Man Men Finale Tonight: Because Moral Ambiguity is Both Compelling and Exhausting

So my mentors in all things pop culture (and maybe all things) talk about THE MAD MEN frequently and so I've given it another go.  I watched the first season back when it began in 2007 when I was still somewhat of a newlywed and had a bit of idealism about life and love.  It was intriguing, but I ultimately nixed my viewing after the first season because the themes are dark.  It's not really a show that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside very often, and there are no clear happy endings.  And that doesn't really jive with my typical outlook and worldview.  Plus I taught 8th graders and needed some pure escapist television in my free time.  Because reading 80 essays can require not a little measure of fortitude.

But.

I've started with this half of the seventh and last season of the show.  It is visually stunning for one thing, and I have to give the main character's wife, Betty, some serious props for being an early 1960s housewife.  Though she is beautiful and privileged, her husband keeps his real identity and the inner workings of his heart and mind from her.  He has an idolized view of her, his angel on the pedestal, and won't allow her to be a true partner to him.  She can act childishly, but I have to sympathize with her now as a woman a few more years into my own marriage with children to raise.  I mean, the woman waits the whole day to see her husband come home for dinner-- maybe-- and treats it as an event.  Children are already fed, bathed, and ready for bed when King Daddy comes home to tuck them in.  She has dressed for dinner, complete with freshly rolled and set hair, with a full skirted frock, accessorized (of course) with pearls and red lacquered nails.  You pity her, you feel for her, and you roll your eyes at her poor choices.

And then there's the main character Don.  I'm mean: Don Draper.  He's an enigma wrapped in a mystery. War hero, ad man, Hollywood leading man looks, with intelligence, warmth and kindness to the weak.  Balanced by his alcoholism, fractured psyche (to say the least, though he disdains psychology) and general neglect to the true needs of his family; he's a mess.  He's juggling a wife, a mistress, and a new love interest when the story opens in Episode 1.  Clearly he's got some things to work through.  I'm utterly fascinated as I've blazed through seasons 1&2 in the last 2 weeks, but I'm often telling the screen: Don! Stop being so weird!  Go home and eat a sandwich or something!

The finale is at 10 tonight on AMC.  Who is watching? Thoughts?  How to wrap up such a complex show and character?  I doubt there will be a neat ending as that's not how show has been set-up, but I do hope Don makes some choice to step over the line from selfish individualism and make a permanent stake in his children's lives, who unbeknowst to them, are about to lose their mother Betty to cancer.

Though I doubt it.  This is a show that underlines the fact that people don't really change from their essential nature. Here's hoping.

en.wikipedia.org

Summer Tunics and When to Tuck In Your Shirt: A Primer

Okay, y'all.  I have a shirt for you.  THE SUMMER TUNIC.  It is a gift.  I received two long tunic cotton shirts in white and chambray for Mother's Day from J. Crew (because fancy) and they are terrific.  I couldn't find the exact match, but this is close:

White Endless Shirt (I know the picture is tee-tiny, but I could only get a thumbnail)



Old Navy Linen Tunic
(If I was buying this with my own money, this is the route I'd go-- only $24!)


If I may extol the virtues of this tunic:

1. You can wear it with the sleeves down or rolled up the three-quarter as they are something called "pique" sleeves, with that little piece of fabric sewn on the inside to secure the rolled-up cuff.

2.  You can wear this with some capris or capri leggings even.

3.  No mid-section/ bottom half drama.  This is the winner here.  If you don't have those problems, you could tuck in or even do the side knot.  Perhaps your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

4. It breathes!  I worn the chambray shirt yesterday with white capris and didn't need a full-length camisole, so even though it is a longer shirt, I was very comfortable in the 84 degree weather.

5. This would seamlessly transition to Fall with jeans.

I mentioned in the blog title that sometimes you need to tuck in your shirt.  This is not something I have done in good conscience since entering motherhood. However, if you like to wear jersey skirts and not necessarily discuss your long-range family planning, here's my trial-and-error tutorial.

1. Spanx.

2. Tuck in shirt.

3.  Lightweight shrug if needed to peel on and off when in public (on) and private (off).

4. Stand up straight, do the "arm pop and shift weight" trick, and bam!  You have a waist again.

Here's photographic evidence of how I wore the same outfit after my trial-and-error lesson.

Now, go friends, and do likewise.

Lots of Napping and Gratis Dinners: Graduation & Mother's Day Weekend

I got to sleep in a black-out curtained hotel room for two nights.  All alone.  If I woke up early, I either consulted the clock and promptly turned over, or caught a delightful early 2000s RomCom on TBS.  I got up and showered, put on makeup (like, really put it on, in front of a well lit mirror, not in my car, while barking that everyone stay inside the vehicle until I had on lipstick and didn't scare anyone), got dressed, and curled my hair.  And sauntered down to eat a prepared breakfast.

It was glorious.  I abandoned any far flung ideas like "swimming in the pool," or "writing" or "reading a book," in lieu of napping. Oh, the napping.  It was strenuous, but I powered through.  With those heavy duvets, the air cranked down, and the aforementioned curtains?  There is no relaxation method that can touch it.

Basically, I had a fabulous weekend.  I flew out to Lexington Friday morning to see my sister Natalie's husband graduate with his PhD in Marketing from the University of Kentucky.  We sat patiently for 2 1/2 hours to see James hooded and his name on the big screen.  Natalie is, deservedly, incredibly proud of all he has accomplished, and they will be starting their new life around Houston, Texas in August as James takes his first position as a professor at University of  Houston-Clearwater. Natalie was my chauffeur for the weekend, so my responsibility level was at an all time low.  We ate out at several restaurants, and as both fathers were present to celebrate (and pick up the tab), I was basically a kid again.

I got to spend the weekend with my sister and parents and see my own family greet me when I touched down on Sunday.  It was great.  Nat and I had lots of girl time, talking about everything and nothing, even seeing a totally mindless chick-flick: Hot Pursuit-- completely formulaic, but with lots of silliness as we don't ask for much in Reese Witherspoon vehicles.  Basically, the plot was a Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous reboot.  I smell Oscar.

Alex, however, had both girls get sick in the car and his mom check in briefly to the hospital with stomach pains.  The kids came home with new toys from the Five Below store (apparently a thing in "big cities" that have stores like Costco, not that I'm bitter) and lots of candy.  The plan was to visit the grandparents for Mother's Day, but poor Alex was definitely Mr. Mom this weekend, cleaning car vomit TWICE (ugh), fetching take-out for the family, and generally rising to the challenge.

I've kinda gotten over the "let's see if he gets this right or not on Mother's Day" thing, and so I really didn't come into the day with a whole lot of expectations, especially since most of the day would be travel time, but he really did a nice job.  He had the kids make little notes and got me a beautiful watch.  He's a keeper.  I even got to eat breakfast on Mother's Day with my own Mom and Dad with Nat and James  and the ambience of Waffle House to set the mood.  No joke: I love Waffle House.

I'm back in the pjs at the start of another Monday: dishes to wash, floors to clean, kids to shuttle, appointments to keep.  And that's more than okay.

Insert picture of my family here -->

My mom got a pic of us together on her phone, so I'll update when she shares it :)

I hope you had a wonderful Mother's Day celebrating the special ladies in your life!  Women who nurture (basically women in general), you are special every day, not just the ones the designated on the calendar.

Blah! I'm in a Glass Cage of Emotion!

(In a good way.)

Y'all.  First, thank you.  Your kind words and "I enjoyed this" are more than diamonds or gold.  Words are my love language (shocker) and I'm all filled up.

Next,  The BIG DEAL IEP MEETING.  It was so good!  I was not rushed, talked over, or made to feel anything less than an equal member of that group.  Each person was well informed about J and had lots to say and add.  I think the Assistive Technology person and I are well on our way to becoming besties, and I'm sure that'll be fine with her when I tell her. (I'm not a weirdo. No, really.)

It was so empowering to bring to bear all that we've learned through our experiences and exposures, all our successes and failures to speak intelligently for our son.  Not only were all my concerns addressed, we wrote even better, more applicable goals. Bottom line--reading and math? Yes, I want those things.  But we want Jeremiah to have his own voice in every sense of the word.  Making his needs and wants known, standing up for himself.  And as I told Alex leaving that meeting, "I knew we needed to be doing this (implementing the LAMP program at home).  I just needed a professional to tell me."

I have been learning over and over this year about God's providence through studies of Ruth and Esther and I see it so clearly right now.  Sometimes the bad and the hard and the never-wanna-go-there-again is the very thing that leads us to our--big thing here-- destiny.  My teaching background seemed useless and out of place with a child that has trouble communicating in a way that I understand. How can I share a love of knowledge with a child who couldn't even tell me he loves me? (He can now.)  I want to share all those things with Jeremiah, and I plan to, even if it looks differently than the way I imagined.  My love of language, of knowledge, of seeking to understand and be understood?  God flipped that script and made me a champion for one amazing boy and two firecracker girls.  He's good like that.

We have been retrained to communicate with Jeremiah and now, can find a middle ground with him, to teach him in a way that matters to him.  We are still very new to this path and have a long way to go, but keep on, little steam engine.  You'll get there.

So anyway, we go in the meeting, wired and fired, prepared and prayed, and our teacher shares with us, a bit shakily, that she is being transferred to another school.  It's fresh to her, and I don't want to pry, but for a moment I think, "This all was predicated on you being his teacher! Now what? It is all for naught!" *puts hand to brow, sighing with urgency*

But as the meeting went on and plans were made, I could admit to myself: Change is good.  Life is always changing, and that's one of the things we need to expose him to-- how to adapt to change.  He's taken to new teachers quickly before, and I know he will again.

Again, God's good like that.  I could easily make J's teacher the bar with which I judge all other teachers.  I have to depend on Him and be open to the new people he brings into our lives.  And she will still be in J's life through Sunday School. You see? Providence.

Thus concludes today's lesson.  Come back tomorrow where I will exegete Revelation. You don't want to miss it.

(Insert sarcasm here.)

I'll end with a link to my Sonshine Singers choir, featuring my own Sarah.  I could list a 100, but this is one of the reasons I love the Church.  A little child will lead them, and these little ones sure did just that Sunday night.

Autism Is Not the Common Cold and Other Things I Know For Sure

"Autism is not the common cold,"  I said to a group of family members gathered around a cozy living room after a delicious meal.  I had never thought about it that way before, but the phrase has been rolling around in my head for the last several weeks.

We had not seen my husband's brother and girlfriend in several months and they inquired about Jeremiah and his progress, and I, in typical fashion, I had a lot to say.  I can't remember the specifics now, but I shared his interests and his victories and how he amazes me every day.  How I can't believe how much he's grown since his diagnosis three years ago.

Here's the thing that got me thinking:  we discussed Jeremiah's potential in his future, and how far the doctors and I thought he could go.

My answer?  I walk the line of hope and reality.

I know that, based on where J is "at" developmentally at age (almost) 7,  I should assume an alternative diploma track and vocational training will be the most appropriate path for him.

And then again, I think: HE'S NOT EVEN SEVEN.  Let today be today, and appreciate its gifts.

Autism is not linear, and neither is the growth of the individuals affected by it.  Like many on this path, we enter in thinking we can boil it down to a formula.  Take these prescribed therapies and those preferred intervention strategies and volia, off the spectrum!  Even for the most "high functioning" individuals on the spectrum, who "pass" as typically developing in society, it's just not that simple.

And as a mama, I want to make it easy to understand for those involved in our lives.  Spin our own narrative.  "We are kicking autism's butt and taking names!" Rah, rah, rah!

It's just not that simple.

And I'm starting to appreciate it.

We started at point A: diagnosis.  We went to point B: early intervention.  We arrived at C: pulling out of B and homeschooling to focus on relationship building.  We moved to D: re-entry of traditional school to enter a self-contained autism class, which we would have never entertained and dreaded just a few years ago.

Now, point E: informed advocacy.  After a year of re-entry,  we find ourselves at the end of an academic year and are taking stock.  J has benefited from the routine of the classroom and the multiple interactions with teachers and adults.  His teacher is a DREAM, an angel among us.  I would blather on and on about her, but she's awesome.  So gifted.  You know she loves those students and advocates for them and teaches the other faculty about their potential.  J will most likely be in her class again next year as she teaches two grade levels and we're pleased.

But we don't stop trying, reaching, searching for what's the very best for our son and how that affects the whole family.  I'm actually walking into an IEP meeting next week informed and prepared.  I have sat down and carefully analyzed my concerns and shared them with the team. I have requested several stakeholders present at the meeting.  Not because I'm displeased or hostile.  Not at all.  That was a risk for me.  Everyone has been so accommodating that I didn't want to rock the boat or raise a stink.  Hello, I'm a peacemaker. And a woman. And a southern one at that.

But it's my right and my duty.  I'm my child's best advocate, and I want to make him his best advocate as he grows.

Our little family was out to dinner a few weeks ago, and I was sharing with my husband about all that I had been researching and learning about IEPs and educational opportunities in the future for J.    I patted myself on the back for taking small steps of bravery: making calls, asking questions.  I expressed fear over those things not being well received.  I worried about challenging the status quo.

My husband's answer? The reply that made me tell him, "And THAT'S why I married you.  That right there."?

That's what we do.  We. Us.  Our family.

We do whatever it takes for our children.  Whatever we can do.  We do it.

We are, as the great character Atticus Finch told his daughter Scout, common folk.  We follow the rules, tow the line.  We live in an average (a very beautiful and more than enough, but ordinary in terms of American socioeconomics) home and neighborhood.  We drive well-broken-in-vehicles.  Our children wear only the finest play-clothes from Target, and the girls and I have come to appreciate the thrill of the hunt at Goodwill. We are educated, but not pedigreed.  We are not "special" and do not view our children as "precious snowflakes" that are better than any other child.

It's not what we have. It's who we are.

These children are ours, and as such, we will do everything in our power to secure for them the most appropriate and beneficial methods to aid in their development.

We don't know exactly what that looks like, but we are committed to searching it out.

Even as we know there is no one answer, no magic pill.

The searching, the banding together, the being-a-family is.

Autism is not the common cold.  It is not linear.  Nothing is.

And that, despite the hard times, is the beauty of it all.