The King’s Speech

By Peggy | January 27, 2011 |

I’ve thought a lot about this movie since I first blogged about it after seeing it over the holidays. As a storyteller, I appreciated the filmmaker’s storytelling elegance and prowess.

Now, the film stands to win as many as 12 Oscars, and I am still thinking about the film and its incredible humanity. My favorite scene came early in the movie when the Bertie’s daughters beg him to tell them a story. He delivers a touching tale of self-acceptance, a story within the story.

There is something to learn, as well, in the Lionel Logues of the world. It was a gift that he learned how to help people in a trial-by-fire kind of way. What he had going for him — a quality that sometimes gets drilled out of those with more formal training — is cultivating that sense of equality in a caregiver-client relationship.

In the case of a speech therapist and a stutterer, it seems counter-intuitive to not do that. But when you think about all caregiver-client relationships, that equality applies.

Trained expertise does not subjugate any portion of another’s humanity.

Posted in rants

Just a Little Radioactive

By Peggy | January 26, 2011 |

In one of the dozens of “grief books” that friends gave me after Mark died, I learned a helpful lesson. When something bad happens to you, people around you may react to you as if you are a little radioactive.

Granted, I probably was. People want to show that they are compassionate, but most aren’t ready for a deep walk in the emotional woods with you on a moment’s notice. It’s a strange place to be, socially. People circle around you to help insulate and protect you, but if you need someone to be with you in a big way, the list of those capable is pretty short.

And even the capable ones have their days that they just can’t.

That’s good to know. I was pretty tender-hearted back then — and still am often — so it helps to know that I scared people even more than I normally do, and to not take it personally.

I ended up spending a year with a grief therapist. I could have joined a group and got the same kind of support from others, but I recognized that my level of introspection (some might call it navel-gazing) would probably scare the people who could see the thestrals, too.

The perspective is helpful as I look back on Sam’s early childhood. People are especially challenged in supporting you because it’s not a true tragedy. As the years go by, I’m finding it easier to lay a lot of those experiences to rest, knowing that some people were trying, but what I might have been seeking was more than they had to give.

Yes, Virginia, sometimes there isn’t a Santa Claus. But, you’ve got a spine, and prayer, so you’ll be fine.

We’re going through another round of that “radioactivity” in our lives. I’m pretty savvy to it — the list of people who can tackle the topic is small, and I have had to re-arrange my life somewhat in acknowledgement of that. I’ve even overwhelmed my family from time to time. Most of the time when friends and acquaintances push for information, I tell them it’s really not suitable for polite conversation.

But I forgot that little social rule today, and shared too much with someone who just seemed endlessly curious and capable of the conversation until I got the look. I knew that look, it was the get-me-out-of-this-conversation-this-lady-is-radioactive look.

Posted in getting back on the horse, problem-solving, rants

Conscious parenting

By Peggy | January 19, 2011 |

When the boys were still babies, Mark and I watched other parents with their trials and tribulations.

After watching enough toddlers and preschoolers run to their mother’s arms when they were hurt — sometimes running right past father on the way — Mark decided it was important to him that our children be comforted as readily by him as by me.

He felt that he was at a disadvantage because I was the one with the breasts. Frankly, though, it wasn’t hard to to convince the boys that daddy’s hugs and kisses made the boo-boos go away, too. If something happened when Mark was around, he swept in and gave the lovin’ required. Sometimes I’d bring the band-aid and give it to Mark to apply.

Age plays with the memory, to be sure, but I cannot remember ever seeing any of our children, hurt and crying, and in Mark’s arms but reaching for me, instead.

I’m not exactly sure what it got us, but now that Mark is gone, I’m grateful for it.

Conscious parenting was all that was required.

Posted in love, problem-solving

Angels in Switzerland

By Peggy | January 18, 2011 |

I’m so grateful for the angels God puts on Earth. I never know when I’ll meet one, or get to spend time with a whole flock of them, like today.

(We’re setting up Sam’s internship … last step before graduation.)

I will share more details in the weeks to come, but all you parents of kids with autism, remember this: accept the angels for who they are and what they do. Let them be the angels God sent them to be. Your life will be better, richer, lovelier, happier …

Those things you worry about? Don’t try to bend the angels to your will. I practiced that lesson today. I’m trusting that things will work out. Because they always do.

Really.

They do.

Posted in hope, love

Overheard in the Wolfe House #59

By Peggy | January 12, 2011 |

Peggy: How was dinner last night with Michael? Your burger at Dutch’s?
Sam: It was good. I had a barbecue burger.
Peggy: A burger with barbecue sauce?
Sam: Yes, with sauce and bacon.
Peggy: Cheese?
Sam (in a most serious tone): Cheese doesn’t go with barbecue.

Posted in What Sam says