the conference the other day, someone said something about children with Down syndrome having only a "good inclination", and not a "bad" one. (This is a sister statement to the "They are all so cute and loving.".)
Later that evening, a friend grinned at me (she also has an older child). "Does Ricki only have a good inclination?" (wink)
- "Yeah", I said, "she broke her glasses on purpose yesterday because of her good inclination...."

New parents , I have news for you. They are not always sweet. Kids with down syndrome, just like anyone else in the family, can be ornery, difficult, angry, not sweet, etc. THEY ARE PEOPLE.

Up late!

I will be posting sporadically if all all for the next few days.Its a way-too late hour to be posting, so I will leave you with this tiny tidbit:

When Ricki was small, she liked saying "No" to everything (pity she never grow out of that...LOL), and the word for "RED". We taped her saying "not red" when we prompted her "say 'red'". Till today an emphatic "not red" brings smiles and laughs to all in the family.

* * * * *
I take great pride that my 16 year old runs the washing machine like a pro! Having a busy mom is educational for “ siblings”…..

The Wedding Preparations

Ricki’s older sister recently got engaged. This is very extra special to me, as she is my only biological daughter who will, G-d willing, bear and raise her own children. [ While I don’t see Ricki marrying being impossible, I know that if she would ever have children, the social services would take them, and THAT would break her heart. So I can’t see Ricki RAISING her own children.] So this engaged daughter is the only one to whom I will ever be able to “pass on” my “job” of childrearing to.
Now mind you, she is very different from me. But now that she is engaged, both she and I are seeing more and more of the similarities that we share. And she, meantime, is running around , exhausting herself, arranging an “event” of a wedding (not exactly my style, but in many ways quite excellent)…

And I am beginning to teach Ricki wedding dances!

200!! ?? !

I am amazed, to discover that I have already written 200 blogs! And to my family, an apology that this blog is so Ricki- orientated. That is partly because she is what changes in my day. Also most of my non-family readers themselves have children with a disability.
Another reason is to protect the privacy of those quilty of wraking havoc in my world.

I hope you all enjoy the blog.

“I Want to Go in Myself”

Ricki had a dental appointment yesterday afternoon—a check-up. She acted up (a bit) on the way there, and on the way home. But at the dentist’s she was fine—even better than fine. She decided that she wanted to go into the examination room alone (“I’m a big girl already.”). I consented, with a thought of “let’s see if she actually GOES in alone”. I was also very pleased that the dentist understood, and readily agreed. (Of course, she gave me a verbal report afterwards.)
What is most amazing is that Ricki agreed to have the dentist swap her teeth with fluoride. Wanting to be big has a BIG effect and power. (Of course, that didn’t stop her from begging me for a drink all the way home, despite the dentist’s orders to the contrary.)

What an Evening!

I had a real hectic evening today. First of all, someone left the door of the deep freeze open this morning, just a pinch. But in the terrible heat wave we’ve been having, EVERYTHING in the deep freeze defrosted. So I have spent the evening cooking fish and chickens so that I can later refreeze them. And of course, just yesterday I had one of the boys jump over to the discount store and buy me a sizeable amount of (slightly less) expensive diet artics (ice cream bars). They are probably ruined beyond repair, but I will check after they are refrozen.
Ricki who has been clean for several years recently has started making a mess in her pants most afternoons. It is probably a behavior problem, and I have started a positive behavior plan for this, but tonight she not only made a mess, but made a mess of that!
The neighbors left their 12 year old babysitting, and he fell asleep. Then their toddler awoke and started screaming in the window. We had to force an entry, to calm the toddler.
Ricki also managed to tie some twenty NEW hair elastics onto her hose, and I had to pry them off one by one.

I was SUPPOSED to finish folding the laundry this evening, and to study a bit with Ricki. She wanted to study, being bored (at least when she wasn’t making a commotion), but the chickens had to take precedence.

An “Artic” (Popsicle) Refused

Yesterday evening, as a treat on our way home after dance, I purchased pizza for Ricki. This way she had an immediate supper, and I didn’t have to make it. (Of course, that didn’t stop her from making a fried egg for herself 4 hours later, when I wasn’t paying attention. (I would have told her to consider having a fruit instead….)
We sat down in the pizza store (I ordered salad plus a bit of pizza), and enjoyed “eating out” (which we do on the average of once a year or so.)
When we had finished I went to pay, and Ricki gravitated to the “artic” (popsicle) cooler. The owner chatted a bit with me, wishing me luck with Ricki, asking if we are locals, and the like. At this point Ricki swiftly pulled an artic out and begged for it. I said “No”, and she put it back. (Look at the progress we have made over the last several months!)
Then the owner piped up: I’ll give it to her as a treat!”
I swiftly vetoed the idea, both because of calories, and the “no gifts from strangers rule”. The fellow was really nice, and I faltered for a half-moment. But rules are rules. I explained to him why not, and thanked him for the nice thought. He proved that he was nice by not continuing to offer the artic after the explanation.

Ricki and the Lion in the Living Room- chapter 2

A few days later, Ricki’s two brothers (they are not orthodox) showed up to visit, bringing with them their small “pug” dog. As far as Ricki was concerned (at least at first), it could have been a lion in the living room. The most she would do was talk to the dog, or throw him a toy, from a safe DISTANCE.
Then another relative brought, the next day, a black kitten. As He entered, Ricki froze.

NO, she did not want to pet the cat.
NO, she did not want to feed the cat.
Period.
Enough said.
Her mind is made up.

Ricki and the Lion in the Living room- chapter 1

Perhaps it all started a few weeks ago, when Ricki and I were returning from a doctor’s appointment. There was a black cat near the bus stop. As far as Ricki was concerned, it could have been a tiger. She was scared. Period. A woman sitting there said what a shame that she doesn’t have an animal to take care of.
Now that may be true, but in general, orthodox families (at least in Israel) don’t keep pets. (When you have 6 or more kids, who needs an animal to keep you company?) By the time we had left the bus stop, Ricki had calmed down enough to wave at the cat from AFAR.

Sleeps in Your Bed?

Today I happened to see on an internet site (concerned with DS), posting by several mothers who let their young, and not-so-young children with DS sleep with them at night. In general I do not think that this is a good idea, and here is why:
I have a friend who started like so many of these moms with their kids in her bed, and now at 20+ her daughter is still there! It got a "bit" crowded in the meantime, but if you think that little kids with DS can be stubborn, wait till you have a teen! At the age you would kick any "normal" child out of the bed, the kid with DS should go too.
Besides the inconvenience that an older child can pose if you are married , I suspect that at a certain point it is good for the child's normal perception of "self" to see themselves as grownup enough to sleep on their own. Also they should know that they are not going to take Daddy’s place, whether Daddy works at night or not.

Tools to help the child move:
-relaxing music in the room
-give them a flashlight (t6hey have control over it) to chase all the monsters away with....

French Toast

Ricki has matter-of-factly made breakfast for herself two days in a row. Yesterday she made French toast, and today a fried egg. I am happy that I have taught her, slowly, the skills needed to do this, including lighting the stove. I knew very clearly that if I did not teach her, she would surely do it one day on her own, WITHOUT the taught skills. Its definitely safer being taught FIRST.

My Brother the Inquisitor

I am sure that this last afternoon, Ricki viewed her brother as something akin to an integrator. I was taking an afternoon nap, and he suddenly noticed that she was not at home. He called out her name, and she came in the front door.
Now how well does your average 16 year-old get along with a 13 year old sister? They LOVE to pick on them. And the fact that she has Down syndrome makes no difference. So he starts interrogating her. “Where were you? WHERE?”
And what is your average kid (if there is such a thing) with Down syndrome do when questioned in a threatening voice? Ricki shrugged, “I dunno…”
At this point I intervened, calmly ascertaining that Ricki had only exited the front door as part of a make-believe game. I diplomatically abstained from telling her brother off. I figured he had already realized that yelling was a mistake, and I didn’t have anything to gain by mentioning it.

Gifts

Ricki showed me some loose small change that she has, and told me that she already has a lot of money. Considering that the money is mostly 10 agorot pieces (each worth about 3 cents), she has saved up a remarkable sum.
-“What do you want to do with it”, I quizzed her.
-“Buy gifts.”
-“So what would you buy?”
-“For you, something big. A puzzle….. No, a newspaper. “ (And she named a magazine I often buy. “For Moshe,” (her nephew) “I want to buy a book.” And for her nieces plastic baby dishes, and a pacifier for her youngest niece.

She was very excited about the idea. Maybe I’ll even help her carry the plan out. It is so nice to see her thinking about someone else. And best is that she had thought of appropriate things for each of us.

“Terrorist”???????

MSNBC has an article on the Terrorist” who went on rampage in Jerusalem. May I ask why the word “Terrorist” is in quotation marks?

The “Opposite” Vacation

Most moms really don’t like school break, at least after a few weeks of vacation has passed. They enjoy doing things with their children that there is no time for during the year… but the noise, the “Mommy, I’m bored..” gets a bit nerve wracking after a while. And the mess… constantly you have to remind your teens that the place for trash is in the garbage can, and not everywhere else. So most Moms breathe a big relaxing sigh of relief when school restarts in September.
But by me it’s the opposite. The entire scholastic year I have spent preparing and adapting materials for Ricki’s studies, often to un-G-dly (G-d would not approve how I am wrecking my health) hours of the night
Now that summer is here, I will cut down on studies, and those I do with Ricki can be done with materials I have, not stuff that needs to be adapted from the regular curriculum. (YAY!!) I hope to spend a bit of time each day with Ricki reviewing reading and math, and most of the remaining time use for crafts, sports, and fun. I want to make cooking and other independent learning skills a priority. But my biggest priority is to make this all fun, for Ricki at least. It means that I will be busy, but, frankly, less than during the year, and without pressure.
Probably by the middle of the summer, when Ricki will be finished with her morning day-camp, I will be singing a different tune…. and yet, it is hard to envision the school year being less stressful. But I will probably also look forward to it, joining with Ricki in her pleasure of being in the eldest class of the school.

Food Addiction

For people who are overweight, food can be an addictive drug in every sense of the word “addictive”. Let’s look point by point:
1. One who is addicted to overeating (whether it is cakes, chocolate, or whatever) will overeat even though they are fully cognitive of the fact that this extra food is unhealthy for them.
2. In addition, they will overeat despite the fact that the food makes problems for them in the interpersonal sphere of their lives (family, jobs, etc.)
3. They have physical withdrawal symptoms if they stop overeating. And I am not talking about “empty tummy” rumbles, but headaches, weakness, etc.
4. They will lie to others (and themselves) regarding the amount that they eat. This may not be verbal, but a habit of overeating AFTER returning from a wedding (THERE they did not TOUCH the buffet…)
5. The overeating satisfies some emotional need, is a calming tool, etc. Or it gives the sleep-deprived a spurt of energy.


I saw this all so clearly today. I am now finally in the less pressured time of summer vacation (yes, less pressured. More on that tomorrow, hopefully….)

A perfect time to get back on my diet
. I dealt pretty well with the splitting headache that cropped up this morning. Today number5 threw me. I was upset with someone….I tried relaxation techniques, to no avail. Finally I had a small piece of cake. The tension went. The headache lessened. Now I am only left with the quilt, and the determination to try and find an alternative. I’ve already started to get more sleep (sleep deprivation being my major overeating trigger). For tension I will need other tools. Perhaps music?

A Bit of Silence

One of my favorite pastimes is a rarely-indulged-in one:
I enjoy sitting in an armchair, next to the living room window. The best time to do this is in the early morning, when the summer blast of heat is a bit less. But one ingredient to this scenario is irreplaceable: quiet.
A bit of silence was all I wanted this morning, before starting what promised to be a hectic day. I wanted a brief pause, a moment to reflect. Unfortunately it was not to be, as someone in the family was determined to talk to me. After five minutes of hearing them out, and with only 5 minutes left until I would have to wake Ricki up, I requested a bit of silence. Unfortunately, it was not to be. OK, I survived the day in tact anyway. But I missed those quiet minutes. In today’s busy, ear-drum rattling world, a bit of silence is a gift to treasure and savor.

The Bird Feeder

The other day Ricki came to me with a request: she wanted to take water downstairs in a container for the poor hot birds. (It was a very warm day.) So I gave her a disposable bowl with water, and let her go downstairs. She placed it in the yard, and promptly returned with a big grin on her face.
Initially, I was thrilled by this request, as it showed both concern for others as well as imaginative thinking. Later I heard that Ricki had seen her father putting out water for the birds earlier that day, so, in essence, she was only copying others. My pleasure at her “brightness” diminished a bit.
But then I got to thinking. How often does she have a chance to do chesed (good deeds) for others? When she tries to help people, she is probably usually not accepted as a helper, but shoved over to the “receiver” line. Just because it wasn’t an original idea does not decrease the worth of the activity for HER. For the ability to give is something we all need.

The Photo Album

One of my sons was busy today arranging his photo album. Since he is the child right above Ricki, there were a lot of pictures of the two of them together. So she sat down to watch him organize his pictures and assemble them into his album. Then she suddenly started asking questions: Who is this? What? Where? And she commented as well: Look, He is so cute; Look at Mommy; etc.
If I ever become a speech therapist (or next time I want to get some sentences out of Ricki), I’ll just sit down with a photo album!

The Bilingual Country

Israel is a language student’s delight: large segments of the population speak two (or more) languages, and there is a large variety of languages spoken in the country. Almost all elderly people in Israel speak two languages: that of their country of origin, and Hebrew. Common second languages are English, Russian, Yiddish, French, Spanish, and Arabic. Other some-times heard languages include Portuguese, eastern European languages, and German. Even native-born elderly persons are likely to know English, from the time of the British mandate. And the constant influx of new immigrants, coupled with tourists, make it extremely common to hear “foreign” languages on the bus, in stores, and everywhere in between. Museum displays are always written with English in addition to Hebrew, and taped presentations in a variety of languages is common.. Add to this the fact that many products, DVD’s, etc, are produced and imported from Europe, fully labeled (and DVD’s labeled or spoken) in an assorted medley of languages. (Sometimes my kids turn their favorite DVD to a different language, just to hear what “Toy Story” sounds like in Italian or Japenese.) Another large segment of non-Hebrew speakers are the Chasidic Orthodox population, who often speak Yiddish. However, despite their preference for Yiddish, they will generally know Hebrew quite well

So this morning, as I waited for a bus, a young chasidic boy (about 6 years old) at the bus stop asked me in Hebrew: “What time is it?”
-“Eight twenty two.”
This child was impeccably dressed, two long earlocks framing his face, and reminded me of my oldest grandson. His forehead creased slightly. “Can you tell me in Yiddish?”
This was a bit of a problem for me. I know only the briefest smattering of Yiddish, including numbers up to ten. Twenty two is not included in MY Yiddish lexicon. So I said “ten and ten plus two… almost half-past eight.”
He asked me in Hebrew which numbers of buses had gone by, and which not. Five minutes later he asked if it was already eight thirty. I asked if his school started at eight thirty, and he nodded yes. I felt sorry for him because he was going to be late, due to a lapse in bus service. (Several minutes had passed with no buses going by, much longer than expected.) Later he boarded the bus with me, and as he got off the stop before mine, I thought to myself: I hope his teacher isn’t angry, and believes him when he says the bus was late. He looked like a really sweet child, and I wanted him to have a nice start to his day.

An Optimistic Attempt Validated

Let me preface this with a few facts so you can make sense of it.
1. Ricki finishes seventh grade in a week.
2. After the regular school year there is an added two-week day camp for a nominal fee.
3. Ricki can only attend the camp with an aide.
4. I want the city to pay for the aide, since the government gives them 11, not 10 months of “aide” fund.

My efforts to get Ricki to day camp were a bit harried. First, I had to get the aide to agree to continue another two weeks. Simultaneously, I had to get an explicit OK from city hall that they would pay the aide. They are VERY hard to reach by phone, and they kept saying “We will check and call you tomorrow. They didn’t, and I called every two days for a week. Finally yesterday they agreed. And the aide agreed as well. (She also asked me to let her “think about it and let you know tonight or tomorrow” ---for about a week…. ). So I immediately called the school to register her, and they said, “No, the registration is finished.” “Try in city hall.”
Immediately the pessimistic side of me (the side that went through two court cases for Ricki’s right to an inclusive education) kicked in:
“They delayed in city hall on purpose, to make it past the deadline for registration, so the city can pocket the money.”
Then my good inclination piped up:
“Who says? Check it out? Give the benefit of the doubt.” So I did. Today I traveled over to city hall, explained things, and had Ricki registered for day camp within five minutes. No fuss, no arguments, no problem. Gee, its NICE when people are accommodating!

The Taxi ride.

On Sunday afternoon, Ricki and I were in a taxi, on the way to her piano recital. Maybe she was tense, I don’t know, but the fact was that she kept punching me in the arm. I asked her nicely, twice to stop. She didn’t. Going home (consequence #1) was not an option. So I simply told the driver to stop the cab, and switched to the front seat. (Cabs here are not divided front/back like in some big cities.) No yelling, no negative attention, just a clear statement of action: I will not let you punch me. She was great for the rest of the day.

The Puzzle

Ricki does not enjoy seeing people who are mentally ill. The other day she saw someone she knows who is currently not 100%. They said something that didn’t make sense, and I was pleased that she caught it as not being true, and reacted in a non-believing way. But she was definitely puzzled as to why this person was acting this way. The downside to all of this was that she became very upset, and the rest of our walk to school was flavored by her agitation.

This is What Brought me to Belief in G-d

(But even if you're an agniostic, don't pass this up!)
Today instead of a blog, I am adding a slide show to show you an itzi bitzi bit why I love the Rocky Mountains:

“I Want to Ride Alone”

The other day Ricki announced to me as we were waiting for the bus, “(Give me the) Bus ticket, I want to go by myself.”

It just so happens that I often let her give her fare to the driver, and to sit by herself. But this time she was saying the sentence with a different intonation. She wanted complete independence.
“But Ricki, I also have to get home, I also need to ride the bus!”
So, reluctantly, she acquiesced to my use of public transportation. But I not only allowed her to pay, and sit alone. I purposely did not look in her direction. I did not indicate where to get off. She managed fine, as I had expected.
The following day she was again begging me to get on the bus entirely by herself, and I found myself again explaining that I also needed to get to the place we were traveling to. But I was puzzled at her insistence, her tone of demand.
I mentioned this to one of her brothers, and it seems that a family member had once or twice let her ride the bus alone. Entirely alone. I was absolutely “floored”. It is true that she knows were to get off, and acts nicely on the bus. HOWEVER, if someone would start up with her, if the bus would suddenly change its route, or if she would miss her stop, she would not be ready to handle such a situation. I DO NOT intend for Ricki to have escorts on the bus all of her life. Why do I usually let her pay and sit by herself? In fact, I have been pondering lately how I can teach her to handle the situation of a missed bus stop. (Any ideas are welcome…) But we are still not to the point that Ricki can go on the bus completely independently…
But I’m not worried. Ricki will see to it that we get there. She not only wants independence, she demands it. She just needs to know that independence comes coupled with responsibilities.

The Woman Who Kicked- Opportunity Lost

Today on the bus I saw a young woman with some type of intellectual disability on the bus. She was traveling with a middle-aged woman, who was sitting across from her. I do not know if this woman was a staff member of some institution, or family. And there were two things that concerned me.
First, the woman with the disability was kicking a boy in the aisle, and when he moved away, she started kicking her escort. It is the type of behavior I might expect from Ricki if she had not had her Concerta dose in the morning, and if no limits were placed on her. The escort said to her “stop it” one or twice, and then started kicking back as the kicking continued. It seemed to me that this behavior was not a new one (there was no concern or surprise on the escort’s face). Thus several questions arose: Could this lady have ADHD and need medication? Had it been checked out? Was the parent/staff aware that there are better ways to alter behavior than kicking back? I wanted to suggest to the middle-aged woman that she call me (I would not discuss the young woman in front of her), but I had no pen to write her a note. I usually carry a pen, but hadn’t today. It was an opportunity lost.
The second thing that upset me was that this young petite woman was wearing a colorful flowered skirt and pink sandals…. the type of clothes one would expect on a fourth grader, and not on a thirty year old. Why? Was this the choice of the woman herself, or her parents? And if it was her choice, was her family encouraging it?
Ricki also has a dress that is SLIGHTLY beneath her age, but it is still “OK”. (Although her brothers say it is not “OK”.) Whenever she wears it, I cringe. If I would let her, she would wear it every single day. So I let her wear it occasionally at home. And rarely outside. (When I don’t want her to wear it, I hide it, so that I will not be forbidding her choice, but only circumventing it.) But in general, I encourage her to dress as her friends do. I tell her “This is mature” about things I want to encourage.

The question I have is, how do we gauge the correct balance between giving a teen or adult with intellectual disabilities the right to choose their own clothing and hairstyles, and when do we step in (or not step in) and say, “No, that is not fitting for you” when explanations and teaching appropriate behavior are not (yet?) working?

When Someone You Love Makes a Stupid Mistake

You know, we all make mistakes. Maybe we react too quickly to something said, buy something they really could have done without, or perhaps judge someone too negatively. So, what can you do when someone paints themselves into a corner?
First, as they slide into the mistake, and you see it about to happen, you can encourage them to take their time. You can mention things they might want to consider, while letting them make their decision. It IS their decision.
Then, when they discover the truth, and they have to look in the mirror and say “Hey, that was a mistake”. That is bad enough. Don’t make it harder by being the one to say “I told you so”. Let them save face; it will then be easier for them to choose to correct the problem.

The Raw Deal

I think, eventually in life, we all get plastered with something we feel is a “raw deal”.

Some feel this way when they have a special needs child. When I gave birth to Ricky, I did feel shock, and questioned how I would deal with it, but didn’t feel it a “raw” deal, just an unexpected one. After all, I hadn’t done anything to “protect” myself from a special-needs child (other than prayer), and I knew that the possibility existed.
So what leads one to feel that they have a “raw” deal? It’s when you do everything right. When you lead a normal, productive, caring life, treating people properly, and nevertheless you get a “test” that is thrown at you “from the other side of the ballpark”. This is so unexpected, so implausible that you feel like you have been thrown into the deep end of the swimming pool, completely by chance, and totally unprepared.
Of course, the question is, what do you do with this “deal” once you have it? Do you wallow in self pity, or get on with your life? Do you swim or sink and drown?


I think a lot of the problem is when we brow-beat ourselves for getting into this mess… whether we did contribute to the problem, or not. Now I think that we have to do a reality check. We have to evaluate if we have made mistakes, correct them,…. and go on. We also have to say at times: I am not the one who is in control here. Being a good person is no guarantee of an easy life. It’s scary to admit it, but we cannot always protect ourselves from catastrophe. We delude ourselves that we can, but we can’t. That’s scary.

But the main thing is to get on with our lives. And not to forget to cherish those we love… including ourselves.

Our Trip to the Galilee (or Inclusion Vindicated) part two

Near the second river we waded along, we reached the Kinneret (sea of Galilee). On seeing it, and being told that THIS is the Kinneret, Ricki nodded in recognition (the Kinneret being one of those few landmarks on the map that Ricki was expected to be able to label). She gazed and added with wonder: “Gosh, its BIG!” She hurried to point it out and “share” her discovery with her classmates. We quickly reached Tiberius. There I took some pictures of Ricki along the shore.
The nicest part of the trip was the boat ride we took for an hour on the sea. It was a big boat, and the girls sang and danced. And Ricki was a part of the crowd, amongst everyone, included in the entire goings on.
As I watched, a happy bystander (I wanted Ricki to be with her friends WITHOUT me tagging along). my mind flashed back several years. At that time Ricki had been in first grade, at a different school. At the end of the school year, we received a disk with short videos of different highlights of the school year. I was horrified when I noticed that in all of the shots taken during the class trip, and even most of the in-class shots, Ricki was with her aide… and ONLY the aide. She was separate from the other girls, and “included” only in the fact that she sat in the same classroom. Yes, the girls would wave to her on the street, but never, in all of her three years there, did a classmate phone her. This school (which at the time was the ONLY school willing to accept her) was the school whose principal repeatedly told me that I was crazy to “include” Ricki. Eventually, I could see that they were not willing to learn to do things differently, and indeed I would be “crazy” to leave her there. I managed to transfer her after third grade to this different school. Here the studies are harder (this school jumped her up to her age level; in the previous one she had been two years behind her age group), but the girls accepted her… truly accepted her. In this school trip she was no leper.

I wish the principal of the first school could have seen her on that trip.

Our Trip to the Galilee (or Inclusion Vindicated) part one

Our trip to the north was lovely, especially for Ricki. The only bad part was the constant refrain of “Oh Gee, Rickismom, you’re amazing” from the teachers. I guess that they never expected someone of my proportions to go wading down streams (because most of them DIDN’T).
My first big pleasure from the trip was that when I pulled out a map of northern Israel to show Ricki where we were, she not only didn’t protest, she was interested. She is studying northern Israel right now in school, and I was sure that showing her on the map at points along the way would make the map more “alive” during geography studies. And then she even ASKED me for the map a various times throughout the trip.
The first stop was at “Nachal Kibutzim”, a small river one can go wading in. The bottom was straight, and the water was waist high. Since Ricki can float, and was with friends, I felt OK with her going in without me, especially as I would have her in constant eyesight. I was going to try and not go in the water, simply to avoid the hassle of finding a modest place to change later (bus drivers being known for not allowing soaking wet persons aboard). However, there was a busload of 7th graders from a different school making the same trip as we were. On entering the water, Ricki GRABBED the arm of the girl next to her, who happened to be from the second school. She was nice, and didn’t protest. HOWEVER, she had never seen Ricki in her life, and really looked as if she didn’t know what had hit her. (ie. She stood there, frozen in place.) So I went in, unlatched Ricki from the 7th grader, and got Ricki to loosen up. She quickly joined a bunch of classmates. I exited the water (hoping to dry out before reboarding). Then Ricki’s classmates really took over, even taking her on a “slide” to a lower pool.
The second stop was even more exciting. It was another river one walks along, but here the riverbed was full of irregular, slippery stones. When Ricki and I were in Colorado last year, we hiked along many mountain trails with stones like these. Ricki did not appreciate them (to put it mildly), but she did learn to navigate fairly well between the rocks. However, there we could see the stones; here we couldn’t. I will be honest and say that I did not enjoy this part of the trip, and was afraid that I would twist my ankle. By midway Ricki was only half coping, after some muddy water had splashed into her eyes, and had a runny nose as well. Then I slipped and fell. Nothing happened (except to my pride as a “hiker”), but Ricki became truly hysterical. So we exited a bit early. But within 5 minutes, Ricki’s friends had coaxed her back into the water, and they continued with her until the end of the water trail. (I had again opted out, deciding that I had had enough of stones I can’t see.)

Not AWOL

No, this blog is not AWOL. I just had my normal Saturday break, and Sunday I was on a trip with Ricki;s class untill 11pm (arrived home at 10:45) I decided going to sleep was more important than the blog(especially since I could barely drag myself in through the door…) and today I have been catching up on a full day of missed housework. Hopefully I will get in a normal post this evening, as well as sometime soon a blog about the trip. Have a nice day!

Getting Fed Up

The real reason I posted the “courage” statement this last week had nothing to do with Down syndrome. It has much more to do with a person in my life who has been extremely critical lately. They have been ill, and I am hoping that as they get better, the verbal abuse will go down.
Last night I inadvertently interrupted their listening to the hourly news update, and I was roundly told off. So I apologized. So then I got told off for “apologizing all the time”. (What else am I to do when they get angry at every little thing?) I held my tongue, but I felt like saying:
-Sorry I am breathing.
-Sorry I am living.

Now I do not REALLY feel this way in general (I LOVE living). I guess that the person being discussed does not realize how negative they sound, nor its effect on others. But I, personally, am getting fed up with it.

Then I read Dave Hingsburger’s blog ( http://www.davehingsburger.blogspot.com/ ) (an interesting blog on disabilities, but, again, I do not identify with all of his positions) yesterday on verbal abuse. I quote:

The woman in front loses patience with her daughter, "You need to shut up now, it's times like these that I can't believe I gave birth to you. There's a decision I'd like to take back sometimes." Shock trailed through the line up. Then the boy got a withering attack, "you were useless as a child and it looks like your going to be useless as a man.'
I looked at the woman's face, expecting to see hate there. I didn't. I saw something worse. Pleasure. She was taking pleasure in what she was saying. I looked back down the line. Everyone had the look that I was sure was on my face, "I want to say something but I'm afraid I'll make it worse, later, for the kids."

(Rickismom again)
(PS if you have a kid with DS, look up the original blog. There is an added story there…)

I know how I feel after one week (two?) of constant mild criticism. How could the children weather life if they have such a parent? The answer: they probably don’t.
And my reaction?
It is so easy to see the wrong in such a blatant verbal attack. Yet I suspect that any of us who are parents (excluding any angels who read here), should use this as a wakeup call. Are we guilty of a 5% attack? 3%? Lets each try to be a bit more positive and less critical today.... Have a nice day (and good “Shabbas” ie, Saturday)!

The Math Booklet

Today I received in the mail a book with math projects that I had ordered. The sample I had seen online looked quite good, and the topics covered were largely what we need to work on with Ricki. Nevertheless, I rarely buy unseen stuff unless I am familiar with the author, have heard good things, or trust the publisher (like Woodbine House). I was hoping I hadn’t bought something I couldn’t use, especially as it is in English, and Ricki works in Hebrew. When I saw the postage my brother had paid (which I must repay), and mentally calculated the sum cost of the book, I gulped. “Well, it BETTER be good! “
Thank G-d, it was fine. The text parts are set out in a way that I can easily scan and translate them. And the ideas are as imaginative and fun as I had hoped.
So now, in my VAST amount of spare time (LOL) I have to scan and translate half of the workbook. So all of you British, American, and and Australians parents and teachers with special-needs students should just be HAPPY and grateful at the vast amount of ready-to-use materials you have available to use and purchase. And you can add to that thanks some gratitude for the books you can borrow to show your child’s teachers. Here they don’t have these same materials in Hebrew, and educators have looked at me like I am crazy when I was simply quoting accepted educational journals (like those of Down’s Ed of England).

PS

By the way, I forgot to add yesterday that after NOT getting candy from the vending machine at the hospital…
(“Do you really think I’m going to buy you candy after you disobeyed me and drug your purse on the floor???!!??”)….
… Well, she was WONDERFULL for the rest of the day.
Limits DO work………

The “Every Day” aspect

Courage does not always roar. Sometimes it is a quiet voice at the end of the day, saying…."I will try again tomorrow". – Mary Anne Radmacher

Today I was with Ricki at the hospital for a routine check-up at one of the outpatient clinics. In the middle of our brief visit, Ricki decided to leave the doctor’s office and go out to gaze at the TV. So the doctor asked me, perhaps because for once Ricki wasn’t in the room, “And how is she doing otherwise?”
[He asked either because Ricki wasn’t in the room (nice of him not to ask in front of her), or perhaps he saw my FRAZELED face as we walked into the clinic. Ricki had pulled her purse along the pavement frequently on the way to the hospital, pretending it was a suitcase on wheels. And she continued to do so even after being given a warning and a punishment. Absolute rebellion…..And at arrival to the clinic she started clamoring for sweets from the vending machine….]
I answered that academically she was doing OK, but that her personality was and is her big disability, not the intellectual disability. So he said a few nice sentences about how most people have no idea what raising a special child is like, and the fact that it is an ongoing each-and-every-day affair is what makes it difficult. I laughed, and said that when I go to see new parents, I tell them that its not as bad as people think, but that if someone says it isn’t hard, they are trying to give you a “sell”. “It’s not called a “test” for nothing….”

Yes, courage is continuing to do behavior modification even when you would swear it isn’t helping that much.
Courage is finding that deep-seated belief you have in your child, even when others can’t see it.
Courage is toilet training a young special-needs child for three years, day after day, if that is what it takes. (It took me a long time with Ricki; other parents manage to finish much more quickly.....)

Courage is ____________ (fill in the blank). We all have “tests”, whether it is a special needs child, a financial problem, or keeping peace in a marriage or family. We have to hold on, not give up too easily….. and try again tomorrow.

The Disabling Disability

Yesterday afternoon I took Ricki to a dance/theater performance, as she loves to dance and act. And, indeed, much of what we saw done by the groups of girls performing was well within Ricki’s capabilities. However, I could never resister her for such a club with regular girls.
Firstly, I could never find a for-profit group interested in risking losing their clientele due to her.
Secondly, Ricki is truly very aggressive and on the look-out for arguments. (So much for the myth of “downies” being “easy-going, loveable…”.) THIS is her true disability, and the one which effectively excludes her. [Note that her agression is probably more due to her ADHD and not Down syndrome, and that with behavior modification is getting better.]

Sanctioned (by me) Truancy

I let Ricki skip school this morning. I had thought, mistakenly, that today was a “no school” day. But when my husband called me up and said he saw girls on the way to classes, I gulped. School starts at 8 am, and it was 10 to eight. Ricki was fast asleep in bed. So I called Ricki’s aide and we did a quick calculation. She said that school today was only from 8 o’clock to noon. The four hours of studies schueduled for Ricki were:
Bible (in class)
Ethics and Jewish thought (Yehadut) (in class)
Math (privately)
Preparation for geography (privately)

- Well, until Ricki would get up and get to school, she would miss Bible.

- Ethics would be entirely over her head, since I had not prepared her. (Ethics is one of the few classes I prepare her for at home. But I have to nudge the teacher to get the material, and I didn’t, not knowing that there would be classes…..)

-Preparation for geography would not be needed, there being no geography class following it, due to the short day.

-Math I can do with Ricki just as well, at home.

So I gave the aide a (paid) day off, and Ricki and I are enjoying the quiet morning. Soon I plan to do a bit of math with her, and study for a science test she has tomorrow. So way in the world do I feel so guilty!?????????? Oh, the problems of a perfectionist!

PS on Politics

Doesn't the behavior of the candidates, the accusations, lies, ect., just make you sick that these people are supposed to be our LEADERS?!?!?!!!

Shavous Stollers

This morning, it being a holiday, I had the chance to do something I don’t do very often. I sat in the armchair by our living room window, and watched the “world go by”. It was a shavuos holiday morning, which meant that there were no cars on the street. Instead, groups of people were returning from their morning prayers. Many had been up all night in the traditional celebration of the giving of the Torah. And I would like you to “see” a few of them with me.
First I noticed two teens walking along, slowly. They were obviously tired. Although tall, thin, and smiling, one was a bit bent over from his tiredness. His friend reached out, and draped his arm over his comrade’s shoulder. They walked on, comfortably chatting.
I saw a father with two sons. One was at least 13, the other I would gauge at about eight. The father was talking, all the time gesturing with his hand, his older son listening. The younger one was whopping it up, racing circles around the other two, letting off steam after sitting in synagogue for a few hours.
Next I noticed a group of about eight or nine friends, returning from prayers after a night spent studying G-d’s law. They had the animated movements of enthusiastic youth. One of these boys had a limp. His gait was rather jerky, one leg sticking out at a crooked angle. But he was part of the group.
The fourth “group” to catch my eye was an older couple. The man was tall and thin, with a bit of a spring in his step. His grey beard was flecked with a bit of silvery white, and it was long enough to catch the breeze a bit. His wife was of medium build, a bit short, and walked slowly. Her stance was a bit stooped and bent. When they reached the curb, her husband paused to turn and face her, giving her his hand to hold as she stepped down. I could only wonder if they were going to their own home, to a quiet meal, or were they on the way to a married child’s house, to share the meal with a bustling grown of grandchildren?
And the last to catch my eye (before I returned to the kitchen and my cooking), was a middle-aged man. He was slightly overweight, with sandy brown hair, and of medium height. But what drew my attention to him, was his walk. With a talis draped over his shoulders, he strode along the middle of the road, erect and leisurely, regally. I wondered why he was alone.

Instructions

I bought for Ricky about a year ago some paper dolls, hoping that this activity could be both fun and strengthen her cutting skills as well. Well, she make a complete disaster of the project. Recently I bought a new set, and this morning she took it out. After she had cut out one dress without the fold-over tabs, I caught her trying to glue the dress to the doll. After about five minutes of talking to her, and cutting out an outfit correctly to show her, it suddenly registered in her mind… to listen. I showed her how to do it (reminding her that one ALWAYS has to get instructions before starting things…). And she listened. GRIN.

As Easy as a Tuna Fish Sandwich

Last week I read a lovely story in "A Touch of Warmth". A childless couple was to visit an infertility advisor worker for lunch, as he was to explain to them the ins and outs of the newest procedure they were about to undergo. The worker asked: "What do you want me to order you for lunch?"
The man, feeling rather exasperated with years of treatment, replied "I don't want a tuna fish sandwich. I want a baby."
Without skipping a beat, the volunteer said:"You know, G-d can give you a baby as easy as He can give you a tuna fish sandwich."

Now, I don't expect a cure for Down syndrome tomorrow. But there are so many areas of our lives where we need help and solutions, whether it is with finding a good program for our child, getting insurance, finding time for siblings, etc. Etc. I don't know what we will be worthy to receive. But we have to believe, really believe, that it is in HIS power to do so.

The Cheshire Cat Grin

I just want to relate two small incidents with Ricki. Yesterday her older brother told me that on Saturday he had played cards with Ricki, and she won “fair and square”.

Today, I wrote a short text in Hebrew for Ricki to read. Hebrew is her native language, and a second tongue to me. But in general, my level is above hers, as I learn along with her, and yet retain more. But today as we were reading, she pointed to the word "pitom" (suddenly), asked “What is THIS?” I answered 'pitom'”. She replied, “It can’t be; it doesn’t have an ‘aleph’” (a silent letter). So I looked the word up, and sure enough, it has an “aleph”. I corrected it with a song in my heart. No only was she better than me at spelling that word, she asked about an unfamiliar word, and had the “gumption” to correct me.

Picture me with the grin of the Cheshire cat……

Experiencing It…(or) The Joy of Sleep

I had noticed that my son was spending way too much time on the computer. The problem is, his yeshiva also did…….he was obviously sleepy in class. So I have embargoed computer for him for a while. Then I decided that fair is fair, and that I am also spending way too much time on the computer on non-critical things. And, even worse, it is taking time away from more important pursuits…. Including a decent night’s sleep.
So yesterday and today I spent much less time on the machine. The result? Enough sleep. I felt entirely different. Suddenly, keeping my diet was not a lost battle. I had time for many activities. And did I miss the interesting news videos? Not really.
I had read often lately how sleep deprivation causes people to gain weight. I understood that sleeping would help me feel better. Today I experienced it.

PURPLE HAIR

As Ricki and I exited the bus, on the way to Ricki’s drama/dance class, I saw her ahead. Under the glaring harsh Mediterranean sun, this lady walked along, in a bright purple dress, and bright purple hair to match. She was definitely rather middle-aged, not a teenager who one might expect such psychedelic colors on. This is a business area, and she was undoubtedly going home from work.
This made me wonder a lot of things. First, did she dye her hair daily to match her wardrobe, or did she only wear purple? Was she an unmarried 35 year old desperately attempting to attract attention? Was she just trying to say “I have my own mind, I am an individual?” Or perhaps the opposite? Maybe that is the new “craze” and she wants to fit in???
In the end, I decided that it was her life/ problem/ craziness.
But I congratulate her that the hair color/ dress were a perfectly toned match…….

I Wish I Had a Magic Wand

I wish I had a magic wand for many things -a cure for illnesses, end of terror, etc. But if not for these big things, I would like a magic wand at least for these:
1) The mother whose child (with Down S) has an IQ of 69 and is refused an aid, because she’s “normal”.
2) The mother whose child with DS is included in a school. The school definitely needs instruction, but haughtily think they don’t. SIGH . Educators rank only under doctors in terms of haughtiness……(I know, that’s a generalization….)
3) The mother whose child desperately needs behavior intervention, but she can’t afford it.
4) The mother who wants to place her child (with DS, what else?) in a local school in a small town, and they are against accepting the child, just because they have no idea of the possibilities.

??!!??????!!!

In the news:
“The Seven Network's All Saints program has sparked controversy after implying that Down Syndrome is brought on by incestual relationships.”

??!!??????!!!
??!!??????!!!

I think that if anyone considers these people as “normal”, we will have to revaluate what constitutes “retardation” and “disability”. Give me a kid with Down syndrome over this uneducated populace ANY day!

The Lie (make it plural)

I discovered with a certainty last night that someone I care about was lying to me. I had already guessed it, and was 99% sure that they were trying to play me the fool. I had chosen to not confront them, several times, for two reasons:
1) If they would choose to change to a better way of behavior, it would be easier to do so if they felt they had a good reputation to live up to. Aaron the Cohen (priest) was noted for treating people as if they were better than they were, and this impacted positively on them.
2) We are instructed by our sages to give others the benefit of the doubt, especially in cases were it will not hurt us to do so. So I decided to leave a 1% possibility in my mind that maybe this person was actually acting in the way they had claimed to be.

This is not the first time this has happened to me. Several years ago a relative with an alcohol addiction problem lied to me, and I believed them until the evidence was overwhelming. I am an honest person. I am as “straight” as a finely precisioned ruler. Years ago when I was “hippyish”, the poster/incense store owner called me ‘Abe Lincoln” for returning a few pennies I owed him. Thus it is hard for me to acknowledge that someone in the family would have the gumption to tell me an untruth, and painful as well. It is not as if I would have been angry at them. Two of my children have more than left the fold of Orthodoxy, and they told me the truth. I respected that. One even told me, when I asked a question he didn’t want to answer, “Mom, Don’t ask. You don’t want to hear a lie.” This son has at least learned to be honest.
Does this person feel that they were protecting themselves? That they were shielding me? In my mind, besides making me into a laughing stock, all they have managed to do is to destroy the possibility that I will ever believe them again about anything. Enough is enough. If you call “wolf” too often, you won’t be believed.

The Sins of Our Youth

In the US news there is a story about an autistic child, mainstreamed, who was voted out of his classroom by his first-grade classmates. Apparently they were definitely egged on by their teacher. I find it amazing that two children in the class voted to keep the kid in the class, considering that the teacher was basically giving them the message to "vote him out"!

But I want to touch on another point.
Dave Hingsburger, a person active in the disability community, writes in his bog:
"The kid who was shunned by 14 of his classmates when put to trial by a teacher trained under supervision of Adolph. Everyone waxed poetic about the behavior of this teacher - the damage to the self esteem of that kid - the failure of mainstream education. And they should. These are all huge issues. Issues I'd like to write about. But can't.

Because I don't know if I would have been one of the 14 or one of the 2 who voted for him. God knows I experienced bullying at school, shunned for a thousand reasons by my classmates, made to feel isolated and alone. I can IDENTIFY with the kid. That should guarantee that I would have stood with him, by him, for him. But it doesn't and I know it doesn't."

I think that many persons, when they suddenly enter the "disability world" (by having a special needs child or some other contact with disability), feel guilty about how they treated the disabled in the past. And we all have memories of things we did when we were kids/in high school, that we REALLY would like to do over again, handling it in a more mature way. (I still feel guilty for a nasty remark I made to a kid I disliked in high school.) (Gee, I just thought-- maybe I can look him up in the class listing on internet and apologize. Not a bad idea....)
But I think that as kids, most of our reactions to the disabled will have been due to the input we received from our parents, and to a lesser degree, our teachers.

I was lucky that my parents raised us not to be scared of people with disabilities. I remember that when I was very young, we had no TV at home, and my parents wanted to let us watch "The Nutcracker Suite" at their acquaintances' house. This family had a child with Down syndrome, and my mom mentioned the fact before we went to watch the program. She did not want me to have a negative reaction to the child. (In the end we never met this boy. I don't know if this is because the child was being hidden from us, his parents perhaps being scared of our reaction, or if he happened to be asleep.) I have also mentioned previously (December 3rd) how my parents reacted to my friendship with a mentally impaired neighbor. But even I can not say with complete certainty that as a KINDERGARDEN kid I would have bucked the teacher's encouragement to prejudice.
So I will say that the biggest crime that this teacher did was not to the autistic boy, but to the remaining classmates, in that she taught them to HATE.

The Fun of Family

You know, having married children and THEIR kids over is fun. OK, it’s also a lot of work. (I decided I will clean up the living room in the morning). But the work is well outweighed by the fun:
The laughter over a shared “family” joke (which needs to be explained to the wives), the sharing of an inspiring story, the swapping of useful ideas. (My daughter in law tells me that dish washing liquid is a good anti-ant repellant.)
Its nice to see them interacting so well with their children. One of my favorite views from the weekend, was to notice that often a baby would be held by his aunt or uncle, if their own parents were busy with something else. They all pitched in to make the day as happy and nice as could be for everyone.
This is really priceless—a large family where all are attuned to the others’ needs, and are willing to “pitch-hit” for their siblings. I think we all had a good time.

A Digital Picture Frame

In general, I am against bragging about anything gashmius (physical) in this blog. After all, if someone reading this CAN’T afford the same item, it is not very kindly on my part to brag about it. But just this once, I will. If you would want such a frame, but can’t afford it, please forgive me.
A few weeks ago, at about the same time that my son was to return from the US, I discovered that there is something in this world called a digital picture frame. I was immediately taken by the idea, and asked him to pick one up for me. He refused, saying that it was a terrible waste of money, and was definitely not worth buying. Another child, who had seen such a frame by an acquaintance, echoed the same thoughts. So I asked my husband to bring one on his return from an overseas trip. We contented ourselves with a simple version, a less-expensive option. (The resolution is a bit weak, but OK.)
So now I have it set up in the hall. It has lovely pictures from Colorado (like the one at the top of this page), and pictures of the children/grandchildren. I was careful not to include any pictures that ANY of my very religious sons might protest.
And I love it. I suppose I will be more nonchalant about it after a while (but perhaps not; I always enjoy my computer’s screen saver). However, it is hard to imagine not loving pictures of the grandchildren. And the pictures of Colorado mean “family” to me as well. The beautiful views of G-d’s creation are a reminder of the lovely summers I have spent there, particularly the last. So this frame is a little bond linking me to my present and past. Now to me, that’s a good deal!

RR-II-CC-KK-II

Several classes form Ricki’s school had a special program today. Her class and another one, as part of the program, did a dance. Ricki’s aid said that she wanted to go home for those hours, and that I should bring Ricki home. So I did. The dance was really pretty simple, and Ricki did quite well (except when she snuck in a wave or two to me).
At the end of the program, they let Ricki dance by herself on the stage. Afterwards a bunch of girls (not from her class) were “cheering” her: RICKI! RICKI! I lifted a hand and said “You can stop right there. She REALLY doesn’t need this….” I don’t mind a bit of praise, but when it is done in an “overboard” manner, it is just so patronizing that I can’t stand it.

Prejudiced for Girls

I am embarressed to say that I have one older son (not so religious) who enjoys playing the computer game GTA. I do not like it. First, it promotes disrespect of the police. In addition,I feel that it has violence to an extent that it can numb one’s sensitivities. He claims that when he’s playing, he pretends to be killing terrorists. Well, I STILL don’t like it. Killing, even of terrorists, should not, in my mind, be a “game”. Such games destroys the fineness of the soul. (Why I let him play it anyway is a different matter. The lesser of two evils…)
Something weird came to my attention. On rare occaision, Ricki stands aside, viewing this. And if my son is shooting he might hit a woman. If he does so, Ricki will pipe up right away: “Not the girls. Only boys”. This puzzles me. Does she identify with them? Maybe it is almost “real” to her? For sure I have to check this out. (And anyway, I want to get this away from HER eyesight at least.) What do you think?

A Long-Ago Trip to the Galilee

Sometime soon Ricki’s class at school will be having their big yearly trip, this time to the Galilee area. Ricki’s aid can’t go, so I will have to fill in for her. Thinking about this today reminded me about a trip I took some 30 years ago. Our “seminary” school had a trip to the Galilee. One of my classmates, “Chaya”, was blind. When we got out of the busses, the “guide” looked at Chaya and started mumbling something about Chaya not being able to go; it might be dangerous. After asking a few questions, I realized that his fear was misplaced (he was seeing “blind”, not “Chaya”). I took responsibility for her. I had read a fair amount about blindness, and knew how to guide and describe things to someone with visual impairment. And, indeed we had absolutely no problems. In fact, the only one in our class who DIDN’T wet her feet crossing a certain pool by rock “stepping stones” was Chaya. The class united in insuring that. I am glad that we had “Chaya”, not “blind” as a classmate.

I was Thrilled

I was thrilled when my son, recently arrived from a few months stay in the US, sat me down last week to practice his English. First, I was happy to see how well his ability to understand the language has improved since his previous return from America half a year ago.
Secondly, he basically was picking my brain for some family history. I am lucky that my parents took the time to record as basic family history. I think that it is an important thing to do, unless, perhaps, you really are verbal about it, and pass it on verbally. I have yet to engage on such a project (who has the time?). So I was extra pleased that my son picked my younger years and my parents’ families as a topic to practice his English with. I had the definite pleasure of feeling that it mattered to him!

Ants

Summer has arrived, and so have the ants. They have surfaced exactly at their favorite haunt from last year, a kitchen shelf full of small items, which is difficult to consistently keep clean. No surprise that this shelf is their “hangout”. So I thoroughly washed the surface, hoping to make it clear that they are unwelcome company.
Well, these persistent creatures (or their friends; I killed most of the first batch) reappeared the following day. Despite the fact that the shelf was spotless. So today I applied spray.

But just take a look at what we can learn from the ant. Our sages say, “Lazy one, go watch the ant…”. But I think that there is a lot more that we can learn from them. First, they are persistent. They don’t give up very easily. They have great memories… they knew exactly where to go, didn’t they? They work well in teams, and communicate very well with each other.

That’s a pretty good list!

Just don’t learn from them to be pests, OK?

When Knowing is Not Enough

Ricki’s Dad is returning from overseas, arriving in a few hours. After he had been gone about a week, Ricki started bugging me “When is Daddy coming home?” So I explained. Despite repetitive descriptions and elucidations, she didn’t seem to be “getting it”. This puzzled me, as she has a very good sense of time, and knows the days of the week thoroughly. Finally I realized that the problem was probably not that she didn’t understand the answer, but she wanted a different one.
So I decided to at least give her a sense of control. I drew a timeline, and each day she moves an attached magnet to the appropriate day, one forward. Immediately she stopped asking when her father would return. Not only did she understand, but she felt a sense of participation in bringing him home.

Don’t we all feel at times that we want to ask G-d something again, because we desire a different response? It can be so frustrating when we desire a specific answer, and G-d “somehow” decides to overwrite our script of “how things should be”.

But G-d is not Rickismom. HE never gets tired of the request, and will listen to us again and again. Wishing us all happy answers, Rickismom.

Progress

Sometimes it easy not to notice progress… especially if things still need improving. But yesterday and today I noticed. Ricki is (Thank G-d) getting better.
I was in a stationary store with her yesterday, and while she touched nearly everything, she also listened when I said “Put it back, I am not buying that.”. She didn’t throw a moaning and groaning scene either. A definite improvement over a few months ago.
Today I was on the bus with her, and she didn’t make faces at anyone, and when I saw a friend, and told Ricki that this lady is a friend of mine, she actually said “Hi” instead of growling. And her homework sessions have been much better the last few days. She’s even been taking grater care not to jiggle her hearing aid (which makes her squeck)….
Now if I can get her to bed….. Oh, she said “OK”. !!

The “blind dollar”

I saw an article on the US news, saying that the courts have ruled that it is discriminatory for the US not to adapt dollars for the use of the blind. I opened the “discussion” page, in order to post that here in Israel, bills have been easily adapted for the blind by the use of raised shapes.
I was amazed at how many people were posting against any adaptation. It would cost MONEY (oh, the “g-d” of money!).I could not believe the small-mindedness of these posters. It was very disheartening to read. If that is the way most people in America feel, I’m glad I live here. People are misinformed here. Budgets are tight. There is discrimination against the mentally impaired. Here in our town physical access for the disabled is very poor.

But at least we are working on it. No one doubts about the need for the situation to improve.

Belief (Emuna)

A friend recently asked how can one keep one’s belief. Especially if one has had times or situations of hardship.

The first question is not “Why do the good suffer?” One can not even begin to approach this question unless you have established a belief in G-d. Why do I believe in G-d? I simply look at the world—the Rocky Mountains, the eco system, the hexagons in a beehive, the endocrine system…..and I simply do not believe that it can be an accident. If it was all from evolution, why do we not see more fossils of the non-adaptive, not plausible forms? No, I am convinced that there is a G-d. The odds of such an intricate world being created by chance is so infinitely improbable, that compared to it the US lottery should be a cinch to win.
Once I believe that there is a G-d, THEN I can ask why does He let man suffer. Why does He allow evil people to crush others? Why does He allow a world that seems to make no sense? And how can we have “religious” people who are so imperfect?
My basic view is that G-d did not give us any guarantees about life being good, being easy, or being “just”. I can hope in an afterlife that will “even” things out. I can try to behave the way I feel G-d wants. At least I have the satisfaction that in this way I am trying to make the world a better place. Other’s don’t? So I am not perfect either. We all need to work on ourselves. And lucky are those who do.
The “religious” fellow who acts poorly may not truly believe in consequences to his actions (probably because he was brought up to “do” certain customs, but deep belief was not really taught). Or it could be that he has personality problems that are interfering with his knowledge of what is right (which happens to all of us at times, to some degree). Religious belief can help me act better, but it can not force me to do so. I can pay for membership in a gym, but if I do not exercise my spiritual muscles, they will stay flabby, despite the “gym” membership.

Starting the Day Out Right

This morning, as I was returning home after taking Ricki to school, I was treated to a real treat.

No, not iced coffee.
Nor chocolate.
Not even a good book.

Simply, three people passing me on the street gave me a moment of time.
-The principal of Ricki’s school smiled and said “Good Day”
-Her geography teacher (who I have never met, but have talked numerous time to by phone) said, approaching me: “You’re Ricki’s mom, right? I am so impressed by the way you adapt her materials…”
- A third teacher, not one of Ricki’s, but the daughter of a neighbor: “Have a nice day…”

How much time did these “goodies” take? Under ten seconds each. A smile. A short word. I wish I could say that I do the same more often than I do….

Telephone and Gear Shift

I would like to share with you two small vignettes of Ricki from the weekend.
The first is after-the-fact. We had noticed that one of the two portable phones was misplaced. I had heard it ringing in Ricki’s room, but couldn’t see it. On Friday, one of my sons wanted to sleep there (other activities going on in the house made napping in his own room impossible). I was afraid that the portable would wake him up. So I turned on the “locater” button, to try and locate (what else?) the wayward handset. We looked and looked. Behind Ricki’s bed, under her blanket, etc. Suddenly I had a hunch, and opened her “trinkets and precious objects” drawer, and there it was. (After all, her brothers keep phones –cellular- in THEIR drawers, don’t they?)
The second vignette occured on Saturday afternoon. We were all sitting around chatting, and Ricki was playing “driver”. With a plastic plate for a stirring wheel, she was turning hairpin corners, etc. Suddenly she reached out with her right arm to “switch gears”. We were bowled over with her originality!

Do Not Stand Idly

This morning I had the chance to fulfill the “mitzvah” (good deed) of “Do not stand idly by your brother’s blood”. I will need to preface this with a bit of information.
I live in a community where the crime late is probably the lowest in the world. In addition, the residents are helpful people in general. It is common for young children (say age 5 up to 9) to stand on street corners, waiting for an adult to “cross them” the street. At 7:45 AM, and at 13:00, the hours that these children are going to and from school, the streets are full of adults and teens, and this is really pretty safe. I, for example, would have no fear of Ricki being molested during those hours (also because we HAVE talked about strangers), and after crossing her the last corner* I let her continue on her own.
Now I personally have my qualms about after 8:00 AM. Then the streets are not full of other children and teens, and any who are still about are intent upon arriving to school, as they are late. But since we are a very low crime-rate community, parents sometimes get too complacent or unaware of potential dangers, even if they are unlikely to occur.
But this morning was something entirely different. I took Ricki to school a bit late this morning, because her brother’s return from America had attracted many friends, and she was up enjoying the merriment until a ghastly hour. (I plead the fifth.) In order that she not be a complete zombie in school today, I let her sleep extra late, and let her be a bit tardy. On my way home there is a corner with a stop light. Since the street to the right is not a busy one, and I need to go right, I usually do not cross at the stop light. Instead, I turn right and cross the road further along, where the street has no stop light, and is usually empty. Why stand waiting for the light to change, when I can do it quicker, and just as safely, further down?
But as I was turning right, I noticed two tiny children waiting at the stop-light corner. So I did not disregard them , but backtracked, and waited with them. We crossed together. But frankly, it is beyond me how in the world can someone send such young children (age 3 and 4?; 4 and 5?) on their own. Are they THAT sure that the child won’t jump into the street? That they will wait for the light? That no one will accost them? I only regret that I did not try and get their name/ phone number from them, or even walk them back home, and give their parents a piece of my mind.

*We are still working on her crossing streets safely. She is not 100%

A Look from Outside

Today I guess I got a view of how others see me. Sort of. (The "sort of" I’ll explain soon.)
Near our grocery store lives a family that has a daughter with some kind of mental impairment. Often I see someone (I don’t know if it is a hired worker, or an elder sister?) walking with this older teen to somewhere. It could be she is even over 20, meaning that she is probably setting out towards a closed workplace. Otherwise I assume that she is going to school. The problem is that this teen is almost always very belligerent, and obviously upset about something. I can only assume that this family has checked out their options, and are working to make the situation better for both themselves and this young woman.
And I admit, I think to myself, “My G-d, I hope that Ricki..” (who has a belligerent side) “…won’t be like that in 6 years.” As much as one reads about the loveliness of “diversity”, I prefer, definitely, that Ricki will be congenial and happy.

Don’t I wish that for all of my offspring?

And I will divulge that yes… I do have thoughts of “Gee, how does that poor family manage with this?” It sounds very close to the pity I would not want to receive from others.
Sort of.
Why “sort of”?
Because I don’t see the family as “unfortunates”. I see them as a family coping with a challenge. And I am sure that they have benefited as well from the experience.

But I do hope that they are working on improving the situation.

I guess G-d will Have to Manage on His own (Without my help)

Someone by the name of Lori Borgman wrote an excellent inspirational article for mothers of children with special needs. (You can see the entire piece at http://www.cleftadvocate.org/loriborgman.html: ) But I am going to quote just a bit and take it in a completely different direction.
I Quote:
“Expectant mothers waiting for a newborn's arrival say they don't care whatsex the baby is. They just want to have ten fingers and ten toes.Mothers lie.Every mother wants so much more.She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, buttonnose, beautiful eyes and satin skin.She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for beingflat-out ugly.She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first stepsright on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57,column two).Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons bythe billions.She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe pointsthat are the envy of the entire ballet class.Call it greed if you want, but a mother wants what a mother wants.”

My comments:
There is something else mothers often want. They want that their children should share their ideals, beliefs, and aspirations. And very often, children decide at some point to go off on a tangent that their parents never dreamed of. I know that I did it to my parents. I was raised to believe in college, honesty, and love of nature. And while I still love nature, and try to be honest, my lifestyle is much more closed that that of my parents. I once asked my mother how she “dealt” with that, and she said: “The bird doesn’t fall that far from the nest.”
And it is indeed true. I am amazed at how similar I am to my mother, despite my differences from her.
And now it is my turn to cope. Two of my sons are planning to move away from home soon. They claim that it is to be able to have friends over late at night, but I know that in truth it is because they do not want to live with all the restrictions that an orthodox Jewish life entails.
My first reaction was: “I have to protest! Silence is consent!” Thank- G-d I had the common sense to NOT do that.
My second reaction was: “Is it my fault?” Well, maybe 5%. The other 95% I refuse to bill myself for. But, what difference does it make that it isn’t my fault? On judgment day, it will make a difference. Not here.
My third thought was: “Will the neighbors feel that it is my fault?” Here I decided to actively decide that I needed to be concerned with the opinion of G-d, and not of man.

And through it all:
“HOW CAN I GET THEM TO KEEP SHABBAS?”
The answer: I can’t. I guess I will have to let G-d defend himself.
And continue to love my sons for all the good things that they ARE.

I guess G-d will Have to Manage on His own (Without my help)

Frustration (or I Wish They Would Think)

Doing the mind-boggling (yes, it is mind-boggling at 1 AM) work of preparing Ricki’s materials for school can be SO frustrating. For example, when:
1) Today I called the “Ethics” teacher for her lesson plan for tomorrow. It turns out there is a test. It’s a shame I didn’t know. It’s even more of a shame that Ricki will barely have any time to review the material. And above all this means that I will be up late preparing the test. (It’s not for nothing that I stay awake to all sorts of ludicrous hours…..)
2) Yesterday a regular class was cancelled and a student teacher taught. Is it too much to ask that when this pupil hands in her lesson plan to her instructor a week in advance, that I could get a photocopy? I need the main points of the lesson to enable me to prepare the materials Ricki will need. Otherwise she will probably obtain scant benefit from that hour of instruction.
3) The teacher did not have time to prepare her lesson until the night before, which I understand. But understanding will not compensate for the fact that Ricki could not be primed for that lesson.
4) The last one is one of my “favorites”. Thank G-d it rarely happens. I stay up late Sunday night, preparing materials for Ricki, The next morning, groggy-eyed, I arise in order to be sure that Ricki will get to school on time. Then, whether for good reason or not, the aid comes late. (Let’s judge her favorably, and say it is always for good reason, as I am sure it is.) The end result is that the hour I prepared the materials for has come and gone, and Ricki has sat in on a class not meant for her. For what was I up late the night before?

These are, thank G-d, not frequent events. And I am sure, that with all the good intentions in the world, they WILL happen at times. Teachers are human, after all (despite doubts on this point by their students). They sometimes are tired, ill, or dealing with unusual circumstances. I just want to keep these kinds of slip-ups to a minimum.

The Lessons’ Lesson

Today, being Monday, Ricki should have gone to her after-school dance and exercise classes. It is the one thing she does on a regular basis with other girls who have Down syndrome, and it is the highlight of her week.
However, today she didn’t go. Her homework hadn’t been done. At least not early enough.
Now often Ricki dilly-dallies with her homework, and Mondays are no exception. Often I have had to prod her to get the minimum amount of homework done. Warnings that we are running late, will need to take a cab, etc., seem to fall on deaf ears until I make it quite clear that we are almost at the “Cinderella momemt”: too late to postpone any further.
Today I was much more low-keyed. And I insisted that ALL her homework be done. In the end, even she saw that it was too late to go. I gave her something fun to do (she HAD done her homework), and hope that she learned today that there will be no more prodding nor forgiveness for studies not taken care of.

Kudos to Ricki’s School

This morning I received a phone call from the office at Ricki’s school, an hour and a half after the school day began. Ricki was on the line.
- “What is Sarah’s (the aid’s) phone?”
- I told her, and heard it repeating it to the secretary.. Then she hung up.

The aid had not arrived, apparently. Yet there are several things going on here:

1) They had Ricki talk to me (life skills). They didn’t even demean her by getting on the line later to check that the number was correct.

2) In her previous school, where they TALKED about how they wanted to include Ricki, would call me in hysterics if the aid was 15 minutes late. They made it clear that it was MY problem, and that if she would not be arriving immediately, I would have to come and return Ricki from school. Here they waited an hour and a half, and even then, it was THEIR problem.

So even though we don’t celebrate Mother’s day in Israel, I guess I did receive a gift, didn’t I?

Make it Relevant!

One of the things I am working hardest on lately is to make Ricki’s studies relevant to real life. While I want her to learn a bit of general information (Paris is in France, teeth have crowns and roots)… that is not enough.
Rather than try and fill her up with more and more “general” knowledge, I am trying to use her studies to accomplish two more things:
To enable us to work on vocabulary, writing sentences, sequencing, and the like. This does not need any special genius to work out.
The second task is harder: to draw from the topic to other, similar topics that she needs to learn. (For example, when studying the mouth, the text stated that the nose “checks” food by smell. I was able to use this as an excuse to deviate to the topic of food spoilage and safety.) Finding topics that are learnable in a school environment, which have some connection to the topic in class, and which are practical, needed items, can be challenging. But when I am able to pull it off, I feel that I am REALLY utilizing inclusion to its fullest.

Memories

Memories are very powerful. We can cringe in memory of a bad word said to us, or a misdeed that we regret each and every time it surfaces from the depths of our mind.
And to the contrary, happy memories can be a balm. There are people who deal with pain using positive memories.
Last summer I went to visit my parents along with Ricki. We had a wonderful time; it was a true rejuvenation for me. And since I can not repeat such a trip (certainly not yearly), I have utilized other methods to enhance the after-effects: I have put pictures from the trip as the wallpaper of my computer, and have placed a few pictures from the trip in my room. In addition, I have my mother’s embroidery to feast my eyes on as well.
Now the challenge is if I can create further good memories with my actions, both for me and for others. Lets all try and take the time today to create a positive memory for someone we love.

PS A few hours after I posted this, AISH HATORAH's Lori P. posted a blog on this topic (a similar topic), and a nice one to boot. I just wanted to note that I did not copy from her. Her blog is very well done, on how our reactions are what our kids will remember.

The Second Picture

Yesterday Ricki had a field trip. She was very excited by it, especially since she would be taking her camera.
About a year and a half ago, I bought a simple camera for Ricki, to use for school trips and the like. I fiqured that at age (then) eleven, ALL the girls in her class would have a camera, and she should not be an exception.
Now this did have its drawbacks. I pretty much trusted her to watch the camera, but was afraid that she would let friends use it who might not be carefull. But the real problem was that any trip, no matter how short, inevitably meant that a whole roll of 36 exposures would be shot.
Yesterday, as I handed her the camera, I told her that she should only shoot pictures that were “really nice”. She asked if she could photograph me. I obliged. Then she turned her camera downwards, and took a second frame, this time of the floor.
- “Ricki why did you do THAT?!?”
- “Oh, that was a picture of Este” (her imaginary friend).

When she returned home she had actually only taken about 16 shots. The question is, how many of them are of real people, and how many are of “Este” and the floor?

Dignity

Now for my real blog for today.
Today on my return home from taking Ricki to school, I did my regular grocery shopping. As I approached the dairy products refridgerator, I realized that I would need to wait. Someone else was there picking out what they needed. The person before me was an elderly man, so I stood a bit to the side to let him choose without feeling the pressure that someone else is waiting.

I waited.
And waited.
And squashed the impulse to ask if he needed help.

It seemed like a long time, but it was surely only about 2-3 minutes.

If I can wait 2 minutes for my micro to warm up my coffee, I guess that I can wait 2 minutes to let someone live with a bit of dignity

Playing G-d

I would like to add a further note about the guidlines of who to treat in the event of a pandemic.
Any generalizations and assumptions made by this committee are just that. I know plenty of 85-year olds and almost-85 year-olds who are healthier than people 15 years their junior. And we have plenty of “important” people, I am sure, who have chronic illnesses.

Now I can imagine some of my more liberal readers thinking:
“Well, society has to protect itself. We need to protect those who are more needed by society. This is only a last-resort list.”
Yet, the problem is, we are letting people who are not G-d play G-d. In a crisis, they will need to do their selections quickly. Amazingly articulate and healthy 85 year olds may be refused care, while abusive individuals will receive treatment. And I suppose that people who fail even two criteria will get treated, if they have enough money to bribe the staff.
Unfortunately man does not have the capacity to know all, as G-d, and I fear the day that they will play such a role.
And I still find telling the guideline’s priorities, in lumping the mentally impaired along with anyone with low statistical survival rates.

Pandemic Guidlines

What amazes me most is that they had the guts to print it. Or maybe it doesn’t take guts, because they know that everyone will agree with them

I am writing about the newly released guidelines who not to treat in a pandemic. It boils down to those who are most likely to not survive long term… and one other group. Yup, you guessed it: the mentally impaired and disabled. So if you had any doubts about the reality of where America stands, have no doubts.
Just as a devil’s advocate, I add an idea here. Criminals are not included in the cut. So by US doctors, it would seem that the criminals, terrorists, and murders are more deserving of life than a healthy 20 year-old supermarket bagger with Down syndrome. If that is not discrimination, than what is?

Empathy

My husband is traveling soon to visit his parents. He of course thinks of little else. I know that when I visited my parents last year, I was totally submerged in thoughts concerning my impending travel. Now that it is my husband traveling, I am rather nonchalant about it.
Now to be fair with myself, part of the difference in my attitude may be that I had not traveled in something like 15 years, whereas my husband visits his parents at least once every two years. Despite that difference, I believe that we are going to react more emotionally to things that affect us personally. It is a proven fact that we are more likely to notice articles in the news that are about topics which concern us.
I remember how when Iraq invaded Kuwait in August 1990, everyone around me was very concerned. I was aware of the danger, living in Israel, which was being threatened with missiles. Be that as it may, my psyche was much more involved, day-to-day, with the birth of my son which had occurred at the same time.

This all leads me to s further point. We have all heard stories of people who do extraordinary acts of kindness to others. I wonder… could it be because these people have managed to feel the needs of others as their own? The ability to tap into the mind and wishes of another would, it seems, predispose one to act in accordance to a new set of priorities.
The difficulty, is, of course, “How do we get to the level where we feel where the other person is?”
Perhaps we must start simply. We must try, at least with family members, to try and imagine THEIR mind-set. This may help us be more empathetic and receptive to their needs.

Only One Week?

Gee, it is only one week since Passover ended and the dishes got put away. It seems already a “long gone” event. I guess the shift of attention (after a month or more being centered on preparations for the holiday) to other, more everyday concerns, adds to the contrast and makes the holiday feel more distant than it is.

Diamonds

Today I spent most of the afternoon putting my kitchen back in order. (I’m 95% done.) It is nice, of course, to have these normally somewhat jumbled dishes sitting primly in order, as if awaiting a beckoning call. I admit that I don’t often straighten them up.

Sometimes the dichotomy of my life strikes me as rather strange. Half of my time is filled up with domestic chores: cooking, laundry, and the like. Much of the second half I am working at a very intellectual pursuit: adapting materials for Ricki’s studies, and studying with her. I adapt materials at a very high level, and considering that I am working in a language that I am not fluent in, this is no mean accomplishment. Yet, in actuality, many women find themselves in a similar ship. I think that the challenge is to realize that all of these facets need to intertwine and interplay to create a fused whole. A diamond has many sides and faces.
We can not ignore one aspect of our lives, just because we find another part more fun, fashionable, or supposedly “dignified”. Because, in the end, our success will not be measured by the money we earn, or the position we held, but by the hearts we have won and held and soothed.

Default Faults

This week an amazing thing happened. Somehow my Office “Word” got smart. You see, most of the pages I develop for Ricki’s schoolwork need to be done in “landscape” orientation, not portrait. I was always exasperated that I could not (or knew not how to…) set the “default” orientation to landscape instead of “portrait”.
Then, low and behold, this week the pages started opening by default in landscape orientation. ("Eureeka!" was my initial response.) The problem is, the first ten times or so that I opened a new page, I needed, of course, portrait mode. Now I have to get used to it. The other day I printed a picture and it came out way too large. A one-third width of a portrait page would have been OK, but one-third of the landscape orientation was way too big. (I couldn’t see the bottom of the page, so I didn’t realize nor remember that it was “landscape”.)
So even when you get what you wish for, it can sometimes not be what you envision…….