Monday, November 28, 2011
Community Helpers
Becca's class has been doing a unit on community helpers, learning about public servants like firefighters, police officers, teachers, construction workers, mail carriers, nurses, and doctors. At the end of the unit, they had "Dress Like a Community Helper" day. Not surprisingly, Becca chose to dress like one of the helpers she is way too familiar with - a doctor. Apparently, the day before, when they talked about doctors, Becca told the class everything a doctor does at an appointment. It seems she's been through a few of those. :) Here's our Dr. Becca!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Even Though She's Very Small...
...inside she's very TALL!
After Trunk-or-Treating as a very SCARY MONSTER at church and dancing as Tinkerbell at ballet, Becca finally settled on (with my, um, encouragement) being Madeline for real trick-or-treating. I was really excited about this idea because she's been on a Madeline kick lately, she's as adorable, tiny and mischievous as Madeline, and it was the warmest of the three costumes, which became important by Halloween night. It was an assembled-at-home costume, thanks mostly to the adorable blue wool coat we picked up at our church's clothing giveaway this fall. Add a peter pan collar and a red bow, and voila! - Madeline. Or, at least, close enough to Madeline to convince a 3-year-old.
We had a great time hanging out with our friends (and Becca's other family), the Lovells, where Halloween night is a BIG deal. They don't mess around with the candy. Here's what they had to give out:
And, yes, those are full-sized candy bars! And, yes, if you answer your question correctly, you get several of them! Tammy is 3rd-grade teacher, so she knows just what kind of question each kid ought to be able to answer. She even made me explain the difference between Arminianism and Calvinism. Makes me think that the Board of Ordained Ministry might be well-served to pass out chocolate as they ask their questions.
But back to Becca. She had a great time being Madeline...
I had a great time being a butterfly (and silly!)...
Becca even picked up a little French!
After Trunk-or-Treating as a very SCARY MONSTER at church and dancing as Tinkerbell at ballet, Becca finally settled on (with my, um, encouragement) being Madeline for real trick-or-treating. I was really excited about this idea because she's been on a Madeline kick lately, she's as adorable, tiny and mischievous as Madeline, and it was the warmest of the three costumes, which became important by Halloween night. It was an assembled-at-home costume, thanks mostly to the adorable blue wool coat we picked up at our church's clothing giveaway this fall. Add a peter pan collar and a red bow, and voila! - Madeline. Or, at least, close enough to Madeline to convince a 3-year-old.
We had a great time hanging out with our friends (and Becca's other family), the Lovells, where Halloween night is a BIG deal. They don't mess around with the candy. Here's what they had to give out:
And, yes, those are full-sized candy bars! And, yes, if you answer your question correctly, you get several of them! Tammy is 3rd-grade teacher, so she knows just what kind of question each kid ought to be able to answer. She even made me explain the difference between Arminianism and Calvinism. Makes me think that the Board of Ordained Ministry might be well-served to pass out chocolate as they ask their questions.
But back to Becca. She had a great time being Madeline...
I had a great time being a butterfly (and silly!)...
And John had a good time being...John! (Actually, he wasn't feeling too hot, so he bailed shortly after we took Becca around the cul-de-sac.)
Becca even picked up a little French!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
The Fine Line Between Compassion and Anxiety
Becca is a very compassionate child. I like to think she gets that from her mother.
Becca is an anxious child. I know she gets that from her mother.
If someone around her gets hurt or isn't feeling well, Becca will be very, very sweet to him or her. She's extremely kind in that sense (not so much in the I-going-to-snatch-whatever-toy-you-have-that-I-want or I'm-angry-so-I-will-hit-you-in-the-face sense, though), and she's naturally empathetic. For example, I've been having some trouble with my lungs lately. If I tell her that I can't get up and play with her because my lungs hurt, she'll say, "Your yungs not working? Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I will give you a hug to feel you better. Maybe go see Dr. Wawls to feel you better, too." All while patting me on the back and giving me said hugs, plus some kisses to boot. Super duper sweet. She immediately thinks about what she would want and need done if she were sick and does it. And while it doesn't help my lungs, it definitely does "feel me better."
I think I've mentioned on here before that we've been seeing signs of excessive anxiety in Becca for a while now. Like I said, I know she gets that from me - I've been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder for, well, I don't know how long (turns out that the docs don't automatically tell you your diagnosis...but that's another story!). Years, though. Before Becca came into the picture. While I certainly have very little to complain about these days, neither Becca nor I have exactly lived a charmed life, and those kinds of experiences (emotional and physical) leave scars that can trigger the Speas family genetic predisposition towards anxiety and depression. Becca's anxiety is also tied into/exacerbated by her sensory issues. The world feels "off" to her physically, she can't confidently navigate her surroundings, and she is very concerned with how things appear - dirty hands, high chairs, etc. freak her out. Her anxiety keeps her from eating. For example, if you present a large plate of food with several different options on it, you may be thinking, "Hey, I'm giving her lots of options so that she can pick what she wants and leave what she doesn't. There's so much on here that surely she'll want something from it!" That's great, but what she sees is a huge plate of food full of stuff she can't bring herself to eat and, wow, there's now way I can eat all of that so I'm totally overwhelmed and freaking out so I'll just throw the whole plate. (Okay, we've generally speaking moved past the plate-throwing, but I think you see what I'm getting at.) She also fixates on things that trigger her anxiety - simple things like a sticker being ripped. "We got to fix it! We got to fix it!" And -- and here's the flipside of the compassion -- if she sees someone get hurt, it really disturbs her. Not just in the little kid oh-that's-scary sort of way - in the I-have-to-see-it-fixed-and-that-everyone-is-okay-and-I-won't-even-be-distracted-by-chocolate-or-Strawberry Shortcake-kind-of-way.
It's not surprising, really, that you'd see both characteristics in us. There's a very fine line between compassion and anxiety. In fact, I think I'll go out on a limb and say that one of the things that makes us compassionate is our anxiety. Anxiety comes with an unfortunate kind of imagination - the ability to imagine anything that could possibly go wrong. And I can't speak for Becca on this, but for me, with that imagination comes a sense of how it might feel if each horrible scenario were to play out. Of course, I know I could never know what it's like to have this or that happen, but my anxiety (and life!) puts me in touch with enough of my own pain to be able to begin to sense what others are going through...to begin to "suffer with" (you know, com-passion) the other. And the constant vigilance of anxiety helps us to notice when people around us are hurting. I'm not saying that anxiety is always a good thing or that anxious people are automatically compassionate (I mean, look at Mr. Monk) or that we shouldn't try to (as Jesus said) "let not our hearts be troubled," but I not convinced anxiety is not without its gifts.
Desmond Tutu says (among many, many other great and wonderful words) that "our suffering can either ennoble us or embitter us." I'll be honest. Lately, as I've been looking back over my life, it's been very easy to be bitter. Please, spare me the lecture on how lucky I am that my daughter survived, that I've got a job I love and a roof over my head, I know all that, and I DO appreciate it. But, honestly, there is plenty to make me bitter, too. My life has not been easy. And Lord knows Becca's life has been anything but -- hate to say it -- fair. But I want desperately for our wounds and broken places to ennoble us. I trust that they occasionally do and, as time goes on, they will more and more. I'm trying to raise my daughter in such a way that her coin of compassion and anxiety is more heavily weighted towards compassion. I can't take away the hurt or the pain or the rough start or the continuing difficulties she faces...but I can help her flip the coin.
Becca is an anxious child. I know she gets that from her mother.
If someone around her gets hurt or isn't feeling well, Becca will be very, very sweet to him or her. She's extremely kind in that sense (not so much in the I-going-to-snatch-whatever-toy-you-have-that-I-want or I'm-angry-so-I-will-hit-you-in-the-face sense, though), and she's naturally empathetic. For example, I've been having some trouble with my lungs lately. If I tell her that I can't get up and play with her because my lungs hurt, she'll say, "Your yungs not working? Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I will give you a hug to feel you better. Maybe go see Dr. Wawls to feel you better, too." All while patting me on the back and giving me said hugs, plus some kisses to boot. Super duper sweet. She immediately thinks about what she would want and need done if she were sick and does it. And while it doesn't help my lungs, it definitely does "feel me better."
I think I've mentioned on here before that we've been seeing signs of excessive anxiety in Becca for a while now. Like I said, I know she gets that from me - I've been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder for, well, I don't know how long (turns out that the docs don't automatically tell you your diagnosis...but that's another story!). Years, though. Before Becca came into the picture. While I certainly have very little to complain about these days, neither Becca nor I have exactly lived a charmed life, and those kinds of experiences (emotional and physical) leave scars that can trigger the Speas family genetic predisposition towards anxiety and depression. Becca's anxiety is also tied into/exacerbated by her sensory issues. The world feels "off" to her physically, she can't confidently navigate her surroundings, and she is very concerned with how things appear - dirty hands, high chairs, etc. freak her out. Her anxiety keeps her from eating. For example, if you present a large plate of food with several different options on it, you may be thinking, "Hey, I'm giving her lots of options so that she can pick what she wants and leave what she doesn't. There's so much on here that surely she'll want something from it!" That's great, but what she sees is a huge plate of food full of stuff she can't bring herself to eat and, wow, there's now way I can eat all of that so I'm totally overwhelmed and freaking out so I'll just throw the whole plate. (Okay, we've generally speaking moved past the plate-throwing, but I think you see what I'm getting at.) She also fixates on things that trigger her anxiety - simple things like a sticker being ripped. "We got to fix it! We got to fix it!" And -- and here's the flipside of the compassion -- if she sees someone get hurt, it really disturbs her. Not just in the little kid oh-that's-scary sort of way - in the I-have-to-see-it-fixed-and-that-everyone-is-okay-and-I-won't-even-be-distracted-by-chocolate-or-Strawberry Shortcake-kind-of-way.
It's not surprising, really, that you'd see both characteristics in us. There's a very fine line between compassion and anxiety. In fact, I think I'll go out on a limb and say that one of the things that makes us compassionate is our anxiety. Anxiety comes with an unfortunate kind of imagination - the ability to imagine anything that could possibly go wrong. And I can't speak for Becca on this, but for me, with that imagination comes a sense of how it might feel if each horrible scenario were to play out. Of course, I know I could never know what it's like to have this or that happen, but my anxiety (and life!) puts me in touch with enough of my own pain to be able to begin to sense what others are going through...to begin to "suffer with" (you know, com-passion) the other. And the constant vigilance of anxiety helps us to notice when people around us are hurting. I'm not saying that anxiety is always a good thing or that anxious people are automatically compassionate (I mean, look at Mr. Monk) or that we shouldn't try to (as Jesus said) "let not our hearts be troubled," but I not convinced anxiety is not without its gifts.
Desmond Tutu says (among many, many other great and wonderful words) that "our suffering can either ennoble us or embitter us." I'll be honest. Lately, as I've been looking back over my life, it's been very easy to be bitter. Please, spare me the lecture on how lucky I am that my daughter survived, that I've got a job I love and a roof over my head, I know all that, and I DO appreciate it. But, honestly, there is plenty to make me bitter, too. My life has not been easy. And Lord knows Becca's life has been anything but -- hate to say it -- fair. But I want desperately for our wounds and broken places to ennoble us. I trust that they occasionally do and, as time goes on, they will more and more. I'm trying to raise my daughter in such a way that her coin of compassion and anxiety is more heavily weighted towards compassion. I can't take away the hurt or the pain or the rough start or the continuing difficulties she faces...but I can help her flip the coin.
Feeding Therapy Victory!
Yes, we are alive. And here's proof. Hooray for the chocolately, protein-y goodness of Nutella! That's a way for a girl to get some calories!
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