"Air quotes"

Several years ago I treated a great kid. Due to confidentially issues, I will call him Bob. Bob was one awesome dude. He was fun to treat and his therapy time usually was full of laughter.

He was developmentally delayed and had a speaking voice somewhat like Shaggy's from Scoobie Doo,  expect it was a deep voice. Bob was tall and his limbs were loooooong.

When I was pregnant with my first baby, I had terrible morning sickness all day long. Just the mention of certain foods would make me ill.  Bob knew this.  He also knew that I hate mayo.  He would tell me, "Miss Lindy I know you will get sick so I won't say the m-word."

Bob had a hilarious habit of using air quotes.  You know, when the speaker uses the pointer and index fingers of each hand to make quotation marks in the air.

However, due to Bob's language impairment, he didn't understand how to correctly use them. Here are some of my favorite things he said using air quotes:

How are "you" today Miss Lindy?

I "guess" I will do my work now.

It is "raining" outside!

"Today" is going to be good.

I tried to fix it.  I really did. But his persistent use of air quotes was too great.  I never got that fixed. 

Daddy's girl

I was seriously a daddy's girl. That's me on the left with my Daddy, brother, and sister.  I loved being with my Daddy.  One of his hobbies is doing bodywork on cars.  When I was a kid I remember being right by his side as he worked on cars. He taught me the names of the tools and I would fetch them for him.  We'd make trips to the auto shops.  I loved sitting on those padded bar stools that most auto part stores had.

With time, I learned to apply and sand Bond-O.  That stuff smelled so good to me. My favorite vehicle we worked on was a '57 Chevy truck. He painted it white.  It was beautiful. I remember so many details-the rubber tubes over the chain on the tailgate, the colorful woven fabric for the interior upholstery, and rounded back fenders. He still has that truck.

I am an early riser too.  My Daddy left for work fairly early. I was up before dawn, sometimes before him. I'd watch as he did morning exercises, smoke his first cigarette for the day, and ate breakfast.  He'd kiss me bye as he left the house.

Daddy loved junk.  He took us kids to the junkyard and the dump.  BEST DAY EVER.  Getting to go to the dump was awesome for a kid. We'd find all sorts of treasures, totally confused why people would throw away such valuable things.  We salvaged a see-saw once. Daddy painted it bright red.  Now it sits in our backyard, some 30 years later.

Sadly, my world came crashing down when my parents divorced. I was no longer able to spend as much time with my Daddy.  It broke my heart. It was painful. It was crushing.

As an innocent child, I didn't understand what was happening to my family.  I didn't know why things had to be the way they were.  Daddy was able to stay close for a few years but then was transferred to a town about 2 hours away.  About two weekends a month we spent with him.

Then things changed.

I felt like I was no longer Daddy's little girl.  I guess I wasn't. I hated that feeling. That was one of my most outstanding and comfortable roles in life. My life was less and less apart of his. His was less and less apart of mine. Anger and bitterness nearly ruined any chance for things to improve.

It took years before our relationship improved. And it has.

Now, as the mother of two girls, I watch as they are daddy's girls.  My husband is such a great dad.  He loves his girls so much.  It is pretty much amazing.

My husband is a big and tough dude.  It surprises me how much of a softy he is with his girls.  He can be such a push over for them, easily hypnotised by the batting of their eyes. He melts as the sound of their voices. It is awesome. 

According to him, my daughter will be Baptist nuns and will never go on a date or to prom.  They will never need bras and won't wear lipstick. They will not be allowed to drive. We won't ever be grandparents. I just nod my head like he is so right and wise.  Secretly I am thinking, "Whatever."

You look great darling...

I am a girly girl.  Always have been.  I hope to always be.  Since I was young I can remember only wanting to wear dresses.  They are still one of my favorite things to wear. This does not mean, however, that I am a slave to fashion.  I have worked to understand my body shape and what is flattering on me.  I love color and am brave in wearing it. I pay attention to what colors and which pieces of clothes other comment on when I wear them.

As a kid, I LOVED getting a new dress for Easter!  They were better than getting a new dress for Christmas.  New shoes, a new slip, and new hair ribbons!! 

Fixing my hair and applying my makeup is enjoyable.  I have always experimented with my hair in terms of styles.  Some years ago, my husband asked me to grow it out long.  While it is not my favorite way to have my hair, it delights my husband.  (He has few requests from me, so I am happy to oblige.)  I also like experimenting with my makeup.  Thankfully, my oldest daughter is great at providing honest opinions!

Since I have a chronic and annoying condition, fibromyalgia, I use dressing nicely as a coping mechanism.  The whole process of getting dressed and fixing my hair and makeup really help me put how I feel in perspective or, on really painful days, camouflage how I feel internally. If I look nice, it helps me feel better.  Just the opposite is true too.  If I look crappy, I feel crappy.

I have a few favorite resources for help in dressing and applying makeup.  One is TLC's What Not To Wear.  Fun to watch and tons of lessons to learn. Here's a link to TLC's website for the show.

http://www.tlc.com/tv-shows/what-not-to-wear/photos/what-not-to-wear-style-rules-pictures.htm

The hosts have authored several books that are great too, including the makeup artist.  Here's some links to amazon.com.

http://www.amazon.com/Dress-Your-Best-Complete-Finding/dp/0307236714/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1371934874&sr=8-2&keywords=what+not+to+wear

http://www.amazon.com/Truth-About-Style-Stacy-London/dp/0670026239/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&qid=1371934913&sr=8-6&keywords=what+not+to+wear

http://www.amazon.com/Get-Positively-Beautiful-Ultimate-Gorgeous/dp/B005IUVJGQ/ref=la_B001H6IKLM_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1371934963&sr=1-2

I know some people do not share my opinion in how you dress matters.  Nonetheless, I truly believe it does.  Yep, it takes effort, time, attention, and money.  It doesn't have to be expensive, time consuming, or exhausting.  Because you care how you look doesn't mean you are arrogant or proud. I think it speaks volumes in terms of how one esteems oneself.  You don't have to be dressed to the nines.  You can be dresses neatly and well groomed.  You can be considerate and dress accordingly to the situation you are in or the event you are attending.

Some may think I expect everyone dress to my taste and liking. Not true. I love seeing individuality and creativity in how one dresses. I also understand that some people don't care about fashion and prefer to dress simply or have a personal uniform.  I get it.  Being well dressed doesn't mean you are wearing the latest fashion or trends.

House shoes in public?  They are called house shoes for a reason. Flip flops to a professional job? I don't think so.  Bra hanging out of your shirt?  Respect yourself. Jagged and dirty nails?  Did you just finish working in the garden?  Psh.  Please girl.

This message isn't just for the ladies.  Men listen up.  Long nails that would make Flo-Jo jealous?  Get your clippers out.  Pants too short or too long?  You height doesn't change that much over time, although your waistline may.  Chest hair popping out of your shirt?  Tuck in your gold chain and button one or two more buttons. Dude. Come on!

soap box...

I have several things that irk me.  One of those things is people misusing the word "retarded."  Come on folks.  Let's think about this.  Retarded is a technical and clinical term generally used to describe one who has moderately to profoundly impaired cognitive skills.

I have worked with many children and adults who are retarded. How rude and deplorable it is when someone uses the word retarded as an insult.  We don't use other medical terms to degrade or poke fun of others.  As with so many other things, one could do better in using vocabulary words in place of retarded.  To use that word as in insult to someone else is not acceptable.  It is cruel and beyond profoundly ridiculous.

Since most people use retarded as an insult to those cognitively impaired, please think about what you are doing. Break that habit now.  You are being mean plain and simple.

I have some news for ya...you might need to sit down.

I love, love, love my job.  My profession of speech-language pathology is  amazing.  I look forward to going to work E-V-E-R-Y day.

One part of my job is to help families cope.  For some parents, it is understanding the  basics of the child's diagnosis.  Sometimes, I feel like I have to start prepping the hearts of the parents.  To get them ready for what I know they will face in the upcoming days, months, and years.

It is not a task I take lightly. My words have to be carefully chosen. I could say something that gives hope or causes despair.  I may be the recipient of a hurting parent who is struggling with the diagnosis of their child.  It is heavy.  It is sad. It is heartfelt.  I feel so honored to be a part.

But I know that God never makes mistakes when He creates babies.  God pointed me into speech-langauge pathology as a profession.  He uses me to help families.  So honored.

PTL

I have some very exciting and happy news.  But there is a backstory.

My family attends a Baptist church.  We are christians and follow the Baptist teaching on how to become a follower in Christ.  Repent, accept Jesus as your savior, and be baptized.

For several years now, our oldest daughter has asked about being baptized.  We have always put the emphasis on repenting and accepting Jesus as your savior, as we didn't want her to only be enchanted with the baptistry and "getting dunked" at church.

I was waiting for this moment:

The girls and I were in the car at Sonic one day and the oldest, who was about 7 at the time, began asking about being baptized.  We were having a great conversation about salvation and a relationship with God.  I was keeping calm on the outside but knew my ugly cry could come on at any moment with the realization that my girl was on the verge of a huge life changing moment.  I felt like this:

(I truly am an ugly crier.)  When out of nowhere the youngest daughter (who was 5 at the time) asks "Wouldn't it be cool if we had a bunny rabbit?"

Just like that the moment was gone.  The conversation turned on a dime. The topic of having a rabbit overshadowed the readiness of a Savior.  She wasn't ready. 

Over the last year the conversation has come up several times with both girls but neither one seemed sure about making a commitment.  We didn't push.  We just waited for the time to be right, for their hearts to be ready and for them to be called by God.

The younger girl is a morning person.  At 5:30 this morning she climbed into bed with me.  (My husband leaves for work quite early in the morning.) She said she was ready.  We had a serious talk.  We prayed together and she accepted Christ as her savior.  But then she had concern regarding our pastor, Brother Charlie.

"Mom, Brother Charlie says long prayers."

"Yep. Are you worried about him saying a long prayer after your baptized?"

"YES MOM! That is a long time to be under water!"

That poor dear thought she'd be held under water for the duration of the prayer!

After the older one woke up, little sister shared her news.  My oldest daughter came to me and said she was ready too! Together, we discussed what it means to follow Christ and to be baptized.  Happily, we prayed together.

All day long I have been thinking PTL.  Praise the Lord!  I am truly blessed.

Guess what?  No ugly crying!

So blessed

Well folks, they call them like they see them.  Children that is.

Like the time my oldest daughter told me I looked like a clown after applying my makeup with some new techniques.  Busted.

Like the time I wore tennis shoes to work and my youngest asked if I was going to mow the lawn.  Ummm, no?!

Like the time one of my high school therapy kiddos asked me if I wanted a mint. "No thanks."  "Are you sure?"  "Ya.  Do I have bad breath?" "Yep."

Or like when my oldest wrote this blessing down for her grandmother's Thanksgiving wreath.

I am a dog person. Seriously.

I love dogs. All kinds, all breeds, all mutts. We had dogs growing up.  Our first dog was beagle named Frisbee. He was so cute. Our second dog was also a beagle named Babe. He could climb our chain link fence.

In junior and senior high, we had a Pekingese.  He loved charging the vacuum cleaner when someone was cleaning the house. He'd go nuts.  I was playing with him once when I was vacuuming. I totally vacuumed him up!  He had long hair and it got too close. Poor thing got sucked up and gave me a look like "you fool." He stopped charging the vacuum after that.

When my husband and I were freshly engaged, we rescued a Dalmatian-lab mix from a flooded ditch. He was named after the road we found him on, Marche.  Later, after we had our first daughter, she nicked named him Shay Shay.

Shay Shay was so sweet.  Well, expect the time he peed on my mom's leg when she was dropping me off after a shopping trip. He passed due to old age some years ago.

The hubs got me an English bulldog for our first Christmas together after we got married. I had dreamed of a bulldog for a long time. He was named Larynx Vagus. Since I am a speech-language pathologist, I chose an anatomical name. Larynx was later nick named Lear Bear. He was funny and moody. He loved when I was pregnant.  He would push his flat face on my belly and sniff.  When we introduced him to our first newborn, Larynx gave her a good sniff-over. He accidentally tore off her umbilical stump! Lear Bear lived to by a ripe age of 10!

About five years ago, I was going though a very tough personal time.  It was very hard and I was very depressed.  Knowing a lapdog would be helpful, my husband gave me my first dachshund-Soffee.  His full name is Esophagus Cricoid. He is a guardian. He doesn't like men in our home unless it is my husband. 

Pittsburg Steeler, or Steeler for short, joined the family 3 years ago. He was the runt of the litter. Don't tell him how little he is. He is a cutie pie!

This past Christmas, we bought a pup for the girls.  This little guy is Obiwan Kenobi. He is a mess. He prefers being with the other dogs more than with humans.  On our daily walks, he sure struts his stuff.  Like a BOSS.  We tried dressing him in a cute sweater in the winter. He thinks sweaters are for sissies.  He chewed that sucker off.  On Friday he literally chewed the floor off the laundry room, where they stay during the day when we are gone. Little stinker.

Talents and Gifts

I would really love to one day be a back up singer for Athera Franklin or Bonnie Raitt. Not that I can sing well, but I sure could so do some awesome back up singer dance moves.

I have always wanted a natural talent for music.  I just don't really. I often daydream of singing in church or a concert hall.  Or, sometimes in my dreams I am a great musician who can totally bring down the house.  Wouldn't that be nice?  The other night, I played "air flute" for my husband while he listened to Men at Work's "Down Under." It was totally awesome. I imagined I looked just like this, only a feminine version.

Regrettably, music is not a talent.

I took me a long time to acknowledge what my talent is.

Seriously...I can't do that. My talent is being crafty, wicked crafty. I love doing a craft-jewelry, sewing, upholstery work, paintin' stuff, and the likes. It drives my husband INSANE. I have to have some sort of project going on at all times.  So here is a short showcase of some of my crafts (please pardon the iPhone quality pictures):

This is my great-grandparents cane back sofa.  It was in great condition except for the upholstery, which was stained and faded. I found the floral and solid fabric at a crazy place called The Bargain Shack in Poteau, Oklahoma. The ikat  came from an online shop.  My mother and I worked on it for several Saturdays until it was done.  I totally love it!

I have a set of these four chairs I purchased from a yard sale years ago.  They were yellow and looked like newborn poop.  This is the second time I have recovered them. I also painted the frames this yummy chocolate.

This is another piece from my great-grandparents. It was a dresser with a mirror.  The kitchen island we had was bulky and in the way.  My husband I worked on transforming it into an island over the course of about a week's time. We bought a piece of granite to finish it off.  I totally love it! We removed the two upper drawers and knocked out the supports, painted it glossy black, changed out the hardware, put it on casters, and added the molding around the bottom.

My oldest daughter is really crafty too.  I am constantly impressed with her use of materials and what she fashions out of them.  She loves to take something and improve it. She made new furniture for her Barbie house over the Christmas break. Once she made an awesome dog apartment out of boxes for our 3 weenie dogs.  Here is a recent creative embellishment-

I am sure Xavier Roberts would be proud.

Curly curls

I love curly hair!  I had cute curls when I was a baby. Then I had wavy hair as a girl.  By the time I was in high school, I was blow drying it straight everyday.

In college I cut my long hair very short.  I found out I had curly hair again!  By the way, I have THE best hair dresser in the world.  She stared doing my  hair when she was in beauty school, back in '92.  Heather is wonderful.

My hair's length changes often. I like growing it long and then cutting it shorter again.  After having my second baby, my hair's texture really changed.  It became more curly and more resistant to being straightened. It was easier to embrace the curls and wear it curly all the time.

Recent I found a great website for girls with curls:
http://www.naturallycurly.com

You can take a quiz to find out what kind of curl you have and then get recommendations on what kind of products to use on your hair.  It has great information! If you don't know what to do with your wavy or curly hair, this could be a great resource for you.

The top picture is from over the winter, pre shorter do and prior to finding some great products. Isn't my husband dreamy?!

The middle shot is after a long day at work and sporting my new glasses.

The bottom one is from yesterday. (Why, yes! I am wearing a hospital gown. Thanks for noticing.  I had to see a dermatologist regarding a severe skin rash.  I was waiting for her to come in and examine me.)

So I am now totally hooked on products from this company, Shea Moisture. Fantastic stuff. I found it at Walgreens in the black hair care section.  For anyone with curly hair, you learn it doesn't matter where you find the product, curly hair is curly hair. 

Random, I know.  That's kinda of how my mind works.

Contents Under Pressure

"Contents under pressure." Remember reading this on a can for the first time as a child?  I had no clue what it meant. Of course, when you read it "content under pressure" it has a whole different meaning.

Do you ever feel you can be content when you are under pressure?  Some people do their best work when they are under tremendous pressure.  You know those "do it at the last minute" junkies. I had friends like that in high school and college.  They just were waiting until, literally, the last minute to get assignments done and tests studied for.

Pressure makes me nervous. I like to have things thought out ahead of time. To review and review again.  And I like having the time to ask someone else's opinion or advise. Mulling over what to do will help spark a genius idea for me.  Then I run with it! Sometimes, I can't run fast enough to stay caught up with the idea or plan.

You have heard of all the negative press causes: bed sores, uneven skulls in infants, sagging body parts, and busted water lines.  Negative peer pressure can help a young person make a bad mistake, like smoking or underage drinking.

Have you heard of the positive things pressure causes?  Diamonds.  A good massage. No jiggle when you walk in a tight dress.

Ok, so now I want for you to think of how pressure, when given correctly and timely, can produce good results.  Let's think of the human body.  I have a buddy with severe cerebral palsy.  He has been in a wheelchair for his whole life.  The lack of proper pressure on his body has resulted in his body not forming correctly.  His limbs are poorly developed, with his hips note being formed symmetrically.

So think, we were made for pressure.  Literally, our bodies were designed to undergo pressure in order for a well made adult body to form over the course of time. If our bodies were made like this, I think so were our emotions and neurological skills.

We can NOT expect to fully develop without pressure.  It is useful. It is helpful. It is necessary.

Next time you are in a pressured situation, remember, contents are under pressure, but the label didn't say they would burst...