Normal and Christmas Cards

I am so brilliant that I just have to share my amazing mind with you all. I have two email accounts attached to this blog! So I've been making fun little comments all over blog world and being completely. Ignored.

I thought I was so witty or intelligent or philosophical and you people said nothing.

{Do you hear that sound? It's the sound of nothing}.

It's not that I make comments for attention (okay, kinda) but some of my comments were screaming for a response and I heard nothing.

And then I found my other email account. Now I realize that I was the one snubbing you.

Judge not that ye be not judged but isn't it nice to have someone to look down upon? That's what I must believe when I get those cutesy Christmas cards from all those delusional souls in the world who paint their lives in rose colored glasses.

Just a word to the above mentioned: If you really believe your life is that amazing, you have a lot to experience yet. It's not a threat. It's reality. And sometimes it sucks.

And so back to me. I am sorry I have been delinquent in answering questions or making conversation. I was not purposely ignoring you and I appreciate support I find in the blogging community. Oh, and if you are expecting a Christmas card this year, it probably won't happen. It's not been a terrible year but I'm tired. Motherhood is kicking my butt.

If you DO get a Christmas card, it will be impersonal and only have a Costco photo card in it. It won't be a photo perfectly framed and symmetrical. This is not my way of being creative and artsy. It was just the best shot. I'm grateful I got a few where one or all members of my family are not crying.

The segue is there but you might have to stretch - It's late and I have a child laying at my feet. Darling child whom I love with all my heart that had a temper tantrum a couple of days ago for most of the neighborhood to either see or hear. I worry about her desperately and have had her tested for ALL kinds of disorders. Had a huge I.E.P. at the school where we all sat around a big table and the spokesperson, the school psychologist, who spoke to me like I had a very small mind and reminded me to speak to parents of my students where I work like equals (run on sentence), used small words to explain that this child is normal.

But what about the discrepancy between the two I.Q. scores?

The mean is still 113.

But she turns in her homework 50% of the time. Aren't we worried about executive functioning?

No, her standardized testing scores are consistently in the 95%ile or higher.

Finally, we finished with auditory processing testing at the district audiology department.

Dr. Audiologist had nothing more to say than "She's normal."

Normal. She relished in that word.

Okay, she's high maintenance, high anxiety, and has episodes that mortify me in public at times. But she's normal. I wonder if my psychology training has been detrimental to my children rather than advantageous. We look for mental illness. We will test and test and test until we find something deviant.

Done with the tests. No more finding excuses for her being high maintenance. It's time to get my hands dirty and simply be a parent. Setting boundaries and listening to the occasional, "I hate you! You are so mean!"

It's my job. I'm the parent.

So the Christmas newsletter will be absent this year. Again. But for you, dear blog friends, a summary.

14 year old is awesome but thinks her parents don't know that she is interested in boys and boys are interested in her. Because we are really THAT stupid.

12 year old has already been summed up. I'm praying she'll outgrow her identity crisis and learn to love herself. I'm thinking it will be a whole lot easier without the constant diagnosing by her mother and tests by others. She's NORMAL. Whatever that means. Like I'm normal, perhaps. Yet, as she is sleeping at my feet, she has laughed in her sleep OUT LOUD no less than 5 times. Can she really be so unhappy if she is having dreams that make her laugh?

9 year old boy can't sit through an entire dinner without suddenly screaming like a little girl and tearing off his shirt. I don't know why. He has also discovered 'doorbell ditching' this year. When we were little, we called it something different.

4 year old boy can't sit for an entire meal. When his brother tears off his own shirt and runs around the table, 4 year old follows suit. He also pees his pants.

I do laundry. I yell. I read. I work. I drive the minivan. I have bags under my eyes. I make dinner. I talk to teenagers and parents a portion of the day. I lament my shortcomings. I pray a lot.

Mr. Taylor is perfect. I need say no more.

Ah, what the heck. It's Christmas, for crying out loud. Mr. Taylor loves basketball. He's sore, bruised, will probably break something soon and will need knee replacement within a few years (months?).

But at least there's two of us to handle the kicking of my butt by motherhood.