Split Second Decisions

My darling Quinn has slept with me for the last two years. yep, and I have loved every minute of it. There are two camps of parents with regard to sleeping children--let-them-sleep-where-they-want vs. they-will-sleep-in-their-beds camps. When Quinn was born, we were the TWSITB parents. Quinn went to the crib the first night and for the next three years, including all the night nursings, I would be there for him before he took an in-between breath in the midst of a cry. Mike hated how I slept so light, one ear always open and body ready to respond. Quinn developed excellent sleep habits. He slept through the night at 8 weeks and we never struggled getting him to sleep. He napped perfectly. He was well known to be a sleeper. One night, in the summer of 2013, there was a moth. In Quinn's eyes, the moth had a wingspan that was greater than a raptor and fangs that rival a cobra's venomous fangs. That darned moth was flitting around Quinn's lamp. He never slept in his bed again. I became a LTSWTW parent. For every night of the next two-ish years--in hotel rooms, at family's houses, in the RV, at home--Quinn was right by my side. And I loved it. I felt his breathing through two croup outbreaks and several colds. I had the bucket ready for two vomit parties. I was present during night terrors. I assisted with the middle of the night bathroom runs. I. was. present. Well, last night was a night like all others. We all head upstairs around 8 to potty, brush teeth, read a book and lights out, hopefully by 8:30. All went according to plan; we read a book called "There's no Such Thing as Monsters" about Little Bear sleeping away from Big Bear, in his own bed. And all the monsters that he thought he saw in his room, all alone, were debunked. And Big Bear was so proud. And sad. Because he was alone. Anyway, we finish reading our book and Quinn--who appeared in that moment to be 18 years old--got up and said "I'm sleeping in my bed tonight". whoa! wait! Can we talk about this? I don't want to say any of this, but my heart just about split in half. And that boy walked us into his bedroom, where he clearly defined how the room was to remain as he said good night (light on, blind up, door open, all lovies in the bed (he's never slept with a lovie...)), gave hugs and kisses, and said good night. He was up 3 minutes later to use the master bathroom (did I see a crack in his decision right there? please...), and 5 minutes later he called me up (YES! second thoughts!) to get a quick lesson on moths in the winter time. I assured him that there are no moths in the winter, that they all freeze, and yes, if we stayed outside we would freeze too. And yes--moths are warm blooded. oh, and no wasps either. Feeling safe, he trounced off to bed. This morning, he woke on his own (having aged to 30-something over night) knowing that school was back on today, came downstairs and retrieved his "coffee-juice" and crawled into our bed to watch morning cartoons. His first words to me: "Mama, are you proud of me?" Am I proud?? Heart-broken, lonely, but incredibly proud--yes. As is typical for my amazing child (yes, it's highly likely I'm the only one who thinks he's amazing, and that's ok by me), he makes a decision, probably after internally weighing the pros and cons, mentally practicing what moves were necessary--and did it. Proud doesn't begin to describe.

Ready or not, 2015 is almost here

whew.... where did 2014 go? On one hand, 2014 was a whirlwind; on the other, it took forever to get through 2014. The year was a big year--so many things happened. As we are nearing New Year's Eve, my mind wanders to a year ago. My dad was a few months into his battle to recover from surgery that was unsuccessful at removing the cancer from his kidney. Although the kidney was removed, the cancer had already spread. He was optimistic, as we all were, that the drug protocol was going to be effective. It would grant him more time on this earth. This time last year, I was trying to spend as much time with him as possible. I too was optimistic. But he never really got his strength back and ultimately lost his fight with renal cancer on May 4th, 2014. I will never forget that morning of his death. I kissed him on the forehead as he was dying in hospice and told him that Quinn and I were there and that it's ok to go--we will all be ok. He nodded ever so slightly. He heard me. I'll hang onto that moment for the rest of my life. Quinn still talks about "sick Grandpa", for the images of his Grandfather in hospice are forever imprinted in his mind. I'm sad that that's all he remembers of his Grandpa. He remembers the "sick Grandpa". I miss my Dad every day and, even though we were never together for Christmas, I particularly missed him. I kept thinking I had to call him, only to realize that there was to be no call. With sadness of losing Dad comes the excitement of moving into our new home--all of it happened at the same time. Our house in Littleton went on the market while Dad was entering hospice care. Fortunately, it sold in about 40 hours and the offer that came in was higher than asking price. Twenty days later, we turned the keys of our home for 9 years over to a young couple. Ten days after that, we closed on our home in Parker. I thought I would be sad to leave our home that we brought our son home in, that saw so much of our family through the years, but I really didn't look back. I was ready to move and very excited to move to Parker. And the move was everything I expected--life changing to be sure. My commute went from 1 3/4 hours to less than an hour, including dropping Quinn off at school. We found an amazing Montessori for Quinn. He is very happy there and feels safe and loved. He's working well above kindergarten level in math and science and is on par for pre-K in language and reading. And he's becoming ever more confident and secure in his school work. His teachers are amazing. Our Hillpark home is almost perfect. We love the neighborhood and love all the wildlife around us. Not a day goes by that we don't see the deer and we have a neighborhood fox that comes around a few times a week. I love Parker--I didn't think I would. But it has a small town charm to it that I don't feel anywhere else. The people are friendly and welcoming and it's very family oriented. I could not ask for a better place to live and raise our child. This year we also upgraded our RV--we traded our first RV in on a much bigger and luxurious model and really enjoyed it this year. We also joined a camping club that got us out camping and trying new places. I can see many years of camping in this RV as it's perfectly sized for us now and into the future. In August, we had our first family vacation since Quinn was born. We flew to San Diego and spent a week in La Jolla and surrounding areas. Quinn and Mike both loved the beaches and could easily live in an area with beaches; Mike continues to convince me to find a job in California. Quinn did great on his first plane ride, although felt his motion sickness on the trip home. Quinn still talks about his week in San Diego. He loved everything about the trip! As the summer came to a close and winter was knocking on the door, a nosebleed from Abby sent us flying to the emergency vet, only to find out nothing about the nosebleed but to get the news that Abby was in congestive heart failure. She is now on a cocktail of meds that are keeping her in surprisingly great shape. As 2014 closes, we are looking forward to 2015. Right now life is good, but we all know that life will turn on you in a blink of an eye. So embrace today, look forward to tomorrow, don't have regrets for yesterday. Happy New Year!

Characteristics of Highly Sensitive Children--an interesting listing

Characteristics of “Highly Sensitive Children” The sensitivities of psychic children, autistics, Aspergers, children w/ ADD, indigo children, star children, crystals, and other labels used to understand highly sensitive children. Source: http://www.psychiciq.com/highly_sensitive_kids.html Highly sensitive children may not have all these characteristics. And they may have the characteristics to differing degrees. Whether they are labeled ADD, autistic, or psychic, all require special parenting and supervision to enable them to function and succeed as adults. They may (or may not) come into this world with advanced knowledge and abilities. But, like any child, their childhood environment and experiences shape how these advanced gifts will develop and be used as adults. 1. Sensitive to noise, the taste of foods, smells/odors, certain colors or color combinations, or touch. 2. Doesn’t like to be in crowds. Needs downtime to process the times they are in large groups. They may leave a room full of family members and withdraw to their room to be alone for a while. 3. Quiet, shy, introverted, withdrawn. 4. Self-absorbed and self-focused. Can lead to narcissism in adulthood. 5. Slow to connect with others. Participates in group activities only after getting to know the other children, the environment, and the dynamics. 6. Prefers to be alone or with 1 or 2 other introverted children. 7. Above average ability in one or more areas even if not evident in schoolwork. May be exceptionally intelligent. 8. May have learning disabilities. 9. May need more structure and instructions than is typically required for children to learn. 10. Can’t spell. 11. May experience audio-motor incoordination. 12. Sees slowly—takes eyes longer to adjust to images 13. Either excels at math or has math dyscalculia. 14. Precocious—uses words and phrasing and complete sentences beyond age level; assumes an authority of an adult; asks thought provoking questions; introspective. 15. May be perceived as a slow learner only because the child needs to understand the breath and depth of something first. 16. Detailed oriented. 17. Thinks outside the box putting together seemingly mutually exclusive “boxes” of knowledge (aka creative & innovative). 18. Good memory, may have photographic memory. Walking dictionary. 19. Doesn’t like change. 20. Skin sensitivity—clothes may itch, labels in clothes are uncomfortable, seams in socks are irritating, doesn’t like the beach because of the grittiness of sand. 21. Reacts quickly to environmental toxins, including cleaning products as well as toxins in the air. May have multiple chemical sensitivities. 22. Doesn’t like to be around electrical equipment. Light bulbs go off around them. 23. Has more than normal static electricity in their bodies. Often “shocks” when touches objects and people. 24. Feels the emotions of others as if these emotions were their own; feels responsible for others’ emotions. So child may seem to overreact. Has a greater need to resolve emotional conflicts because of this sensitivity towards others’ emotions. 25. Cries easily. 26. Doesn’t like conflict. Has a strong sense of justice and unfairness. Wants to “right” wrongs. 27. May have sense of global injustice but not have empathy for an individual. 28. Doesn’t like to be over stimulated. Can be easily overwhelmed. 29. Doesn’t learn “social rules” as fast as other children. Often so direct that they can be viewed as lacking in tact. 30. Loses sense of time. 31. Attractive, beautiful, good-looking. 32. Low body temperature. 33. Girls may have smaller head; boys may have larger head. 34. Allergies and upper respiratory problems. 35. Weakened immune system; prone to infections. 36. Bedwetting beyond typical age. 37. Sense of entitlement and other difficult behaviors. 38. Seems to read your mind. Knows what you want before you ask. 39. Aware of what’s happening to other family members. 40. Has an “imaginary” friend or animal. 41. Stares at what seems empty space and points, smiles, or talks with that empty space. Particularly noticeable with babies. 42. Feelings of being watched that is not about a mental disorder. 43. Knows personalities of deceased family members they have never known. Recognizes deceased family members in photographs. 44. Refuses to go near a particular person or room or building. 45. Active dream life with vivid colors; flying dreams; falls out of bed a lot; premonition dreams. 46. Talks with things in Nature. 47. Objects move around them. 48. Seems to know when someone is ill, and the child may spontaneously touch the person. 49. Sees auras; may tell you that a person is a particular color. May tell you when a person is ill or about to die after seeing that person. 50. Talks about a past life.

Top Ten Reasons Why Being an Older Mom is Amazing!

I've recently become Facebook friends with a bunch of ladies in a closed group called Older Moms of Young Children. It has been nice connecting with moms who can relate. I celebrate even more being a mom who had her first child at 42 years young. While Mike and I would gladly have a houseful of children, it's simply not meant to be and we are blessed with only one. So with that, here's my top ten reasons why it's awesome being an older mom! 1. I don't sweat the small stuff, particularly with food and mealtimes. I don't care what he eats, just that he eats. Yep, he can have whatever he wants for breakfast. who cares? 2. I love dirt. We do not use antibiotic soaps and we do not own antibacterial hand gels. Dirt is good. My kid's never been on any antibiotics in his nearly 5 years of life--he's a pretty healthy kid for having dirty hands. 3. Judge me--I don't care. I get plenty of judging... 4. I can celebrate. His birthday, Christmas, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, other holidays. I waited a long time for this guy, and intend to have some fun. But if he doesn't care, neither do it. He doesn't like candy, so he doesn't care about Halloween. Neither do I. (and I'm very happy he doesn't like candy!) 5. I appreciate. I cannot describe how grateful I am for him. Simply beyond words. 6. I will defend and protect until my last breath. No question--I will be that ridiculous parent who will do something about an injustice, a bully, a bad teacher, and--God Forbid--anyone who decides to hurt my child. And I will not care who thinks what, and I'm sure I can convince any jury.... 7. I can spoil! And I will! And I do.... 8. I have traveled, partied, experienced life; now I can settle down and put my child first. I don't need to drink to get drunk, I don't need to go out on the town, I don't need to hang with my friends, I don't need vacations alone (or with the girls or with my hubby). My son is number 1--and I will sacrifice what I need to make him stay number 1. And it's not a sacrifice, because I'm not giving anything up. 9. I have a career. I don't need to figure out how to get my degree because I have a couple, I don't need to figure out how to get that next promotion, or even a job. And I can do all of this on my own. I love my husband, but I don't need his income to make ends meet. 10. I can afford it. The best schooling. Quality shoes, nice clothes, and the latest trends. One can argue the material things, but I can help him fit in and give the other kids one less reason to pick on him by ensuring he looks nice and "trendy".

Mother's Day

Maybe I'm too realistic, but Mother's Day is just another day. It's another day that I hear "Mom" or "Mommy" about 500 times a day. "Mom, wipe my butt" or "Mom, give me juice". I don't get to rest. No one brings me flowers, or breakfast in bed. No one makes dinner. I get no gifts to unwrap. and it's perfect. Just like every other day of my life, as I have been blessed with a title that I never thought I'd be blessed with--Mother. That is gift enough. That makes my every single day simply amazing. Today was no different. At Church today, they had two Brothers talking about their mothers--you could feel their deep love and admiration for their moms. One Brother was giving his farewell talk before leaving on his mission; the other was elderly and still got choked up as he described the love he felt for his mother. It was incredibly touching. Just having the title is gift enough. So here's a shout out to Moms--whether working mom or stay-at-home, single, gay, married, shacking up; and no matter how the title was earned, what crazy journey the woman endured to get there. Moms are selfless, exhausted, hard-working, amazing people.

the Inhumanity of it all

I'm in the midst of an experience I've never had before--being present while a person is at the end of his life, having lost a battle with cancer. That person is my Dad. He entered hospice 4 days ago. Today's question that I can't get out of my head is "why?" Why do we feel as if it's humane to help our pets over the Rainbow Bridge when they are terminal but we compel our humans to suffer through the process of dying? My heart is broken. Every time I look at the shell of a man that, only 6 months before, was a strong guy who knew everything and who could do anything. Today I fed him. And helped him drink water from a straw. He is helpless and crazy with pain and pain medication. He said his ABC's to me. Why is all of this ok? How can I not be very angry right now? Yesterday I typed up my Dad's obituary. WTF... So to battle with this incredible anger that I can't seem to quell today, I instead will take a little time to celebrate the man that is my Father--here, on my little blog. As a child, I thought he knew everything; heck, as an adult I was still thinking he knew everything. He knew a ton about so many things and he was my go-to guy for all of it. RVs, electricity, travel, cars, you name it. He had an incredible story as a kid growing up in the mid-west in the 40's-50's. He was the one that prompted me to learn more about the Monroe family. Because of him I have been successful in tracing the entire Monroe family tree. And in that research, I found his brothers--long lost for over 50 years. How awesome is that! My Dad and I haven't always seen eye to eye, but I'm convinced it wasn't in his heart, it was a bunch of other circumstances that stood in the way of me always being Daddy's girl. What I am thrilled about is that, as an adult, I had an opportunity to settle into a decent relationship with him. I can thank him for so many things but I do attribute my fierce independence and ability to survive and never give up, to him. I believe it was our shared past that led me to be such a survivor. It was my shear stubbornness, surely a Monroe trait, that made me prove the world wrong--time and again. "You'll never make it through basic training", "You'll never graduate from College", "You'll never make much of yourself". hell yes, I most certainly will. Thank you Dad. I'm sad for my son. I lost my Grandpa when I was 4 years old. Quinn will lose his Grandpa at 4 years old. Quinn is at such a disadvantage with little extended family involvement in his life that he's losing a critical piece of his little family pie. That makes my heart hurt. As I sit in his house, the house that he shared with his wife who has been the most incredible person in his life, I am heartbroken. But I can't begin to imagine how she feels, losing her soul mate. I can't imagine what goes through his mind as he is dying. Tonight I fight anger. I hope tomorrow I move past it.

Highly Sensitive Soul

Quinn has always amazed me. Of course I'm overwhelmed with the miracle we've been given. Naturally I'm absolutely smitten with my child. But there's more. I enjoy watching him grow--watching the complex science behind the act of learning. From his first days, learning to suckle, then learning how to grasp, coo, crawl, walk. All those milestones that children move through. It was clear that he was a perfectionist, even as a baby. When he hit a milestone, he hit it with absolute perfection. When he crawled--he just crawled. When he walked, he just walked. In his mind, he practiced it a hundred times. When he acted out the maneuver, it was if he had been doing it for a long time. He went from flat on the floor to crawling everywhere in minutes. His first step was steps, and he never turned back. I was a bit sad to see that perfectionaism--what a curse it could be. And seeing his personality emerge was amazing. As a baby, he showed empathy very young. Watching his crazy cool sense of humor emerge. Seeing that light bulb come on upon the discovery that his actions can make others smile and laugh. Watching his groove come through. The kid's got rhythm. He can feel the music in his soul. It's simply amazing watching all of this emerge over the past 4 1/2 years. I've been troubled by his responses to loud noise, to startles, to his slow adaption to new things. I worried about his verbal skills. I worried about autism. I'm sure all parents do this. I know the odds are against us to have an absolutely healthy child. We are older parents. I read about it. I am a researcher. I love to read about things. I love to find the reason behind things. I happened upon a concept, a label, called Highly Sensitive Children. It's not a condition, nor a disorder. It's simply a personality. One that requires special handling. One that requires people in the child's life to be dedicated to that child's needs. From what I've read 15-20% of children are considered HSC. There's a list of traits. Quinn pegs many of the traits. He hates loud noises, crowds, chaos, startles. He must have his shoes on very tight, and his watch. His clothes, particularly his shirts, must fit perfectly. He notices every little change. I move an item on the shelf--he notices. A dog farts across the room, Quinn smells it. He has to smell me to center himself. I know this sounds weird, but he's done it for as long as I can remember. He must have my hair in his hands when we are sitting together. He is very keen to sense how people respond to him. He is incredibly empathetic with his friends. He calculates the risk associated with every move. When his feelings are hurt, they are really hurt. The pain is very real to him. He is shy. He is particular with tastes. Unfortunately, I've created a child whose palette prefers real food rather than processed food. He dislikes candy. Some would call him picky, difficult to please, wimpy, a cry baby. Some don't have a lot of patience for him. I see all of this as an incredible gift. He is incredibly creative, and imaginative. He's emotional and feels the emotions around him. I've never had to child proof a thing. He's had the aversion to danger forever. He'll never be that kid who jumps off a cliff because his friends are. His sense of danger will force him to turn away. When I was pregnant with Quinn, I imagined a little boy on the ice, playing hockey at the age of 3. Quinn will never play hockey. He'll probably never play soccer. He will change the world though-even if it his little world. He will make a significant impact to all that take the time to get to know him. He is a pretty cool little guy. I am dedicated to ensuring he always has the best, while nurturing the unique soul that he is. I will go to the end of the earth, and sacrifice much, to ensure he is able to be the soul he was intended to be. That's my job and my life's priority. I'm so thankful to have that as my job.