Back from the doctor...

Now what!?!

One thing that I loved about the Little Man's last doctor was how thorough he was. He was the ONLY doctor to ever look in to blood sugar levels, due full blood workups, and to do an EEG.

There is a big correlation to bipolar and certain types of seizures. His doctor requested an EEG back in August to rule out these seizures so that we could move forward in his treatment plan (ie: start him on a mood stabilizer that is also an anti-seizure med and therefore mask seizures if he was having them). I believe his EEG was done on the 4th of August, right around there anyway. After that time he was started on Depakote and his behavior improved dramatically.

When we went for the EEG the tech was great - he was wonderful with the Little Man and tried hard to ease my fears. He was very chatty while hooking the boy up to wire after wire (using the 'bird poop' to stick them to his hair). I noticed at the end that his demeanor changed, drastically. I even spoke to my family about how nervous I became due to this mood shift. They all assured me not to worry, and when I never heard back on the test - I did just that, not worry.

I was told that if there were issues on the EEG that I would hear back in a matter of days with a game plan for moving forward. I called 4 days after the test and was told the results were not in but that I would be contacted if there were concerns. I never heard back and then I forgot all about it.

At the doctors yesterday I inquired about the results. What I was told nearly stunned me. She read the report, told me about the spikes, the low seizure threshold, and the part at the end that said "Clinical follow-up is necessary". What???? My kid is having seizures and I was never told? It's been four months!

As soon as I got home I called neurology and sat on hold for ages. I finally gave up and called the pediatrician instead. Our pediatrician was voted one of the top 100 doctors (the only pediatrician on the list) in Seattle for 2007 - we LOVE him! I left a message with the nurse and should hear back on Thursday from him (if not sooner). I need to know where we go from here, whether we follow-up with him, get referred to Children's...what?

There has got to be a silver lining in all of this because the Little Man's plate can't hold much more. From the parent side of things - I almost wish for seizures. It would be much more acceptable in the 'real' world, the world where people are cruel and say mean things in public when your child is having an episode. I know people think that the bipolar is an easy out for his behavior - something that I try not to hide behind. People think that he should be able to control the bipolar, if it was a seizure, they would never expect that of him.

Maybe this will be a big answer to a lot of questions.

And Here We Are...

It's been six months since I brought my baby home from the hospital. I would love to paint a picture of roses and sunshine but bipolar does not allow me to do that. There are many times that I feel our life is ruled by this awful curse and that if I could run faster or pull harder we could rid ourselves of it.

The weeks and months after the hospital stay were brutal. He came home overdosed on medications, falling asleep on the path at a park, smacking his forehead from electric impulses that were surging through his brain when we took him off the medications from the hospital. It was all I could do to let him finish out the school year, it was trying at best and he nearly did not make it.

Summer found us moving in a courageous Grandma and her dog, allowing the Little Man to spend his days at home rather than at daycare. By the end of summer, another hospitalization seemed imminent as Grandma, the neighbor children, and I were all battered and bruised. He lost friends during this time and has worked his little tail off to earn them back. It's been a long road but he came out on the other side.

School started in September and we have found that the Little Man THRIVES on schedule and routine. He began to soar in first grade - making huge strides in reading and phonetic spelling. It has been an amazing sight to see, it would be for any mother, but even more so for me knowing what he has overcome in the past year.

His teacher is God’s gift to me. She is my Knight in Shining Armor and appears to be one of the Little Man's biggest advocates. You see, her daughter was in the same hospital as the Little Man last May, they were there at the same time. This gift to me, she does not merely understand what our life is like each day - she's lived it.

I have relished in the ease of the past 2 1/2 months, at times taken for granted how wonderful and almost angelic it has been. Gone are the egg shells, the pit in my stomach when I drive to daycare each night, the anticipation when his alarm goes off in the morning. I no longer have to question who the child will be that I receive, he is happy, he has his smile back, and that laugh that comes from the deepest depths of his core. Unfortunately, these times never last long enough. They are on borrowed time and I never know when they may end.

Two weeks ago, the Little Man walked downstairs and in to the kitchen for breakfast. The first thing he said was "I HATE the smell of the soap in the dishwasher!” That was my red flag, I knew it would be a matter of time before the peace was gone and replaced with fear. He has gone downhill much faster this time around; daycare again is a challenge for him - the lights, the sounds, and the busy-ness of it all. He is having trouble at school, even regressing academically. He is getting placed on a behavior plan and his parent/teacher conference has been replaced with an IEP review.

Yesterday was the worst. Before I even got out of my car the children from daycare were yelling to me all the things he had done to them that afternoon. On my lunch I purchased a new slip cover for the couch. When he got home he sat on it and then said "You bought this at Target. I can smell it." He becomes super-human when he is unstable; he smells things no one else can, he hears everything, and his strength is beyond compare. I couldn't imagine the assault on his body that he must be feeling at the moment.

We go to the psychiatrist on Tuesday, a feat of its own. His psychiatrist recently left the country, now we are left scrambling to find a new doctor. Tuesday I will enter this appointment armed with years of history in hand; hopeful that this new doctor will agree with the other six about the diagnosis – as controversial as it is. Then I cross my fingers that she also agrees with our treatment plan and will make immediate adjustments to his medications. A lot rides on this day – our future depends on it. For now I will dig in my heels and hold on for the roller coaster that we are embarking on.

I’ve never been a fan of roller coasters.

Happy Mother's Day...to the Little Man.

I remember the day I took a positive pregnancy test and the intense fear and joy that came over me all at the same time. There was a little person growing inside of me, I could ask for nothing more - that was the joy, the miracle, the instant love that I had for this being that mere moments before I didn't even know existed. Then there was the fear, the fear of the unknown - what would the future hold for it, would it be a boy and if so - how do you raise a boy, and of course - how do I raise this thing and make sure that it knows that I love it and that every choice is made for it.

I remember the day that the Little Man was born, 8 weeks early, and the intense fear, the fear of the unknown - was he okay, was he breathing, how long would he be in the hospital. And I remember the love - the first time that I honestly understood the phrase "love hurts", because it does. I have never felt a love so strong that I could physically feel the weight of it in my chest.

I remember the day we left the hospital, his father and I, and left him there. I remember the love - the pain and strength that it took to leave him in the care of strangers. And the intense fear, the fear of the unknown - not knowing how this would play out and if he would really be okay.

I remember the first day I had to medicate him for bipolar. I remember the love - the tears that fell as I questioned whether or not we were doing the right thing. I remember the fear, the fear of the unknown as I questioned whether or not we were doing the right thing.

I remember last Monday, when he was admitted - at 6 years old, to the psychiatric hospital. I remember the intense love - as I nearly passed out after they took my child away from me, the pain and strength that it took to leave him in the care of strangers yet again. I remember the fear - the fear of the unknown, as I again have no idea what the future will hold for him. Not just the future 10 years down the road, but the future 10 days down the road. As new diagnoses are tossed around I am left loving him for the brave soul that he has become, and in fear of how this adds yet another challenge to his world.

Little Man, this Mother's Day - I want nothing more than for you to know you are loved. My one wish for your future is that you never question the love that I have for you. Again, we are navigating this wild rollercoaster of ups and downs - you have my love, my support, you fill me with a sense of pride that words can't describe.

As I see you there, in the hospital this Mother's Day, I don't see a boy with problems - I see my baby, my baby who needs help brushing his teeth, who still twists his Transformer undies when he puts them on, who still takes baths and needs his mommy to wash his hair. If I could take this all away from you, I would, but I know (and pray that someday you will too) that this is what is best for you right now. I hope that someday you understand why I can't take you home right now, why you need to be there, and that it's because of that intense love I have for you that I am able to resist the urge to scoop you up in my arms and run away with you when you cry and beg me to take you home.

Little Man - Happy Mother's Day, not to me, but to you, because this is what being a mother is all about and to see your smile again, is the best thing I could ever ask for. I love you, baby.

Visit...Part 2, and other things

Ooops...so much for the blog - has it really been 3 1/2 months since I last posted??? I know you were all just dying for an update because you have nothing better to do than to live vicariously through me.

First and foremost - the visit. The Little Man and his father did see eachother Thanksgiving weekend and it went well. It was odd, being together - as a family. At one point we were asked "and what does your wife do?" On the outside we looked like your typical, run of the mill family - little do the outsiders know it was a court ordered supervised visit.

At first sight I would have loved to see the running, the embrasing, and the tears; none of which happened. I did speak with Daddy-O beforehand and request that if the Little Man mentioned the need to use the restroom that he not offer to accompany him. No need for me to get wrapped up in any negligence cases. We went to the local science museum and the boys played their hearts out, then we went out to lunch and the anxiety got the better of the Little Man and he spent the entire meal laying on my lap on the bench. The anticipation of good-bye was just too much for him.

Since that visit there has been one other - a surprise visit, well planned out by his father and I, but surprise in case he couldn't make it for one reason or another. That visit was pretty wonderful but The Little Man couldn't fight back the tears after driving away - in opposite directions. It really is a lot to expect of a small child who now loses his father over, and over again.

The father and I had a long discussion that night, many tears, lots of heart ache. I'm having trouble getting past loving the man - the man I married, not the one I divorced. He's dating, which is a whole mess of crap for another time. I could stomp my foot and yell that it isn't fair but really I don't have any desire to date for a good long time. My pretend world has us conversing by phone until the Little Man is 18 and then seeing what happens after that. My reality is that he asked me the other day not to arrange any visits for awhile because he's not doing well - ie: don't offer any visits because I'm scared I might harm the Little Man, or you, or both. I know he's going through a hard time, the worst since June 10, 2006; and he's fighting a losing battle convincing himself to keep on living. Every minute of every hour of every day is a challenge right now. He asked me what I wanted him to do - I told him that I can't make that call for him, but that I support any decision he makes. I couldn't imagine living day in and day out with the pain that he does. I can't wrap my brain around it at all. All I can do is be there and to support, and I'm all he has since I'm the only one he'll share with.

Well...that got more in depth than I anticipated; and I'm shocked at the speed of which I whipped that out. Anyway, I'll try not to stray so long between posts from here on out - though that may be easier said than done since I start SCHOOL in mere weeks!!!

Mississippi Squirrel Revival

I think my son has a 'gift'; he apparently has the ability to talk to squirrels.

I'm really wishing that I had my camera handy, video would have been even better, but alas, you just get to read my retelling of this odd little event.

This morning I was sitting down to eat breakfast with the Little Man when I noticed a squirrel in the backyard, 10 or so feet away from the door. I quickly steered the Little Man toward the window (because, naturally, he loves those pesky critters) to take a peak. He told me he wanted to go out and "say hi to him"; who am I to interfere so "Go for it" I say. The Little Man opened the door and began chirping/chattering at the squirrel (if you've ever heard a squirrel, you know that they sound more like a large bird than a small furry...rodent) and lowe and behold - that squirrel walked right up our steps, on to the deck, and perched himself on the sill of my door. I had to put my foot down to keep it from waltzing in to our house - as cute as he was, I knew that my home, was NOT where I wanted him to be.

The Little Man said that he was standing like this:



I immediately had visions running through my mind at warp speed - the squirrel climbing the Christmas tree, the two of us chasing him through the house, him inviting all his little squirrel friends and taking over our home. It's enough to make a person fear small animals for life.

I also had a vision of this:



And this song was playing like background music in my brain:



I think I will be sending off to this place and further the Little Man's abilities. Who knows, this could be his big break.

By Popular Demand...

So I changed my layout (actually just my background) and I lost my blog links. I, personally, wasn't too concerned about it but apparently it left some people feeling a bit lost - and missing their favorite writers.

I've deleted some and added others - if you are there and don't want to be, please let me know. If you're NOT there, and DO want to be...let me know that too.

To make this an entry of a little more substance (alright, substance might be a bit strong) why don't you comment and leave me YOUR favorite blog.



Have a great Thanksgiving if I don't 'see' you before then!





(couldn't resist the picture, sorry)

Visit...Part 1

Wow...just, Wow.

In 11 days they will see eachother. They will embrace, they will cry, they will walk hand in hand; for the first time in 18 months, that's 1 1/2 YEARS!!! When I think about it, my heart starts to race, my hands shake, and I fight back tears.

The Little Man desperately wants to see his daddy so we (his father and I) discussed it. It's been discussed many times, but now his father is finally ready. I know how hard the first visit will be, and it doesn't really matter whether it's now or a year from now, it will be excrutiating on us all. I took the Little Man to his therapist last week who talked at length to him about what to expect and gave some wonderful suggestions. The Little Man seems to understand what will happen (we'll meet up with Daddy, spend time together at a local science museum, eat lunch, visit daddy's fire station, then WE will go to Grammy's while Daddy goes to his house) but only time will tell how he will truly react.

The therapist visit was tough on me, I tried to disquise my tears and not let on to the Little Man that my heart was ripping from my chest and that my stomach was flip-flopping around like a fish out of water. He asked the Little Man if he wanted to see his Daddy and his face LIT up, he had the biggest smile I've seen in ages. The entire time he talked about it, he smiled; he was almost giddy. He says he won't cry when he leaves, that he'll just be happy.

I want him to be happy, I want it more than anything. I worry what my feelings will be, if I will be happy as well; will I be angry for his father taking this away from us; will I cry at the sight of the two of them together.

This picture is the last that I have of the two of them, it was taken in April of 2006.





You never know when the last time is you will see a person. Take photos, lots of photos, and cherish them.

Making Sense of it All

Today will be a short entry, not a whole lot to say on the matter but I am in shock, I am saddened, and I have all sorts of undealt with emotions from the past 4 years spinning wildly through my head.

Yesterday I found out that a child in my class (a third grader - I'm now teaching Kindergarten and School Age) lost her father this week. When I was first told that her father had passed away I was in disbelief; as the story continued I went numb, and many scenarios played out in my mind.

He was an alcoholic who hadn't drank for some time, he was depressed and taking medications, and he slipped up. He was an active father - he played Captain Jack Sparrow at his daughters Kindergarten Graduation last June, he picked her up from school on Tuesday, and now he's gone.

The past four years, supporting my ex-husband through multiple psychiatric hospital stays, suicide attempts, locking up medications, knives, plastic bags...I have played this out in my head a thousand times. I can count too often the moments of walking in to the front door with a blanket over the Little Man's head in fear of what may face us on the other side of the door.

Through the years I have collected things of his - his badge from the fire department, a baseball hat (he always wears one), a t-shirt; things that I have saved for the Little Man so that one day he can have them. I have planned and prepared phsyically, but not emotionally. This family is now living one of my worst nightmares and nothing can prep you for that.

Wednesday I will attend the funeral. I will represent our school but I will also be doing it for myself. This will be the final piece of the puzzle that I can play in an attempt to prepare myself for what is a real possibility for our future and especially that of the Little Man. I may need counseling when I'm done, but I feel that this is important for me, I need to do this, I need to be a part of the final step of this journey. I hope and pray that our exit comes soon, sooner than later, right now though - we're on the same freeway as this family. My ex-husband faces these challenges still, on a daily basis and if things don't change soon, it will be a matter of when, not if.

Please keep this family in your prayers.

It's all good!

Sometimes I look at my life and wonder, how on earth did I get here? I think about the drama - both good and bad, and ponder how life could be different if I had made alternate decisions.

There are days when my mind gets stuck focusing on the bad, the ugly, the "made for tv movie" drama that has transpired through the years and I can't help but creep in to a depression. Some days and weeks that depression lingers, it tightens its grip around my heart and I am unable to shake it's hold. The simple tasks of life seem like a hurdle made for an Olympic track star, the dishes pile up, the garbage smells, and the endless loads of laundry grow like an uncontrollable monster. Desperately I attempt to rid my mind of the ache, the pain that is so heavy I feel that I should be able to grasp it in my fist. Some days I don't succeed, but others - I do.

I am so blessed, I have an amazing boy, a wonderful family who has shown their support to be unconditional to the extreme, a job that I am good at and enjoy getting up for each day (alright - not every day, but most). I am reminded of all those positives in my life today, as I prepare to send the Little Man off to Kindergarten. It isn't perfect, I would love to walk him in to school and get him situated in class, to greet him with open arms as he runs off the bus; but I will be there, I will do the best I can with what life has to offer at this moment. While I will not be there with the Little Man in person that day, I will be there in spirit.

On a whim a few weeks back the Little Man and I made our way to his new elementary school. I sat back in disbelief, that this is where my baby is at in his life just stuns me, while he ran blissfully around the playground and the open school campus. Upon entrance to the school grounds, the Little Man spied a pine cone that he had to posses as his own. He clutched that pine cone as we made our way to his classroom, the library, and the gym; he still held firm as he approached the playground with wide eyes. He played for a short while before becoming solemn and the reality of Kindergarten began to sink in. In the style of Audrey Penn and The Kissing Hand the Little Man asked if I would be with him on his first day, this new road he would be navigating in a few short weeks. My heart ached a bit as I took the pine cone from his fingers, and kissed it. After, I asked the Little Man to do the same and we hid that pine cone, where only he would know, so that I can be there with him on that fateful first day.

The Little Man knows of The Kissing Hand and will kiss mine when the mood is right. The significance of the pine cone for him will be immense and will bring him calm in his otherwise unsettled life.

I am so lucky, to have a child that loves with his hole being. That even on his worst days will snuggle in to my lap and rub my cheek, that he will massage my feet if I have a long day, and that when he retires for the night I am who he wants near him.

A great family - check; a good job - check; the most amazing child a mom could ask for - check. I have everything I could possibly need, and then a little more.

A visit to...

the County Health Department.

Alright, maybe I had it coming, I had my reservations about taking the Little Man to the health department with me, but sometimes you just have no choice. I had to go get a TB test done for work (required in child care in the state of WA) so, knowing it would be quick (and relatively painless) I opted to take the Little Man with me.

He did great - played well in the waiting room, flirted with the doctor, was polite; what more could a mother ask for?

As I was paying for my test, mere minutes from leaving the building (yet utterly committed to NOT leaving right then and there) he spotted it. There, attached to the wall just shy of eye level, was the bigger than life (this thing was huge) condom dispenser. It was rectangular shaped, about 2 feet tall, clear, with a handy spot to reach in and take your handful (limit 5, please). These puppies were colorful, every color imaginable, and mighty tempting for a small child. I think they were calling his name, taunting me.

Little Man: "Wow, Mommy! These are cool! Can I have one?"

Me: "No baby." (I was still checking out)

Little Man: "But Mom! They're so pretty!"

Me: "No baby, they're not for you."

Little Man: "Can I just have ONE!?!?"

Me: "Little Man, they're not for kids."

Little Man: "Than what are they for?"

Me: "They're for grown-ups Peanut, you don't need one."

thinking....

Little Man: "How many do you want Mommy?"


Holy cow, how long does it take to run my check anyway! Can I please leave now, with just a shred of dignity left?

Man, kids are great, who needs condoms anyway?

Good-Bye IS Forever...

Recently I was able to catch a glimpse in to the Little Man's head, and see how he is processing his life events of the past year - it broke my heart. After a visit at school from his Aunt, and two cousins, the Little Man broke down sobbing when it was time for them to leave. His teacher tried her best to comfort him but all to no avail. His teachers have seen his seperation anxiety from me, but never had they expected it, to this severity, from others in his life. His teacher tried holding him, tried rocking him, tried soothing his aching heart, but there was no amount of comforting that could heal the pain he was feeling that day. It became abundantly clear, after she told him "It's going to be okay, you got to say good-bye and you'll see them again real soon." and he replied to her "No I won't, you never see people after you say good-bye."

I found out about this exchange a week or so ago and it crushed me. At 5 years old, he is yet able to verbally express how the past year has hurt him. We have slowly began working through emotions, most of which are expressed through physical agression (at the expense of myself and his poor cousin), and now it looks like maybe, just maybe, we might be able to remove a brick or two from his wall and begin to help him heal.

Yesterday was a difficult day for him, I thought it might be and tried to prepare myself, as well as him, but I really had no idea how it would all play out. Yesterday was his last day of preschool, not a huge deal for most, but devastating for him. He started at this school in September, a mere month after his family was torn apart, we were living with family, I had no direction for our lives. This school, filled with specialists, small ratios, and the most caring staff you could ever hope for, became our life line. Since the beginning of school we have moved, we have got a new car, I have got a new job (x2), he has started daycare - the one constant in his life has been his preschool. They have been a support to both of us, a soft place to land, a warm friendly heart when we need to be sad or angry, a wealth of knowledge to help us begin life in a new community where we know no one or anything.

After picking the Little Man up from daycare he was so excited; his backpack was filled to the rim with goodies from his school, notes from his teachers, and a DVD of the school year. He begged me to watch it, so we did. We sat next to eachother on the couch while pizza cooked in the oven and we started the movie. At first we laughed, he named all the kids from his class, told me what they were doing in each picture "This was O's birthday party." "This is when we rode the boat in class." "That's circle time."; then he got quiet, and the tears began to swell in my eyes. In a loving, motherly gesture, I lay my hand on his back. The Little Man let out a forced chuckle, then burried his head in my lap, he sobbed, he shook, he couldn't catch his breath, he cried and cried and cried.

I held him there, not wanting to let go, wanting to take away the pain of this sweet, innocent young boy. I know that all I can be is his shoulder, his rock, his soft place to land; I want to be so much more but it's just not possible. I want to make miracles happen for him, I want to rid his heart and his head of sad memories. I sit here, crying, as I write this trying to navigate this new world I find us in, with no map, no direction.

We have a rule, or a code, whatever you want to call it: we don't say "good-bye". For us, we say "See you later" - that simple change from good-bye, to see you later, has worked wonders in the past 9 months to ease his anxiety. Yesterday...he had to say "Good-Bye" and from the mouth, and heart, of one amazing 5-year-old, "...you never see people after you say good-bye." Good-Bye, is forever.

Innocence

in·no·cence /ˈɪnəsəns/ - [in-uh-suhns] – noun

1. (n.) The state or quality of being not chargeable for, or guilty of, a particular crime or offense; as, the innocence of the prisoner was clearly shown.
2. (n.) Simplicity or plainness, bordering on weakness or silliness; artlessness; ingenuousness.
3. (n.) The state or quality of being innocent; freedom from that which is harmful or infurious; harmlessness.
4. (n.) The state or quality of being morally free from guilt or sin; purity of heart; blamelessness.


For the sake of todays entry, I am drawn to definitions three and four. Why is innocence something that must be lost? How different could the world be if innocence was a quality that was kept in to adulthood? I love the simplicity of a childs mind and the literal nature that they hear and perceive the world around them. Children are truly innocent - "...morally free from guilt or sin; purity of heart..."

Last night the Little Man was playing outside with a spider, he had it in his bug catcher and was watching it with great admiration. One of the Little Man's finest qualities is his compassion and it is always brought to the surface when he is in the company of animals. Today, with the spider (tarantula if you ask him, LOL - this thing was TINY) it was no different. I was cooking him dinner while he was on the patio and I heard, in his sweetest voice (picture someone talking to a newborn baby or a basket of adorable kittens): "Hey Boy. What the hell are you doin'?" I just about died, of laughter. He honestly had no idea that he had said anything wrong, the adorable innocence of the Little Man had him saying it just like any other word.

In my class the other day I had a conversation with a young boy, H, it was classic innocence.

H: "My daddy has polka."

Me: "Polka? Like the music?"

H: (puzzled) "No"

Me: "Polka? Like the dance?"

H: "Um, no. Polka...like the game."

Me: "Oh! Poker?!"

H: "Yes! Do you want to play with me?"

(enter K, observing/eavesdropping)

Me: "No, H. We can't play that at school."

K: "What does H want to play?"

Me: "He wants to play poker."

K: "Oh no, H! You can't play poke-her, someone might get hurt!"



I think if I had one wish it would have to be that innocence could be saved, at least in our children, for a little while longer.

Happy Mother's Day!

As a preschool teacher, I am compelled to have the children in my class make mother's day presents for dear mom, grandma, or whoever. This year I asked each of the children why they loved their Mom and what made her special. In honor of Mother's Day, and to all of you moms out there - here are the replies. (My class is four and five year olds)

"I love my mom because she is pretty and dresses up. I don't know where she got the earrings that are pretty diamonds. Mommy is beautiful!"

"I love my mommy because she is pretty and she lets me have treats. Mommy is special because I like her and she wears pretty clothes."

"I love my mom because she takes care of me. She is special because she came from Michigan. When she calls my name I come to her, and sometimes she makes me lunch."

"I love my mom because I give her hugs and kisses. She is special because I go shopping with her on Father's Day and she buys my daddy chocolate and stuffed animals."

"I show my mom I love her by giving her flowers and she says "I love you". And that's all I can say about I love my mom."

"I love my mommy because she's beautiful. Mommy is special because she's pretty."

(my favorite) "I love my mom because we have horses at our house. She is special because she makes me mashed potatoes but dad makes icky chicken with salt."

I typed the answers up and the kids made frames for them. I hope the moms all love them - I know their children are really proud of their answers.

My son on the other hand - he asked a friend to make a mother's day card for him to give to me. : )


Enjoy your special day!

A Meme? On little, ol' me?

Earlier this week I was tagged by both Blog Antagonist and Mischief to write 10 quirky, interesting things about myself. Here goes nothing!

1. I was pregnant before I got married. It's my dirty little secret, we found out about 3 weeks before the wedding. My grandma was so funny, she actually said: "It's okay, we just won't mention it at the wedding." I got cursed with morning sickness three days before the big day and was 'under the influence' of phenergan for the ceremony, I could barely stay awake! We went out to a very nice restaurant for dinner with a few friends and I ate a hamburger - cravings, go figure!

2. If the Little Man had been a girl, his name would have been Kila Elizabeth. Before his father and I started dating I went on a trip to Kila, Montana - it's breathtakingly beautiful and I decided then and there that if I ever had a girl, that would be her name. He wasn't a girl, and I'm having no more, I got a kitten a few years ago - her name is Kila.

3. I am terrified of ants. In the seventh grade we lived in a house that was infested with carpenter ants. If you would bang on the ceiling, sawdust would fall, you would get bit in your sleep, it was creepy. I can't stand ants, of any kind. Give me snakes or spiders any day, ants - heck NO!

4. In high school, I lettered in color guard. I loved color guard, didn't make dance team so I had to settle, LOL. We would go to competitions, we were in parades, we did 1/2 time at football games with the band - it was so much fun!

5. In high school, I was a square dancer! Wow - can't believe I admitted that. I was dating a guy who was a square dancer and his parents made me do it. It was actually a lot of fun and I'm still friends with people I met there. Do-Si-Do.

6. I like to write poetry when I'm feeling down. I wrote my first poem after my grandpa passed away, that was in 1994, and have been writing inconsistently since then. For some reason I am only compelled to write when there are tragic things going on in my life.

7. I got my drivers license the weekend after I graduated high school. I managed to go my entire senior year bumming rides off of people after school - never had to ride the bus. One day I rode with a friend who had just got her first car - an OLD VW Beetle (brown). She was adjusting the radio and took a corner too fast, we got in a pretty bad accident, almost hit the other car head on at 60+ MPH, instead we took out the whole side of her car. Everyone walked away from the accident, scared the living day lights out of me.

8. I've known since 2nd grade that I would be a teacher. I don't think that I ever had any other career aspirations. The only thing that changed was from teaching elementary school to preschool - other than that, it's always been teaching. I naively thought that being a mom would be a piece of cake after teaching preschool - I was way wrong! I sometimes wish I had finished college, not so that I could teach elementary school, but so that I had a degree. Now I can't fathom the idea of going back to school. I envy those that go back as adults.

9. I think I gave my son OCD. Everything in my 'world' has to be even, or at least not alone - especially when I'm loading and unloading the dishwasher. There has to be at least 2 pieces of silverware in each compartment, more than one plate on each side, more than one thing in the top, etc. When I unload the dishwasher I will take them out piles at a time so that nothing is left in the dishwasher by itself. When I go up stairs I count them - if I will end on an odd number, I'll skip the last step so that it's even. Weird.

10. I suffer from insomnia. I sleep about 3 hours, then wake up for 2, and then sleep for 2 or 3 more. It sucks. I'm glad I have cable or I would spend hours staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night. Thankfully I've always been a morning person or I would be one nasty lady most of the time!

Alright - I think that does it! 10 useless bits of trivia about myself. I'm going to tag my sister! Love ya!

Spirit

This past weekend the Little Man attended a birthday party for a child in his preschool class. The father of this little boy attends every school function, runs games at class parties, and knows every childs name in the Little Man's room; which is why I was so proud when he came and spoke these words to me:

"The Little Man is so great, every time I see him he has a grin from ear to ear and his spirit is contagious!"

It's true that I may have a boy that makes me pull my hair out at times but he saves that for me, to the outside world - he is amazing!

Right now our family is preparing for this years Walk America to benefit the March of Dimes. The March of Dimes funds research for premature birth, something that I would not wish upon anyone.

The Little Man was born two months premature. He weighed in at 4 pounds, 11 ounces and by some miracle, was able to come home at only nine days old. Walk America falls each year just before the Little Man's due date and brings with it a mixture of sadness and joy. It is a time of reflection for me, to see how far the Little Man has come. At 2 months old he had a CT scan to look for seizures, at 3 months he was tested for cancer, 6 months he had his first ambulance ride, and he had surgery for sleep apnea the day before his third birthday. Now at 5 years old he is delayed in his fine and gross motor skills due to his prematurity, he is diagnosed with bipolar disorder, he suffers from anxiety, and he has sensory integration dysfunction.

Each day is a struggle for him, yet you would never know. The Little Man is brave beyond his years...and he has a spirit that is contagious.

The Epitomy of a Mommy Blog

This past weekend was awful. The Little Man was bossy as all get out, I was far from winning any "Mom of the Year" awards, and we both hated each other by the end of the weekend. Alright, hate might be a little strong, but we definitely scored top notches on each others 'lists'.

Being a mom is tough. Whether or not you want to, you'll say things you regret, do things you're not proud of, and probably scar your child for life. You beat yourself up thinking your child will be broken because of your nastiness and then - they surprise you.

I was the nasty, awful mom this weekend. I took away an Easter Egg Hunt, I threatened that the Easter Bunny would not come, I yelled - a lot. He was no angel either by any means - he was demanding, rude, and aggressive; he definitely did not need to be rewarded by any Easter festivities.

All that said - it was what I found today that makes all the bad go away. After this horrendous weekend, and a less than perfect morning, I sent the Little Man to daycare while I went to work. A few hours in to my day I needed something from my purse. That was when I found that the Little Man had filled my purse with Easter eggs! He took some of his candy and filled empty eggs with it and then stuck them in the bottom of my purse. Not only that, but the eggs he used were the ones that yesterday he labeled as the 'prettiest eggs ever'.

Was this a white flag of sorts? Was this his way of apologizing? Regardless of what he meant by it, it touched me deeper than he will ever know. He went out of his way, sharing his treats, with the nasty awful woman that he has to call Mom.

Thank you Baby, and I'm sorry.

Missing You

Green shag carpet, an emerald green that has lost it's shag, covers gorgeous hard wood floors, floors that I question whether or not they have ever been touched by a human foot. We used to pretend it was grass, and then when we had kids - they too would pretend!

A davenport, not a couch or a sofa, but a davenport. It was always strewn with an afghan or two, maybe another that was in the works. The davenport was a deep brown with a touch of gold and green, rough to the touch, it would leave marks on your face if you fell asleep on it. As uncomfortable as it was, it just felt perfect.

Wood paneling covered the walls, the living room, the hallway, the bedrooms...! At Christmas time, behind the davenport, yarn would hang from the molding and cards would be attached. The rest of the year the walls were covered in pictures, pictures of Moms, Dads, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, friends, family, and love.

The recliner sat in the corner, worn in places from so much use. A radio next to that to hear foot ball games. The TV was across the room, showing yet another game, sometimes two TV's could be found there, depending on the game line-up for the day. Photo albums sat near by, again filled with pictures of love.

The home was always a bustle with sound. Sports playing on the radio or tv, card games in the dining room, great food cooking in the kitchen, and the sound of pool balls cracking eminated from the basement. Laughter would always abound, as would the warmth of pleasant conversation.

The feel of the home started from the moment you rang the doorbell. Westminster Chimes
would play and your arrival would be welcomed with joy and grace, be you a stranger or a dear friend. Many times you would be greeted with a "Come In!" hollered from the kitchen or welcomed by Grandma dressed in one of many aprons and a pair of house slippers. You would make your rounds giving hugs and kisses to all who are in the home, Grandpa's hug was the best, lifting you right off your feet. He would squeeze so tight you could feel the stuffing pour right out of you, yet secretly, you'd wish he would never let go.

When we were kids, we would play across the street, at the elementary school named for my Great Grandfather. We would play to our hearts content, until Grandma would blow her whistle alerting us that dinner was on the table.

Dinner...what a wonderful time. Rarely can I recall a time when meals did not consist of adding leaves to the table and scrounging the house for extra chairs. The organ bench made for great seating, allowing two cousins to dine together at the head of the table. Food was never scarce, plates overflowing unable to hold the contents of the offerings at the table. Guests would sit in eager anticipation while Grace was spoken, either by Grandma herself, or another family member willing to take on the task. There was always silence, followed by an "Amen" from all, and then the clanking of silverware, passing of dishes, and conversation would commence. Grandpa was the food pusher, always urging us to have one more bite, or one more serving, he had the belly to show for it but was so full of love in his offers.

I think of those moments often. The Grandparents are gone, as is the home, but the memories will forever be embedded in my mind. The sounds, tastes, and smells - they will forever remind me of happy times shared with the important people of my life. I wish that my son could share in those memories with me, that he had been old enough to remember what an amazing Great-Grandmother he had, and that my Grandfather could have held him in his arms. I feel the two of them with me, I know their presence is there, be it in a dream or as my guardian angels. Grandma and Grandpa - thinking of you today, I miss you and I love you.

Tipping - is it mandatory?

I have always left tips at restaurants. Sometimes I leave 10%, other times I leave 20%; I've even left 30% before. Up until last night, I can honestly say that I had never NOT left a tip.

So what's the deal? Why was last night different? You be the judge!

I took the Little Man to a restaurant at the mall, a family restaurant (it's a cute little 50's diner) that we've dined at many times in the past. We've always had exceptional service and good, if not great, food (may I recommend the Grilled Shrimp Club Sandwich, yummm!!!). Anyway - the Little Man is a little on the independant side and loves to order his own food. This usually has the wait staff cracking up and in my book - you score points with the kid, you score points on the tip. $$$ The lady last night seemed less than smitten with my adorable young man (who can resist his charm and excedingly good manners?) "I would please like a cheese sandwich, and fries, and lemonade, and white dip." "Thank you!" Come on now, give it up for the five year old who says please and thank you without reminders! Granted, she might not have a clue what 'white dip' is but most people can figure out that the boy wants some ranch with that.

Okay, obviously she's not a big fan of the shorter, cuter humans - I can't hold that against her. I can get mildly annoyed when my iced tea is gone before my meal arrives and she says "I guess you're gonna want another one of those, right?" Yep, that got on my nerves a bit but I can look past that too.

I can even turn the other cheek when she comes to check on us and leaves my empty plate sitting in front of me when she walks away. Annoying, but not 'tip-loss' worthy.

Here's where she looses the tip.

I paid with my debit card. Stuck it in the goofy black foldery thing and she took it to ring up my bill. Then I watched her take it to the WRONG TABLE! She's caught up in her spiel about top copies and bottom copies and have a great night, yada, yada, yada. The man at the table is trying desperately to get her attention and she just won't have it. Finally he says (rather short with her) "Excuse me!" She looked stunned for a moment that he dared to interrupt her. "This isn't mine." Then she says something like "oops" and walks off, over to my table. She hands me the goofy black foldery thing and says (laughing) "I just gave your card to the wrong table." And then she walks off.

She. Just. Lost. Her. Tip. Luckily this guy was paying attention. He could have easily signed the receipt, put my card in his wallet, and walked away. He could have been some identity thief and thought "Hot Damn! It's my lucky day!". Thankfully he was an upstanding citizen and did the right thing, and luckily I saw the whole thing happen. It could have been really awful, I don't do awful very well.

So...are tips mandatory, or are they a direct reflection on service received? I don't judge a tip by the food - that's the cook, not the waiter/waitress, but you most definitely have control over what table you take my card to.

Rock Me

A funny for today...


I'm driving along in my minivan with the Little Man in the back. We've got the radio on, loud, as my rocker likes it. (His favorite CD right now is Queen, "Stone Cold Classics", favorite song: "Another One Bites the Dust")




Then this little diddy comes on. I know you all have heard it, though probably not quite like I heard it today. The song is "Rock Me Amadeus" by Falco. Today the song goes a little like this:


Hot Potato Hot Potato, Hot Potato
Hot Potato Hot Potato, Hot Potato
Hot Potato, oh oh oh Hot Potato.


I don't know, take a listen for yourself. I could totally hear Hot Potato (if I'm trying, hard, real hard).

Thanks Little Man.

It was just a matter of time.

The other day the Little Man announced that he wants to see his Daddy. Yikes!

He and his Daddy haven't seen eachother in almost 9 months, they talk on the phone periodically, but the last time they saw eachother - Daddy was in the hospital. The Little Man goes through phases where he wants nothing to do with him, won't talk to him or even talk about him, and now - he wants to see him (actually - he wants to take him to the zoo...you can come to your own conclusions on that one, LOL).

We were eating dinner two nights ago and the Little Man was playing with some Hot Wheels that Daddy gave him for his birthday. Out of the blue it happened, no warning, no prepared speech from me. "I want to take Daddy to the zoo." The kicker is that he wants to go just the two of them, that is a scenario that will not be happening, not now, not ever. It's a package deal, my dear - you do not get your Daddy all to yourself, just not gonna happen.

Now that the divorce is final, visitation can happen, and is supposed to happen, though there are some stipulations. The Little Man has to want it on his own, without prompting from anyone else. The Little Man's therapist needs to be aware, and seeing him (or me) to help through any issues that may arise. And most importantly - Daddy needs to be seeing HIS therapist. Seems as though most of the puzzle is complete - with the exception of Daddy who not only isn't seeing a therapist, but doesn't currently have a therapist!

It pretty much bites. The Little Man is ready, after nine months is able to vocalize that he wants his Daddy, but...his Daddy isn't ready, or able, to meet those desires. Daddy knows that the Little Man wants to see him, maybe that will be enough to kick his butt in gear, who knows. He deserves to see his Daddy, as long as his Daddy is doing what he can to get himself healthy.

I'm sorry Little Man. I wish I could wave my magic wand and all your dreams would be answered. Looks, though, like you need to wait just a little bit longer for this one.