Author: MenayO

Doing more

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I’ve been thinking about my job lately.  I really like what I do but I’ve been wondering is there more I could be doing with myself? This job right now is part time. I wanted more hours and I was given a few more hours, but now I want even more. What do I want to do?  Stay in nursing for sure. This is coming from  someone who for years stayed as far away from that profession as I could.  It is what I was trained to do all those years ago and it is what I’m more than likely to get to get a job as. I have no desire to return to school and be trained for anything else.  I have changed. I’m no longer the anxiety riddled mess I was years ago. I have more self confidence. I don’t feel like I am hiding from being a nurse anymore.

I truly believe God has a plan for me. I’ll be praying for guidance and direction. And he won’t let me down. The most difficult is waiting on His timing. God’s timing is often different than ours but His timing is best.

I’ll soon be on the hunt. The upside is I’m enjoying what I’m doing while searching. Not a position I’ve seen myself in often.

Time flying

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I think about how fast time flew by while raising my children, well still raising 2 and will always be a guardian to one. My Lelly is 15 years old.  She was my “baby ” for the five years between her and Samantha. It’s funny because even after I had Lelly and things were so, so frantic with Thomas undiagnosed I didn’t feel “done”. If anyone asked I always answered that I’d have another. Then I would get the side eye glance but I didn’t care. Don’t ask if you don’t want an honest answer, not that it was anyone’s business anyway.

So anyway time flying by…I see and meet so many first time moms and young families at my work. Of course I remember myself in their shoes and I didn’t believe anyone who said “enjoy them… time goes by really fast”.  I distinctly remember when Thomas a baby and I wanted time to stop. I enjoyed him as a baby so much maybe because he was our first? Probably.  Before the crap hit the fan with neurologist visits, moulding helmet fittings, MRI’s, early intervention, physical therapy, etc… Our life with Thomas was incredibly sweet. He was a great baby, he smiled a lot, napped on schedule and was all around an easy, happy baby.  I knew I wanted more kids after him.

So here we are 20 years and 3 more kids later. The magic of being that young family long gone. And that’s ok. I do like our life now. My husband and I communicate better now than we did in our younger years, my kids are for the most part independent; Samantha being almost 10 is busting out to be as independent as we will let her. Now I feel totally “done” and I’m enjoying this stage of of life. I have no desire to go back to the days when my kids were young. Being on that roller coaster once was enough.  Being so “done” makes me enjoy my job all the more. I get to see these little babies, sometimes hold them, most times coo and talk to them and enjoy toothless smiles and then give them back to their parents or wave goodbye after we’re finished.

I like the young families I get to visit with. I do tell them to watch out because time does go so fast. They nod as I nodded way back then not fully understanding that time will fly and fly fast. That that baby they’re holding will grow up in what seems like it’s taking forever some days and other days your head is spinning with the quickness of it all. There have been a few times at work I’ll stumble upon a special needs mom and we immediately bond. That is by far the coolest I’ve ever experienced. I know for that moment I’m in the midst of the planning that God made possible.

 

 

 

 

 

My own little world

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We celebrated Alyssa’s birthday the other night by going out to dinner at a local family owned Italian restaurant. After dinner we walked the boardwalk of one of our local beaches. It was Tommy and I, the girls and Alyssa’s boyfriend, Sam. We had such a great time and it occurred to me that I always wanted our family to be almost it’s own entity. Our own little universe and world. The other night I realized I’ve got what I always wanted, or rather I’ve always had what I always wanted. My world begins and ends with my family. This is the way it should be.

I think back to when I was younger I didn’t recognize this wonderful group of people as being my whole world. I felt claustrophobic in dealing with Thomas’ issues and the way he was. I wished for a more “normal” family/world. I was envious of other families and wondered why was mine the way it was?  I never looked to change the girls, they were wonderfully typical (by girls I refer to Alyssa and Lelly, this was before Samantha was introduced to our world). I was fortunate that I found a wonderful online support system to help me with Thomas. And I’m even more fortunate that I’ve been able to meet just about every single person of that support system in person. Most recently, I had lunch in Manhattan with my dear friend Wendy who was in town from California.

I believe our “worlds” are fluid. People moving in and out. Even family members choose to drift out much to our disappointment. However, I don’t often believe the fluidity to be intentional. People move in to our lives/worlds for an amount of time and they move on. The only constant in our own universe consists of the core and we all know who our core are. The other night on the boardwalk I felt like we were our own bubble of family. Minus Thomas. The times I feel the most complete as a mini universe is when we’re all together. And I look forward to him moving to this group home so we can be complete more of the time.

 

Work and “the city”

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I was in the city yesterday for work. I had such a great day at work. I met really nice people and the babies who came in to get their ears pierced were adorable and each did really well with the procedure. One family even brought me the most delicious piece of crumb cake sealed in a plastic single serving container. I just looked at them wide eyed and said, “No way…Thank you!”. They were a great family besides the cake, very down to earth and they loved cracking jokes.

I love being in the city. I love the anonymity you have walking down the street. I’ve been thankful that I’ve had nothing but uneventful visits to Manhattan except this one time last week when I was walking from the R train to the Ferry Terminal. I had a sweater thrown over the opening of my bag. This guy on a bicycle came flying by; caught his handle bar on my sweater and then he flew over his bike and did an awesome tucked up somersault to the ground. It was as if he had lessons on falling off his bike. Someone screamed, I froze and watched the whole thing. I asked the guy if he was alright (he literally jumped back to his feet after the somersault) and told him he was caught on my sweater. He said, “Well…it’s very windy out” which it was but still… He said he was fine and we were both on our way. Definitely odd and eventful.

I really don’t mind the commute to the city for my job. I love meeting people from literally all over the world. NYC is definitely a melting pot. I’ve met so many parents from many different cultures and their children are simply beautiful coming from such an array of backgrounds. I’ve also learned and/or picked up on how different cultures act towards each other and their children and that’s interesting. Nothing bad or adverse, just different depending on the culture. When these parents meet me it’s for a specific purpose and I’m kind of chatty so I’ll get them talking too most of the time. There are quite a few first time parents who are so nervous my heart goes out to them. I remember being in their shoes.

I’ve applied to quite a few part time jobs. I don’t necessarily want to leave my job I do like it there and I really like my boss. I simply want more money. I would love even more hours at this current job even though have been given another day. I have a suspicion that I’m exactly where God wants me to be right now. I’ve heard nothing back from over 10 jobs I’ve applied for. Maybe my resume needs a tune up, yes I’m sure it does.

I go back to work in a couple of days. Hopefully this heat wave will break and my commute will be even better with great weather. The ferry is always breezy being on the water, the subway platforms on the other hand can be quite brutal. Even so I still don’t mind. I get to visit and walk the greatest city on Earth and be a part of the living breathing population of NYC.

 

It’s getting real…

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Yesterday I received a phone call from the agency that owns the group home that we are interested in for Thomas. They wanted to visit him at his school and also have Thomas visit the group home himself to ensure he is a good match. My heart stopped for a minute. Then I realized I’m nervous for him. This will be a big transition. And I have to say this is the first time I’ve been anxious for Thomas to make such a big change. All the other times he’s had to be living in residential we were in crisis mode. Thomas wasn’t safe to be around. Today he’s a different person, the residential school he’s been in has literally been a Godsend; an answer to prayer for him and us. The Lord made it happen for this school to be “the one” for our family.

I’ve written about this before but when we were waiting for Thomas to be admitted to residential 4 years ago, this school was the only one who called me back. I had been calling all the schools on the “list” where his packet was sent by the Board of Ed. and I was discouraged because either no one was calling me back or the ones that did call me back weren’t appropriate for my son. Things were not pleasant here at home, and Thomas was in and out of the psych hospital. Finally one morning after I dropped Samantha at school and went for a walk I came home to the phone ringing. I didn’t want to answer it but forced myself to. It was the school that was to become Thomas’ home for the next 4 years. Turns out they were looking at IQ scores from years ago and they thought Thomas was too high functioning for them. I quickly corrected their error and they were then reviewing the most current evaluations for Thomas. Long story short, Tommy and I visited the school and we loved it. After a couple of bumps in the road Thomas was admitted and we’ve all been happy with Thomas there for the past 4 years. The staff has been wonderful and attentive, his teacher (the same one since day one) has gone out of his way to encourage only the best from my son.

So now the transition begins. I’m still in awe at how the Lord works. He arranged for Thomas to be placed where he is now and His fingerprints are all over this group home placement. I just happened to mention to my bible study co leader that I was being pressured to accept group home placement in other boroughs. Trish then gave me the phone number of the group home agency, I explained to him our situation and the next thing I knew Tommy and I were visiting a group home 10 minutes from our house! When the Lord has a plan there is nothing that will stand in His way. And the way He orchestrates events is nothing short of mind blowing.

So now things are getting real. There are meetings to be had concerning Thomas’ school placement for his last year of being educated by the Board of Ed. I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to enroll and pay for him to attend public school as opposed to residential school. Things won’t happen overnight, but I’m sure I’ll be surprised at how fast and quick time will pass and I’ll pray for Thomas to make a smooth transition and be as resilient as ever when he moves from one residence to another.

Saying Thank You

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I recently wrote a thank you note to my doctor. It’s the first time I’ve ever done that or rather the first time I ever felt the overwhelming “want” to. It’s not to say I haven’t had great doctors in my life but this one saved my life.

This doctor is my psychiatrist. I chose this doctor when I was in the middle of a horrible depression. Horrible. He listened to me, asked a ton of questions and was never  surprised by my answers even though *I* was surprised by my answers. And to have those answers be true… No. I wasn’t supposed to be in there in that spot.

I adamantly refused medication with the exception of an anti anxiety med. A mild dose that worked wonders for the anxiety but did nothing for the depression. I carried on like that for a couple of months. After a while I couldn’t stand the way I was feeling anymore.  We then discussed antidepressants. And I started my roller coaster of med trials and dealing with side effects, some more troublesome than others.  This went on for 2 years. Some meds did work for a while then stop or peter off. Some I had to give a full trial time of about 6 weeks only to report back that there was no effect good or bad. It was a crap shoot I felt.

It wasn’t until March 2015 did he finally hit the right combo and added an antidepressant I hadn’t trialed before. My mood was great I hadn’t felt like myself in so long I welcomed myself back. I can’t tell you the awe I felt to actually be in a good mood again. To not be a anxiety riddled depressed shell of a person.

My husband noticed that I was “happy” and I was/am. I joke and laugh with my kids. I can laugh at myself and I no longer fill my head with horrible untrue statements.

I say that I chose this doctor but in truth he was chosen for me. Dr. L was originally treating my son and I adored him for Thomas. When the crap hit the fan for me and I really needed a doctor, I chose Dr. L. He was put in my life,  in my path for a reason. Not soon after he was treating Thomas did Thomas go to residential school.

So today I wrote Dr. L. a thank you note. I thanked him for believing I would beat the depression when I didn’t believe it myself. I let him know I’m in such a better place right now and it is because of him.

 

She’s 18

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My Alyssa, my YaYa (nickname courtesy of Daniella), our Deedle (nickname courtesy of Thomas). Whatever we call her we’re so proud of her. She made it through high school while enrolled in a very difficult honor’s program, the International Baccalaureate Program or simply “IB”. I hardly heard her complain about the work, she is one my children that never made it our business that she had a project or paper due, she just did her work and I see Daniella following in her footsteps.

So Alyssa is legally an adult, legal to get any piercing, tattoo or other body adornment. I won’t stop her if she does decide to do any of the above, I will however give my opinion and any pearls of wisdom from first hand experience, asked for or not. I’m optimistic she will make “good” choices.

I can remember the day she was born like it was yesterday the way we all can reminisce about that day for any of our children. I chose to not have the epidural and looking back I know I didn’t need it. My labor was pretty short and the delivery was very quick. When the midwife announced “It’s a girl!” I was in shock of disbelief. My husband is one of 3 boys so I figured I’d never have a girl.  Alyssa was so pink! And everyone who stopped by to see me exclaimed that she was so pretty. (I used to work at the hospital I gave birth in, I had many visitors of former co-workers). I thought everyone was just being “nice” but when I looked back at photos I knew they were telling the truth.She really was a pretty baby.

So now she’s 18 years old. She’s still has a pink complexion and she’s still pretty. Stunning if you ask me but I’m prejudiced. I see some of my husband in her face and she certainly did not inherit her long, ridiculously thick hair from me. She carries herself with grace and is one to dress pretty modestly. I can’t think of one instance where I made her change her clothes before going out or going to school. Adolescence/tween years were not fun; in fact I even called my mother to apologize for my own behavior at that age. Thankfully that time was short lived and by age 14 or so she was back to being our Yaya. Alyssa loves the Lord and isn’t afraid to openly worship Him. I love when she picks me up from work and she’s listening to Christian music, it makes my heart happy.

I wish for the world to be kind to this new adult, this young woman of mine; well mine for now.

And just like that…

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And just like that today my boy turns 20. What’s sweet is that I have friends who remember me pregnant and remember my son when he was born. My husband and I have a good friend who is a big guy, we’re talking 6’3″ approximately and he’s no skinny drink of water. When we brought Thomas home from the hospital and Thomas would sit in that bouncy chair, our friend would pick up the whole chair with Thomas in it to see him. I’m guessing he wasn’t comfortable holding a small baby. It was so funny and the memory still  makes me smile.

And just like that my son was this happy, smiley baby. I love to think back and remember what he was like before the proverbial crap hit the fan. Before all the doctors and specialists, trips to Manhattan, MRI, CAT scan…When Thomas  and Tommy and I were our own little family. Optimistic and happy and close and together. Because Thomas was such a good baby we took him everywhere. I remember my inlaws were dying to babysit but I wouldn’t leave him, I never felt I had to. Thomas made me grow up. He made me a mom and me made me an advocate. He made me who I am today.

And just like that my son grew up. He went from baby to toddler to little boy, and so on. He wasn’t an easy child to parent but we did the best we could with what we knew. Tommy and I weren’t perfect I’ll never say we were.

And just like that Thomas is 20. He’s still easy going in his own way and when he smiles he makes you feel like a million bucks. He’s still teaching me ways to grow and I’m still learning.

20 Years.

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My son turns 20 in a couple of days. That freaks me out a bit. It means that 20 years ago he made me a mom for the very first time. An important milestone.  He was the very first baby I ever took care of without waiting for their own mom to come home; *I* was the mom. No instruction manual…no giving him back. He was mine, all mine. I remember freaking out when Thomas was about a week old or so. Tommy and I were on our way to take Thomas to see Tommy’s grandmother. I was crying and crying that maybe we had Thomas too soon, maybe we made a mistake. Tommy calmly said that it was too late for that don’t you think? Thomas was here. I think I felt very alone when I said that. Tommy made me feel that he was with me that we were in this together and I calmed down.

20 years ago we didn’t have cell phones like we had now. I had gotten Tommy a beeper when I was pregnant with Thomas. I was working as a nurse and Tommy was working at a family owned heating and air conditioning company and out on the road constantly. So he wasn’t easy to get a hold of in an emergency. I had one such “emergency” when I was about 7ish months pregnant. I had pains like right at the top of my uterus/stomach. Since I worked at the hospital I was planning to give birth at the nurse manager sent me right down to Labor and Delivery unit. It was determined that I had “uterine irritability” and they gave me a some IV fluids and sent me home. Tommy was out with friends and I was beeping him “911” with the hospital’s phone number. He came right away.  By the time they sent me home it was 3 am (I worked the over night shift). We went to the bagel store, got some freshly made bagels, went home, made bacon and then went to bed. Funny how you remember somethings to the exact detail.

I gave birth in the hospital and Thomas was perfect, I remember he had these perfect pursed lips and I couldn’t help but kiss them. I had the typical newborn pictures taken while in the hospital. I remember within just a couple of days he didn’t look anything like those pictures. My mother was a huge help. Tommy stayed home a week with me and then went back to work. My mother would come over and help me with breastfeeding (she is a certified Lactation Consultant), fold my laundry, go for walks with me and Thomas in the carriage. I don’t know what I would have done without her. None of my friends had kids/babies. I was one of the youngest nurses on my unit so all my friends at work had older kids, I wasn’t friendly with anyone who had a baby. I was home from work for 4 months. I don’t know what I would have done without my mother and her constant reassuring presence. My dad told me I no longer had an identity I was now “Thomas’ mom” and he was right. To this day when I call Thomas’ school I say this is “Thomas’ mom” and they all know who I am.

20 years. It did go fast.

 

 

 

Shoes

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Shoes. I’ve been in love with shoes since I’m 17 years old. I learned early on what a great looking pair of shoes could do to any outfit. They can elevate a simple dress or common jeans and tee. A crappy looking pair can take down the most expensive, elegant clothing one can possibly own. I’m constantly checking out people’s shoes. The style, whether they “go” with certain clothing and let’s not forget the fit. Tis the season for sandals and flip flops and it never ceases to amaze me how many women will walk around wearing open toe shoes/sandals/heels that are obviously a size too small. I’m taking toes and foot hanging over the side. Toes touching the ground. It’s especially disturbing in Manhattan I mean New York is one of the fashion capitals of the world…

Years ago I wouldn’t go to work unless I was wearing heels. I used to work in an auto parts store and I loved dressing for work. It wasn’t strange to be a woman working there, my boss felt men/customers  behaved better if there was a woman present. That there would be less cursing and off color remarks. I guess he was right I never felt disrespected when I worked there. Although my co-workers and I shared many politically incorrect jokes and remarks to each other. We wouldn’t get away with it today.

I even wore heels when I worked at the allergist’s office giving allergy shots. I was known for my shoes and I loved it. I wasn’t on my feet for the whole time I would be up and down sitting so wearing heels was doable.

Today going to work I’ll only wear flats. I see plenty of women going to work in Manhattan wearing heels and I admire them.  I don’t see myself running for the boat or subway in heels. The need for comfort has taken over… When I see my almost 18 year old daughter going out and wearing heels I admire her so much. I love her style. She reminds me of me at that age when you never felt the pain of the high heels. You chose beauty over comfort.

I do have some heels left in my vast shoe collection, they just don’t see the light of day that often. Maybe that will change; maybe not.