rachaelcoxdotus-blog

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Bulldog Mom: Being Your Child’s Advocate

My mom is a unique personality, but with a childlike assumption I had assumed that all mothers behaved essentially the same as my mother. She was always my advocate, in any situation. Usually, it was a school-related issue: I didn’t get the class I wanted? No problem! My mom will have a “talk” with the principal. Not doing well in class? Getting bullied by an older classmate? My mom was like my personal bulldog, faithfully defending me and even going on the offense if she felt it was necessary.

Later, as I became an adult and was forced to be my own bulldog, I realized that my mother’s behavior was rarer than I had realized. Many kids had apathetic parents, letting school and the world knock over their child like an unrelenting oceanic wave.

Even as an adult, my mom continues to be my advocate though the opportunities are much fewer. When I was pregnant with my second child I experienced some bleeding. My bulldog mom insisted on coming to the OB with me. When the doctor tried to shrug it off as no big deal, the bark came out! She told him horror stories of OBs who had neglected their patients. (An intuitive listener may have interpreted her stories as a veiled lawsuit threat.) The doctor gave a calm and thorough reply, then referred us to a specialist.

Naturally, I have tried to be the same type of bulldog for my own kids. I’m finding that we are a rare breed. This tends to work in my favor, as I come as a surprise.

As a military family, we are “blessed” with Tricare. When my youngest failed to start talking at the appropriate age, I wanted to get her tested. I took her to the PCP and explained my worries. The doctor grinned at my seemingly baseless worry. “She’s fine,” the doctor laughed. “She sounds normal to me; nothing to worry about.” I was NOT going to be blown off. Politely, I insisted that something was wrong and that she at least let me get her evaluated. I hinted that it would be riskier to test than not test...The PCP reluctantly wrote the referral.

The assessment was scheduled in a decent amount of time, and sure enough my 2-year-old was speaking at a 12 to 18 month level. She definitely needed speech therapy. With that battle conquered, I thought I had won the war. WRONG. The next steps were a Bermuda triangle of paperwork between the clinic, P Plus and Tricare. After a month of this, I contacted P Plus.

At this point I was becoming desperate. My baby had started talking around 18 months. Like most babies, she had a few small words like “mama,” “dada,” “baba” (baby). But at 2 years old, not only did she not have a fuller vocabulary, but the words she used to have were fading away. “Mama” had become “ma.” “Dada” had become “da.” “Baba” was just “ba.” And the temper tantrums were constant. She was so frustrated in her inability to communicate that she melted into tears and screaming. I was helpless. I couldn’t discipline her… for what? I was the one who couldn’t understand her.

When I called P Plus, they apathetically reported that no therapists were available, and it could be up to 6 months before a spot opened up.

Ok, let me first tell you that my ultimate pet peeve is bad customer service. Since my personal profession is founded on making the customer happy, keeping him happy and striving for a reputation of going above and beyond for your customer, being subjected to bad customer service is a form of agonizing torture. I am not an angry person. It takes a lot to make my temper flare. But when it does, it morphs into an uncontrollable wild fire of anger. Look out.

So P Plus was now in my path. Setting reminders on my phone, I called multiple times a day. I repeatedly asked for the supervisor of the supervisor of the supervisor. What’s her name? What’s her schedule? Yes I’ll leave a voicemail. No, actually YOU take the message. What’s her email?

Eventually I was in direct contact with “the boss.” I bothered her worse than a debt collection agency. And ya know what? In less than 30 days my daughter had started speech therapy.

I had to do it all again when her treatment script had to be renewed. This time I had to barrage the clinic and the PCP. I won’t take “no” for an answer and get extremely angry and threatening. Later I have to go to confession and wash myself clean. But sometimes mothers have to get their hands dirty so their kids get what they need.

My youngest is now 3 years old. Her language (sentence formation, understanding) is at a 4 year old level. (She’s smart.) Her speech still lags behind at about a 2-2 ½ year old level. But the tantrums are few and far between. Her personality has bloomed into a happy, silly, sweet girl. P Plus has been great, and she loves her therapist. We don’t know how long she’ll be in therapy, but whatever is required, her bulldog momma will be there to make sure she gets it.

See original post at www.RachaelCox.us

[rachaelcoxdotus-blog]

Bulldog Mom: Advocating for your Child

My mom is a unique personality, but with a childlike assumption I had assumed that all mothers behaved essentially the same as my mother. She was always my advocate, in any situation. Usually, it was a school-related issue: I didn’t get the class I wanted? No problem! My mom will have a “talk” with the principal. Not doing well in class? Getting bullied by an older classmate? My mom was like my personal bulldog, faithfully defending me and even going on the offense if she felt it was necessary.

Later, as I became an adult and was forced to be my own bulldog, I realized that my mother’s behavior was rarer than I had realized. Many kids had apathetic parents, letting school and the world knock over their child like an unrelenting oceanic wave.

Even as an adult, my mom continues to be my advocate though the opportunities are much fewer. When I was pregnant with my second child I experienced some bleeding. My bulldog mom insisted on coming to the OB with me. When the doctor tried to shrug it off as no big deal, the bark came out! She told him horror stories of OBs who had neglected their patients. (An intuitive listener may have interpreted her stories as a veiled lawsuit threat.) The doctor gave a calm and thorough reply, then referred us to a specialist.

Naturally, I have tried to be the same type of bulldog for my own kids. I’m finding that we are a rare breed. This tends to work in my favor, as I come as a surprise.

As a military family, we are “blessed” with Tricare. When my youngest failed to start talking at the appropriate age, I wanted to get her tested. I took her to the PCP and explained my worries. The doctor grinned at my seemingly baseless worry. “She’s fine,” the doctor laughed. “She sounds normal to me; nothing to worry about.” I was NOT going to be blown off. Politely, I insisted that something was wrong and that she at least let me get her evaluated. I hinted that it would be riskier to test than not test...The PCP reluctantly wrote the referral.

The assessment was scheduled in a decent amount of time, and sure enough my 2-year-old was speaking at a 12 to 18 month level. She definitely needed speech therapy. With that battle conquered, I thought I had won the war. WRONG. The next steps were a Bermuda triangle of paperwork between the clinic, P Plus and Tricare. After a month of this, I contacted P Plus.

At this point I was becoming desperate. My baby had started talking around 18 months. Like most babies, she had a few small words like “mama,” “dada,” “baba” (baby). But at 2 years old, not only did she not have a fuller vocabulary, but the words she used to have were fading away. “Mama” had become “ma.” “Dada” had become “da.” “Baba” was just “ba.” And the temper tantrums were constant. She was so frustrated in her inability to communicate that she melted into tears and screaming. I was helpless. I couldn’t discipline her… for what? I was the one who couldn’t understand her.

When I called P Plus, they apathetically reported that no therapists were available, and it could be up to 6 months before a spot opened up.

Ok, let me first tell you that my ultimate pet peeve is bad customer service. Since my personal profession is founded on making the customer happy, keeping him happy and striving for a reputation of going above and beyond for your customer, being subjected to bad customer service is a form of agonizing torture. I am not an angry person. It takes a lot to make my temper flare. But when it does, it morphs into an uncontrollable wild fire of anger. Look out.

So P Plus was now in my path. Setting reminders on my phone, I called multiple times a day. I repeatedly asked for the supervisor of the supervisor of the supervisor. What’s her name? What’s her schedule? Yes I’ll leave a voicemail. No, actually YOU take the message. What’s her email?

Eventually I was in direct contact with “the boss.” I bothered her worse than a debt collection agency. And ya know what? In less than 30 days my daughter had started speech therapy.

My youngest is now 3 years old. Her language (sentence formation, understanding) is at a 4 year old level. (She’s smart.) Her speech still lags behind at about a 2-2 ½ year old level. But the tantrums are few and far between. Her personality has bloomed into a happy, silly, sweet girl. P Plus has been great, and she loves her therapist. We don’t know how long she’ll be in therapy, but whatever is required, her bulldog momma will be there to make sure she gets it.

[rachaelcoxdotus-blog]

Men versus the Royal “We”

Ladies, I know you're guilty of this: you pick out some paint colors, your wonderful husband labors away re-painting the living room (perhaps even the ceiling?), and when you have guests over to show it off you proclaim: "Look! WE painted the living room!" This is one of my husband's pet peeves. I thought it was just him until I began to notice other men bristling at the use of the royal "we." I recently asked a co-worker how "we" were progressing on an R&D project. He sarcastically replied in the email that "WE" were doing this and "WE" were doing that... clearly unhappy with the fact that I had thrown myself in the mix. The intended inclusion by the use of "we" is meant, by women, to be unifying. As in, "we" are in this together. "I" didn't paint the living room. I may have had something to do with it, but clearly it was not just me. However, my husband sees it as my taking credit for his back-breaking work. I fear my co-worker felt the same way about the project. If I had asked, "Where are YOU at with this project?" I would have put all the responsibility (which could be construed as blame if the answer was negative) on him, which was not my intention. I merely needed a quick update, if there was one. Therefore, I used "we" instead of "you." Women are natual pacifists in this way. We really want to go along and get along. Even if we are feuding, it is with a deceptive smile and a sweet greeting (at least in the South!). Some women can battle subtly, maintaining a proper decorum. Others are too brash, forcing themselves out of the social circle. By using the royal "we," we are being sure not to draw too much attention to ourselves or to appear to take credit wholly. This would be viewed by other women as vain or prideful. The royal "we" is probably best known for its use by new couples. A relationship is officially solid when the woman has begun defining opinions and decisions as "we." For example, "WE don't like Chinese food." Here, a woman is using the royal "we" to explain to other women that she's so comfortable in the relationship that she can speak for her man. For a man, I believe this is a foreign language. Men, in their quest to be Alpha, are naturally aggressive. This means taking credit as an individual, wherever it is due. So my husband would say, "I painted the living room. Rachael helped pick out the color." Here's what HE did; there's what I did. No group effort, just each man for himself! Does the guy he's talking to now think that he's a self-centered jerk? Nope. He's impressed by the work, and that's it. Must be nice to be a guy.

[rachaelcoxdotus-blog]

Your Religion is Showing

Recently, Vice President Mike Pence was in hot water after explaining that he follows Billy Graham's rule to not have dinner alone with a woman who is not his wife. While the media berated him for "fearing" women--or worse, not being able to control himself around them--I was actually glad to hear this. Gloria Steinem-style feminism has been torturing women for nearly half a century. I, for one, found that once I threw off the facade of society's definition of a "feminist," I actually became a stronger woman. I became more confident, more comfortable, and best of all more content. I don't wear bikinis in the summer. I wear a one-piece. Finally I can sit by the pool and not have to constantly be worrying about showing a roly poly belly or a string coming undone. The result is that I can focus on enjoying myself. It helps that my husband reinforces my choices for chaste clothing. He doesn't want me showing my goodies off to every stranger that walks by. How is that empowering a woman? It's not. It's objectifying her. As a married woman, I want to be respectful not only of my husband but also of the family we've built together. My husband empowers me in ways I had never known were possible. His respect for me,  his support of me makes him the biggest feminist I know! To him, there's nothing I can't do. And in my turn, I try to give him the same level of support. That's why having boundaries, like Mike Pence laid out in his marriage, is not only healthy but also the true feminist stance. Whatever situation I am in, I have to put myself in my husband's shoes. "Would I be okay with him going to dinner with a female co-worker?" If there's a pang of jealousy or anger, that's okay. It's a normal reaction because it tells you that action is crossing a boundary. Of course, there will be instances where it's perfectly okay with either party due to having known them for so long, or knowing the setting, etc. Respecting your wife by being careful not to cause her to feel jealousy, anger or suspicion is a key component to being a supportive husband. Our Christian faith speaks to this. The husband is called to do for his wife as Christ did for his Church: to lay down his life for her. And the wife returns this for her husband. Marriage is an act of being selfless... of putting your spouse before you. So if you don't get to go to that dinner or on that trip or wear that dress, congratulations. You put your spouse before yourself, and you've done what God has called you to do. But watch your back! Your religion is showing. ;P