Uncommon Julia

Adjusting

(Cross-posted from the PW-protected blog.)  Hannah is adjusting amazingly well to kindergarten.  She loves the school, seems to get along with all her classmates, gets nothing but stars for good behavior, and even enjoys her after-school program.

The biggest challenge I've faced so far was the fact that she was so clearly overstimulated in the afternoons when I'd pick her up.  Every day, she comes out of that after school program skipping, jumping, talking non-stop, singing, waving goodbye to friends, asking a million questions, running in circles - and that's in the five minutes it takes me to say hi and sign her out.

No sooner would we get in the car and buckle our seat belts, than Hannah would pick a fight. She'd ask a question she knew I'd respond to negatively, and before I could even pull away from the curb she'd be in full-on melt-down mode.

She did this for the first four days.

I know that kids - especially HSPs - take in a lot of stimulation all day and need a safe place to release all the tension and worry and fear and anger of the day.  That safe place is often their parent, who isn't going anywhere no matter how ugly they get toward them. But still. I'm only human, and acting as a lightning rod for her daily frustration simply wasn't a viable option.

I told Dr. Luz about the situation and she had a great suggestion.  Hannah needed some sort of transition activity or ritual.  Something that helped her acknowledge that she was returning home and switching from one set of rules and people to another. 

So I chose a song that friend had put in a compilation for me.  It's not the most obvious kid's choice.  It's a little punk-meets-pop-meets-girl-power-anger - The Ting Ting's "Shut Up and Let Me Go".

I explained to Hannah that it wasn't okay to pick a fight with Mama every day after school. That I understood she was worked up and over-excited from her long day at school, but that we needed a way to get out that anger and frustration that wasn't mean or hurtful.  I explained that we would listen to this song every day as soon as she got in the car, and that she could scream it and sing and be as loud as she wanted to, but that this was the only time she was allowed to say, "shut up."

It was like a freakin' miracle.

Since then, she hasn't picked any fights.  Except, of course, for the one day I couldn't get the CD to cooperate.

I just had to share.  If you've got your own tricky transitions, I'd look for a magic bullet song or activity of your own.

Things You Would Know About Me, If You'd Met Me In Person

Considering BlogHer '09 is coming up, and I'm about to meet some of you face-to-face, mano-a-mano, up close and personal, I thought it might be appropriate if I shared a few pertinent details that you probably wouldn't know just by reading my blog.

1. I'm a hair-twirler.

Most people find this highly annoying.  I can't blame them.  So far as I can remember, this particular habit started in junior high.  At the very least, I remember my pre-calculus classmates threatening to launch an intervention if I couldn't for-the-love-of-God stop twirling my hair!  It gets worse when I'm intensely focused or deep in thought (hence, the pre-cal troubles).  It doesn't seem to matter if my hair is short or long, curly or straight - I twirl away.  My apologies in advance, should you find yourself seated behind me in a conference room.

2. I fidget.

This may seem redundant.  But I have many other fidgeting habits distinct from the hair twirling.  Top on this list is leg bouncing or toe-twiddling.  Though it may look like I'm just twisting my foot around, I'm actually drawing pictures or tracing lines in the air with my toes.  No really.  I'm assuming this is directly tied to my visual-spatial learning, because I also do this more when I'm thinking.  I pick something in my line of sight (not consciously) and begin to trace it with my foot.  Lovely, aren't I?!

3. I'm great with faces, bad with names.

Hello, visual-spatial!  You can tell me nine times, but unless I see it written out or can attach your name to a particularly interesting story (or, in the case of fellow bloggers, your blog design), I will not be able to recall your name.  I will, however, be able to tell you 15 years later that you look familiar and that I'm sure we know each other somehow.  Good thing for name tags and business cards. 

4. I have persistent melasma.

Wait!  Come back!  It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise.  Melasma is more commonly known as the "mask of pregnancy".  It's darker pigmentation on the face, and in my case, i looks like I've got one very large freckle covering each check.  And it's getting worse.  I'm getting some freckling within the melasma, and as of last week I noticed it on my chin, too.  I fit none of the risk factors for melasma - I'm not dark-skinned or hirsute, I never had it as a result of birth control pills, and I never had melasma during pregnancy until Hannah.  It went away a few months after her birth, and then returned when I was pregnant with Caroline, at which point it decided to get comfy and stay.

My mom claims that you can't see it, and make-up does a fairly good job of covering it, but I'm beginning to think it's getting worse.  My proof: When asked if he thought it was getting worse, Todd immediately responded, "Yeah."  Todd.  Oblivious Todd.  If he notices, it must be obvious.

I've done a little poking around online, and sadly, there aren't really any effective treatments.  Feel free to refer to me as Spot when we meet.

5. I seem taller than I really am.

I like to think it's because I carry myself well.  But it's probably got more to do with my proportions.  People will regularly say, "You're what, 5'10"?"  And I give them the forlorn eyebrow and say, "I wish.  More like 5'7"."  Not that that's short by any stretch (heh!).  It's just not tall-tall.

6. ... Until I sit down.

This is most definitely a consequence of my proportions.  Despite my best effort, I suddenly seem like a pygmy when seated.  I hate board room meetings for this very reason.  I enter the room proud, confident, commanding.  And then I sit.  And feel like a second-grader on Bring Your Child to Work Day.  Other people have asked me why I was given the short chair at restaurants, or what was wrong with my bar stool.  Nothing.  I just have the torso of a 4'9" person.

7. My voice is higher pitched than you expected.

In fairness, you would know this if you listened to that interview on Ghetto Geeks, or the videos of me crooning at my girls.  Still, I know it surprises folks.  It even surprises me when I hear myself recorded.  Trust me, inside my head, I have a much more grown-up voice.

8. My wardrobe is low on cute, coordinated outfits.

I'm glad the conference is only four days.  Because that's the longest consecutive span of days I've been out in public.  Since, like, 2002.

9. I cry easily.

Say something really sweet and nice, and I'll probably tear up.  Say something mean or careless, and I'm guaranteed to cry.  Tell me a story about something cute, fuzzy, patriotic, selfless, inspiring, funny, witty, or related to mothers and/or grandmothers, and I'll cry.  Catch me off guard or try to scare me, and I'll not only cry, I'll freak right the 'eff out and scream at you.  (Ask Todd, he knows.)  I'm going to go out on a limb and venture that this is related to being a Highly Sensitve Person.  Don't worry, I'll be alright.

10. You tell me.

I couldn't come up with a 10th item.  But I'm sure there's something.  If you've never met me, take a guess.  And if you have, what did you learn that you wouldn't have known just from reading this blog?

Mish Mash Mush

My apologies, but my mind has dissolved into a cloud of ... hm? Wha?  I'm sorry, I've lost my train of thought.

I'm in one of those incapacitated states that comes with overload.  I've got too much going on, too many thoughts roaming free range, and not enough sleep or energy to deal with them properly.  So you're going to get yet another jumble of updates, instead of a nice, orderly, thematic post.

My bad.

Scorpions, and how I loathe them.
Seriously, seriously, seriously hate them.  The are anathema to my peace of mind.  Case in point: two nights ago, I went in to get Caroline at about 5:30 a.m. because she was fussing.  I bent over to pick her up and as I lifted her, I caught sight of a GIANT, VERY ACTIVE SCORPION on her wall ABOVE HER CRIB!  As in, ABOVE WHERE I LAY HER WEE FUZZY HEAD TO SLEEP EACH AND EVERY NIGHT!  I'm sorry, am I SCREAMING?!  GOOD, because DAMN! A SCORPION COULD HAVE EATEN MY BABY!

I dispatched Todd to kill the SOB, and kept Caroline in our bed for the rest of the morning.  Clearly, there was no other choice.

We had the house treated about a week ago, but those buggers are tenacious.  My friend, Em, who's company did the treating, said they have to actually come out and get all cozy with the poison before it can work.  And then, because of their exoskeleton, it takes a good long while to actually kill them.  We've seen four scorpions since that treatment.  It's summer, and it's freakin' surface-of-the-sun hot here, so it's not surprising.  Yet somehow, I derive no comfort from that.

Speaking of cribs
Caroline got so pissed off the other night when I insisted on putting her back in her crib to sleep, instead of the comfy crook of my arm during my extremely limited alone time (was watching Gran Tornino, by the way, which was great), that she CLIMBED OUT OF THE CRIB, OPENED THE DOOR, and OVER TO MY BED!

Am I yelling again?  Sorry.  But !!!  and also, ?!?!?!

She hasn't repeated this stunt, but I do think the clock is ticking on the cribs life expectancy.  I'm really not looking forward to a big girl bed for Caroline.  Here's why:

1. Cost
Even at the cheapest scenario I've worked out, we're looking at a new bed frame, mattress, and bedding.
2. Mobility
Clearly, Caroline has no qualms with exiting a bed - or a room, for that matter.  I have visions of her climbing into Hannah's bed to jump on her head, throw toys at her, or generally perturb her peaceful slumber.  See also, our peaceful slumber.
3. She's my baby
4. Did I mention she can't be old enough for this yet?

Designy
When I get all mushy-brained like this, I like to do visual creative stuff.  That's the technical term for photography or (unpaid) design.  Stuff that's just for fun and not under any sort of deadline.  I'm thinking of redesigning this blog.  In fact, I'm thinking of redesigning it on a semi-regular basis.  Without, you know, committing to anything.

I want to work up some invitations to Caroline's second birthday party (!!!), but she won't pause long enough for a decent photo!  I'll have to make a more concerted effort to chase her down this week.

Speaking of parties
I think we're either doing a plain-Jane birthday party at home or a party at the local pool for Caroline.  It's hot as Hades, so the pool sounds nice and comes with the added benefit of no home cleaning.  But it's also a bit of a pain to watch lots of kids at a pool, what with all the potential drowning, etc.  Good thing I've got so much time to decide!  Hey, wait... dammit!

"Surviving and Thriving"
I was interviewed by the local business journal last week for a story about strategies freelancers are using to "survive and thrive" in the recession.  At first, I had to laugh, because I wasn't sure I really had any "strategies".  But after I sat down and thought about it, there is a certain method to my madness.  The interview went well and the story should run in a couple of weeks.  It'll give me some nice exposure.

It was also good to step back and look at my career, outside the framework of our household financial situation.  My work is in full swing, and this year is really a banner year for me.  I only wish I could take that perspective more often.

Two-Income Family
Todd has his first closing of the year tomorrow, and I'm so, so, so glad.  I'll yell if that's what it takes to prove it.  He's also seeing a teeny bit of an upswing in the amount of work - putting in offers, taking clients around, hearing promises of "have to" moves.  But we'll all breathe a big sigh of relief when all that activity actually turns into MONEY.  He's still looking on all fronts, though, for those of you wondering.

Photography
Have you been looking at the flickr account from my client portfolio?  It's over there on the left.  There's some cute new pictures from recent sessions.  Just in case you're interested.

BlogHer '09 preparations
Do I need cards for my blog?  Hm.  Something else to design.

No church just yet.
I didn't make it to the Episcopal church on Sunday.  Todd was out late (won some money playing poker) and the girls slept in, and, well, so did I.  But I do have a nice little game plan in place and a list 'o churches to check off.

What's for dinner?
No, really.  What are you making?  And when will you get here?

Oooohh... Sparkly!

The visual-spatial learner in me practically wets herself over articles like this one.  Imagine!  A whole world where information is presented in visual terms! Ah, a girl can dream.

Here's a site that combines my two favorites, words and visuals: Wordle makes word clouds from your favorite URLs or from chunks of text.  Not a bad analysis tool for those of you who're curious about your content - professional or otherwise.  Here's mine from this morning:

I like it.  I think my poem likely skewed the word count a bit, but I'm pleased (and maybe a bit surprised) that nothing negative jumps off the page.  I should do this once a month as a gut check on my general outlook.

Cloistered

Sometimes, you have to save yourself.  Shield yourself.  And yesterday, I did.

I'm sure everyone in the entire inter-hood, mothers and non-mothers alike, heard about the death of 17-month-old Maddie Sphor yesterday.  The terribly sad news flew around the internet with spectacular speed, and every social media application out there was abuzz with support, concern, and prayers. 

I could not even bring myself to read about it.  Just to know that it happened was horrible enough.  Before learning that my sensitivity is an actual, verifiable thing - and not just me being a wuss - I would have forced myself to read the details.  I would have sent personal messages, spread the word, rallied support, and spoken of it to my in-person friends.

But now, armed with a bit more information, I know that that, for me, is a dangerous path.  Given my current stress levels, and the likelihood that it would trigger a bit of a PTSD flashback, it simply wasn't wise..

So I didn't read, didn't follow, didn't respond.  And I think I'm okay with that.

Simply horrific things happen every single moment of every day.  I've had more than a few  of those myself.  And my empathy is simply too deeply hardwired to go around immersing myself in tragedy.

It's sort of weird that I feel tempted to.  Or maybe it's not.  My drive to "be there" for others in their time of need is strong - and can be overwhelming.  I'm glad that I have permission, in the form of all I've learned about being a Highly-Sensitive Person, to bow out from time to time.

To be clear (though I hope you already assumed this about me), the Spohr family was in my prayers and continues to be.  I know that I will continue to make myself available to women and families who reach out to me - so if you're out there, know that that is okay.

But I'm pretty proud of myself for stepping back when I saw the warning signs.  Maybe I've actually learned a trick or two along the way.

Rainy Day Thoughts

The weather really does a number on me.  I think it's probably tied to being a highly sensitive person.  Let's just say I could not hang in the Pacific Northwest.  Or the Northeast. Or Canada.  Or large swathes of Europe, Russia, either pole, or the southernmost reaches of South America.  You get my drift.

I'm a sunshine and warmth kind of girl.  Don't get me wrong, I like rain.  Especially out here on the tin roof (okay - galvanized metal).  But it doesn't take long before all the gloom and glum begins to impact my psyche.  And I hit that point this morning.

It's making my everyday decisions and tasks more difficult to face.  Taxes seem worse, job decisions seem harder and less clear cut, my kids seem adorable, but simultaneously out to destroy me.

So, I'll make a list of the good to try and counterbalance:

1. Taxes. I had our 2007 return reviewed, and while we will owe a bit more, it's not nearly the $3K they thought.  Plus, it'll take the IRS a good while to recalculate.

2. The job with the real estate team is Todd's if he wants it.  There are some aspects that aren't as great as they initially seemed, but still, we might get slightly cheaper, slightly better health insurance out of it.

3. Hannah is hilarious. And getting so grown up.

4. Caroline is napping nicely.

5. Hm. Well... let's not go overboard shall we?

OH! I know! I have images up on ImageKind, so if you'd like some lovely art for your home or notecards or whatnot, take a looksee.  I'll continue to add more prints, too.

One bummer and I'll shut up: It looks like BlogHer may sell out long before I get a chance to raise the needed funds.  And that just plain sucks.

I Feel Your Pain

The past few months has been really eye-opening for me.  Ever since I began to wonder if I might have a form a dyslexia, much of my self-perception began to change.  Of course, when I finally blogged about it, and consequently learned I am a visual-spatial learner (with a touch of dyslexia thrown in for good measure) who also happens to have ordinal linguistic personification (it still cracks me up that there's a name for that particular brand of "special") - well, my head nearly exploded from all the paradigm shifts. 

A couple of weeks ago, I called on my therapist for some as-needed sessions (yay for beginning to recognize when to say "uncle").  I told her about the visual-spatial learning and how it went a long way toward explaining why I feel compelled to "write the end of the story" - something she had previously admonished me not to do.  Because I process information holistically (all at once, not step-by-step), it's almost impossible for me not to fill in the blanks of the future.  For me, life is a series of stories.  And If I can't have the end of the novel, well, I will at least make an educated guess about the end of the chapter I'm living in.  And when something or someone radically alters the ending I've written, in effect, ripping out the end of the story, well, I get a little frantic.

No wonder my attempts to be zen and "in the moment" fail so miserably!  I always feel like I'm the person peeking during prayer to see what's going on while everyone has their eyes closed.  My head is always filled with, "Yes, but what's in the next moment?!"

My therapist was really excited to have this knowledge and was able to reasses some of the things we'd been doing in a way that makes more sense for me.  Of course, being a visual-spatial learner entails all sorts of other traits, too, and I also mentioned the high degree of empathy as something that really resonated with me.

Then a light bulb turned on for her.  She asked me some questions about empathy and sensitivity and then refered me to this site on Highly Sensitive People (HSPs).  (I know - the name sound unspeakably goofy, but she has good reason to use it.)  So I took yet another quiz and was amazed at the accuracy of the description.  Apparently, being highly sensitive (not just emotional) is a neurolgoical phenomenon and a verifiable character trait - not just a flaw I need to overcome.

And the two (visual-spatial learning and being highly sensitive) seem, in my layman's eye to be very interrelated.  Being more right-brained, knowing things without knowing why, feeling what others feel (not just knowing what they might feel given the specifics of a situation, but actually feeling it myself, through my nervous system), being easily overwhelmed (I like to call it "pissed-off") at too much noise, commotion, or input coming at me all at once.

So I passed along the link to my mom and she ordered the book for me.  I got it yesterday and began reading it last night.  Only three pages in, I began to remember all sorts of things from my life that look completely different from this perspective. 

It's like I spent all of my life believing I was a square, doing square things, and trying my best to be nice and pointy and flat edged - only to be told, "Hmmm, have you ever considered that you might really be a circle?"  Now, every time I look in the mirror, or look back over my life, all I see is roundness!  And I feel like screaming, "Holy shit! I'm a CIRCLE!  Why didn't anyone tell me this?!"

Of course, nobody told me because I'm highly adaptive and did a damned good immitation of a square.

One of the things this HSP stuff puts into perspective for me is my extreme reactions to other people's situations, pains, and their judgement of me.  I shame very easily.  I pick up on cues and deduce from there - not always correctly.  And I read into every action.  On the one hand, this is incredibly useful: 

I had the honor of being at my friend, Jen's, bedside when she was in labor with her first daughter.  She had a platelet issue and couldn't have an epidural - a fact they discovered only after they induced labor.  So she endured a pitocin drip without the benefit of an epidural for more than six hours (can't recall exactly how long).  Finally, with no sign of the baby descending, and signs of distress all around, the doctors decided to perform an emergency c-section.

As the doctor sat by her side explaining what was going on, I could tell that Jen was frantic, doing her best to get through a contraction while her doctor prattled on oblivious, answering all the wrong questions.  Finally, I interrupted: "No," I said, "that's not what she's asking.  She wants to know when she'll be able to see the baby."

Jen nodded in relief and the doctor explained the rest.  Later, Jen said she was really greatful that I was there to say what she couldn't.  And even though I have more pregnancy-related information than the average bear, I never could really explain how I knew exactly what she wanted to know at that moment.

But on the other hand, this heightened sense leads to some not-so-nice effects.  I feel embarassment, shame, and pain more deeply and hold onto those feelings for a very, very long time.  I can get flustered easily (though most people wouldn't know this - I hide it well) and the embarassment of being flustered eats at me.  It fuels a perfectionism that can be self-destructive.

I'm excited to have all this knowledge to dig through now.  It's like a whole new journey that ends with me finding out who I really am, and who I've been all along.  And hopefully, it involves some better choices about my future and some forgiveness for myself for what I previously saw as failures.

Alas, dear readers, you'll have to go along for the ride.  I bet I'll be talking about my newfound circular shape for the next few months.  But who knows, maybe you're a circle, too!