Magic

We all have those days at our respective jobs where we want to pull our hair out, scream, and perhaps even quit.  Then we have those days that remind us why we do what we do, especially those of us in the social services area of work.

Today was one of those latter days.  The kind that makes your heart swell and eyes well.  A day of pure magic.

The past few days, I have been working with 6 middle school kids who are pretty resistant to being in the day program in which I work.  Resistant to being there in the first place bubbles over into small battles over seemingly simple things....like going to group, cleaning up their lunch plates, being respectful to one another.

Change in our predictable schedule also becomes a struggle and today was the monster of all changes for this group.  Today, our schedule included a field trip to a therapeutic horse ranch.  On Monday (two days prior to "the horses", as we affectionately refer to our experience), five of the six kids were adamant that they were not going to go.  So adamant was one kiddo that he had a 2 hour rage at home because his anxiety was overwhelming, and he thought by throwing this fit, he would be able to avoid this potentially uncomfortable experience.  Another gal insisted she would not even come to the treatment program that day and most certainly she was not going to the horses.

 The two days leading up to the field trip, we attempted to coach the kids in skills, calm their anxieties, and encourage them in all sorts of ways.  Sometimes our attempts bred anger, and most certainly none of the hesitant ones were sold on going.  We still had one very uncompromising gal and one very uncompromising boy.

Then today happened.  I was surprised to see all six faces arrive at the program today.  Our rigid gal was unusually quiet and withdrawn in the morning, and I was a bit concerned she would refuse to leave the building when the time came to head up to the horses.  But the time came, and she hopped in the van no problem.

We arrive at the horse arena and went to observe the horses.  The kids mindfully observe the various horses, and when they feel a connection, they raise their hand to claim which one they want to work beside.  Our hyperactive, socially awkward boy surprisingly waiting last to pick his horse allowing all the other kids to have their first choices.  His buddy ended up being the most vocal and energetic of all the horses, just as this kid was the most vocal and energetic of our bunch of kiddos.  All kids picked their horses and approached them very cautiously, even our most resolute boy and gal.

They each brushed their majestic beauties, cleaned their hooves, and got to practice leading them around the arena.  Building confidence and conquering fears all the while.  Bright smiles on our most hardened kids.

Toward the end of our time, the kids got to ride their new found friend.  Our uncompromising boy?  Yes, he rode around the arena with the brightest smile I have seen from him.  Not only that, but he encouraged the others to do the same, even the other boy who irritated him during their time together in the program.

Our uncompromising gal?  She, too, wore a bright smile as she rode Shiloh.  By the end of it, she was hugging her horse saying she did not want to leave and requested to have her picture taken. Perhaps even a tear was shed as she said goodbye.

This experience was beyond anything I have ever experienced.  The connection between horse and human was something I had never seen.  I'm still unsure if the animal matched the energy of the kid, or if the kid chose the animal because of shared characteristics.  Maybe a little of both.  Whatever it was, only one word can explain it.  Magic.

Miss Efficiency

Just call me Miss Efficient (or maybe Miss ADHD....you be the judge).  At least I try to be (efficient, not ADHD).  I remember how the powers that be at Target drilled efficiency into the heads of us cashiers.  It would be safe to say I was productive even before this, but all of that training reinforced what I already felt in the core of my soul.

The older I get, the more skilled I am becoming at being efficient.  And skilled I am.  I'm so proficient that I can watch a 2 hour movie in about 1/2 hour!  Tip number one at "movie efficiency":  Fast forward all the boring or non important parts.  For example, who needs to watch a chase scene in real time?  You can just as easily see what is going on in the scene in fast forward.  Generally there is no dialogue so you don't miss any key plot points.  In fact, one could argue, that watching a chase scene in fast forward is EVEN faster; therefore, it is also more exciting.  Plus you shave about 3-5 minutes off the time of the film!  Brilliant.

Tip number two:  Fast forward fight scenes and running scenes:  For the same reasons mentioned above.

Tip number three:  Fast forward any scene involving no dialogue where a person is just standing there, a song is playing, or someone is searching for something.  You can make a "slow" movie, not so slow and again, you shave precious minutes off the film time.

Tip number four:  Fast forward any movie that you may not enjoy, but you want to see how it ends.  Or perhaps you want to be familiar with only certain scenes for pop culture reasons.  Last night I did just that.  I watched the first 5 minute opening of the film, fast forwarded the entire middle part, and watched the final 5 minutes.  That is a whole 10 minutes of movie watching, and yet, I know exactly enough of what happened in the movie that I feel confident I don't want to watch the entire film.

Not all movies are fast forward-able.  I get that and respect that.  Only those worthy of being fast forwarded will be sped up.

Now the question remains:  efficient or attention deficit?

When Life Imitates Bob Villa

For months, maybe years, I have been asking my brother to help me do a few things around my house. Things that I most surely can't do by myself.  Things that require "a man".  Being a non enthusiastic brother, his answer was always, "Yes, one of these days".

Well, one of these days came.  My brother did not.

Not sure how it came over me, but one morning I woke up, went downstairs just to see how easy it would be to rip up the carpeting in my basement.  It took some elbow grease, but I pried up the metal thingy that holds the carpet to the floor on the seams.  Once that was up, the rest was not so bad.

Ever try ripping up carpet with cats "helping"?  Not an easy task!
There is Muffin, one of my trusty helpers.

This is the best "before" picture I have.  This is midway through the carpet removal with half of the carpet still visible and attached.  Carpet is quite heavy so I had to cut it in half in order to haul it up the stairs and out the door.  By myself.

In the corners, underneath the carpet was rather damp and moldy.  Spiders scurried from time to time.  And cats were really good at getting underfoot.  But I did it.  By myself.  Do you also see that large closet in the corner?  Yup.  I moved that too.  By myself.

After researching how to apply epoxy flooring, I started the daunting task of scraping up the old paint on my basement floor to prep it properly so that epoxy would adhere.

Scraping sucked!  I scraped most of this floor with a putty knife.  It was overwhelming at first, and I am not going to lie.  After the first day of scraping, I called "a man" to finish the job for me.  He was unavailable and had also never applied epoxy before.  So I did it.  By myself.

Scraping became an obsession.  Peeling paint was so pleasurable.  Any little piece of sticking up paint just called my name and once I started to peel, I could. not. stop.  I lost sleep so that I could peel.  It was great.  but it was NeVerEnDinG so I finally had to just tell myself enough was enough or I would still be down there peeling up that paint.

Next came sanding whatever paint was left on the floor.  I used a handheld electric sander and did wear all the appropriate safety gear....

....Except there should have been a warning on the safety goggles.

I gave myself a black eye after poking myself in the eye with the goggles!  Bob Villa would not be proud.

Then came power washing and acid etching the floor, which I did accomplish with a borrowed wet/dry vacuum.  The above photo is the only injury I sustained despite pouring acid on the floor while wearing capri pants, no socks, and open toed sandals.  Bob Villa would most certainly be appalled at my lack of safety measures.  However, I was beaming with pride because I did it by myself.

Once all of that was done and dried, the floor was ready for the fun part.  Painting!

Half way done!

And because when you start one project, more are sure to follow.  So I decided to give my downstairs bathroom a make over as well.  Below are some before and after photos.

 

And my final project turned out great.  In the beginning I didn't care if I screwed up royally because, well, its my house and also because its just the basement.  Now I have a very clean, mold resistant floor.  It still needs some decorating , but for now, THIS is my new and improved basement:

When I was describing all of this to my aunt, she said to me, "Honey, you need a man".  And I proudly proclaimed, "Who needs a man?!?  I did this All. By. Myself!"