Prodding Your Patience?

Ever experience tension as you wait and wish the world would move faster? People today are pushed to accomplish tasks quickly - especially at work. "We are addicted to speed," according to Carl Honore, "to cramming more and more into every minute. Every moment of the day feels like a race against the clock, a dash to a finish line that we never seem to reach." Do you find you have to prod your patience against all this?

Roadrunner days can lead higher cortisol levels in our body and brain. What's the difference if I have higher cortisol? Dr. Ellen Weber explains effects of high cortisol and ways to put on the brakes...

What are you doing to live patiently and how is it working for you?

Breathtaking!

Pamela surprised me today several times in very promising ways:

1. Pamela is loosening up on the "sacred hour" which has been an institution around here since before we started RDI. She used to be quite adamant about watching television between noon and one, kicking David out for the duration. She only allowed exceptions for travel and for expected appointments away from home. I have noticed her loosening up on the sacred hour for the past two weeks. Today, David called me and said, "Mom! Look at the time." It was 12:25 and Pamela was soaking up rays on the back porch.

A few minutes later, Pamela happily checks to see if we have GF/CF chicken broth so she can make alphabet soup when we get back from shopping.

2. We drove to Walmart and picked up a couple of things. My mind was on all the things I had to get done today and it was Pamela who pointed out some girls' underwear with Sponge Bob, Dora, the Little Mermaid, etc. Although it was a short interaction, I felt she was truly sharing joint attention with me. Later, we looked at the books and she pointed out different picture books to me.

3. Then, a mini-miracle happened. We were heading over to the self-checkout and bumped into a kindly lady I know from church. Pamela has been staying home from church, and I am hoping she will choose to go with us one of these days. She had not seen this lady in ages, so I introduced her as J.B.'s mom (J.B. rented a house to us for 18 months and Pamela knows his name and who he is, so this was my way of scaffolding interest). The lady said, "Hi, Pamela, I’m N."

Pamela smiled and said, "Where are you from?"

N. needed me to repeat Pamela's question and said in a very engaging way, "Why, I'm from Manning, just like you." She patted Pamela on the arm.

Then, Pamela said, "I was born in Alaska."

"Alaska? It's so cold in Alaska."

"Yes. Where's David?"

I told N. that David was at home. Then she said, "Was David bad?"

Pamela shook her head and said, "No. David's not bad." Pamela likes to cheer people up after an argument (which we did not have with David today), so she gave me a hug.

Then, N. said, "Why Pamela, I just love hugs!"

And, Pamela hugged her. Pamela asked to go sit on the bench and I agreed. N. told her goodbye and Pamela waved to her!

4. And, if that wasn't enough, Pamela had brought a thick stack of old photographs in the car. While I was driving, she would make comments. Usually, she talks about the state, time zone, and/or Chinese astrological sign for the year the picture was taken. Today, she made very declarative comments with very little of the static.

She looked at a picture of a bunch of us midshipmen jumping into the pool with full dress uniform. Pamela said, "Swimming pool." So, I said, "Did you see what we were wearing?" She laughed and said, "Yes, clothes!" (I am one of the people in the blur . . . after the final parade before graduation, we all jump in a pool to celebrate because we no longer need those uniforms . . . crazy tradition, huh?)


Pamela was very fascinated by a picture of Hawaiians standing on boats at the Polynesian Culture Center in Hawaii. She said, "Boats." I told her that her dad took Grandma and Grandpa there when he lived in Hawaii. (This was before he and I met!)

She showed me another picture from the same place. I told her that Lisa met her husband Johnny at the center when he worked there. Last summer, we met Johnny and their beautiful daughter Leilani for the first time. (Lisa and I met in high school in Newfoundland.)

She showed me a picture of Steve boogie-boarding in Hawaii. She asked me, "Where's that?" because she truly did not know. I told her that her dad was at a beach in Maui, Hawaii. She did mention Hawaii Standard Time, but then asked for the city. I told her, "I don't know!"

She asked where this picture of Steve and I near a flooded swing-set. I asked, "Where do you think?" She said, "Sand Point." I said, "No." Then, she realized it was another island with tundra, "Adak, where you were born!" Again, she did not know the location of this shot.

She looked at this baby picture of herself and said, "Eating food." I said, "Yeah, you made a mess!" (Wasn't she a cutie?????? I can tell this was taken in December because four red advent candles are in the forefront!)

Then, she looked at this picture of Steve's parents' house in Louisiana. I know she remembers the house, but there was snow on the ground. She asked, "Where's the house?" I said, "In Louisiana. In 1989 Grandma and Grandpa had a crazy snowstorm." She smiled and said, "Uh-oh!" I laughed and said, "Yeah, God sent a big surprise."

Pamela saw this picture of her aunt and herself near a pool. Pamela said, "That's Florida." I said, "Yes, that was Aunt Essie's house. She’s in heaven." (I took this picture when Pamela was fifteen months old. When we got home, we took her to that fateful vaccination (MMR and DPT on the same day). What a mistake! She was already having health problems with never ending diaper rashes and ear infections. Her illnesses and autism ramped up after this!)

She showed me this picture from Disneyland and said, "Rocket!" I replied, "That's when we took you to Disneyland!" (We visited my sister in San Diego and hit Disneyland on the way back. We had just started the process of getting Pamela evaluated. We did our best to fake enjoying the trip for Pamela's sake. How could she notice our heartbreak?)


She showed this picture from Germany, "It's a church!" I replied, "That's when we saw Oma and Opa in Germany." (Pamela was four on this trip. She was afraid of Mom's canary and hid behind the couch a lot. She did well on the trip except the jetway terrified her and the people smoking after dinner triggered an allergic reaction in her. David was a baby, and his great Oma just loved him because he would play with the ball of yarn sitting in the basket!)


Then, she held this picture of David and her in the plastic pool. She pointed, "David's in the pool." I said, "Oh, yes, you were playing." Then she said, "Ariel." I said, "David was so cute." She pointed to his shirt and said, "Baloo!" (Pamela attended special education classes in the local public school. Steve and I were on active duty in the Navy.)

She saw this picture of her on a slide and said, "Florida!" I said, "Yes, that's when we moved to Connecticut!" (We visited my sister in Florida on our way to Connecticut. Both kids enjoyed playing with their cousins, who are about the same age as my kids.)

She looked at a picture of her and David on farm and asked, "Where's that?" I replied, "Allentown, near Philadelphia." Then she said, "Five more states" because she realized it was during our move to Connecticut in 1995 after Steve and I left the Navy and began homeschooling.

Then, she saw a picture of David at a playground. She said, "David's sliding!" I said, "That looks like fun!" She said, "Just like gravity!" (Pennsylvania had several wonderful playgrounds, and we had a pool, swingset, and climbing trees--a kid's paradise. They spent many happy hours playing in our backyard.)

She commented on this shot of the kids doing a homeschool Christmas program. Pamela said, "David's signing 'Silent Night!'" I said, "He did such a great job!" (We attended a fantastic co-op in Pennsylvania. The kids loved going to classes and all of the field trips and other activities. It was a blast!)

She showed me this mystery road and asked, "Where's the road?" I told her I didn't know but said the date was August 2001. Then, she told me, "That’s Alaska!"

I felt like this conversation was much closer to the joint attention we are seeking because many of her comments were declarative. When she did ask, she truly did not know or was confused. When I did answer with the name of the state, Pamela did not fall into her typical patterns (state, time zone, Chinese astrological year). She did not ask me to tell her what she already knew in a static conversation. She made different comments based upon the pictures themselves.

Happy with Your Work?

Interestingly, many older Americans are happy with their work. Is that the case for you? A recent University of Chicago study shows that though some people may gripe, many workers love their jobs. And, believe it or not, satisfaction increases with age.

The survey found that job satisfaction increases with age, with workers over 65 among the most satisfied. The study shows that 86 percent of the people interviewed between 1972 and 2006 said they were satisfied at their jobs. "Job satisfaction is especially high among those 65 and over because most people working at that age are not those forced to still work due to financial reasons, but those who choose to do so because they like their jobs," Tom W. Smith, Director of the General Social Survey at the National Opinion Center at the University of Chicago, said.

"The most important the factors contributing to more job satisfaction," Smith discovered, "in descending order of importance are holding a job with high prestige, being older, being non-black and earning more from a job."

So if you enter a dream career, why does the honeymoon seem to end? Perhaps its a hellish commute, work that's predictable rather than creative, incompetent bosses, or office politics that tarnishes what you once thought perfect. If that's the case what can you do to turn that around?

Your attitude helps to shape your outcomes. If you go to work thinking it will be dull and monotonous, these turn into self-fulfilling prophecies. Judith Sills, a Philadelphia based clinical psychologist recommends the following strategies, in the Dec issue of Psychology Today to renew the first love you had for your work...

Sills recommends keeping a daily list of five things that were positive at work each day. She terms it "attitude gratitude." Check these out for your list...

Review the sweet spots of your day Notice the moments in your day when you sense you're at your best. Keep bringing flashbacks of these moments to mind.

Cherish social support You and colleagues work together to accomplish goals. Your encouragement and support of others helps you as much or more as it does them.

Appreciate mentoring Many bosses keep giving you tips and strategies to help you grow. Good mentoring is not always easily received, but it is a great boon to your growth. Rejoice your boss cares.

Perks count Think about the bonus, the company dinner, the football tickets or even your vacation time and count these as a plus.

Consider your salary "Certainly a sense of self, a contribution to society, intellectual challenge, and deep visceral thrills make excellent reasons to love your job," Sills says. ""But on the off chance that your day-to-day employment falls short... remember that money is the primary reason adults are at the workplace."

If people make that "attitude adjustment," it's a great way to reboot your brain at work... as Ellen Weber advocates.

What spurs you on to renew the romance of your first love for your work?

Wordless Wednesday: My Baby's Practicing for the SAT

Uncovering Uncertainty

Today we celebrated Veteran's Day by attending our town's first annual Veteran's Day parade, which started promptly at 11:00 AM on November 11. Bravo Zulu to all of you veterans who served our great country! Thank you for your service!

After the parade, Pamela and I collected some fall leaves for a friend in Florida, whose children have never seen snow, much less autumn colors. We are goint to try to rectify that situation in a small way. It is a lot easier to mail leaves than snow! Afterwards, Pamela enjoyed the neighbor's swing before we headed into the house to get ready to hit the store.

Uncertainty about Hidden Things
We continue to investigate what forms of uncertainty make Pamela anxious enough to go static and stimmy. I am fairly certain that not knowing what hidden things are do not fluster her one bit. This package for someone at church has their name in care of me. It sat in Pamela's view all day and she never asked what it was and to whom it belonged. She does not the recipient, and I am surprised she did not ask.

After the parade, I put two of these buttons in my jeans pocket. Before we left for the store, I put my hand in my pocket and said mysteriously, "I have something in my pocket." When she asked what it was, I smiled but didn't give her an answer. She showed no interest until I mentioned it again in the parking lot. I put one on her zipper handle and began jiggling it. She said, "Rattle!"

Uncertainty about Directions
Pamela has a keen sense of direction, partially because of her eye for pattern and because we have been so many places. She was born on an island in the Aleutians, halfway between Russia and mainland Alaska. She has lived in thirteen different homes, not including three weeks in a high-rise apartment in Santiago, Chile and three weeks visting family in El Salvador. She does care about routes and even tells Steve which road to take home sometimes. I tested her yesterday and today by taking round-about ways to wherever we were going. In both cases, we traveled down streets we have never seen. Pamela asked, "Where are we going?" I scaffolding by telling her our destination and adding, "We are exploring right now." Pamela was not a bit angry or concerned. In fact today, she said, "New. Brand new" when we entered an unfamiliar neighborhood.

Next time, I plan to remove the scaffolding by having a destination in mind, but not tell her. I am not sure how Pamela will take that level of uncertainty.

Loa, the GF/CF Dog

Today, a gorgeous sunny day with a bit of a breeze going, Pamela, David, and I met up with the entire Jamberry and Habeeb crew (Sly, Jman, SB3). The only one missing in action was Steve, who was helping out Tammy's brother with a favor. The next time, Jamberry and her boys--all four--will stay with us so that we can talk without Pamela and Jman looking for an escape hatch from the chatty mommas (actually, they were both VERY patient). I loved holding SB3 and got to see the gamut of his emotions: placid, sleepy, hungry, poopy, and giggly. Yep, I saw him laugh, and he was sooooo cute.

I enjoyed talking to Jamberry and Habeeb, fellow boat schoolers. How often can you talk about the Dark Ages, going over the wall, getting fried, Storm Brother's ice cream, Annapolis' version of the Ho Chi Minh trail, women's glee club, itchy wool uniforms, peacoats, overcoats, and reefers? See what I mean! You don't have a clue what any of that means. Not even Steve, the 16-week wonder, knows what some of it means.



Before moving onto my dog, I wanted to address Penny's comment from Monday's post, asking if Bob's Red Mill withdrew their oats a few months back because of gluten contamination. I was not too worried because Pamela showed no signs of a reaction to the cookies or eating an entire bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. I emailed the company and, within 24 hours, they replied,

Our Gluten Free Oat products were withdrawn from the market for a few months because of a bad flavor and odor profile caused by the way they were processed. Our supplier has since updated their processing procedures and we now have a limited supply of Gluten-Free Steel Cut Oats.

Now, onto Loa, the GF/CF dog (the fawn colored one on the right) . . . ever since we moved to Carolina, we have struggled off and on with major skin problems. The first thing we treated was fleas, something unknown to her when we lived in Colorado, Alaska, and Minnesota. We got the fleas under control, but she continued to have unpredictable breakouts, which we thought might have been fleas. We got very aggressive with weekly flea shampoos and bimonthly treatments, but no change. The only thing that ever cleared her up were antibiotics and steroid shots, unhealthy for her in the long run. We even did the protocol recommended by the vet: Omega 3 oil, Benadryl, weekly baths with a special creme rinse, hot spray for new open sores, and dog food for sensitive skin. Even our most dedicated efforts failed. He finally told u$ Loa may re$pond to low-allergenic pre$cription diet.

Fortunately, what I learned with Pamela helped. At first, we tried Hills Prescription Diet canned z/d dog food. The vet prescribed antibiotics, but no steroids, so we could see the effect of the food sooner. She did very well for a week, so we bought more of the same plus Royal Canin's Potato and Duck dry dogfood. For two days, I caught Loa gnawing on rawhide and she had another breakout. Rawhide may cause allergic reactions, so we only let the healthy-as-a-horse dog chew them.

We started alternating between the two foods as a hedge against further food allergies. She got better and finished off the antibiotics. Last weekend, we ran out of Benadryl, and she had another breakout. I began to suspect the canned stuff, mainly because it had corn starch. I bought more Benadryl, so now we are doing the med and the corn-free potato and duck dogfood. If she stays clear for a week, then I test her with the canned dogfood with the corn starch for a test. I could go on and on with the variations I will have to do to isolate the culprit. Most of you know the process because you have done it with your autistic children. Happy, happy, joy, joy!

Sweet Moment in the Parking Lot of Walmart

After we checked out, Pamela and I were in the parking lot, walking to the car. We bumped into an acquaintance of mine and her little three-year-old boy. He attends my very short, in-the-spirit-of-Charlotte Mason music lesson for preschoolers every Sunday. He loves the drum and plays with a very steady rhythm. I told him that I missed him last Sunday, and his mother told me he had a stomach virus. Then, the coolest thing happened:

Pamela overheard the conversation and said rather stridently, "You're not sick!"

In my typical declarative response, I pointed to the boy and said, "He was sick on Sunday. But, you're not sick."

We reached their car and were winding up our conversation. Then, Pamela turned to me, pointed to him, and asked, "How does the boy feel?"

I told her, "I don't know. You could ask him a 'How do' question?" I scaffolded her syntax because I wanted her to succeed in this interaction with a total stranger (she has never met this little boy).

She looked at him, pointed, and asked, "How do you feel?"

Then, he looked up at her and said, "Fine!"

Then, his mom prompted him to say thanks, so Pamela thanked him. LOL. But, then when he waved good-bye to her, she waved back and said, "Bye!"

Isn't that sweet?