Saturday

 I woke up at 5 a.m. and went downstairs,  thinking I'd rest a bit on the couch before I get up at 6:00 to work. "Oh, hi Dad!" pronounced a too-perky five year old voice. "Oh it's you. I thought it was Dad's Getting Up Time. Did you know it's still dark outside? We're the only ones up. That means we get to have Private Snuggles.  We've NEVER had Private Snuggles before." Kid, seriously.  It's Very Early. Sure, I'll snuggle. 

After a bit, it was market time. Our last market of the season.  It's bittersweet,  because we love our customers.  But we work hard and we are tired. We didn't really want to be at market. But because we were at market,  we know that A is moving and B is traveling to Hawaii soon, and C has an ulcer and D rented a golf cart to give the grandkids a ride and E is going to a funeral and F was at a funeral. 

G ordered a wrap with no steak because she's having trouble with her teeth. "Brush those teeth every day!" she instructed our 7 year old son, who was working the cash box like a pro. Then she wandered over to watch the jazz guitarist and listen to the saxophone, because she hasn't heard jazz since she's in Iowa. She lost herself in the music,  so we just delivered her wrap to her. She came back for napkins, then went to the bench next to the musicians and sat there the entire morning,  soaking in the music.

H was super impressed with his half dollar, and plans to use it as a ball marker in golf. I, on the other hand, wasn't a customer at all, but a boy with curly hair, about nine years old, who brought a bag with five potatoes from his Grandma's booth. "HEY, CAN I SELL YOU THESE POTATOES? THEY'RE $1.50-- unless you want to give me a tip." Sure, I'll buy potatoes from a cute kid. I gave him a dollar bill and a fifty cent piece. "What kind of fifty cents is this??" He eyed it skeptically.  "Can I just have two quarters?" I didn't give him a tip, but I wish I had.  He was an ambitious little salesman.

J bought three sandwiches to take back to the shop, where he and his brothers were going through a semi that was recently purchased,  making sure it is road worthy.

K told how he had a surprise visitor from Red Lake. L bought a $6 sandwich and left a $5 tip. 

M was another vendor, who had a "Pupcake" food truck, where people bought treats for their dogs. At least one dog even posed for a pic in her truck's serving window! She educated us on all the steps she has to take to take to legally sell dog treats in Iowa. 

N is recovering from a hand injury from an incident on the farm. "At least I get to drive the combine now!" 

Customers O-Z never showed up, because they were watching the football game.

We left market at 2:04. We stopped at Yotty's for a thank you treat for our son for his willing help. 

On the way home, Craig said, "Shall we go to Leon tonight instead of tomorrow?" We calculated that if we could leave by 4:30, we could be at visitation before 8, and hopefully see the people we wanted to connect with, rather than waiting until tomorrow and sitting through the funeral but not having a chance to talk to people. 

We got home at 2:32. We got out of the trailer the things that need to be gotten out. Craig fed the 33 baby calves their milk and got his things and himself ready. I ran a load of dishes and a load of laundry. T packed bedding and clothes for himself and all his siblings. Grandma returned the other kids at 4:00. I made sure everyone had shoes.

We left at 4:35. We ordered pizza and a salad to pick up at Casey's halfway there. We got the whole crew out and traipsed into the store for a potty break. We were a motley crew, really, with outfits ranging from t shirt and jeans to red plaid jammies with green chore boots. 

We arrived at the church for the visitation at 7:37. Uncle Mikie and Aunt Brenda brought Mom's vehicle and traded for ours, still full of children. 

We were those annoying people who came right before visitation closes, and stayed for an hour, right when the family Really Wants To Go Home. 

Barbara, the 96 year old whose life was being remembered, feels to me like the last person from the Leon church who has been "old" my entire life. Maybe it's because she became a widow the year I was born.

I don't feel like I actually knew her well myself. I remember her quilts, and her hospitality, and her reacting rewardingly when her grandsons teased her. But there are a lot of people whom we care about deeply, who are related to Barbara, so we wanted to go.

I heard some stories about Oklahoma days, where Amos was one of the exceptional people who believed in my dad, in spite of Dad's physical challenges, and trusted Dad with his farm equipment.  Joni said that he would stay at my Grandpa Joas's when his parents,  Amos and Barbara,  would go on trips. Now I want to hear more!

We left the visitation and finally made it to my mom's,  where we said hello to Uncle Jake and Aunt Anna Mary, and got all the kids, now on their third wind, settled down.

Then, we slept. 

It was a good, full day.

And I- well, I've enjoyed the interactions with all the people,  but it might take me a week to recover, so please pardon me, while I crawl into a hole and refuel for a bit. 

Boredom Busters

Our family recently conquered another weekend of cooking at the local Fall Festival. It's an intense marathon of preparation and then coordinating at the actual event so that people can Eat Good Beef and stuff.

One thing I'm constantly aware of is how our family business affects our family. One huge goal of using this means to support our family is that, in theory, we get to be with our kids more. In reality, with young children,  it's hard to make that the reality. 

So the best part of this year's Fall Festival for me was, after Fall Festival,  asking our boys what their favorite part of Fall Festival was, and hearing them say, each in their own way, that the best part of Fall Festival was being near their family. 

This year, we had a nice spot behind our booth where they could have some space to play and be creative.  I stocked up on some economical STEM kits for them to assemble, and they played games, listened to Adventures in Odyssey and fashioned games out of cardboard boxes. 

I sat back there to catch my breath for a bit, and admired a very large cardboard dice that they had made. "What inspired this?" I asked.  Another mom was relaxing back there, and she quickly responded with "Boredom."

Boredom is such a great opportunity. 

Thursday,  they were firefighters. Which was fine, until it involved a second floor rescue.

Friday,  finding themselves banished from the house for an hour (or they would face Torture By Nap) they quickly became electrical engineers and designed a porch light from miscellaneous items they found in the shop attic.

It's really very little wonder that I'm always in a subconscious state of near-worry. My hair turns more gray by the hour, as I attempt to keep up with the extreme levels of mental and physical energy on constant display around here. Craig's dad just grins and tells me it has only just begun.

One day this week,  we had a friend come at 7:00 a.m. to provide childcare so we could go to an appointment. She was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she sat, in awe-struck wonder, watching the buzz of energy surging through our house as the boys did their laundry and dishwasher responsibilities and hurried through their math, so they could get on with the Important Things. Like firefighting and stuff. "Are they always this wide awake at this time of the day?" Yup. Actually,  they're not allowed to come down before 6:00. That's when it starts. 

I try to provide them with productive things for their brains and bodies to stretch and strengthen and grow. 

And then, I give them the gift of Boredom. 

And from thence flows all the entertainment I could ever desire.

Interactive Metronome: is it for you?

Interactive Metronome (IM) is the most recent therapeutic intervention we did for one of our children who has had to face more obstacles than some, to achieve his current level of function. This post is my review of IM.

This spring I reached out, in desperation,  to another mom who has neurodivergent children, and asked for recommendations.  She responded with a whole list of things that they have found helpful along the way.

One of these was Interactive Metronome. 

So we gave it a try.

Here is why Interactive Metronome has been a good fit for our family, to use with one child this year:

- It is done at our home

- With 3 other young children, plus our business,  I did not see a clear path forward to continue pursuing traditional occupational therapy or other recommended therapies for him this summer- but we desperately needed SOMETHING

- One of his needs is to strengthen the cross-brain action. A few years ago, before OT, He was not able to cross midline. He would drop gaze at midline. If asked to make a rainbow in the air with his hand, he would drop at midline. He did not alternate feet coming down stairs. He can do it now, but it's still weak, and he quickly tires mentally when doing physical tasks that require frequent midline crossing. All that to say, it was easy to see how Interactive Metronome (IM) could, at minimum,  strengthen this.

- Another need is focus. IM requires focus, but it also strengthens focus.

- IM targets auditory input, which has been another sensory need.

- It is not cheap, but it is within reach, and the cost is straightforward. 

So we gave it a try. It was hard. It was intense. It stretched us both. We did it imperfectly. But we did it. 

Yes, it was worth it.

What is IM?

- Basically every day, you're tapping out rhythms in various ways with your hands and feet, for about 30 minutes. 

- The idea is clapping or tapping out rhythms to the beat of a metronome. There are visual cues, and sometimes also auditory cues, that let you know if you're early, late, or right on. Eventually, there are games integrated, like a basketball goes in the hoop when you're right on time.

- The goals are improved focus, agility, and coordination. There is also the hope that by patterning the brain in these ways, it can address anxiety and behavioral concerns as well.

-You can pick between 15 sessions of one hour each or 30 sessions of 30 minutes each. Because our son's performance tested so low at the beginning,  we went an even slower, longer path, of almost 50 sessions of 30 minutes. The goal is to do 3-6 sessions each week.

A sample screen from an IM session 

Did it work for our son?

When you have lived a few cycles of "doing well" and "not doing well" it is hard to definitely say, "This worked wonders!"- because life is full of cycles and seasons, and there is never just one factor to anything. 

Having said that, I'm confident that Interactive Metronome was a key factor in taking him to the next level in his growth and stability this year. It was definitely worth the time and effort-and a few battles- to do it this spring. 

It helped balance a few more things in his brain. It challenged his focus. It delayed yet again the potential need to rely on daily medication for him to be able to function- mentally and emotionally. 

We still have days and seasons that are rough. It didn't "cure" anything. That's not really the goal anyway. The goal is achieving maximum potential. 

IM gives measurable feedback, and his scores improved drastically for being able to keep rhythm with the metronome. Although his ending score was still not amazing as a stand-alone score, it was amazing when compared to where he started! That's what we weigh here- progress, not perfection. 

What went well?

-We did it at home, parent led, and didn't have to go anywhere. 

- We had a coach, with whom I was in close contact with throughout the program.  She was so helpful with troubleshooting and encouraging along the way. She is a Christian mom who is well-versed in mothering neurodiversity as well, so the encouragement was multi-faceted. 

-He found the games motivating.

What did not go well?

- We did it at home, parent led, and didn't go anywhere.  (Oh wait, I just named thst as a positive.  It was. It was both positive and negative.) He has responded so well to in person therapists in the past, and we missed that aspect. Sometimes, parents don't need one more opportunity to be the target, when things get hard. Sometimes, that outside voice is just what is needed for both parent and child to get over the hurdle.

- The sessions are 30 minutes long. My son’s attention span with things that don't interest him is about 2 minutes. I think he got that from his mom. But- he did it. And the battles grew less.

- It would have been better to have an adult present the duration of each session.  I couldn't always do that. So I occasionally stepped in to find him with the volume turned off, clapping merrily to his own little rhythm.  

Is IM right for your family?

If your child has concerns with physical coordination, emotional instability, focus, or developmental delays, my FIRST recommendation is to have the child evaluated by an occupational therapist or other professional,  in person. This may or may not require a physician's order. Depending what the concerns are, definitely include your healthcare provider- they have so many resources!

If you are looking to solidify your own or your child's physical coordination or attention challenges, but you don't suspect (or have already addressed) deep underlying causes, then yes, I give IM a very high recommendation.  

If you are doing therapies, but need something structured to do at home through the week, IM could potentially be a good supplement.

Best of all, IM can be done anywhere, on your schedule.

If you'd like more information,  I'd be happy to direct you to our coach.

In full disclosure,  I do benefit from anyone who uses her services through my referral, so please mention my name. 

Even without that kickback, I would still recommend IM. 😀

Living with neurodiversity

 "I'm normal. What's wrong with everyone else?"

My dad said this occasionally. 

If you knew my dad, you know he wasn't really "normal"- whatever that is.

He had a genetic form of dystonia that showed up in various forms in several relatives. Since it is a neuromuscular disorder,  he was obviously neurodiverse, in very visible, physical ways.

Now that I'm grown and have children of my own, I recognize that Dad's neurodiversity may have been more of a thing than I ever recognized in his lifetime. 

I don't know that any of it was troublesome or negative (as long as he was able to do things for himself)- it's just who he was. 

He got dressed in the same way every day. His shoes went on in the same order. He ate peanut butter more than the average person. He disliked every cheese except mozzarella, but he never complained about food he was served. "Thanks for the food. It was very tasty!" was his well-masked statement of gratitude when served something he secretly fought to eat. 

He was an excellent mathematician. He had crazy formulas for remembering numbers.  He had lots of shirts, but only wore a select few.

I have respect for my dad like I have for few men. But not because he was "normal."

 "Normal" has never been clearly defined to me.  Probably because I have my own set of  quirks and abnormalities. 

My undiagnosed (or self-diagnosed) stuff comes out in different ways. Some seasons are more intense than others, but I often have to consciously refrain from constantly interrupting in conversation. I have to consciously finish my sentences,  or I'll leave 3 unfinished thoughts hanging. I get mentally bored easily.  I hunt dopamine. I have to take life in small bites. I leave tasks unfinished, unless, like sentences,  I consciously finish them. 

Executive function skills are hard, hard, hard.  I can do them, but they are very hard. 

Page from Mr. Rush, by Roy Hargreaves. This picture is a map of my life,  some days.

I get "brainaches" and freeze up or melt down when overstimulated. If I'm judged on household organization,  I will get a big "she tries" (maybe "she'll try" Olympics break dancing next- she might have the same chance of success at that).  I mean- I usually know where my stuff is, so please don't shuffle my piles. So it's organized. It just looks messy. 

 I've come to understand that because of the way my brain work, I have to adjust expectations AND use different tools, to achieve any level of success with some of these things.

On the other hand, because of the way my brain soaks up and spits out information,  I can ramble off line after line of rhyming words with very little effort.  I can brainstorm big projects- I may not be the person to carry them through to completion, but I'm an expert in the Ideas Department!

My former self sought stimulation. My current self goes through seasons of constant overstimulation. It's empowering to realize the role that neurodiversity plays, because it helps me understand my freezeups and meltdowns. It's not simply emotional instability, and there are tools to help. 

Neurodiversity is the powerhouse that enables me to get things done- especially under the pressure of a good deadline!

Neurodiversity can be dysfunction. 

Neurodiversity can be dynamic.

I didn't understand these things about myself until I'm having to try to steer the boat with offspring who share my DNA. 

Raising children, with neurodiversity in the mix, is a circus. Entertaining. Exasperating. Educational. Exhausting. Exciting. Exceptional.  Twice exceptional,  actually.  

I learn about things I never wanted to need to know. Goals change. Routines evolve. Therapies help. We try to maximize our ability to function as a team. 

On a hard day, the neurodiversity has the potential to quickly explode into dysfunction. On a good day, the neurodiversity is dynamic, and we Get Things Done.

One thing is certain: my former self wanted to learn or experience something new every day. My current self lives that dream. Every day. 

Can I have a brain break now?!?

The power of repeated acts of kindness...

 I have been the recipient of a completely unexpected, undeserved, delightful, repeated act of kindness from a customer who has become a friend. 

 The first time she brought flowers was a day that Craig and I were working our grilling stand at market alone, on our anniversary, because "This is what we do for dates." After a bit, she came by with some flowers for our "date." 

Since then, she has randomly showed up at our stand with flowers. This summer, it has been a regular occurrence. We have market; Genie shows up with flowers.

Some weeks, I enjoy them all week long. Other weeks, I love them well for a few moments, then spread the love on to another person. 

I have learned a lot about giving, by being on the receiving end of this ongoing gift.

1. I don't have to have a lot, to give a little. 

2. Merchants don't expect their customers to bring them gifts of encouragement. But merchants are people, and people need encouragement. I want to keep my eyes open, and be willing to spread small acts of kindness, with no strings attached, to people I interact with- including merchants.

3. Giving sometimes has a Snowball Effect. She gives me flowers. I sometimes give the flowers with some food to someone having a tough week. So it gives me an amazing opportunity to both enjoy the gift for a bit, then pass it on, when I see someone who needs it more than I do. 

4. Having this handed to me week after week increases my alertness to "Who needs a little cheer?" 

5. A small, repeated gift is perhaps sometimes more impactful than a large, one-time gift. "I see you. You matter. I appreciate you." "I still see you. You still matter. I still appreciate you."

Thanks so much, Genie - for your friendship,  for all the flowers, and for all you have taught me about giving. 

Mom Joys

 

1. I lost my glasses 2 weeks ago. They vanished.

A child found them in his backpack Thursday, when he went to Grandma's.

I ordered new ones Wednesday night.

2. In Aldi's Aisle of Shame recently, I picked up a hammock chair, for myself. Craig screwed a hook into the beam above the deck, and we all take turns enjoying it. 

Also from Aldi's AOS, I got a 3 foot round inflatable swimming pool, which was on the deck with about 2 inches of water in it. 

Boy sat in hammock chair and went round and round and round and round and round and round... then KERPLOP!! KERSPLASH! He, still sitting in the swing, was also sitting in the pool. Except he, swing and all, landed on the side of the pool, after which all 3 air receptacles were popped open. They- the pool and the boy- were quite deflated.

3. This morning, a certain person was dashing around here, completing his task of picking up stuff, vrroooming around.... "Mom, do you know why I'm a Monster Truck?" (Pulls his pants down far enough to reveal his new monster truck undies.)  Informs me that he next will be a jet engine, then a race car, then a dump truck (he'll have to go slow that time, because dump trucks are slow).

I dunno. Maybe I make life's issues too complex.

Maybe I just need new undies.

The case of the explosive cupboard

My friend innocently opened the cupboard door. Its contents, stuffed and stacked like a vertical domino track, exploded out at her.

1. Was the friend or the cupboard at fault?*

2. This scenario happens a lot between people, too. 

3. Instead of fixing the issue with the cupboard,  we keep pussy footing around it and trying to avoid semi-surprise explosions. 

4. Then we blame the friend, not the dysfunctional cupboard. 

*There may be a logical 3rd option, that it was the person who rigged the cupboard who may be held responsible, but that ruins my illustration, so I'll leave it out.

Imperfectitis

I'm not very wise

I'm not very smart

I'm a Too Big size

I can't focus for art.

My house gets messy

My garden has weeds

My clothes are not dressy

My poetry needs

An editor. 

I talk when I shouldn't, 

Don't talk when I should

I wish I wouldn't 

Do harm- just good.

I'm not Pinterest Perfect, 

I struggle to be

Full of defect upon defect

Yet live the best version of me.

My voice, stricken with laryngitis,

Crackles out a healing, old song

“Just as I am”- with imperfectitis

I come, just to Be- and Belong.

Joy Mast Miller

6-8-24

……….

 

Just as I am, without one plea,

But that Thy blood was shed for me,

And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee,

O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Just as I am, and waiting not

To rid my soul of one dark blot;

To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, though tossed about

With many a conflict, many a doubt;

Fightings within, and fears without,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;

Sight, riches, healing of the mind;

Yes, all I need, in Thee to find,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,

Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;

Because Thy promise I believe,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, Thy love unknown

Has broken every barrier down;

Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Lyrics:Charlotte Elliott (1789-1871)

Music:William Batchelder Bradbury (1816-1868)

hymnal.net

Mini Me and Me, just as we are.

When I set out for Aldi and ended up at Audi

Life is a grand obstacle course.

It starts early: look at what it takes for a tiny human to even get out of his mom's body!

Then notice all the tumbles and bumps it takes for a child to learn to walk.

There's a pretty standard set of obstacles that most children go through at a fairly standard pace. Some, however, face insurmountable obstacles early on, and parents are forced to recalculate and innovate to navigate the course.

At some point,  the obstacles differentiate greatly, and one adult's obstacle course looks very different from another's. 

Some people enjoy navigating through obstacles; others despise it. Maybe it's why some adults manage to appear happy most of the time, while others are plain down grumpy every time they hit an obstacle. In my lenthening experience of being an adult, I've discovered that, on my course at least, obstacles are everywhere. I can either embrace it, or hate my life.

All that to preface how I set out for Aldi and ended up at Audi.

 ......

I planned my day:

Take child to Grandma's,  pick up Walmart order, get a huge amount of buns at Aldi, go home.

Obstacle 1: Thanks to Craig's dad reminding him that we had the Expedition scheduled for some work at the repair shop, my Big Vehicle was absent.  I remembered this when I was ready to load my children into it.

Recalculate.

Plan B: Take Toyota Corolla.  All children to Grandma's.  Get Things. Bring things home. Empty car. Retrieve children. 

Obstacle 2: The children who were supposed to be sitting calmly in the car waiting for their mother were, well, not sitting calmly.

Recalibrate. 

Children exit car. Children wait in line, get in car one at a time. Buckle in. Keep your bodies to yourself. Thank you.

Obstacle 3: Forget to add air to tire. Oh well, it will be okay. It's still plump. It's not that far. It'll be fine.

Execute Plan B.  Walmart? Check. Aldi? Check.

Look at tire.

Oh, duds and bummers.

I can't drive home on a pancake! At least it was a little plumper than a crepe- I could limp somewhere to get air. 

But where

Can I find air?

It's all around 

Yet can't be found. 

"Hey, sir!" I said to the guy parked beside me. "Where is the closest place I can find air for my tire?"

He looked around.  "Go to the dealership across the road. They will have air."

My courage and pride both felt a little wilted at that moment,  but it truly was the best option. So I drove my dusty, rusty, out-of-shape 2007 Toyota Corolla to the Audi dealership, past the blue and red and black grand, brand new vehicles,  and asked for air.

The fatherly gentleman at the desk was very kind, told me where to pull in for air, and served me himself.

"My car feels a bit out of place here," I said.

"Why is that?" 

"I've been driving it a long time!"

"You've gotten your money's worth out of it."

Yes, indeed.

And that is how my trip to Aldi ended up at Audi.

Now-off to face the next set of obstacles!

Our toddler, equipped and ready to face the obstacles!

Chain Cleaning

When I was young, my favorite church service was the monthly hymn sing.  Depending who the song leader was, he would state "We're going to do some chain singing." It was a copout, really,  for the song leader who didn't want to lead the acapella four-part congregational singing, so he could go sit down. That's how my 15-year-old self interpreted it anyway, with an inward groan.

The song leader would say the number of the hymn to be sung, then pronounce the name of someone in the group. That person would pick and lead the next song, two or three steps up or down from the given pitch, and pick the next person to pick the next song. And then the next person would pick the next person, and so on and so forth until 8:20 when the chain was broken and the Amen was said.

One day, I was tidying the house. At least I was making a noble attempt. Like I often do when Clutter has taken over, I just gathered an armful, put the stuff away, and wherever my Putting Away Journey took me, that became the new launching pad. I gathered 10 things, put them away, and wherever I landed, I launched from there, with 10 more things to put away. Pick up 10 things in the living room, take them to where they belong. If the last thing to put away was a cup, it goes to the dishwasher. While at the dishwasher,  make the counter better and gather all the trash. While at the trash can, gather the shoes on the floor and take them to their home. While at the shoe closet, pick up the dirty socks and take them to the hamper in the bathroom.  I realized I was chain cleaning!

Kinda like chain singing,  in chain cleaning, the last place decides the next place, and the stuff in that place determines the next spot to tidy.

The short-term goal is to make a small difference in a small place. 

Eventually,  the whole house looks So Much Better.

Chain cleaning may not be the most efficient way to clean a house, but it's an excellent way to display the Big Difference that a making a series of Small Differences can make.

Go make a small difference,  somewhere-anywhere.

It just may start a chain reaction. 

Better yet, snag some teammates,  and do some chain singing while you chain clean.

Tra-la-la!