Eyes In the Back of My Head

When I was a little girl, my mother told us that if we were naughty she would know about it because she had eyes in the back of her head and could see everything. For the longest time, I tried to see those eyes, even offering to brush her hair so I could get a glimpse. I remember once sneaking up to her bed while she slept, to carefully part the hair on the back of her head, to see if the eye was there. I was terrified that it would be closed and then would suddenly open when I parted the hair.

Of course, I also believed my grandmother when she told me that the watermelon seed I had swallowed was going to sprout into a big watermelon. I was terrified that it would grow and pop out of my belly button.

20/20 Vision

I have an appointment to get my eyes checked for new glasses. I mentioned it to a friend and pretty soon a few of us were discussing all our funny stories about the "old days" when wearing glasses meant having to balance what felt like a two pound weight on the bridge of your nose. And how kids used to hate having to wear glasses - we were called "four eyes" and "coke bottle." This story that my mom told me years ago popped into my head...and Mom, I apologize in advance if I have any of the facts wrong, but this is how I remember the story.

When she was six (back in the 1940s), her teacher told my grandmother that her daughter was "retarded" because she wasn't learning. My grandmother, being a hard headed Swede knew her little girl wasn't retarded, so she took her to the doctor, who referred them for an eye exam. The doc said she was legally blind and prescribed glasses - she has astigmatism, and is both near and far sighted. All the way home, she sat in the back of the car taking her glasses off and on. When they asked her why she kept doing that, she told them she was looking at the leaves on the trees. She had never seen them clearly before. She had never seen her own parents faces clearly. Up to that point, everything had been just blurry shapes. For weeks, she went around re-examining her world, seeing things clearly for the first time in her young life. The petals of a rose, leaves of grass, ladybugs...everything was new and wonderful.

I feel like there's a parable in this somewhere - maybe about putting on our spiritual glasses to see clearly what God wants us to do in our daily lives. I'm still working on that part...

Just a couple thoughts

When I was a little girl, I remember my mother sitting me and my siblings outside of the Hi-Lo Grocery store to wait for her while she went inside to do the weekly grocery shopping. There we’d sit in the 10 inches of shade afforded by the overhang, three little toe-headed Swedes in our summer flip-flops and straw hats. Just to the right of the big doors were three kiddy rides; a merry-go-round, a race car, and one of those one-car ferris wheels that stands about 6-feet tall. They cost a dime each. My mother seldom had extra money, so most days we’d sit there gazing longingly at those tantalizing attractions. Until we figured out that we were cute and could use it to our advantage. One day a woman walking out of the store came over, patted my brother on the head, and gave him a dime. Oh happy days! We took great care in deciding and settled on the merry-go-round because there were three seats - one for each of us.

I was the oldest - about six. Bill was five, Beth four. Vicki, the youngest was still a baby and too young to be part of the scam. We would sit with downcast faces, trying our best to look like sad little orphans, sometimes pretending to cry. All in the hope that a stranger would take pity on us and hand over ten cents. It didn’t work as often as we’d have liked, and of course once my mother caught on about what we were up to, the scheme came to an abrupt end.

Those were the days before child abductions and kids who were warned from the time they leave the womb that they should never speak to a stranger. Fast forward many years. As I was leaving the grocery store last week, there stood a little boy gazing longingly at the 6-machine gumball display. He played with the knobs, turning each one, hoping that somehow it would turn all the way and release a gum ball or one of those cheesy little toys. In a flash, those hot summer days came back to me. I reached into my wallet and pulled out four quarters…one for the little boy and one for each of his siblings who were still standing with mom in the checkout line. I said, “Here sweetheart, these are for you and your brothers & sister.” He looked at me with a combination of terror and hope. He wanted to reach out and take the quarters, but he was afraid of me - a stranger. I said, “That’s OK, I’ll ask your mom.” I looked up to see his mother was already watching me suspiciously. I held up the quarters, pointed to the machines and asked, “OK?” She smiled and nodded. I handed over the quarters and the siblings all clustered around the machines, deciding how to spend their loot. Made me smile all the way home.

An Anonymous Thank You

The most amazing thing happened to me the other day! I was in my car, leaving a parking lot. It was a loop parking lot, only one way in, which is also the way out.

As I was exiting the lot, a car was pulling out of a space near the entrance, so I stopped and let them out. As they pulled away, a large SUV nosed into the just-vacated space, but the driver stopped suddenly. He looked over at me, his eyes got big and his mouth made an “oh.” He pointed at me, then pointed to the parking space, as if to say, “sorry, were you waiting for this space?” I was surprised and delighted. This driver, bigger than me though he was, was going to yield to me if I laid claim to this space. Amazing. So I smiled my most dazzling smile and shook my head “no.”

A simple act of social awareness, of thinking beyond one’s self. Why has graciousness fallen from fashion? And how do we get it back?

A not-so-normal Tuesday morning

Morning routine: 5 a.m. - Put the dogs & cats outside...start the coffee...fill dog & cat food bowls...change all the furry & feathered water bowls...chop some fruit & veggies for the parrots...catch the big honkin' waterbug that's crawling up the wall...WHAT!!! Hold the phone...brain comes to a screeching halt!

While I'm half asleep, puttering in the kitchen this morning, something moving up the wall catches my eye. AAAIIIEEE!!! A HUGE freakin' oriental cockroach (waterbug). I grab some paper towels and a broom (for protection) and try to catch him, but he falls to the floor and scurries under the stove as I'm trying to hit him with the trusty broom. I wait patiently for him to come out, like a sniper, but when he does he scuttles into the dining room cuz I'm not fast enough!!! Crafty bug. This is where my super hero cat, Oliver, comes to the rescue. He saw that thing moving like lightning across the floor and he POUNCED! Good kitty!!! That bad ol' cockroach is sleepin' wit da fishies. I flushed three times because I don't want it crawling back up and biting my hoohaw while I'm sitting on the throne!

It May Not Be What You Think...

Recently I was shopping in my local Trader Joe’s. There was a young mom pushing a cart through the store, one child, maybe four years old, riding in the kid seat, and another slightly older and clearly a sibling, walking along side Mom. The child in the cart’s seat was alternately happy and content, and angry and vocal. Very vocal. Mom did a lot of ‘shushing’ and looking over her shoulder, as if to assess the audience. Hoo, boy. Took me back to my daughter’s early childhood, which, coincidentally, was also my early days of first-time motherhood.

I was in a Ralphs store, trying desperately to finish my grocery shopping before my kid melted down completely. She had not yet been diagnosed as special needs; I resisted looking down that path for a few years. I usually got the shopping done while she was in someone else’s care, but for some reason this day I had her with me. I think she was about five years old, probably before entering kindergarten. I thought something might be different about my kid, but I was recently divorced, and it had been textbook messy. There was a little voice in my head, sounding a lot like my ex-husband, that said she was fine, it was me screwing up, as a less than capable parent. All I knew for sure is that I worked very hard to not give in to her demanding tantrums. Consequently, I spent a lot of private time crying, from the wear and tear, and the self doubt, and a lot of public time looking apologetically over my shoulder. This day in Ralphs, we’d made it into the check-out line. She was screaming, demanding I buy every pack of candy in sight. I had a hold of her wrist, repeating “no” and “stop it” as if it was a meditation mantra. I was near to tears as I felt so many pairs of eyes on us, and saw so many pairs of lips drawn tight in disapproving frowns.

My turn with the cashier. It’s a little tricky to maneuver a wallet with only one hand while the other is clamped around a tantrumming child’s wrist in a death grip. I was crying a little by now, and the clerk leaned over and patted my (free) arm and said, “you’re doing a great job. You can’t give in to her.” I managed the transaction, and turned to grab the cart with one hand. The manager came over and offered to carry my daughter out to my car. My eyes got huge and I told him I was afraid she would kick him. He smiled and said it was no problem. He reached down and scooped her up, slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and headed out the door to the parking lot. I followed dumbly with the cart of groceries, then he dropped in behind me as I led us out to the car. He held her until I got the bags in the back, then he put her in her car seat, not letting go until I had her buckled in. He took the empty cart and waved good-naturedly. Wow.

Back in Trader Joe’s, this animated child could be heard periodically throughout the store. I was checking out and packing my grocery bags when a particularly loud wail carried over to my young checker and me. He rolled his eyes and said, “that kid- he just won’t shut up!” He was absolutely annoyed. I said, “yeah, I had a kid like that. Really smart, but different brain wiring. Sometimes very well behaved, sometimes definitely not. I thought about giving that mom a hug and telling her to hang in there, but I didn’t want to make her cry.” My clerk looked at me for a moment, then didn’t say another word, but his face told me he was thinking, reassessing.

I wish I had hugged that mom.

September 13, 2010 begins ADHD Awareness Week. Pass it on.