What it’s not like

 

It’s not quiet.

The mind is a funny thing -- creating sounds to match the faces, the instruments, the movements, the emotions.

 

Dare you.

To tell me you can’t hear it too?

 

 

(for the record, I was the only adult remaining outside after 20 minutes of this)

 

 

(I.can.not.get.enough.of.this)

 

 

(oh yes you can, I know you can hear those birds)

 

 

(in case you can’t hear it… that is the sound of another load of laundry)

 

While deafness separates you from the daily noise of the world; I find that it is not the music, television, phone, radio, announcements, plays, movies, waves, thunder (and a million other amazing sounds) that I miss.

Instead… it’s the words.

 

Helen Keller said it best when asked if she would chose to be deaf or blind:

“Blindness separates you from things, deafness separates you from people”

 

And rather than inspiring a pity party (because I can assure you they are rare around here, though all guests must bring chocolate), it makes me grateful to be alive now.

 

When I lost my hearing… I found comfort in words.

 

 

And thirty (cough cough) years later, I still find comfort in words.

 

Here.

 

Mr. Daddy had it right when he said that this levels the playing field.  It allows me to be part of the conversations around me and to feel less apart for lack of a better word.  I don’t have to struggle to understand what someone is saying, missing the punchline and pretending it was funny.

And the words back?  Are a treasure.

Laughter and tears often from the same comment.  You guys are amazing.

 

That last post?  Wasn’t meant to be a downer.  Just to show how different life can be for someone who doesn’t hear.

And this post?  Was meant to show how very much we can be the same.

Thank you for including me friends.

 

~

 

Now, looking back at those pictures… do y’all realize what a NOISY life I have for a deaf person??? ;)

 

What it’s like

 

 

No one speaks the language.

Every third word sounds close enough to English that you pantomime the rest.

Or you nod your head and pretend you understand.

 

Kind people try again and again – smiling in encouragement as you stumble through a conversation.

Small talk becomes too much work.

 

You’re the novelty in the room.

The foreign-exchange student.

Either everyone has a question for you, or they are as uncomfortable as you.

You go nowhere without being observed with interest – you’re automatically special.

.

 

Things don’t work for you.

 

The school bell rings and other kids pour onto the playground.

The news is complete gibberish, despite the frightening images.

The checker grabs a plastic bag impatiently after mumbling three times.

The phone chirps happily with fourteen voicemails – all in the native language.

The fire alarm blares overhead as you continue your dinner at a birthday celebration.

The other passengers leave after a PA announcement – you are left at a deserted gate.

Your sister/mother/husband are always apologizing to the person repeating “excuse me” behind you in the store aisle.

 

“Sorry, she can’t hear you.  She’s deaf”.

 

Boing

 

Because life is just so wonky right now… all I have is crazy snippets of the wackiest stuff.

Like the fact that I got this little lovely in the mail yesterday:

Whew!  I’m so glad they let me know A DOCUMENT IS ENCLOSED!  I would have hated to get all excited opening it to find nothing.

And even better?  It’s a REMINDER that goshdarnit, they’ve sent me a sales pitch once, now they’re reminding me that I haven’t bought their super-duper credit monitoring service.

But hey, I got a DOCUMENT, so I’m gold :)

 

~

 

A “document” that I really, really loved?  The birthday card I picked out for my mom :)

 

Adding to the hilarity is that this “short” thing is three generations old:

Grandma on the left, friend Sally in pink, my mom, and yours truly.  All fun size.

 

~

 

Plus we celebrated May-May’s birthday:

 

and Father’s/Grandpa’s Day:

 

Let it be known that my own father has grievously wounded me by declaring such nonsense as to forbid any photo of him to be found on my blog (collective gasp!)

So Dad, here’s what you’ve reduced me to.  Posting photos of your gift.

Yeah, it’s a sad day.

 

~

 

 

Random fact:

I turned around to check on Itty Bit in the car and hollered OHMYGOSH!

 

Random fact:

If you yell “OHMYGOSH” at a half-asleep kid, he’ll freak out and yell back

OHMYGOSH WHAT?  WHAT?  WHAT??????????

 

Random fact:

The Blue Measles – guaranteed to appear whenever you have a photo shoot planned.

Highly contagious.

Cure = Mom’s spit.  Highly painful – if the wailing is any indicator.

 

~

 

See it?

 

What was even funnier, was when the lady getting out of her car saw it!

Who on earth leaves a guard chihuahua on TOP of their car in the bank parking lot?

 

 

And who on earth takes pictures of random cars while they’re stuck in the drive up line?

(A diehard blogger, that’s who :)

 

~

 

As if I weren’t accident prone enough?

Our snow cone maker kinda sorta exploded.

And in cleaning up the mess, I asked Itty Bit to please throw me the dishtowel.

I forgot that he’s been practicing lately…

He launched this crazy pitch with the towel… which hit me square in the face and wrapped around my head.

I was mummified except for one eye.

He looked at me with a look of appropriate shock and said reverently,

 

“GOOD CATCH MOM!”

 

~

 

Oh, and Boing?

Itty Bit’s new catchall answer for any and everything.

 

Honey, do you want some string cheese?

BOING.

 

Honey, it’s time for a bath.

BOING.

 

Honey, where did you put your shoes?

BOING.

 

Honey, if you say BOING one more time…

 

BOING.

 

 

 

(50 OnceUponaMiracle points if you spotted the double eyebrows before reading this)

I Heart Faces–Let’s Hear It For the Boys!

 

I have some pretty special boys in my life, so this theme should have been easy, right?

I love me a picture that tells a story.  And in this particular one, it’s the deep friendship between my father-in-law and his great-grandson.

Can’t you see that the man is Bubba’s favorite toy?

 

What you don’t see… is that the next photo in the series is Grandpa picking Bubba up and swinging him upside down.

And what you don’t hear?  Is that Grandpa was laughing as hard as Bubba.

Admit it… he’d be everyone’s favorite great-grandpa!

 

I can’t wait to see the rest of the entries at I Heart Faces this week!  Awesome theme!

Letters of Intent–and a Proud Mommy Moment

 

Dear Itty Bit,

The story behind the picture from yesterday?  Yeah… that was your fault.

I know you hate your shoes being wet.

But DUDE…

I know that you ain’t deaf.

 

(For the rest of you… just picture eleventy “don’t you dare!” threats while these were shot)

 

 

 

…

 

(For the record, he has perfect hearing.  Perfect selective hearing)

 

Just how long do you suppose I have until this kid of mine tells me that his hearing aid battery must be dead?

What are YOUR kids up to?

 

Love,

The Momma Who Gave a Stinky Footed Boy a Piggyback Ride

 

p.s. Would you quit doing that freaky thing with your feet?

with KMama at The Daily Dribbles!

 

~

Dear Mr. Daddy,

 

Big Pot.

Little Bowl.

Told you so.

 

I love you.

 

Dork :)

 

Love,

The One Who You Usually Laugh At For Doing the Same Thing

 

~

with King Julien atFoursons!

Does a year change your vote?

 

Anyone remember this?

 

Mr. Daddy:  Hon?

Rachel:  Yeah?

Mr. Daddy:  What is he wearing?

Rachel:  What do you mean?

Mr. Daddy:  You didn't put him in capris, did you?

Rachel:  No.  Those are board shorts.

Mr. Daddy:  No they're not, they're capris.

Rachel:  No honey - they're board shorts.  In size 5 - I cinched up the adjustable waist.

Mr. Daddy:  No, they're capris.

Rachel:  Honey, they're NOT!  They're board shorts and he's cute.

Mr. Daddy:  (grumble grumble)  putting my boy in capris....

 

~

And well… y’all kinda sorta threw me to the wolves on that one… leaving comments saying they were capris.  I tell ya, the man CROWED for days.

And then… came the MANPRIS trend.  I mean, the ones that looked beachy.  Don’t do like I did and Google it.

 

What has been seen cannot be unseen.

(I am more than a little disturbed by the guy with his hands on his zipper.  If I were wittier, I’d come up with a whole conversation between these guys… but still, I’m a wee bit creeped out)

 

~

MIND BLEACH

~

 

So fast forward a year… I tell ya, the kid does not keep weight around his tummy.  The same pair of BOARD SHORTS are cinched up with a few extra inches of legs sticking out.

 

So just for kicks… do I you think I can call ‘em board shorts, or should I be content that Itty Bit started the manpris fad?

eSPECIALly ironic

 

I sign with my kid.

From the time he was this little

I would catch his attention, sign PLAY RUN, and jog his tiny feet in place.

 

Long before he could speak, I would sign it and his face would light up while he kicked his legs and cooed.

He quickly learned to sign it himself.

 

(as well as the cutest little backwards KITTY you ever saw)

 

Out in public, it forces him to stop and pay attention to the parental unit before dashing off into mischief.

Well… sometimes.

See these things?

 

These pint-sized things bring out the wild child side of the kiddo.

Careening through the store and wiping out massive Cheetos and Pepsi displays are the norm when he gets behind the wheels of this baby.

(Not to mention the 14 bags of Oreos that magically appear in the cart when it’s time to pay)

 

The other day?  Let’s just say that he was performing his usual maneuvers brilliantly whilst ignoring his Momma equally brilliantly.

Who me?

 

Yeah YOU.

 

Couldn’t be…

 

Then who?

 

Quick… name that song!

 

Anyway… he had already nearly taken out the town drunk at the knees, when he spun and narrowly missed a woman and her daughter as he ran crazily for the yogurt section.

You can imagine my virtuous patience and calmness as I ran after the out-of-control cart boy, snagged the speeding vehicle with one hand and began signing with the other hand (calmly, remember?) to the little lawbreaker.

STOP IT DUDE.  THAT’S ENOUGH.

(insert stern Mommy face)

 

The aforementioned pedestrian stopped me.

You know it’s bad enough to be handling a meltdown in public, but when someone taps you on the shoulder and REMINDS you that you’re in public… gah.

 

Excuse me… is he special?

.

.

Umm, what?

Special?  Is he special?

 

And then… I had to keep from choking on my laughter.

Oh the irony.  This poor woman had not noticed my “accent”, seen me signing, and assumed that my temporarily insane child was deaf.  Or “special”.

 

Before I could answer, she said, “you were signing”.

“Yes Ma’am.  I’m deaf and I sign with him”.

“Oh!”

(awkward silence as she realizes she’s talking to a deaf person)

 

“I just wondered because my son is in a wheelchair and he has cerebral palsy and… well, he’s special”.

I smiled as I thought of our friends in wheelchairs.  I smiled as I thought of my mother talking about how “special” I was growing up.  And I smiled as I told her that I hoped our boys would become friends in school.

And to complete the Hallmark moment… my child launched himself onto the floor in a vociferous tantrum over something  critical to his survival (the correct brand of string cheese, thankyouverymuch).

 

And the irony was not lost on me.

 

Yes Ma’am.  He most assuredly is special.

I Heart Faces–Bright and Vivid!

 

Let’s be honest…

I only dress our all boy kiddo in bright colors when we’re heading out in crowds.

And my husband is either outfitted in camo, or camo with a blinding neon safety vest.

For this week’s I Heart Faces theme, neither scenarios make for great BRIGHT and VIVID shots!  Well, unless you count my rosy cheeks from chasing a quick-legged little preschooler…

In fact, most days I use echolocation to find my kid in a dirt pile if that tells you what kind of ‘bright and vivid” we end up in… head to toe!

So I happily sought moments of a darling little Miss Cindy Lou Hoo wearing her favorite hat.  And I realized that sometimes… making fishy faces behind the camera to cajole a kid into smiling… well, it doesn’t work ;)

 

Love that she gave it right back to me!  She is a hoot and a holler and I love her to pieces!

 

Head on over for lots more bright and vivid cheeriness!

On being dramatic

 

I have no clue where he gets it.

I mean, it’s a given that he’s not crazy about washing his hair.

 

But seriously?  I finally caved and recorded his current response to the request to wash his hair… because even the deaf Mommy knows that he is saying, “NEVAH!”

I’m so in for it, aren’t I?

 

No, nevah!

 

While the poor kid finally got a haircut, Mommy still hasn’t figure out how to lose the Minnie Mouse voice.

Sigh.

True Story Tuesday–It’s Too Late To Ground Me, Right? (II)

 

Well y’all… I think it’s about time for True Story Tuesday to take its annual siesta.  Would love it if you’d give it one more whirl before heading out to make all your new summertime “I can’t believe that just happened” posts!  We’re saying farewell with an oldie, because I am apparently a glutton for punishment…

~

Somehow, I didn’t ever think the day would come where I would rat myself out to an entire population of bloggy friends… especially the readers who may fill a certain couple in (cough mom&dad cough) on my misdeeds.

But that’s what True Story Tuesdays are for, right?  Coming clean with all the craziness that no one could believe all happens to one person.  Sharing all those tales that are almost too funny/outrageous/miraculous/hilarious to be true.

Come on, you know you’ve got a few of your own.  Heck, you’ve probably already posted a few.  Just grab the code under the True Story Tuesday button on the sidebar, add it to your link, then come back and plug in your post link for some comment love.

After all, that’s what True Story Tuesdays are for, eh?

Now, if you guys don’t see me around for awhile… you’ll know my parents caught wind of this story and decided to ground their 30-something daughter for something that happened two decades ago.

~

It’s Too Late To Ground Me, Right?

 

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER MOM AND DAD

Remember my last TST?  I mean, who could forget?  The crazy Kirby vacuum cleaner getting tangled in my hair and smacking violently into my forehead repeatedly while my father sat and laughed himself silly.

Now I wish I could say I got my revenge on the Kirby vacuum, but that beast just wouldn’t die.

But that camper… well the camper was another story.

Remember these?

Well, I wasn’t overly fond of camping – being the prissy city girl that I was (my family laughs maniacally at the thought that I now live in the country with three horses behind the house).  I certainly didn’t have much use for the fake hotel that didn’t even have a bathroom.  And I certainly didn’t have any use for it since I had to help clean it when I didn’t even want to go anywhere in it.

With summer past, I could breathe a sigh of relief.  We wouldn’t be going anywhere in the rain.  And we sure wouldn’t be going anywhere in the snow.

Speaking of snow… we finally got a day to play in it.  We bundled up – my sis and I…

Yes, this was taken on the actual day of this TST. (Next time you mention wanting THICK hair, take a look at this picture and just feel sorry for me, k?  Thanks to PCOS, this isn’t a problem anymore, but golly – try taming that before school every morning!)

And Mom… if you’re reading – even though I already told you not to – remember that you love that picture, and you especially love your oldest daughter who would never do anything intentionally to upset you.

Sooo… we headed outside for some major snowball fights just a few moments after that classic 80’s picture was taken (I was so rockin’ that acid wash denim jacket).

We shriek and scream and dodge and pelt our way through most of the snow in the driveway.  My sis starts grabbing handfuls of snow off the truck.

Well, I have a better idea.

(Aren’t you glad, for the sake of your entertainment, that I have such spectacular ideas?)

I haul myself bodily onto the hood of the truck (sorry Dad), and clamber up the windshield (Mom is wincing… I told you guys to quit reading).  I hang like a rock climber from the cab-over part of the camper (I was less than 5’ tall, I didn’t say it was a SMART idea).  Then finally scramble onto the top of the camper.

Whoo-hoo!  King of the hill!  My poor sis is getting pelted with snowballs from above – from my exceptionally brilliant vantage.

She shrieks, attempts a few feeble retaliatory snowballs, then retreats around the back end of the truck.

By golly, I wasn’t going to let her get away with that!  Not when the supremely non-athletic me had finally found a way to best her throwing skills.

And as I went to follow her from above… I took two steps on the top of that snow-covered camper and…

(Look away Mom & Dad)

 

I FELL THROUGH.

 

Oh, it wasn’t enough that I just (ahem) BREAK something, but my entire right leg went through the plastic ceiling vent and I was wedged tight.

Oh Golly.

And darn those siblings with perfect hearing… that little sister stopped dead in her tracks and turned around with a look of pure shock on her face.

“What was THAT???”

“nothing”

“That wasn’t NOTHING, what was it?”

“Nothing!”

“What happened?”

Then followed an extremely painful series of negotiations in which I believe I agreed to do my sister’s chores and eat her vitamins for approximately 14 years.

 

I managed to somehow extract my leg with only minor injuries, but my physical wellbeing would be in far greater jeopardy if my dad found out what had happened to his camping treasure.

So… ummm… I… I… I didn’t tell him.

 

That’s right folks.  I somehow managed to pay my sister off long enough for her to forget  about the “incident”.

Except ‘til early summer.  When Dad went out to ready the camper for our next trip.

And opened the door to discover massive damage.

Golly gee.  Something had broken the vent, left broken plastic all over, and had allowed all that snow to just pile into the inside of the camper and Lordy, that mildew was something else.  Baffling, truly  baffling…

~

Seriously folks, this will be the first time my parents have heard the real reason for that mystery disaster that claimed our camper.  Pray that I will somehow managed to sneak this post under the radar, so as not to jeopardize future blogging.  Otherwise you may just have to petition for my release from cruel and unusual punishment (oh Lord, they’re gonna make me go camping, aren’t they???)

~

I know you’ve got some great stories – and we’d love to see ‘em!  Link up below and we’ll be around with some comment love!  Happy True Story Tuesday y’all!