So I Married a Deaf Man: Speak up, Sony!

Resist the urge.

When you meet someone who is Deaf, do not talk louder. Resist, I say.

Resist unless that person is over the age of 75 and has a lot of white hair and at least one person calls them Grandma/Grandpa. If this is the case, then by all means, shout away.

But if the person is like Hubs, Deaf from birth or an early age, no amount of voice raising is going to change that the fact that they just can't hear a word you are saying.

I think it is just natural that when we are told someone is Deaf, we assume that means that they simply can't hear us. It is true. They can't. So we take our voices up a notch.

Not only does this draw attention to you, the person who is yelling, but also the innocent Deaf person who may or may not be wondering why everyone around them is staring at them like they must be dense to need this person to yell their conversation. All for naught.

It is really funny, however, when that person knows Hubs, knows that he can't hear diddly squat and still...

My mom,  for example. She knows Hubs. She knows Hubs can't hear. At all. So why, for the love of Pete, will she call out, loudly, for him to turn around. Or why, when she is trying to communicate with him, does she speak in an abnormally loud voice.

Did she forget?

It doesn't bother either of us, really. We are used to it. We simply laugh it off. And my mom isn't the only one. Many friends and acquaintances, family and professionals do the same thing.

Resist.  Believe me, if they need you to speak up, they will tell you.

So let me save you the trouble. Hubs is opting out of the shout.

Because if you talk louder...

...he still can't hear you.

A few nights before Christmas...

Twas a few days before Christmas
And all through the house
Everything was stirring,
even that darn mouse (I'm not kidding!)

The stocking were hung
on the wall, not a chimney
wondering what Santa
soon would be givin' me.

The kids were each sprawled out
All over the floor
ABC's 25 Days of Christmas
Need I say more.

Hubs' done with his finals
The kids' school is all done
Haul out the holly
It's time for some fun!

Counting the presents
one, two, three, four,
Wait! I have five kids...
Ugh, I need one more.

So out of the house
I flew in a flash
Grabbed me my coat,
and a big hunk of cash (Hahaha good one!)

The road, it was slippery
from the new fallen snow,
So what should I do?
You guessed it, drive slow.

More rapid than eagles
I was in and then out,
"I'm finally done!"
I said with a shout.

"For Kobe and Kyla
"And Brody and Brig
"Yes, Camden and Daddy,"
I could've danced a jig.
(If only I knew how.)

This poem is too long
So let's cut to the chase.
The presents are all wrapped
And put in their place

And so it's now time
to stop all the bustle,
To take a step back
from all of the hustle.

For music, and goodies,
and gingerbread houses.
For ham and for football
and cuddling spouses.

For stories that remind us
of what we've been given
The greatest of all was
the baby from Heaven

So let it be said
for the next couple nights
"Remember the Babe
and follow His light!!"


Are you ready yet?

Move it, Grandma!!!!

I'm one of those people.

I try not to be, really. Okay, not really. I can't help it. I have too much of my dad in me.

When it snows, I am one of those people.

I try to act normal; to not annoy people. But I am annoying.

Yes, I am one of those people.

You know, the person who drives 15 mph in a 55 mph zone.

Not all the time.

Just when snow is blowing really hard. And when the road is covered with so much snow that all you can do is follow the tracks that the car ahead of you made and hope they didn't go over the side of the road.

I try to remember what Dad taught me: pump your breaks, turn into the skid, and most of all don't freak out.

I am a nice annoying person. I don't flip you off when you pass me. Even though you were riding my tail and making me more freaked out because I was sure you were going to skid into my rear end.

I keep to the right, when possible, even if it means I have to ride the slush for a few minutes, so you can pass. There are no dirty looks from me. Not a one. Not because I don't want to, mind you. But because doing so would require me to take my eyes off the road, and you so know I am not going to do that.

I just don't want to crash, skid,  go off the side of the road or pee my pants. None of those sound fun, appealing or the slightest bit attractive. 

And so I go slow.  Slow and steady.

I love snow in every other way. The night glow, the sledding, the instant smiles it puts on my kids' faces, the hot chocolate and warm blankets after. You name it, I like it.

Just not driving.

Honk if you must. Swear all you want. 

But I'm not going any faster. So phwwwwth!

Living the Season

Looking outside one's self. Isn't that what this season is really about? Isn't this what we try and teach our kids?

Well, I have a great story about giving selflessly.

My parents are good people. Really good people.

My dad was a teacher growing up and my mom would substitute teach a few days a week. With 8 children you can imagine how little money we had. They gave up a lot so that we wouldn't have to go without.

We grew up in a place where we got snow every year. Quite a bit. This particular year was extra cold. My poor parents. Mom had a really old, falling apart coat and Dad only had a light windbreaker. I am sure that they had given up their own stuff so that we kids would be warm.

Our family, along with another, was called to serve in a small branch of our church about an hour away from our home. This meant that every week we would bundle up in our van...the one where the heater worked sometimes and sometimes not... and drive an hour to the church. We were usually the first ones there and so it was up to us to get the church heater started. Shortly after, the members would start wandering in.

Early one Sunday morning we woke up to a ton of snow. A ton! So we load up and carefully make our way to the church. We get there and there was more snow there than at our house. As we were getting out of the car, a mother with her two kids walk up.

The young daughter had on a warm coat, but the mother and the son had nothing but their shirts to keep them warm. Instantly, my dad took off his coat and gave it to the young boy. My mom immediately did the same thing. Without thinking. And without any regret.

Luckily my mom was already getting a new coat for Christmas. But Dad was going to be left with nothing. Well, that's not true. He did have a light-er wind breaker that he could use.

They gave all they had. For people they hardly knew.

"When saw we thee a stranger..."

We spent that Christmas Eve at our friends' house. When we finally got home, we walked up to the door and there is a huge wrapped box on our porch.

The card said, "One good deed deserves another." or something to that effect. It was for my dad.

He opened the gift and inside was a beautiful coat. Thick and warm and probably way more than the. And yet, there it was. On our doorstep.

I am not sure that the coat physically still warms my father. I think it is probably worn out. But it does warm me every time I think about it.

True charity is giving when it isn't expected, but still needed.

"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

Let's live the season.

Hooking up with Jen Matlock.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Louder please!

We all have dreams. For some of us, it's a foot rub. For others getting our backs tickled. Still others dream of gourmet meals served on a silver platter.

Hubs' dream is to have someone with a fog horn blow it in his ear.

Tempting...but No.

I think that I am pretty tolerant with noise. I do have 5 kids, you know. Plus a dog. So I am no stranger to noise.

But a fog horn?

You've all heard of sound waves, right? The louder the sound, the more energy there is in those waves. And the more energy there is in those waves, the more those waves tickle Hubs ears.

He loves it.

When we were first married, he used to beg me to scream in his ears. And I would appease him because, heck, it was just us and he was my new Hubs and why not?

Then we had kids.

He would convince them to yell, full throttle, into his ears. It was funny at first. That was until they mistook me for Hubs, because we totally look like twins, and blew out my eardrums with their voices. That was the end of funny.

But the vibration of the sound waves at "inside voice" levels don't cut it for him. Nope, he would rather have "low flying fighter jet" levels vibrating through his ears and into his whole body.

You know when those cars pull up next to you and the bass is so loud and so low it almost makes you vomit from motion sickness? Hubs loves that. The louder the better.  If our bed could be set on a piano that is constantly playing the "Bumble Bee" song an octave lower, he would be in hog heaven.

So instead of whispering sweet nothings into his ears, I growl as low and as loud as I can...

...in his ear.

Romantic, no?

What the Hack!!!

Someone was very naughty.

I tried to get on this here blog on Saturday evening, and what I got was "This blog cannot be found." Or some message similar to that.

Did you see that message too? Just nod and pretend that you did....for my ego's sake. Thanks!

I bet you didn't cry like I did. I was so sad. All those posts. All that history. All of it. Gone. And I didn't know why.

Apparently, someone hacked into my email account and what's worse, they got my blog deleted. Or at least MIA.

I gasped. I cried. I searched. I worried. I cried again.

But before going into a long term depression...a friend of mine told me that all my posts were on her Google Reader because she followed me.

Hey, I follow me! All wasn't lost. All my going-ons for the last year: still present. Whew!!

Then I came into work tonight and like magic, there I was. My good old self. Back like I was never gone. And yet I was. For about 48 hours. Gone like the wind.

Lucky for me, the blogging wind is like the wind here where I live...it always comes back. My children are certain that the jerk of all jerks hacker is on the naughty list. Ya think? If only that threat of the naughty list would deter all naughties to be nice, think how happy the blogging world would be.


Glad to be back...even if you didn't notice I was missing.

Let there be lights!

One of the reason I love this time of year is because it is packed full of fun family traditions.

One of the things that we love to do is look at Christmas lights. Not the ones on our house...oh, wait. We don't have any on our house. My bad. (Hubs is actually putting up the lights as we speak.) Pretty much if it has lights on it, we want to see it.

Did you see the White House Christmas Tree? Now those are some lights! Wowza! It's beautiful. I would hate to have been there when the Obamas were fighting about whether to have colored or white lights on the tree. And can you imagine if one of those bulbs went out? I'm just saying.

In our quest for all things light, every year we head to the River of Lights. The River of Lights is where millions of people (slight exaggeration) bundle up and drag bring their children outside in the middle of winter to see how high the city energy bill can actually go a pretty cool display of Christmas lights.

We pulled into the parking lot, walked up to the gates and saw all the lights around us. I expected to hear sounds like, "Ohhhhh!!" and "Ahhhhh!" and "Wow!"

But all I heard from my 6 year old was, "I want to go some place warm!!" repeated 15 times.

6 minutes people.

"'Tis the season to be jolly. Fa la la la la la la la la!"