Squatters

"I wanna go outside," he announced.

"We are outside, Briggy," I answered.

"No! I mean I want to gooooooo outside," he clarified rather dramatically.

"Ahhh. Go...as in you need to use the potty."

"I want to go outside, not in the potty. Right here. In this bush," he pointed.

"Briggy, you know we don't go pee outside.Only when we are at the park and there are no restrooms. Or on a long trip. Or in the woods. Other than that, we go inside," I reminded.

Yeah, I know that is a lot of excepts, but....he's gifted.

We went inside, and became distracted. Him with his brothers Lego "guys" that he is forbidden to play with but does everyday after everyone has gone to school. And me with my loads and loads and loads of laundry. Okay, so maybe I was watching T.V. and eating something not chocolate, but whatever.

A little while later, I call out for Briggy. I get no response so of course I go looking. I glance out the back door and there he is....squatting. Which wouldn't be so bad if he was just squatting. But this time he was squatting with his pants down.

Remember that boys, when using the restroom, only have to squat for one reason alone. And it isn't number one.

"Briggy! Stop!! Don't do iiiiiit!!!" I shouted out the door.

Shocked, embarrassed, and slightly horrified to be caught in such a vulnerable position, he stood, kicked off his bottoms, and came storming in the house....straight to the potty.

I cleaned him up and was getting ready to retrieve his unders, when my dog runs out the door to investigate. You don't want to know what happens next.

Let's just say that my dog is NOT gifted.  Ugh.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Because I can hear...

As you know, I married a Deaf man. I love telling you about our life. Letting you get a glimpse into the uniqueness of my husband. The querkiness of our relationship. And the insanity we call family life.

But from the very first episode (is that what these are?)  in this series I have been avoiding writing this post. Why? Because these feelings are hard to put into words. Hard to define. Impossible to accurately convey. Feelings that close to the heart are kinda that way. And yet, I am going to try.

What is the hardest part being married to a deaf man? It's not the noises that he makes. Nope. The fact that I can't yell at him and feel heard? Some, but no. Perhaps because he sleeps like a rock and nothing moves him? Sadly, it gets harder. So what is it?

The hardest thing about being married to a deaf man is that I can hear.

Crazy, right? You see, life isn't fair for anyone. But it's even less fair for someone who can't hear. And as a wife of that deaf person, you see it all. You are right there with them, fighting that fight. But no matter what I do, it can't always be fair.

I try.

I fight with him...for his equality.
I interpret for him...for his access.
I help educate others...for their ignorance.
I encourage him... for his confidence.
I let him struggle...for his independence.
I love him...for his goodness...and his body...but mostly his goodness.

And still, life isn't fair.

It isn't fair he can't hear his children laugh, cry, coo, sing, fight, and play.
It isn't fair that others are intimidated by him and so instead of trying, avoid him.
It isn't fair that most people see him as disabled, impaired, less than whole.
It isn't fair that our children naturally go to English, leaving him out in his own home.
It isn't fair that in most situations he is alone. Completely and utterly alone.

So much of life isn't fair. So much in life that can't be made right. So much that I wish I could change. And yet....I can't. No matter how hard I try to even the playing field...it will always be just that. Unfair.

He can't hear.

And even though I know and he knows there is nothing I can do about these things, I feel guilt. Not because he says anything. He doesn't complain...ever. He is used to it. Heck, he's been deaf almost his whole life.

But still I feel it. The guilt. Why?

Because I can hear.

If looks could kill....

If looks could kill....

...we would all be dead. 

Don't mess with a man and his toast.

Start your engines....

I have a little bit of competitiveness within me. You kinda have to be when you come from a big family. You have to compete for attention. Compete for the hot shower. Compete for that bowl of Lucky Charms.

Survival of the fittest.

That said, I didn't think that I felt that competition for my kids. I, of course, cheer for them when in sports, but I am okay if they don't win, or if the other team scores more goals. I don't get mad at the refs and I don't take a swing at the jerk parent who does.

But for whatever reason, this.....

...Pinewood Derby...does something to me.

It's not that I want my kids to beat other kids. I just want them to do good...aka beat other kids.

You should also know, that Hubs is really good at making fast cars. Wait...I mean my boys are really good at making cars...especially when Hubs helps them.

In years past he has always made winners. But this year I was nervous.

Nervous because we are now on boy child #2 and of course I wanted him to do as good as his older brother. 
Nervous because the weigh-in was Monday evening and at 3pm it was still just cut wood.
Nervous because he put the weights on the outside of the car.



I am not sure what I had to be nervous about....

That's my child on the top. Right next to the #1.

He got first place in his den. Oh, and first place overall. He is going to District. He is super excited. Me too.

Way to go Brody!!

Now if I could just find his scout shirt.....



Cold is as cold does....

Truth is...I am glad I am not Hubs.

For a lot of reasons.

For starters,  I would never be able to find anything in the fridge and that would be frustrating because I, in wife form, wouldn't be there to find it for me, in Hubs' form.

 Secondly, if I was him, I wouldn't like to eat onions and that is just sad. Everything tastes better with onions. It tastes even better with green chili. I'm just sayin'.

But mostly I am glad I am not Hubs because I have zero desire to go on Klondike. That's right. Klondike is this weekend! No, I am not talking about those delicious chocolate covered  vanilla ice cream squares. Oh, no. I would be all over it if that was what I was talking about.

The Klondike I am talking about is winter camping. This is when a group of men and boys hike into the snowy mountains and spend a day, a night and a day. This does not even sound fun to me. At. All.

Don't get me wrong. I like camping. As in real camping. The kind that doesn't have showers. Or running water. Or electrical outlets. Sleeping in tents, not cabins. And sleeping bags not beds. That's fun! (But not bears. I don't like those.I try and avoid them.) But freezing cold temperatures? Snow? Hiking in that cold snow. Nope. You lost me. Totally and completely out.

Hubs and Kobe are heading out this evening. And Hubs has prepared. They have a few pairs of wool socks. And beanies. And neck warmers. And zero degree sleeping bags. And gloves...two pair. And boots. And long johns. And ponchos. And tarps. And....

Does this sound fun to any of you? Anyone?

My thoughts exactly! (unless you said yes...and then you are farther gone than I am.)

Me? I am planning a nice weekend at home. In my nice warm bed. In my nicely heated home. I may have a cup of warm hot chocolate.

Heck, I may even get myself my own Klondike...

...bar that is.

(I wrote this last Friday...thought it was still worth sharing. FYI, they came home in one half frozen piece, and are fully thawed. Whew!)

So I Married a Deaf Man: He got a box

For all his life, Hubs has spoken the "Other" language.

You know, the language that isn't cool enough to be mentioned on job applications.  The language not popular enough to be listed on school forms. That language not used enough to be on medical history forms.

Until now.

Today, Hubs had to go to the doctor. He has been complaining of heart pains. Which is totally crazy because he is totally healthy. He exercises 6 days a week. He doesn't smoke, drink or do drugs. Rarely drinks soda. He takes vitamins. See what I mean, healthy.

He must just love me so much that it hurts.

I do that to people.

Anywhoo...

While he was filling out the forms, it asked his primary language. And there is was. For the first time in our history.

How totally cool is that?  Have you ever seen that before?

Now he doesn't have speak the "Other" language. Now he can simply check the "Sign" box and move on with life...

...and loving me too much.

Finally!!

The Great