Super Hero interviewed for a job on a Wednesday morning and by the end of the same day had been offered a job. It was kind of mind boggling how it all happened. We found out later, that after seeing Super Hero at the interview, the president of the company said he didn't need to see any more candidates. He'd found the person for the job.
He's now been working there three weeks. He's already had some over time they are so busy with projects. When things settle down, he can work four days a week if he wants, or they will give him a computer to do work at home if he wants. They seem so accommodating and friendly - it's no wonder they are one of the top 100 fastest growing companies in Portland! They are number 21 on the list for financial growth in the past three years. And the company has only 30 employees at this time.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Don't Make Me Go To Ninevah
Super Hero has had a record number of interviews going on these past few weeks. He's interviewed for several jobs in Vancouver, one in Eugene, one in Portland and next week one in La Grande and another in Beaverton. I'm counting on the one in La Grande to make an offer. Can you guess why? Because I don't want to move to La Grande. It's like Jonah when he says to God, "I'll do anything. Just don't send me to Ninevah." He pretty much does everything he can to avoid it and then he gets swallowed by a big fish and gets spit up on the shores of where? That's right. La Grande. I mean Ninevah.
I'm pretty much drowning here anyway. I might as well be sent to Ninevah. My dad had his third stroke last week. He hasn't been taking the medications to help prevent a stroke, or his blood thinners. Men think they're invincible. Until they're not. He's in a rehab facility now, working on learning to walk again. His speech is mostly unintelligible right now. We can catch a few words here and there, in between the grunts and loud expressions of anger when he didn't have his glasses for the first day. Within the past two weeks I've had to interpret for Super Hero twice in very stressful situations when there weren't interpreters hired. The first was a court appearance - the clerk who had at least 10 day's notice - forgot to call one in. So the day of the hearing, we arrive to court only to find out that there's no interpreter coming. The judge was kind enough to ask Super Hero if he wanted to postpone the proceedings since a qualified certified interpreter wasn't available. Of course he said no, let's just go on. No one bothered to ask me, the stressed out person about to become the voice for 8 different people, plus participate in the hearing, what she felt.
The second time I had to interpret was at Holland's intake meeting today. I got a call two days ago saying that the opening for his placement was going to be at 10 am today. They were going to work very hard to get an interpreter. But I knew it wouldn't happen. It never does on such short notice. At first I thought it was going to be a breeze. There were only three people in the room besides Super Hero, Holland and me. Then, the door kept opening and people kept filing in and sitting down. People would just keep talking and asking Holland questions and I finally had to stop and ask everyone to introduce themselves. I said it was really hard to be in a dual role and that it would help to know who everyone was. (Plus, I'm used to everyone introducing themselves at the beginning of a meeting, anyway. I've been to so many IEP meetings, that's always what happens.) Lots of papers to sign and read through. But I couldn't do any of that, because I was interpreting. So at what was supposed to be the end of the meeting, someone handed me the paperwork to sign and I started to read through it. Then someone started talking again and I had to stop reading and start signing again. It was so confusing.
After the meeting we got a quick tour of the grounds and then got to see which cottage Holland would be sleeping in, which building housed the school and where the gym was. He had lots of questions and the biggest one got answered: did he get to play any computer games? They actually had a rec room and set up was an xbox with Minecraft and many of the boys also like to play Magic. Holland announced that he was an excellent player and could teach the other boys. The staff person we were with said he would be introducing Holland to his peers, but as soon as we walked out the door, he bumped into a boy he knew from the program down in Springfield. He was so happy to see someone he knew and I think it made him feel good to already know he had a friend there. He's had so many changes and living situations and we are praying that this is the last one.
I also had to get a job. I interviewed this summer for an interpreting job with Portland Public Schools. I got hired without ever getting evaluated for my signing skills and so have been waiting to do that. I had to go to an orientation, fill out paperwork, pay $82 to be fingerprinted and get my ID badge. And am still waiting to work because they couldn't find anyone to assess my skills. I get to do that on Friday up at Columbia Regional Program. My jobs will be on-call. It will be either staff meetings or for IEP meetings. Very last minute and could be at any of the elementary or middle schools in the district. I found out at my orientation that they service 45,000 students.
So, I'm expecting Super Hero to get that job in Ninevah. It's out in the middle of no where. The population is 13,048. It's 4.13 square miles and there's a school called Heidi Ho.
I'm pretty much drowning here anyway. I might as well be sent to Ninevah. My dad had his third stroke last week. He hasn't been taking the medications to help prevent a stroke, or his blood thinners. Men think they're invincible. Until they're not. He's in a rehab facility now, working on learning to walk again. His speech is mostly unintelligible right now. We can catch a few words here and there, in between the grunts and loud expressions of anger when he didn't have his glasses for the first day. Within the past two weeks I've had to interpret for Super Hero twice in very stressful situations when there weren't interpreters hired. The first was a court appearance - the clerk who had at least 10 day's notice - forgot to call one in. So the day of the hearing, we arrive to court only to find out that there's no interpreter coming. The judge was kind enough to ask Super Hero if he wanted to postpone the proceedings since a qualified certified interpreter wasn't available. Of course he said no, let's just go on. No one bothered to ask me, the stressed out person about to become the voice for 8 different people, plus participate in the hearing, what she felt.
The second time I had to interpret was at Holland's intake meeting today. I got a call two days ago saying that the opening for his placement was going to be at 10 am today. They were going to work very hard to get an interpreter. But I knew it wouldn't happen. It never does on such short notice. At first I thought it was going to be a breeze. There were only three people in the room besides Super Hero, Holland and me. Then, the door kept opening and people kept filing in and sitting down. People would just keep talking and asking Holland questions and I finally had to stop and ask everyone to introduce themselves. I said it was really hard to be in a dual role and that it would help to know who everyone was. (Plus, I'm used to everyone introducing themselves at the beginning of a meeting, anyway. I've been to so many IEP meetings, that's always what happens.) Lots of papers to sign and read through. But I couldn't do any of that, because I was interpreting. So at what was supposed to be the end of the meeting, someone handed me the paperwork to sign and I started to read through it. Then someone started talking again and I had to stop reading and start signing again. It was so confusing.
After the meeting we got a quick tour of the grounds and then got to see which cottage Holland would be sleeping in, which building housed the school and where the gym was. He had lots of questions and the biggest one got answered: did he get to play any computer games? They actually had a rec room and set up was an xbox with Minecraft and many of the boys also like to play Magic. Holland announced that he was an excellent player and could teach the other boys. The staff person we were with said he would be introducing Holland to his peers, but as soon as we walked out the door, he bumped into a boy he knew from the program down in Springfield. He was so happy to see someone he knew and I think it made him feel good to already know he had a friend there. He's had so many changes and living situations and we are praying that this is the last one.
I also had to get a job. I interviewed this summer for an interpreting job with Portland Public Schools. I got hired without ever getting evaluated for my signing skills and so have been waiting to do that. I had to go to an orientation, fill out paperwork, pay $82 to be fingerprinted and get my ID badge. And am still waiting to work because they couldn't find anyone to assess my skills. I get to do that on Friday up at Columbia Regional Program. My jobs will be on-call. It will be either staff meetings or for IEP meetings. Very last minute and could be at any of the elementary or middle schools in the district. I found out at my orientation that they service 45,000 students.
So, I'm expecting Super Hero to get that job in Ninevah. It's out in the middle of no where. The population is 13,048. It's 4.13 square miles and there's a school called Heidi Ho.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Comfort
I always struggle with how to write about what is happening within our family. To be exposed and raw with people. To put our personal and private lives in such a public forum can be terrifying. But what has happened over the past two weeks has prompted me to write from a place I didn't know existed until now.
Holland has been living in a residential facility for about six months. This was one of the longest placements he had had. Other placements he was removed from for unsafe behavior, or the foster mom couldn't handle him (I never understood why it wasn't a foster family instead of a single parent for these kinds of placements). He had made progress. Measured, real progress that you could see on his face and in his eyes when we saw him for an hour every Saturday. He spoke differently to us and about us when we had parent ed meetings and family counseling. He seemed genuinely concerned about improving himself so he could come home.
Two weeks ago we were at my nephew's birthday party at a park and I got a phone call from him. The day before he had sounded so depressed and sad. I was hopeful because on Sunday he sounded much better. We talked about what he wanted me to bring for the big Luau that was taking place the following Saturday. He asked me to bring the gluten free pizza I make him. And sneak in some candy for him, too, he said. We laughed. He sounded so much better.
That's why on Monday night at midnight, when my mom called me and said that someone from Holland's house was trying to get hold of me and it "wasn't good", I was completely thrown. The night staff called me a few minutes later and told me that Holland had run off with another boy during the staff change. He didn't have any more information for me, except that they were gone and the police had been called.
I didn't understand. We just spoke the night before and he sounded great. Over the next few days, I got bits of information, mixed in with a whole lot of nothing. The boy he ran with had taken off a month before by himself. Holland had actually planned to run with him, but chickened out. The entire facility was placed on a lock down while the boys had to earn their privileges and trust back. Then, I believe, the worst thing possible happened: this young man was allowed back into the program. Holland was drawn to him for whatever reason. And this boy knew it. He took advantage of Holland's "differences" and even told staff he targeted Holland to get him to run away. Apparently Holland was still taken with the idea of getting the hell out of Dodge and the night after I spoke with him, he and this boy ran. There was some thought put into it: they both had clothes on underneath their pajamas. They had no money, no cell phones and no transportation. They just ran, hoping to find their way into Portland. And they did.
Over the next 12 days Super Hero and I and my parents spent time downtown looking for Holland. But what stands out the most, is who were the people that helped us look for Holland. Not one person from my church family helped me look. Sure, lots of people posted "I'm praying for you" on my Facebook wall. I got two phone calls from Holland's Sunday School teachers asking about him. But the people who took actual time out of their lives to physically help us look for Hunter were people that I normally don't count on for support.
When Romania was at the Charter school, I made friends with several moms. One of those moms called me up and said "I will drive you around Portland. Just tell me when". Here was a person that I hadn't seen in over a year. We kept in touch over Facebook through pictures, but our lives hadn't crossed paths in awhile. We printed off some flyers with Holland's info and drove into downtown. I passed out the flyers to food carts and a few homeless people and she would drive around the block and then come pick me up. At one of my stops, I spoke with a homeless couple and asked if they knew where a kid might find food and shelter. He started to explain several places and the addresses. I told him I had no idea where those places were. He looked through his backpack and pulled out a booklet that had a list of all the places where people downtown could get a meal, a place to sleep for the night, emergency care or help finding a job. It also had youth services listed. I thanked him and wished I had something to give him. He promised he would keep an eye out for Holland, as he didn't want such a young kid to end up on the street. My friend and I were able to find a church that was serving a meal to youth and connect with the director who passed out Holland's picture. One girl said she recognized him. Another said he had heard his name. I felt relieved that we had some information.
Another night, a deaf friend of Super Hero's offered to go downtown with him and look around. They went to many of the places in the booklet that I got. I had people (that I had only met on Facebook) contact me and say they had driven around Portland and had not seen him. I had another friend from Romania's charter school say he had spent 4 hours downtown and had not seen him. Another friend that I met about 4 years ago on a mom's chat board, that lives in California, was so heartbroken for us, that she contacted her brother in law that lives in the Vancouver area. The wife emailed me and got a lot of information. They had connections all over the Portland area and she was going to try to see about helping to look for him. I was amazed at all the help that I was getting from people that I barely knew.
And I was saddened by the lack of help from the people that I've known for over 20 years. People that are called to "comfort one another in any affliction". (2 Corinthians 1:4). I've read this passage many times. What does it mean to comfort someone? Sometimes words are enough. Saying "I've been praying for you" makes that person feel the comfort of the Lord. Sometimes in order to comfort someone, it means taking action. It means you get in a car and you drive around Portland and help them look for their son.
You know who else I got help from? The homeless people on the streets of Portland. Every time I walked up to one or a group, they wanted to help. They wanted to know if he was my son and how long he'd been missing. "That's so sad that he's gone. We really hope you find him." They asked to keep the flyers so they would be able to recognize him and call police if they saw him. Police. They were the biggest surprise of this whole story. One time when my dad and I were out there looking, I pulled over the car because we saw several officers talking to a group of homeless guys. I thought, "perfect! I can tell them about the sighting we had this morning from a person that was walking the Portland to Coast race." I walked over to them and waited. Wanna know why I waited? Because one of the cops was having his PICTURE TAKEN with one of the homeless dudes. Thats right. Photo op happening. I waited. Then one of the homeless dudes came over to me and saw the flyer and asked if he could help me. I told him that my son was missing but had been spotted that morning by the Steele Bridge. He was genuinely interested and then turned to the cop with the camera and said, "I think she needs your help." I have never seen a cop be more uninterested in anything in my whole life. He was more interested in capturing his buddy with the homeless dude with dreads than he was in listening to some white girl ramble on about her missing son.
"Yeah. I heard that come through this morning."
"So? What are you doing about it?"
"Our precinct is pretty big."
"What does that mean? Somebody saw him. Aren't you going to go look for him?"
"We'll keep our eyes out for him."
I wanted to shout at him that he should not be wasting his time taking pictures with homeless people, but should be out there searching for my son. But I was afraid of getting arrested for disorderly conduct. I turned to the homeless dude and handed him the flyer and asked him to please keep an eye out for Holland. He promised me he would; "He's too young to be out here!" Got that right!
With the help of many family and friends and lots of conversations with the homeless youth on the streets, we were able to find Holland. It's almost too unbelievable to believe. One tip from a nurse at a facility he stayed at and that recognized him, who called 911, who referred her to non-emergency, who felt the family needed to know so she called a co-worker to make sure we knew from her that Holland was seen at 7 am near the Steele Bridge. All that brings comfort. People DOING something to make sure they are helping out another person.
So the next time you think about how you are going to comfort someone, think about what that person needs. Prayer is always a must. Take everything to the Lord in prayer. But do not leave out action. Do not abandon the person who is suffering; go alongside them and suffer with them.
God of All Comfort
2 Corinthians 1:3- 7
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer.
Holland has been living in a residential facility for about six months. This was one of the longest placements he had had. Other placements he was removed from for unsafe behavior, or the foster mom couldn't handle him (I never understood why it wasn't a foster family instead of a single parent for these kinds of placements). He had made progress. Measured, real progress that you could see on his face and in his eyes when we saw him for an hour every Saturday. He spoke differently to us and about us when we had parent ed meetings and family counseling. He seemed genuinely concerned about improving himself so he could come home.
Two weeks ago we were at my nephew's birthday party at a park and I got a phone call from him. The day before he had sounded so depressed and sad. I was hopeful because on Sunday he sounded much better. We talked about what he wanted me to bring for the big Luau that was taking place the following Saturday. He asked me to bring the gluten free pizza I make him. And sneak in some candy for him, too, he said. We laughed. He sounded so much better.
That's why on Monday night at midnight, when my mom called me and said that someone from Holland's house was trying to get hold of me and it "wasn't good", I was completely thrown. The night staff called me a few minutes later and told me that Holland had run off with another boy during the staff change. He didn't have any more information for me, except that they were gone and the police had been called.
I didn't understand. We just spoke the night before and he sounded great. Over the next few days, I got bits of information, mixed in with a whole lot of nothing. The boy he ran with had taken off a month before by himself. Holland had actually planned to run with him, but chickened out. The entire facility was placed on a lock down while the boys had to earn their privileges and trust back. Then, I believe, the worst thing possible happened: this young man was allowed back into the program. Holland was drawn to him for whatever reason. And this boy knew it. He took advantage of Holland's "differences" and even told staff he targeted Holland to get him to run away. Apparently Holland was still taken with the idea of getting the hell out of Dodge and the night after I spoke with him, he and this boy ran. There was some thought put into it: they both had clothes on underneath their pajamas. They had no money, no cell phones and no transportation. They just ran, hoping to find their way into Portland. And they did.
Over the next 12 days Super Hero and I and my parents spent time downtown looking for Holland. But what stands out the most, is who were the people that helped us look for Holland. Not one person from my church family helped me look. Sure, lots of people posted "I'm praying for you" on my Facebook wall. I got two phone calls from Holland's Sunday School teachers asking about him. But the people who took actual time out of their lives to physically help us look for Hunter were people that I normally don't count on for support.
When Romania was at the Charter school, I made friends with several moms. One of those moms called me up and said "I will drive you around Portland. Just tell me when". Here was a person that I hadn't seen in over a year. We kept in touch over Facebook through pictures, but our lives hadn't crossed paths in awhile. We printed off some flyers with Holland's info and drove into downtown. I passed out the flyers to food carts and a few homeless people and she would drive around the block and then come pick me up. At one of my stops, I spoke with a homeless couple and asked if they knew where a kid might find food and shelter. He started to explain several places and the addresses. I told him I had no idea where those places were. He looked through his backpack and pulled out a booklet that had a list of all the places where people downtown could get a meal, a place to sleep for the night, emergency care or help finding a job. It also had youth services listed. I thanked him and wished I had something to give him. He promised he would keep an eye out for Holland, as he didn't want such a young kid to end up on the street. My friend and I were able to find a church that was serving a meal to youth and connect with the director who passed out Holland's picture. One girl said she recognized him. Another said he had heard his name. I felt relieved that we had some information.
Another night, a deaf friend of Super Hero's offered to go downtown with him and look around. They went to many of the places in the booklet that I got. I had people (that I had only met on Facebook) contact me and say they had driven around Portland and had not seen him. I had another friend from Romania's charter school say he had spent 4 hours downtown and had not seen him. Another friend that I met about 4 years ago on a mom's chat board, that lives in California, was so heartbroken for us, that she contacted her brother in law that lives in the Vancouver area. The wife emailed me and got a lot of information. They had connections all over the Portland area and she was going to try to see about helping to look for him. I was amazed at all the help that I was getting from people that I barely knew.
And I was saddened by the lack of help from the people that I've known for over 20 years. People that are called to "comfort one another in any affliction". (2 Corinthians 1:4). I've read this passage many times. What does it mean to comfort someone? Sometimes words are enough. Saying "I've been praying for you" makes that person feel the comfort of the Lord. Sometimes in order to comfort someone, it means taking action. It means you get in a car and you drive around Portland and help them look for their son.
You know who else I got help from? The homeless people on the streets of Portland. Every time I walked up to one or a group, they wanted to help. They wanted to know if he was my son and how long he'd been missing. "That's so sad that he's gone. We really hope you find him." They asked to keep the flyers so they would be able to recognize him and call police if they saw him. Police. They were the biggest surprise of this whole story. One time when my dad and I were out there looking, I pulled over the car because we saw several officers talking to a group of homeless guys. I thought, "perfect! I can tell them about the sighting we had this morning from a person that was walking the Portland to Coast race." I walked over to them and waited. Wanna know why I waited? Because one of the cops was having his PICTURE TAKEN with one of the homeless dudes. Thats right. Photo op happening. I waited. Then one of the homeless dudes came over to me and saw the flyer and asked if he could help me. I told him that my son was missing but had been spotted that morning by the Steele Bridge. He was genuinely interested and then turned to the cop with the camera and said, "I think she needs your help." I have never seen a cop be more uninterested in anything in my whole life. He was more interested in capturing his buddy with the homeless dude with dreads than he was in listening to some white girl ramble on about her missing son.
"Yeah. I heard that come through this morning."
"So? What are you doing about it?"
"Our precinct is pretty big."
"What does that mean? Somebody saw him. Aren't you going to go look for him?"
"We'll keep our eyes out for him."
I wanted to shout at him that he should not be wasting his time taking pictures with homeless people, but should be out there searching for my son. But I was afraid of getting arrested for disorderly conduct. I turned to the homeless dude and handed him the flyer and asked him to please keep an eye out for Holland. He promised me he would; "He's too young to be out here!" Got that right!
With the help of many family and friends and lots of conversations with the homeless youth on the streets, we were able to find Holland. It's almost too unbelievable to believe. One tip from a nurse at a facility he stayed at and that recognized him, who called 911, who referred her to non-emergency, who felt the family needed to know so she called a co-worker to make sure we knew from her that Holland was seen at 7 am near the Steele Bridge. All that brings comfort. People DOING something to make sure they are helping out another person.
So the next time you think about how you are going to comfort someone, think about what that person needs. Prayer is always a must. Take everything to the Lord in prayer. But do not leave out action. Do not abandon the person who is suffering; go alongside them and suffer with them.
God of All Comfort
2 Corinthians 1:3- 7
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
He's Too Concrete
The other day, Super Hero and I were driving home from errands. It's always a risk to have any sort of conversation in a moving vehicle with a deaf person. Not only can they miss very important signs, they can veer off the road. ;-) Have you ever seen that Seinfeld episode with Kramer as he's "interpreting" what Marlee Matlin signs? Marlee's character can lipread and signs what she sees this couple across the room saying. Her character gets the information correct, but Kramer totally screws up the "interpreting" part. The hilarious part is, although "sweep together" and "sleep together" look similar when spoken, the signs look nothing alike. So only a person that knows both languages understands how stupid it is that Kramer gets it all messed up.
That's kinda what a conversation with a deaf engineer looks like. I want to give you context for our conversation, but it really ruins the true beauty of how illogically concrete our conversation was.
Me: What's your interview for?
Him: A job.
Me: I Know that. But where?
Him: At home.
Me: No. I know it's a PHONE interview. Where is the JOB?
Him: I have no idea.
Me: You have no idea? You're interviewing for a job and you have no idea where the job is?
Him: Yes. I'm tired of interviewing. So I figure when I finally get a job, then I'll worry about where it is.
This conversation happens in bursts of two or three words because he has to watch the road. Which becomes even more frustrating because then I'm not sure which signs he has seen. So, do I repeat myself, or keep going?
As we're driving home (the person was supposed to call at 1 p.m., ), he keeps pointing to the clock on the dashboard.
Him: It's 12:56!
We keep driving. I notice him looking at the clock some more.
Him: It's 12:58! We're going to be late.
More driving. I think the slowest person in the world is in front of us. Super Hero points that out, too.
Him: (Pointing to the clock, in case I wasn't paying attention before) It's 12:59!
Me: Yes, it is.
Drive. Drive. Drive. We haven't pulled into our house quite yet, and....
Him: (pointing to the clock) It's 1:00! We're late! I KNEW it. I KNEW we'd be late.
Me: I doubt this guy's waiting by his phone to dial it at 1 p.m. We're fine.
He runs into the house to where the video phone is set up. Phew. No missed calls. He sits there for the next 20 minutes waiting for the phone to ring so he can answer his TV. Nothing. He decides to get up and make lunch. I'm sitting in the living room, looking at my phone. He's making himself lunch and all of a sudden yells "shoot!" and runs into the schoolroom.
Him: Why didn't you TELL ME that the phone was ringing?!!
Me: Because I didn't HEAR the phone ringing.
See that wonderful logic happening here? I'm the hearing person. I'm supposed to hear everything.
So, like most problems in the house, the wife/mother gets blamed and she doesn't even have to be in the same room. It's all good. He got his phone interview. He got his lunch. And he might get an in person interview. He finds that out next week.
Oh - and the job is in Vancouver. So. Now you know.
That's kinda what a conversation with a deaf engineer looks like. I want to give you context for our conversation, but it really ruins the true beauty of how illogically concrete our conversation was.
Me: What's your interview for?
Him: A job.
Me: I Know that. But where?
Him: At home.
Me: No. I know it's a PHONE interview. Where is the JOB?
Him: I have no idea.
Me: You have no idea? You're interviewing for a job and you have no idea where the job is?
Him: Yes. I'm tired of interviewing. So I figure when I finally get a job, then I'll worry about where it is.
This conversation happens in bursts of two or three words because he has to watch the road. Which becomes even more frustrating because then I'm not sure which signs he has seen. So, do I repeat myself, or keep going?
As we're driving home (the person was supposed to call at 1 p.m., ), he keeps pointing to the clock on the dashboard.
Him: It's 12:56!
We keep driving. I notice him looking at the clock some more.
Him: It's 12:58! We're going to be late.
More driving. I think the slowest person in the world is in front of us. Super Hero points that out, too.
Him: (Pointing to the clock, in case I wasn't paying attention before) It's 12:59!
Me: Yes, it is.
Drive. Drive. Drive. We haven't pulled into our house quite yet, and....
Him: (pointing to the clock) It's 1:00! We're late! I KNEW it. I KNEW we'd be late.
Me: I doubt this guy's waiting by his phone to dial it at 1 p.m. We're fine.
He runs into the house to where the video phone is set up. Phew. No missed calls. He sits there for the next 20 minutes waiting for the phone to ring so he can answer his TV. Nothing. He decides to get up and make lunch. I'm sitting in the living room, looking at my phone. He's making himself lunch and all of a sudden yells "shoot!" and runs into the schoolroom.
Him: Why didn't you TELL ME that the phone was ringing?!!
Me: Because I didn't HEAR the phone ringing.
See that wonderful logic happening here? I'm the hearing person. I'm supposed to hear everything.
So, like most problems in the house, the wife/mother gets blamed and she doesn't even have to be in the same room. It's all good. He got his phone interview. He got his lunch. And he might get an in person interview. He finds that out next week.
Oh - and the job is in Vancouver. So. Now you know.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Things Fall Apart
A little over a week ago I got a call from Holland's residential placement. His team was on "shut down", which meant that all the boys in his group (about 8) had been put on a status that required the strictest supervision. The staff had determined that the boys had not been following the peer feedback and accountability. There were also boys that were teasing Holland, causing him to react inappropriately and then they would call him out on his behavior. He would not accept their feedback and the cycle would repeat. The team had to go through three stages in order to rebuild their accountability to each other and be able to work together again. They lost a lot of privileges and were not able to make any phone calls until Stage Three. They had to make amends with each other and each boy had to call his parents and explain his role in the breakdown of the group - "take accountability" for his part in the group's behavior.
I was so excited when I heard the boys had made it to Stage Three. It sounded like they had pulled it together and were a team again. On Thursday night I got a call from Holland. He started his call with, "I'm taking accountability for my part in a member of my team running away." I was all confused. I thought we were past Stage One and here he was apologizing for something. I asked what he was talking about. His phone calls are limited to five minutes, so I knew I wasn't going to get much information out of him. He said that he and another boy had planned on running away from the program. He didn't do it, but the other boy had. He made it into Portland and was caught (I later found out the boy had turned himself in), and was back in detention. I asked if Holland would have to go back in detention. He said he didn't know. I had a million questions. I had zero time to ask them. I wanted to talk to a staff person. I couldn't - the other boys needed to make their phone calls.
The next day I was able to get hold of his former PO and find out more of what happened. She was going out to visit him and discuss the seriousness of his situation. With Holland's recent diagnosis of autism, I wonder if he has to go in front of a judge again, that his medical diagnosis will be taken into account. I'm afraid of what will become of him if he is incarcerated. He will not get the kind of therapy he needs. If you are reading this, please pray that he does not get removed from his current placement.
I got another call last night and I'm afraid that his time may be over. He barricaded himself in an upstairs room with a foosball table. He threw something out a window and when he finally did come out, he ran outside the house. He said he never left the property, but he still had staff chase him outside. They discussed his options and I'm doubting that they will want to keep him after this. I know the program wants to work with him, but when he keeps getting physical like this, he'll be viewed as too much of a threat to the other boys and their safety.
I was so excited when I heard the boys had made it to Stage Three. It sounded like they had pulled it together and were a team again. On Thursday night I got a call from Holland. He started his call with, "I'm taking accountability for my part in a member of my team running away." I was all confused. I thought we were past Stage One and here he was apologizing for something. I asked what he was talking about. His phone calls are limited to five minutes, so I knew I wasn't going to get much information out of him. He said that he and another boy had planned on running away from the program. He didn't do it, but the other boy had. He made it into Portland and was caught (I later found out the boy had turned himself in), and was back in detention. I asked if Holland would have to go back in detention. He said he didn't know. I had a million questions. I had zero time to ask them. I wanted to talk to a staff person. I couldn't - the other boys needed to make their phone calls.
The next day I was able to get hold of his former PO and find out more of what happened. She was going out to visit him and discuss the seriousness of his situation. With Holland's recent diagnosis of autism, I wonder if he has to go in front of a judge again, that his medical diagnosis will be taken into account. I'm afraid of what will become of him if he is incarcerated. He will not get the kind of therapy he needs. If you are reading this, please pray that he does not get removed from his current placement.
I got another call last night and I'm afraid that his time may be over. He barricaded himself in an upstairs room with a foosball table. He threw something out a window and when he finally did come out, he ran outside the house. He said he never left the property, but he still had staff chase him outside. They discussed his options and I'm doubting that they will want to keep him after this. I know the program wants to work with him, but when he keeps getting physical like this, he'll be viewed as too much of a threat to the other boys and their safety.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
THE resume
I just finished writing my resume. It's not your traditional, boring, typewritten resume. This thing has got Class. A friend from my church developed this online, uber-cool way of writing up a resume. It's called Sumry. You start by answering a bunch of basic questions about yourself and the answers are plugged into a preset form that helps you develop a very unique resume. It's not just about your skills - it's about who you are. Why type of person are you? Your qualifications are as important as your life story. I love the set up - and I loved writing it. I wanted to keep writing. I had to stop myself from writing more. Geez. I need to write a book or something.
Here's a link to my Sumry resume. I'm also working on one for Super Hero. I figured a year and a half of no job ought to warrant a new kind of approach to job hunting. Let's freak out all those engineers out there with this new kind of resume!
Here's a link to my Sumry resume. I'm also working on one for Super Hero. I figured a year and a half of no job ought to warrant a new kind of approach to job hunting. Let's freak out all those engineers out there with this new kind of resume!
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Perspective
What is it about perspective that allows us to form opinions about our situation? If we are experiencing trauma, our perspective can be fraught with pain. If we are looking at another person's situation, perspective can elicit feelings of empathy, or jealousy or pity. When we arrive at the other end of that journey, our perspective has now become that of someone arriving at a destination.
My perspective has changed. I had a beginning - lots of beginnings. That's my perspective now. I look and see there were lots of beginnings. How did we make it through those beginnings? There were lots of very difficult places to be in. Why was there so much trauma? And pain? I always think that we somehow got the short end of the stick. People always say "he was so blessed to get parents like you.". That's very kind. I don't feel blessed. I feel tortured. My perspective in those beginnings was that it was never going to end. He was never going to get better. He was going to beat the hell out of our house and our family unit.
I'm in the middle now. But there are constantly new beginnings in this middle. My perspective now is that there are still beginnings in this middle. Some are good and some not so good. We got the dreaded call that he might be sent back to detention (that's juvenile hall for you newbies). That's not a place you want your son to be. He's being well taken care of right now. There are people that understand his neurological and medical needs. He's watched 24 hours a day and he's held accountable by his peers in the program. No other placement will have that kind of set up.
Super Hero and I were on our way to visit him this morning. We get one visit a week - an hour of time. We were about 15 minutes early, so I said we should stop at a Starbucks and get him a hot chocolate with a gift card I had. The store I thought was there had closed, so we had to pull into the parking lot of a nearby mall. I noticed a message on my phone. "Your visit has been cancelled. He's on a safety plan." We were five minutes from the residence. I could not get hold of anyone on a Saturday. We started to drive back home when someone finally responded to a message I left. Holland had "gone from zero to one hundred in a few seconds. He responded to a peer about something and threw a glass across the kitchen and picked up other things and threw them as well." I will not get any more information until his therapist calls me on Monday. He was able to call and talk to me for his five minutes of allowed phone call time. He sounded depressed. He didn't think he was going to last another week. Didn't see the point of it. How do you encourage a child that sees no point of continuing such a hard path? He made bad choices. He is paying for those choices.
We have another new beginning. Super Hero got a part time job. He has been without a full time job for a year and a half. No engineering job. He had to take a part time job as an "inventory specialist" at a car rental place at the airport. I feel it must be so degrading for him to have done that. And yet I'm so proud of him for doing it. I want him to be honored for his choice to work to support us. And my new beginning is going to be finding a job as well. I've applied for an interpreter job for Portland Public Schools. With every ounce of my being I do not want to do this. I don't want the stress of working on top of homeschooling the kids and getting them to church and sports functions. Worrying about doctor appointments and grocery shopping and therapy appointments with Holland. Laundry will become something that gets put in a pile, not put away. I won't be able to work with the kids on school stuff the way I wanted to. Dinners will be crazy with Super Hero working 3pm -11pm 3 days a week.
To end all these beginnings, Holland had some testing done by an excellent psychologist. She has worked with over 300 kids affected in utero by meth. We finally got an 18 page report from her describing in detail the testing and the results. Her conclusion was the Holland is Autistic. The DSM has changed the language in how it diagnoses children. His is more a social aspect of autism. But reading this report was like reliving all the moments we had when he was growing up.
So what is my perspective now? How do I adjust my thinking from all those years of parenting a child that was improperly diagnosed as bipolar? What do I think when people complain that they can't have a "normal" life? What is normal? Not having hole punched in your wall? Not locking up remote controls or the pantry so your child doesn't get up at 3 in the morning to play the wii or steal food with gluten in it? What about not being afraid of your child? Or not having your other children afraid of that child? What about being able to go to a store without having to leave a grocery cart in the middle of an aisle because he couldn't handle the word "no". And he was 12 (and threatening to hit you?) What about having to change plans - the whole family - because your "bipolar" child refuses to get in the car and go sightseeing? He wants to stay home and wait for a friend that might call. I have a hard time with perspective. Our lives are definitely "easier" now that he is not living with us. It's calmer here. There's less tension of feeling like someone is going to get physically hurt. But how can that perspective be good? I have a child that doesn't get to live at home. Other families get to eat dinner together. Or go on trips together. I have a hard time even taking a family picture. My perspective is that someone is missing.
I raised three children and now I only have two.
My perspective has changed. I had a beginning - lots of beginnings. That's my perspective now. I look and see there were lots of beginnings. How did we make it through those beginnings? There were lots of very difficult places to be in. Why was there so much trauma? And pain? I always think that we somehow got the short end of the stick. People always say "he was so blessed to get parents like you.". That's very kind. I don't feel blessed. I feel tortured. My perspective in those beginnings was that it was never going to end. He was never going to get better. He was going to beat the hell out of our house and our family unit.
I'm in the middle now. But there are constantly new beginnings in this middle. My perspective now is that there are still beginnings in this middle. Some are good and some not so good. We got the dreaded call that he might be sent back to detention (that's juvenile hall for you newbies). That's not a place you want your son to be. He's being well taken care of right now. There are people that understand his neurological and medical needs. He's watched 24 hours a day and he's held accountable by his peers in the program. No other placement will have that kind of set up.
Super Hero and I were on our way to visit him this morning. We get one visit a week - an hour of time. We were about 15 minutes early, so I said we should stop at a Starbucks and get him a hot chocolate with a gift card I had. The store I thought was there had closed, so we had to pull into the parking lot of a nearby mall. I noticed a message on my phone. "Your visit has been cancelled. He's on a safety plan." We were five minutes from the residence. I could not get hold of anyone on a Saturday. We started to drive back home when someone finally responded to a message I left. Holland had "gone from zero to one hundred in a few seconds. He responded to a peer about something and threw a glass across the kitchen and picked up other things and threw them as well." I will not get any more information until his therapist calls me on Monday. He was able to call and talk to me for his five minutes of allowed phone call time. He sounded depressed. He didn't think he was going to last another week. Didn't see the point of it. How do you encourage a child that sees no point of continuing such a hard path? He made bad choices. He is paying for those choices.
We have another new beginning. Super Hero got a part time job. He has been without a full time job for a year and a half. No engineering job. He had to take a part time job as an "inventory specialist" at a car rental place at the airport. I feel it must be so degrading for him to have done that. And yet I'm so proud of him for doing it. I want him to be honored for his choice to work to support us. And my new beginning is going to be finding a job as well. I've applied for an interpreter job for Portland Public Schools. With every ounce of my being I do not want to do this. I don't want the stress of working on top of homeschooling the kids and getting them to church and sports functions. Worrying about doctor appointments and grocery shopping and therapy appointments with Holland. Laundry will become something that gets put in a pile, not put away. I won't be able to work with the kids on school stuff the way I wanted to. Dinners will be crazy with Super Hero working 3pm -11pm 3 days a week.
To end all these beginnings, Holland had some testing done by an excellent psychologist. She has worked with over 300 kids affected in utero by meth. We finally got an 18 page report from her describing in detail the testing and the results. Her conclusion was the Holland is Autistic. The DSM has changed the language in how it diagnoses children. His is more a social aspect of autism. But reading this report was like reliving all the moments we had when he was growing up.
So what is my perspective now? How do I adjust my thinking from all those years of parenting a child that was improperly diagnosed as bipolar? What do I think when people complain that they can't have a "normal" life? What is normal? Not having hole punched in your wall? Not locking up remote controls or the pantry so your child doesn't get up at 3 in the morning to play the wii or steal food with gluten in it? What about not being afraid of your child? Or not having your other children afraid of that child? What about being able to go to a store without having to leave a grocery cart in the middle of an aisle because he couldn't handle the word "no". And he was 12 (and threatening to hit you?) What about having to change plans - the whole family - because your "bipolar" child refuses to get in the car and go sightseeing? He wants to stay home and wait for a friend that might call. I have a hard time with perspective. Our lives are definitely "easier" now that he is not living with us. It's calmer here. There's less tension of feeling like someone is going to get physically hurt. But how can that perspective be good? I have a child that doesn't get to live at home. Other families get to eat dinner together. Or go on trips together. I have a hard time even taking a family picture. My perspective is that someone is missing.
I raised three children and now I only have two.
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