Author Archives: midlifenatalie

This past week was a hard one for me.  I was miserably sick.  I had some tough personal moments as well.  As I look back on where my mind went during one particular evening I’m still amazed at some of the thoughts I had.  I was in a state of shock.  I could hear the air rushing around my head.  And it was in that state that Carmex and a promise brought forth such strong emotions that sleep eluded me.  All night long my mind wouldn’t stop.  I thought about things that are so personal that I can’t type them here.  The feelings connected to them made sense.  But then I thought about laundry detergent and the smell of Gain fabric softener.  And what about House of Pies and The Black Lab?  And Zushi…I can’t live without Zushi.  And Paris and snuglets, and Allison.  Jack dogs and Jesse dogs.  Empty drawers and make-up.  And what about those tennis shoes?  Mike’s Hard Lemonade and a bottle of Champagne.  All of those things while silly and seemingly unimportant kept me awake.  Individually they might not be a big deal, but all together they were huge.  Significant.  And by keeping me awake they woke me up.  I needed that.

Staying home from school sick today.  I hate to do it, but I didn’t sleep at all.  Not a bit.  I have a cold and no voice, but there’s other life stuff on top of it as well.  There was no way I could have functioned at school.

Normally I don’t read or care about these things.  Not at all.  Today’s caught my eye.

Remember this?

Well, I happened to be driving by that same billboard yesterday and saw this…

Much better!

Since it’s World Autism Awareness Day I thought I would write about a little something that’s been on my mind lately.

Right after spring break I got a new student.  He seemed to be having trouble adapting to our schedule.  After 2 weeks of teaching said student I’m almost positive he has Asperger’s Syndrome or some other form of autism.  My niece has it, and there are many similarities to the glimpses I got of her at that age.  I haven’t said anything to the parents, because I’m not sure why he transferred to our school.  I know he is closer to his mother’s job now.  I know they pay tuition for him to go to our school, because they still live in the district where his old school was.  I can’t help but wonder if the teacher at his old school mentioned that he might need to be tested because of his problems, and his parents didn’t agree or want to accept it.  From what I can tell he’s an only child.  He reads and writes beautifully (From what I’ve read good handwriting isn’t normal for autistic kids…hm…).  He can count better than most.  Based on those things he is a model student.  But something is definitely wrong.  I’ve talked to my principal, and she thinks we should wait to talk to the parents.  She told me to make notes.  Document behaviors that stand out.  I’ve started doing that.  I just wish I could call his old school and get some feedback from them.  I wish I could talk to my sister about it as well.

While looking things up online I came across this fictional story about a kid with Asperger’s Syndrome that I thought I would share.  Just in case anyone out there is interested.

I have never liked getting my haircut. I don’t like the amount of time it seems to take. It’s not like I think I have better things to do with my time. I’m not one of those people who has to be on the go all the time either. But for some reason when I’m getting my hair done the time seems to drag on and on. Waiting for that golden moment when you’re given the mirror to check yourself out seems like it’s never going to come. When the cape is finally removed and I’m allowed out of the chair all I want to do is throw my money at the counter as I run by. I feel as though I have to escape before my stylist sees an errant hair that he missed and pulls out those scissors again. I don’t though. I actually stand there and pay like a good customer.

When I lived in Turkey I really hated getting my haircut. And yes, hate is an extreme word, but it is the proper one here. I never knew what to expect at the salons there. After a couple of really bad haircuts (due I’m sure to my extremely limited language skills when we first arrived AND earning me the nickname Larry because one was SOOOO short) I was quite skittish anytime I needed a trim. And believe me the only time I ever got my haircut there was when the split ends were taking over and I had no choice but to get a trim. There was no way I was going to let someone actually give me full out haircut. I saved those for my trips to America. One of the things that seemed so strange to me in Turkey was the fact that it took 2 people to style your hair. One person was the hairdryer holder while the other used the brush and aimed the hairdryer. And even though I was only getting trims it still seemed like it took forever.

A couple of weeks ago I had my hair colored and highlighted. It was spring break and the only available appointment my colorist had left was on a Saturday. Let me bear witness here that Saturdays are crazy busy at my salon. After looking over my hair my colorist decided that it was time for some highlights and low lights as well as the normal root touch up. Being completely dense about these things myself I let her make those sorts of decisions for me. So far she’s never steered me wrong. She mixed her colors and set about foiling my hair. By the time she was done with that portion her next client had arrived. She passed me off to a girl who basically runs around the coloring station helping everyone. She applied the base color to my roots and wherever else it needed to be touched up. I waited. When it was time to rinse it all out another helper girl took me to the washing sink and rinsed. She applied a 2 part leave-in conditioner that needed to be heated so I sat under the dryer for 20 minutes, rinsed, was conditioned again and sat under the dryer for an additional 15 minutes After everything was washed out I was taken to yet another person who dried and styled my hair for me. 4 hours and 4 people later I was done. Finally done. All I can say is thank goodness I hadn’t planned to get my haircut as well!

Note…my hair was beautiful. I wish I had thought to take a picture of it.

Note 2…I made another appointment while I was there for a Tuesday night weeks in advance. I NEVER do that, but I don’t think I can handle another Saturday appointment again.

I am really quite amazed at this whole blogging thing.  I know that this blog has been discovered by people who know me in real life.  I’m sure many of them are quite shocked by what they’ve read here.  I can’t apologize for how I feel, but I can say I’m sorry if it hurts you.  I certainly didn’t want anyone to feel hurt by what I’ve written.  All I know is that I have to write it down.

I got my first diary when I was in grade school.  I think I wrote in it a few times, but I never kept up with it.  I have notebooks from high school and college where my scattered thoughts found a home.  Writing things down seemed like a good idea, but I never was diligent enough to keep a journal consistently.  As I’ve looked back over the things I’ve written I can see that my words came from emotional places.  Sometimes the emotions were sad, and other times I was elated.  Between 1991 and 2000 I don’t  think I wrote anything.  I was too busy having babies and doing the suburban mom thing.  In September of 2000 one of my aunts was killed in a horrific car accident, and my grief found it’s way onto 10 pages of 12 x 12 inch scrapbooking paper.  Front and back.  And really it wasn’t all about my aunt.  It was about legacies and friendships and various other topics.  The point is that the floodgates opened and I’ve been writing in some form or another ever since.

I started blogging in January 2006.  I was a slow starter…not understanding what keeping a blog would do for me.  I picked up the pace in January 2007 and have only had a few moments of writer’s block.  Blogging was so much better than just writing it down for myself.  It was out there for others to see.  I could get feedback.  I heard from others who could relate to what I was going through.  People laughed with me and cried with me and FELT with me.  I heard from naysayers and trolls as well as those offering encouragement.  The blogging community acted like a support group of sorts.  Even those people who disagreed with me were welcome to comment on my blog as long as their comments weren’t mean spirited.

I guess all of this is to say to those people who’ve found my blog…hi.  Yes, I’m still blogging.  You knew I couldn’t just stop.  You are welcome to comment here or to email me privately if you would rather.  You may just be here to find some answers.  That’s fine too.  If you are here to try to get me to change my mind or to build a case against me please go away.

Passed this sign today. Drove about a mile before I decided I had to turn around and take a picture of it. I decided to be nice and called the number for the academy to report the mistake. Since it’s Sunday I just left a message, but you can be sure I’ll be watching the billboard to see what they do about it!

Teaching is getting easier. Kinda. The kids are still much harder to deal with than I remember, but I am getting into a routine. And the staff at my school is fabulous which helps tremendously. Mucho support from everyone. But back to the kids. After spring break I had the kids tell me one fun thing they did over the break. The first kid I called on said he went to Disneyland. Um…yeah…right. How did you get there? A limo. Now I know he has no idea that to drive to Disneyland would take a full 24 hours. But still…why make up such a crazy story? After that the stories ranged from bull riding to mountain climbing to going to a waterpark. Now I know that none of the stories are true. I could tell by the way they were told. I also know that 5 year olds don’t ride bulls, there are no mountains anywhere close, and that the waterparks weren’t open yet. I was so thankful for the kid who said he and his brother got to stay up late and jump on his trampoline in the dark. The best part was how excited he was to tell me that. He didn’t make up a story about something that he couldn’t even imagine. He told the truth, and it showed all over his face.

The same kid who “went to Disneyland” for spring break mentioned that his birthday was coming up. He wondered aloud if I was coming. He answered his own thought by reminding himself that I didn’t even know where his house was. Just because I was curious what he would say I asked him if he could tell me how to get there. I wrote down his directions to make sure I got them right.

“You know where that red light is by my nana’s house? That green light that means go, yellow for slow down and red to stop? Go straight. You see that barbershop. Russell, he works there. My horse is right there by that tree. He is a brown horse. What kind is your car? (me…a van) Yeah, my church has a van. You see the donut shop right here. You gotta turn your head this way. Then you turn and that’s my house.”

And of course his directions were full of hand motions and pointing. He was sure I got it because I paid attention and wrote it all down. Poor kid. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to his party despite his excellent directions. My reason…I don’t know where his nana lives.

Teaching is getting easier.  Kinda.  The kids are still much harder to deal with than I remember, but I am getting into a routine.  And the staff at my school is fabulous which helps tremendously.  Mucho support from everyone.  But back to the kids.  After spring break I had the kids tell me one fun thing they did over the break.  The first kid I called on said he went to Disneyland.  Um…yeah…right.  How did you get there?  A limo.  Now I know he has no idea that to drive to Disneyland would take a full 24 hours.  But still…why make up such a crazy story?  After that the stories ranged from bull riding to mountain climbing to going to a waterpark.  Now I know that none of the stories are true.  I could tell by the way they were told.  I also know that 5 year olds don’t ride bulls, there are no mountains anywhere close, and that the waterparks weren’t open yet.  I was so thankful for the kid who said he and his brother got to stay up late and jump on his trampoline in the dark.  The best part was how excited he was to tell me that.  He didn’t make up a story about something that he couldn’t even imagine.  He told the truth, and it showed all over his face.

The same kid who “went to Disneyland” for spring break mentioned that his birthday was coming up.  He wondered aloud if I was coming.  He answered his own thought by reminding himself that I didn’t even know where his house was.  Just because I was curious what he would say I asked him if he could tell me how to get there.  I wrote down his directions to make sure I got them right.

“You know where that red light is by my nana’s house?  That green light that means go, yellow for slow down and red to stop?  Go straight.  You see that barbershop.  Russell, he works there.  My horse is right there by that tree.  He is a brown horse.  What kind is your car?  (me…a van)  Yeah, my church has a van.  You see the donut shop right here.  You gotta turn your head this way.  Then you turn and that’s my house.”

And of course his directions were full of hand motions and pointing.  He was sure I got it because I paid attention and wrote it all down.  Poor kid.  I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to his party despite his excellent directions.  My reason…I don’t know where his nana lives.

Ok.  After the Houston episode I’ve been curious.  Anyone else who knows me in real life want to confess to knowing about this blog?

There was purpose in my starting this blog.  I need to write.  I like knowing that people are reading even if the comments are few.  It’s cathartic for me.  There’s a small handful of people who know who I am in real life who know about this blog.  And by know me I mean have met me or have regular phone contact with me.  I can count them on one hand.  The others are people I’ve met through blogging.  They might have read my other blog, but they wouldn’t say they know me.  They know about me some.  Some of them are my twitter friends.  They’ve been invited to read here.  Some have searched for something and found it here.  These random stranger friends are why I write.  Writing for them helps me.  For now I would prefer to keep this blog somewhat anonymous.  I don’t want real life friends to know about it.  If you already do then that’s ok.  Just don’t spread the word that this blog is here.  That’s all I ask.  Oh and I also ask you to let me know who you are.  Just because.  You can email me at midlifenatalie@aol.com or leave me a comment.

Heck…everyone is invited to leave me a comment.  Real life friend, stranger friend, twitter friend.  There’s plenty of love for everyone!