Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Sofia kicked me in the face when I tried to wake her up this morning for her first day of school.
Jordan gave me the elbow when I nudged his long and lanky teenage tall self for his grand wake up at 7 am, that he hasn't seen since June.
Beat me, slam me, smash me...SCHOOL IS BACK IN SESSION!
I'll miss having them around 24-7, but their young minds must be formed; they must study; do arithmetic; run around at recess and
GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!
They're taller, bigger and even more demanding than ever.
And they're mine.
This morning I participated in a webinar on fundraising and social networking.
Now that the forum has reached 1300 and initiatives from forum members are starting to pop up all around Italy, it's time to start thinking about creating an Association- one strong entity that offers a greater foundation for all of the smaller realities. So, I've been investigating exactly what type of Association. Bureaucratic things terrify me, especially in Italian. However, I don't have faith in the predominantly oral approach Association, and totally have no faith in the predominantly Deaf Community Pro-Sign Language Association, so I'd like to create an I-really-don't-care-what-methodology-you-use-as-long-as-your-child-is-happy Association.
I'm tired of nitpicking and name-calling.
I just want to see more and more initiatives, gatherings, projects and happy families with thriving children.
The head of Neonatology at the hospital where I live contacted me and asked me if I belonged to an association that had 10.000 euro to purchase an otoemissions-aabr machine. I said no.
But after this webinar, I've been thinking.
Maybe I could pool my resources and try to find a way to fundraise 10.000 euro.
I don't like the maybes, they're excuses and passivity.
But, I'm having trouble finding the click.
I'd like to create an association.
I'd like to create an On the Road course for parental support.
And I'm stuck.
The strange thing is that while I'm stuck, suddenly everything and everyone around me is moving, so I'm being pulled down the river.
It's an extremely powerful sensation.
Everyone's taking me with them.
And we are still moving forward.
Friday, September 7, 2012
A long, long time ago I read the book "Just Who Will you Be?" by Maria Shriver.
My dad sent it to me during the crisis period when my marriage went wrong.
I found it when painting my house for the first time in 12 years, as I started cleaning the stuff from above my computer.
My dad wrote: "You may choose to use some of her poetry in your own speeches in the future. Or personally, it may help you through this phase of your life, this crisis, and this growth period and help you find out "Just Who You Will Be."
I ran into my psycho-therapist from four years ago, who I went to during that crisis time to try to figure out who I was, what I wanted and how to save myself, my family and my kids. Suddenly life was taking me down another road and I didn't know myself well enough to put myself back on track in the land of comfort and family and love.
Everything was changing. I was changing.
Sometimes, as much as we would like to avoid the change, we just flat out can't.
When I first went to the therapist, I was in the phase where I had to corner my CI surgeon in a room to explain to him my objectives for creating a questionnaire on Pediatricians' knowledge of Newborn Hearing Screening, and that he needed to trust me. I literally closed him in an office upstairs in the hospital and told him I needed five minutes of his time to explain my ideas. At the end of the five minutes, he kind of stuttered and said, "Ok."
My last therapy session...was just before I went to speak at the Fimp Congress in Rome before 1,100 pediatricians and he told me to draw an imaginary circle and throw all my fears outside that circle.
Four years have passed since that Congress in Rome, when I saw him at the supermarket, I stared at him intensely before it finally hit me who he was.
And then, it hit me who I am.
I'm still not sure who I'll be, but I know who I am.
It's been an interesting four years...