When Brendan began occupational therapy last fall, one of his favorite activities recommended by his occupational therapist was working with lace-up boards to help improve the muscular control in his hands.
Well, today, I have the chance to give one lucky winner a set of Melissa and Doug Lace 'n Trace Shapes. They're a great developmental toy for little hands craving opportunities to develop fine motor skills.
This gift comes courtesy of All Children's Furniture, where you can find everything from bunk beds to nursery furnishings, toys to art supplies. They literally have a little of everything you need to decorate your kids' rooms, keep them entertained, and keep yourselves all on the go.
Two things I was impressed with were the amount of arts and crafts supplies they have as well as the number of developmental toys I saw. It's difficult to find toys like lace-up shoes and dolls or stuffed animals with zippers, snaps, and buttons, and while they don't have a ton on their site, there definitely are some available which is better than most general toy sites.
To enter, leave me a comment below telling me about one item you love on the All Children's Furniture site. If you also post a link to this contest on your blog, you'll receive one extra entry. And if you subscribe to my blog, you'll get one more. Do you really want another entry? Okay...Tweet about it and that will be good for an entry. Be sure to let me know in your comments whether you subscribe, tweet, or post about the contest on your blog.
One winner will be selected at random. The contest ends at 12:01 a.m., Friday, July 31.
If you want to share this on your blog, feel free to copy and paste the text below:
Belle of the Blog is having a contest courtesy of All Children's Furniture, where you can find everything from bunk beds to toys. Stop by and enter to win a set of Melissa and Doug Lace 'n Trace Shapes.
Best of luck!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Don't Mess with...Tussionex!
I'm battling a sinus infection and bronchitis. Right now, despite my best efforts to stay positive, I think the sickness is winning.
Of course, Big Bad Bronchitis has had help kicking my butt from the prescription cough medicine my doctor prescribed for me. It's called Tussionex. It is, apparently, the only liquid cough medicine currently on the market because the FDA, in its infinite wisdom, decided to pull every other liquid cough medicine off the market because they could not prove their efficacy. As my doctor pointed out, some of these medicines had been on the market for 50 years working just fine, but because they had not had updates and new testing and no one was dying from taking them, the FDA thought it would be a good idea to banish them from the marketplace and encourage Big Pharma to go out spend several millions of dollars on testing so they could then jack the price up on all the meds once they gave them the okay to return to the marketplace. That is, if they return at all.
At any rate, Tussionex contains hydrocodone and it's a time-released medication. So, even though, I took it before bed last night at around 9:00 p.m., I am still feeling the effects of it some 16 hours later. Dazed. Confused. Sleepy. All this, and I took the right dose.
I'm having trouble keeping my thoughts all marching along in a straight line. I feel other-worldly, out-of-body, floating in a sea of me-ness right now.;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Dammit! See that... I just drifted off.
So, even if I weren't hacking up a lung, I'm not sure I'd know the difference in how I felt because I'm too spaced out.
.
Of course, Big Bad Bronchitis has had help kicking my butt from the prescription cough medicine my doctor prescribed for me. It's called Tussionex. It is, apparently, the only liquid cough medicine currently on the market because the FDA, in its infinite wisdom, decided to pull every other liquid cough medicine off the market because they could not prove their efficacy. As my doctor pointed out, some of these medicines had been on the market for 50 years working just fine, but because they had not had updates and new testing and no one was dying from taking them, the FDA thought it would be a good idea to banish them from the marketplace and encourage Big Pharma to go out spend several millions of dollars on testing so they could then jack the price up on all the meds once they gave them the okay to return to the marketplace. That is, if they return at all.
At any rate, Tussionex contains hydrocodone and it's a time-released medication. So, even though, I took it before bed last night at around 9:00 p.m., I am still feeling the effects of it some 16 hours later. Dazed. Confused. Sleepy. All this, and I took the right dose.
I'm having trouble keeping my thoughts all marching along in a straight line. I feel other-worldly, out-of-body, floating in a sea of me-ness right now.;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;
Dammit! See that... I just drifted off.
So, even if I weren't hacking up a lung, I'm not sure I'd know the difference in how I felt because I'm too spaced out.
.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Stick to the Status Quo: on Healthcare Reform
I'm no expert on healthcare reform. But, I do have the common sense and awareness of what goes on around me to know that our current system is broken. Just like our educational system. But that's another blog post for another day.
My family is lucky to have insurance paid for by my husband's employer. I know that not everyone is so fortunate and I wonder what the cost of that is ultimately to our government and our society.
What is the effect of the uninsured clogging up hospital emergency rooms with a cold or flu or minor healthcare issue that a person with insurance would go to their primary care physician for? What happens to the child whose parents ignore his asthmatic wheezing because they can't afford to take him to the doctor? Shoot, what about the ones who have insurance but can't afford the $100 co-pay at the ER and ignore that cough and wheeze until it's too late?
I fell into this thought spiral after a visit to my own doctor yesterday. I woke up feeling miserable yesterday after developing a cough over the weekend. I felt lightheaded, run down, and my chest hurt. Then I developed a headache and head congestion. It actually probably happened in the other order, but I seemed more aware of the chest congestion than any sinus problems.
I've had these symptoms before. This was actually my third time since 2008. I end up with a sinus infection that turns into bronchitis. I learned my lesson in the spring of 2008 when I kept ignoring it. With a few exceptions, all of my adult life I've been stronger than any illness and able to will it away. That time, my efforts failed and bronchitis turned into walking pneumonia and while Beckett was in the hospital because of his asthma, I ended up about as sick as I've ever been in my life.
Thankfully, though, I have a good doctor who got me on antibiotics and a good cough medicine and after a couple of days in bed, I was better. Of course, with two kids, that could only have happened with the help of my family and friends.
So, now when I start feeling like I have bronchitis, I go to the doctor immediately because I can't afford to get that sick. I know, though, that if we did not have insurance, I would probably ignore the symptoms until I wound up dead or in the hospital. And I know most other working class families would do the same thing. I grew up in one.
Although in my case, my mother had insurance through her job, but couldn't afford the premium for me, so I didn't have insurance. As a result, I wasn't allowed to do anything because as she kept reminding me, if I got hurt, she couldn't afford to take me to the ER.
While I was at the doctor's office, I asked my doctor what he thought about President Obama's healthcare reform plan. And he told me that no plan is going to be perfect but that we "must have change." He said that most doctors he knows are in favor of healthcare reform initiated by the government and they would overwhelmingly choose not to have to deal with the number of different insurers they do now. He said the paperwork and nickel-and-diming attitude of the insurance companies, not to mention their bureaucracy, is what keeps him and other doctors from being able to practice true patient care.
He told me that his greatest desire (and that of most of his physician colleagues) is standardization. He said that while one insurer might pay for a certain test with no questions, another one will only pay for it if a patient has a temperature in a specific range and if all the right checkboxes are marked on the paperwork. Literally. He told me there are insurance companies that, even though well-child visits are mandated by law, don't want to pay for immunizations and they have to submit paperwork on vaccines multiple times before they'll pay.
It sounds insane.
And obviously, as this article points out, a government agency like HHS and Medicare can't be trusted to run the Great Medical Care Show. At least not in the current incarnation. And it's clear nothing is going to change as long as lobbyists continue to line the pockets of our Senators and Representatives. Rep. Marsha Blackburn, the gentlewoman from the Great State of Tennessee makes that perfectly clear:
I do believe in change. But Americans need to open their minds and their ears and stop listening to those who are making millions from the status quo while there are children in this country going without healthcare.
And just keep this in mind... The refrain I keep hearing from the right is that any healthcare reform package will limit our choices. But... Do you really believe you have a choice now? Really?
Most companies offer one or two options from the same insurer to their employees and when it comes to buying a private plan, most of us in the ever-shrinking middle class, are limited by our incomes. And God help you if you ever find yourself uninsured and happen to have a pre-existing condition.
If you can find anyone to insure you, consider yourself lucky. Luckier still if you can afford the premiums. And if all that's true and they'll agree to cover your pre-existing condition, stop gambling. You'll have used up every drop of luck on that wager.
It's clear we need a change. I just don't know what that change should be. But, I do trust that President Obama is above the will and whim of the lobbyists in trying to do what's right for the American people.
My family is lucky to have insurance paid for by my husband's employer. I know that not everyone is so fortunate and I wonder what the cost of that is ultimately to our government and our society.
What is the effect of the uninsured clogging up hospital emergency rooms with a cold or flu or minor healthcare issue that a person with insurance would go to their primary care physician for? What happens to the child whose parents ignore his asthmatic wheezing because they can't afford to take him to the doctor? Shoot, what about the ones who have insurance but can't afford the $100 co-pay at the ER and ignore that cough and wheeze until it's too late?
I fell into this thought spiral after a visit to my own doctor yesterday. I woke up feeling miserable yesterday after developing a cough over the weekend. I felt lightheaded, run down, and my chest hurt. Then I developed a headache and head congestion. It actually probably happened in the other order, but I seemed more aware of the chest congestion than any sinus problems.
I've had these symptoms before. This was actually my third time since 2008. I end up with a sinus infection that turns into bronchitis. I learned my lesson in the spring of 2008 when I kept ignoring it. With a few exceptions, all of my adult life I've been stronger than any illness and able to will it away. That time, my efforts failed and bronchitis turned into walking pneumonia and while Beckett was in the hospital because of his asthma, I ended up about as sick as I've ever been in my life.
Thankfully, though, I have a good doctor who got me on antibiotics and a good cough medicine and after a couple of days in bed, I was better. Of course, with two kids, that could only have happened with the help of my family and friends.
So, now when I start feeling like I have bronchitis, I go to the doctor immediately because I can't afford to get that sick. I know, though, that if we did not have insurance, I would probably ignore the symptoms until I wound up dead or in the hospital. And I know most other working class families would do the same thing. I grew up in one.
Although in my case, my mother had insurance through her job, but couldn't afford the premium for me, so I didn't have insurance. As a result, I wasn't allowed to do anything because as she kept reminding me, if I got hurt, she couldn't afford to take me to the ER.
While I was at the doctor's office, I asked my doctor what he thought about President Obama's healthcare reform plan. And he told me that no plan is going to be perfect but that we "must have change." He said that most doctors he knows are in favor of healthcare reform initiated by the government and they would overwhelmingly choose not to have to deal with the number of different insurers they do now. He said the paperwork and nickel-and-diming attitude of the insurance companies, not to mention their bureaucracy, is what keeps him and other doctors from being able to practice true patient care.
He told me that his greatest desire (and that of most of his physician colleagues) is standardization. He said that while one insurer might pay for a certain test with no questions, another one will only pay for it if a patient has a temperature in a specific range and if all the right checkboxes are marked on the paperwork. Literally. He told me there are insurance companies that, even though well-child visits are mandated by law, don't want to pay for immunizations and they have to submit paperwork on vaccines multiple times before they'll pay.
It sounds insane.
And obviously, as this article points out, a government agency like HHS and Medicare can't be trusted to run the Great Medical Care Show. At least not in the current incarnation. And it's clear nothing is going to change as long as lobbyists continue to line the pockets of our Senators and Representatives. Rep. Marsha Blackburn, the gentlewoman from the Great State of Tennessee makes that perfectly clear:
"My hope is that as we look at health care reform that some of those that are working off of theory, if you will, and the federal system will slow down and we look at where the lessons learned should be and we will think long and hard before they move aboard a single-payer or mandated to restrict choice and restrict options for individuals."
I do believe in change. But Americans need to open their minds and their ears and stop listening to those who are making millions from the status quo while there are children in this country going without healthcare.
And just keep this in mind... The refrain I keep hearing from the right is that any healthcare reform package will limit our choices. But... Do you really believe you have a choice now? Really?
Most companies offer one or two options from the same insurer to their employees and when it comes to buying a private plan, most of us in the ever-shrinking middle class, are limited by our incomes. And God help you if you ever find yourself uninsured and happen to have a pre-existing condition.
If you can find anyone to insure you, consider yourself lucky. Luckier still if you can afford the premiums. And if all that's true and they'll agree to cover your pre-existing condition, stop gambling. You'll have used up every drop of luck on that wager.
It's clear we need a change. I just don't know what that change should be. But, I do trust that President Obama is above the will and whim of the lobbyists in trying to do what's right for the American people.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
A Clarification and An Apology
In my post from a few days ago where I talked about Beckett breaking my favorite bowl and how I was angry and frustrated, I said in the post that I started to call my husband Scott but didn't because I thought he wouldn't understand my anger.
That's not entirely true and not what I really meant to say.
Scott is very understanding and supportive. But, he's also someone who operates on a pretty even keel. He knows how to manage his anger. He doesn't yell. He doesn't get frustrated with the kids like I do. And he works really hard at a job that means he doesn't have time to talk on the phone a lot.
So, when I didn't call him, it wasn't because he doesn't "get me" or something. It was just that as I was dialing I was thinking, "Well, what's he going to do? He's at work. You'll be interrupting him and you know that he wouldn't react like this, so, just get yourself together, and do what a normal person would do."
I projected my own insecurities and feelings of failure for getting frustrated and angry onto Scott and that is wholly unfair to him. And I'm sorry.
My husband is a really amazing guy who takes wonderful care of his family while balancing work and music and I'm extremely grateful for him and for all he does for us.
I just hope he knows that.
That's not entirely true and not what I really meant to say.
Scott is very understanding and supportive. But, he's also someone who operates on a pretty even keel. He knows how to manage his anger. He doesn't yell. He doesn't get frustrated with the kids like I do. And he works really hard at a job that means he doesn't have time to talk on the phone a lot.
So, when I didn't call him, it wasn't because he doesn't "get me" or something. It was just that as I was dialing I was thinking, "Well, what's he going to do? He's at work. You'll be interrupting him and you know that he wouldn't react like this, so, just get yourself together, and do what a normal person would do."
I projected my own insecurities and feelings of failure for getting frustrated and angry onto Scott and that is wholly unfair to him. And I'm sorry.
My husband is a really amazing guy who takes wonderful care of his family while balancing work and music and I'm extremely grateful for him and for all he does for us.
I just hope he knows that.
Angels Among Us
I am overwhelmed with gratitude this morning.
Our friend Barrett came over for dinner last night. When she arrived, she had a big Crate and Barrel box. She said, "This is for you," handing it over to me as she walked in.
I couldn't imagine what it might be. My first thought was wine glasses because one of our favorite activities is hanging out and drinking good red wine while we talk and laugh. And I was thinking, "Wow! That's really nice."
I had no idea that the gift she was giving me was something so superior to any ideas I had that it would blow me away with the scope of her thoughtfulness and generosity.
Barrett had read my post from the day before where I was kvetching about the broken bowl. (Funnily enough, I had already decided I was a heel for being upset over a stupid broken bowl.)
And then here comes Barrett with this amazingly thoughtful gift for me. Yep, the 5-piece bowl set from Crate and Barrel in this gorgeous array of colors. And for no reason other than the fact that she's just a very loving and considerate person. She read my post and just wanted to replace my yellow bowl, but when she couldn't find one, she just bought me this whole set instead. Now I'm thinking what a pretty palate that would make if I repainted the kitchen. Just like that pancake-eating pig. But, I digress...
Barrett is a fairly new friend in the relative scope of life, but a genuine one.
And I know I am undeserving of her kindness. But, I am terribly grateful for it.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Magic: Boy Wizard Brings Awareness to Neurological Disorder Dyspraxia
With all the Harry Potter mania going on right now, I thought it seemed like a perfect time to share this article from last summer. It talks about the fact that Daniel Radcliffe suffers from dyspraxia, the same neurological/sensory processing disorder/learning disability as Brendan.
Unfortunately, this article focuses far too much on the fact that one of the common effects of the condition is clumsiness. Sadly, it's not the only – and not by far the worst – problem children and adults who suffer from dyspraxia face.
So few people know about the condition and it along with the other SPDs often gets overlooked or ignored because there are no glaring, outward signs. Unfortunately, many children who suffer from dyspraxia are labeled lazy or stupid or as behavior problems or unmotivated when, in fact, they are often very bright and eager to learn, yet their inability to process information the way you or I do stands in their way.
I worry night and day over the challenges that face Brendan. I kept waiting for the day when things would get easy with him and for him. Now I fear that day will never come.
I know with the proper therapy he'll improve, but it will always be work for him and for us.
Yet, I do think his dyspraxia, like Daniel Radcliffe's is on the milder side, so who knows? Maybe one day my darling boy will find his voice and a dream and work some magic just like Harry Potter.
And in the meantime, the rise of organizations like Dyspraxia USA which intends to raise awareness of this condition and funding for research into its causes and new treatments gives me hope and a connection to others going through the same thing.
Unfortunately, this article focuses far too much on the fact that one of the common effects of the condition is clumsiness. Sadly, it's not the only – and not by far the worst – problem children and adults who suffer from dyspraxia face.
So few people know about the condition and it along with the other SPDs often gets overlooked or ignored because there are no glaring, outward signs. Unfortunately, many children who suffer from dyspraxia are labeled lazy or stupid or as behavior problems or unmotivated when, in fact, they are often very bright and eager to learn, yet their inability to process information the way you or I do stands in their way.
I worry night and day over the challenges that face Brendan. I kept waiting for the day when things would get easy with him and for him. Now I fear that day will never come.
I know with the proper therapy he'll improve, but it will always be work for him and for us.
Yet, I do think his dyspraxia, like Daniel Radcliffe's is on the milder side, so who knows? Maybe one day my darling boy will find his voice and a dream and work some magic just like Harry Potter.
And in the meantime, the rise of organizations like Dyspraxia USA which intends to raise awareness of this condition and funding for research into its causes and new treatments gives me hope and a connection to others going through the same thing.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Yesterday
Yesterday was a bad day. I don't know why.
It just was.
We were getting a new roof put on because ours had suffered hail damage back in April. It was really noisy. The roofers showed up at 6:25 a.m waking me and the whole household up. And probably the neighbors, too.
That was actually fine. I was expecting them to arrive early. I just thought I'd be up and about before they got there.
What I didn't expect was how terrified our dog Cooper would be. He's afraid of thunder, but I didn't expect him to be so terrified of 10 or so strange men banging hammers and buzzing saws 12 feet over his head. But he was.
Trembling. Whining. Pressing his 65-lb. hot, furry, panting dog-body against me at every turn.
Every time I went to the bathroom he would either follow me in or scratch at the door until I let him in and then squeeze himself between the toilet and the wall.
When I was writing, he would crawl under the desk and lay on top of my feet.
It was stressing me out. So finally, I loaded boys and dog into the car and we headed to the church playground at our church, where I will be damned if there wasn't a house backing up to the playground that was having a roof put on it.
We left there after a few minutes, hit a drive-thru, and then headed to another park where there was absolutely no shade.
It was our first visit. I went on the recommendation of a friend who told me it had a very nice dog park as well as a cool playground with a merry-go-round.
Fun!
Not!
The only shade was in the picnic pavilion where we scarfed down our Chick-fil-A in between me yelling at Beckett because he was whining and refusing to eat because there were flies buzzing about and yelling at Brendan for repeatedly taking off his shoe and then asking me to put it back on. I realized after eating that I had low blood sugar which always makes me angry and no one likes me when I'm angry.
So, after eating we played on the playground until Beckett and I couldn't take the heat any longer then we marched a 1/4 mile to the dog park.
Cooper wandered around off leash and we played freeze tag. It was fun, but miserably hot. After about 20 minutes of that, we had to go home and I swear I thought I would never get them all back to the car.
Finally we did and we got home to the comfort of air conditioning only to have Cooper start freaking out again. Thankfully, my dear friend Laura rescued us by inviting us and Cooper to her house for a playdate. Cooper played with her dog Sonny and fun was had by all until 5 p.m. when it was decided that daddies would be home soon and dinners must be made and we had to come home again.
I ended up popping some corn for me and the boys after putting Cooper in the basement where he couldn't hear the noise as well and all was going great.
I was just running a shower for Brendan when suddenly I heard it! Crash! The sound of glass splintering on the kitchen tiles. I ran into the kitchen and immediately looked toward the counter where I had just poured myself a glass of wine. Brendan was saying, "Beckett did it! I told him not to!" when I looked down and saw that I was standing, barefoot, amid shards of broken glass and popcorn.
And then I realized that my favorite bowl was broken.
I know. It's silly. A bowl.
But it was bowl I had had since before I knew Scott. A bowl I loved. A yellow mixing bowl, medium sized, with a wide opening. The bowl I made French toast in. The bowl I used for popcorn.
I know most moms with common sense would use a plastic bowl, but I hate plastic. Hate the way it looks and feels and smells.
This bowl was gorgeous. The color of sunshine. And I was so angry that it was no broken into countless pieces on my kitchen floor.
Mad at my two-year old who doesn't really know he shouldn't take it off the kitchen table and carry it to the living room although I tell him many times every day that he can't have food in the living room.
It was the exclamation mark on a really shitty day. And I had to lecture myself that people are more important than things. But I have to wonder, why is it always my shit that gets broken. My favorite pitcher that was a wedding gift. My favorite bowl. My antique table that gets a chip out of it when a baby throws his bottle.
Why?
I think beautiful things add to our quality of life and there's nothing wrong with having them and that if more people had them and the ability to afford them they'd be happier. I'm not saying we should covet things or put them above human beings, but damn it! It makes me happy to look at pretty things and that bowl made me smile every single time I used it. That's why I picked it out yesterday to put popcorn in.
I ended up banishing Beckett to time out until I got all the glass cleaned up and by then I was calmer. Initially, my blood was boiling I was so angry. I was slam doors and throw things and yell at everyone around me angry. But I did none of those things. I tried to call my best friend who wasn't home. I tried calling Scott but he doesn't understand my anger so I didn't follow through on that.
I just gritted my teeth and swept and cried silently and debated myself over the non-monetary value of things.
I'm not angry now. Just sad that I no longer have my favorite bowl. And I feel stupid for letting the kids near anything I treasure. I can't tell you how many necklaces Brendan has broken while I was wearing them.
I guess I've learned a lesson. I'm not sure what it is. But today was a new day. And I'm moving on.
It just was.
We were getting a new roof put on because ours had suffered hail damage back in April. It was really noisy. The roofers showed up at 6:25 a.m waking me and the whole household up. And probably the neighbors, too.
That was actually fine. I was expecting them to arrive early. I just thought I'd be up and about before they got there.
What I didn't expect was how terrified our dog Cooper would be. He's afraid of thunder, but I didn't expect him to be so terrified of 10 or so strange men banging hammers and buzzing saws 12 feet over his head. But he was.
Trembling. Whining. Pressing his 65-lb. hot, furry, panting dog-body against me at every turn.
Every time I went to the bathroom he would either follow me in or scratch at the door until I let him in and then squeeze himself between the toilet and the wall.
When I was writing, he would crawl under the desk and lay on top of my feet.
It was stressing me out. So finally, I loaded boys and dog into the car and we headed to the church playground at our church, where I will be damned if there wasn't a house backing up to the playground that was having a roof put on it.
We left there after a few minutes, hit a drive-thru, and then headed to another park where there was absolutely no shade.
It was our first visit. I went on the recommendation of a friend who told me it had a very nice dog park as well as a cool playground with a merry-go-round.
Fun!
Not!
The only shade was in the picnic pavilion where we scarfed down our Chick-fil-A in between me yelling at Beckett because he was whining and refusing to eat because there were flies buzzing about and yelling at Brendan for repeatedly taking off his shoe and then asking me to put it back on. I realized after eating that I had low blood sugar which always makes me angry and no one likes me when I'm angry.
So, after eating we played on the playground until Beckett and I couldn't take the heat any longer then we marched a 1/4 mile to the dog park.
Cooper wandered around off leash and we played freeze tag. It was fun, but miserably hot. After about 20 minutes of that, we had to go home and I swear I thought I would never get them all back to the car.
Finally we did and we got home to the comfort of air conditioning only to have Cooper start freaking out again. Thankfully, my dear friend Laura rescued us by inviting us and Cooper to her house for a playdate. Cooper played with her dog Sonny and fun was had by all until 5 p.m. when it was decided that daddies would be home soon and dinners must be made and we had to come home again.
I ended up popping some corn for me and the boys after putting Cooper in the basement where he couldn't hear the noise as well and all was going great.
I was just running a shower for Brendan when suddenly I heard it! Crash! The sound of glass splintering on the kitchen tiles. I ran into the kitchen and immediately looked toward the counter where I had just poured myself a glass of wine. Brendan was saying, "Beckett did it! I told him not to!" when I looked down and saw that I was standing, barefoot, amid shards of broken glass and popcorn.
And then I realized that my favorite bowl was broken.
I know. It's silly. A bowl.
But it was bowl I had had since before I knew Scott. A bowl I loved. A yellow mixing bowl, medium sized, with a wide opening. The bowl I made French toast in. The bowl I used for popcorn.
I know most moms with common sense would use a plastic bowl, but I hate plastic. Hate the way it looks and feels and smells.
This bowl was gorgeous. The color of sunshine. And I was so angry that it was no broken into countless pieces on my kitchen floor.
Mad at my two-year old who doesn't really know he shouldn't take it off the kitchen table and carry it to the living room although I tell him many times every day that he can't have food in the living room.
It was the exclamation mark on a really shitty day. And I had to lecture myself that people are more important than things. But I have to wonder, why is it always my shit that gets broken. My favorite pitcher that was a wedding gift. My favorite bowl. My antique table that gets a chip out of it when a baby throws his bottle.
Why?
I think beautiful things add to our quality of life and there's nothing wrong with having them and that if more people had them and the ability to afford them they'd be happier. I'm not saying we should covet things or put them above human beings, but damn it! It makes me happy to look at pretty things and that bowl made me smile every single time I used it. That's why I picked it out yesterday to put popcorn in.
I ended up banishing Beckett to time out until I got all the glass cleaned up and by then I was calmer. Initially, my blood was boiling I was so angry. I was slam doors and throw things and yell at everyone around me angry. But I did none of those things. I tried to call my best friend who wasn't home. I tried calling Scott but he doesn't understand my anger so I didn't follow through on that.
I just gritted my teeth and swept and cried silently and debated myself over the non-monetary value of things.
I'm not angry now. Just sad that I no longer have my favorite bowl. And I feel stupid for letting the kids near anything I treasure. I can't tell you how many necklaces Brendan has broken while I was wearing them.
I guess I've learned a lesson. I'm not sure what it is. But today was a new day. And I'm moving on.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Let's Be Friends
I had the fun and rare opportunity to meet one of my favorite fellow bloggers last week.
Lisa from That's Why, formerly of Politits, invited my husband Scott to perform at a conference she was organizing for her company. I was so excited that she thought of him and asked him to play.
Last Thursday night we drove up to Hiawassee, which is, by the way, just gorgeous. I want to go back. But, I digress... We drove up there to The Ridges Resort where Lisa's conference was being held and Scott played in the Lakeside Pavilion overlooking Lake Chatuge during dinner and drinks. It was a lot of fun. And apparently, the attendees and other organizers were pleased. I thought he played a very relaxed and intimate set. Very nice.
We really had a great time. We met a real interesting fellow named Mike Purcell who turned out to be a session player, among several other things. He and Scott played together for a bit when Scott was finished performing.
Like I said, it was a fun night. The best part, aside from hearing my honey-boy play was meeting Lisa in person. She's as beautiful and charming and funny in person as she is in writing. I originally found her blog a couple of years ago, or so, after reading her insightful and bellylaugh-inducing comments and observations on another blog that we both read. I soon added her to my blogroll and the rest, as they say, is herstory.
If you visit her blog, you can see a video Lisa shot of Scott performing that night. Check it out.
Lisa from That's Why, formerly of Politits, invited my husband Scott to perform at a conference she was organizing for her company. I was so excited that she thought of him and asked him to play.
Last Thursday night we drove up to Hiawassee, which is, by the way, just gorgeous. I want to go back. But, I digress... We drove up there to The Ridges Resort where Lisa's conference was being held and Scott played in the Lakeside Pavilion overlooking Lake Chatuge during dinner and drinks. It was a lot of fun. And apparently, the attendees and other organizers were pleased. I thought he played a very relaxed and intimate set. Very nice.
We really had a great time. We met a real interesting fellow named Mike Purcell who turned out to be a session player, among several other things. He and Scott played together for a bit when Scott was finished performing.
Like I said, it was a fun night. The best part, aside from hearing my honey-boy play was meeting Lisa in person. She's as beautiful and charming and funny in person as she is in writing. I originally found her blog a couple of years ago, or so, after reading her insightful and bellylaugh-inducing comments and observations on another blog that we both read. I soon added her to my blogroll and the rest, as they say, is herstory.
If you visit her blog, you can see a video Lisa shot of Scott performing that night. Check it out.
Ain't That the Way: Why You Should Never Let Someone Else Undermine Your Own Beliefs and Instincts
So much for my joy over Brendan making progress.
I'm back in panic mode.
We've been reading every day. Working on handwriting. Drawing. Coloring. Trying to keep up with some OT exercises now that our sessions have run out for the year. Brendan has been going to tutoring twice weekly since school got out.
I thought he was making tremendous progress over where he was. And, realistically he has made tremendous progress.
According to his tutor, however, he's still not quite where he ought to be. She recommended again yesterday holding him back in Kindergarten.
I have to keep telling myself we are doing the right thing and that he will continue to progress and that Kindergarten retention is a very, very bad thing that has nothing to do with the reality of how children develop.
How I wish I were a motivated activist who knew how to fight the Man and get this unrealistic expectations of what a 5 or 6-year old is capable and should be doing replaced with realistic notions of what Kindergarten is meant to be.
Are we creating a generation or future society of doers who are incapable of real thought or creativity?
I'm back in panic mode.
We've been reading every day. Working on handwriting. Drawing. Coloring. Trying to keep up with some OT exercises now that our sessions have run out for the year. Brendan has been going to tutoring twice weekly since school got out.
I thought he was making tremendous progress over where he was. And, realistically he has made tremendous progress.
According to his tutor, however, he's still not quite where he ought to be. She recommended again yesterday holding him back in Kindergarten.
I have to keep telling myself we are doing the right thing and that he will continue to progress and that Kindergarten retention is a very, very bad thing that has nothing to do with the reality of how children develop.
How I wish I were a motivated activist who knew how to fight the Man and get this unrealistic expectations of what a 5 or 6-year old is capable and should be doing replaced with realistic notions of what Kindergarten is meant to be.
Are we creating a generation or future society of doers who are incapable of real thought or creativity?
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Happiness Runs: Our Circular Search for Meaning and Joy
Do you know the children's story, If You Give a Pig a Pancake (If You Give...)
?
I had a minor epiphany about that story tonight.
I actually thought of it yesterday and in a very circular fashion came back to it tonight. And by the way, this circular theme is, well...a theme.
So, we are getting a new roof tomorrow because of hail damage our roof suffered from two hail storms back in April. Almost every house on our street and in a 4 or 5 block radius has either gotten a new roof or is about to. No joke.
Anyway, I was thinking that once we have a new roof, we're going to want to paint. And just like that pig who needs syrup to go with her pancakes, once we paint, we're going to want new doors. And once we have new doors, we're going to want to replace our front steps, and once those new steps are in, we'll need new outdoor lighting, and once we have new lighting, we're going to want to re-landscape...
And, well... you get the idea.
So, tonight I realized that Pig and its sister books are really just metaphors for Life and Its (Our) never-ending search for happiness.
In each of those books, the main character – Pig, Moose, Mouse, Etc. – asks for something he or she believes will make them happy. But once they have that thing, the darling creature decides it really needs something else in addition to or instead of the original item until they work themselves in a (aha!) circular fashion, back to the item they began with.
And so it is with the rest of us that we live when we live unconsciously.
We're always looking for the next great thing that is going to change our lives and make us happy. It doesn't matter what it is...
house, boat, car, wife, husband, dog, cat, boyfriend, girlfriend, job, hat, hairdo, plastic surgery, baby, baby boy, baby girl, one more baby... Whether it's something that we have that we've craved and longed for and put all our hope in or just something that caught our attention and our whim, we barely acknowledge the moment or show any gratitude for what we have before the magic and thrill fade and we're left looking for our happiness fix.
And ultimately we end up back where we started. Back wanting another pancake, another muffin, another house, another car.... Defeated by our inability to live in the moment, to be content with what we have, to be grateful for what we have when we have so much.
?I had a minor epiphany about that story tonight.
I actually thought of it yesterday and in a very circular fashion came back to it tonight. And by the way, this circular theme is, well...a theme.
So, we are getting a new roof tomorrow because of hail damage our roof suffered from two hail storms back in April. Almost every house on our street and in a 4 or 5 block radius has either gotten a new roof or is about to. No joke.
Anyway, I was thinking that once we have a new roof, we're going to want to paint. And just like that pig who needs syrup to go with her pancakes, once we paint, we're going to want new doors. And once we have new doors, we're going to want to replace our front steps, and once those new steps are in, we'll need new outdoor lighting, and once we have new lighting, we're going to want to re-landscape...
And, well... you get the idea.
So, tonight I realized that Pig and its sister books are really just metaphors for Life and Its (Our) never-ending search for happiness.
In each of those books, the main character – Pig, Moose, Mouse, Etc. – asks for something he or she believes will make them happy. But once they have that thing, the darling creature decides it really needs something else in addition to or instead of the original item until they work themselves in a (aha!) circular fashion, back to the item they began with.
And so it is with the rest of us that we live when we live unconsciously.
We're always looking for the next great thing that is going to change our lives and make us happy. It doesn't matter what it is...
house, boat, car, wife, husband, dog, cat, boyfriend, girlfriend, job, hat, hairdo, plastic surgery, baby, baby boy, baby girl, one more baby... Whether it's something that we have that we've craved and longed for and put all our hope in or just something that caught our attention and our whim, we barely acknowledge the moment or show any gratitude for what we have before the magic and thrill fade and we're left looking for our happiness fix.
And ultimately we end up back where we started. Back wanting another pancake, another muffin, another house, another car.... Defeated by our inability to live in the moment, to be content with what we have, to be grateful for what we have when we have so much.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Slow Turning: Winning over Dyspraxia
After worrying so much this past year about Big B's academic progress, we've begun to see some big breakthroughs.
There's absolutely no doubt about his intelligence. He's a very bright kid. It's simply a matter of working around his dyspraxia and its effects on his ability to perceive and recreate phonemic sequences. It's all just a little harder for him to do.
Just like everything in life has been, is, and will continue to be just a little more difficult for him because of the way his brain processes information. It takes just a few seconds longer for information to hit its mark while traveling from brain to body and those seconds make all the difference in being able to read 35 words in a minute versus 75. And those 40 words make all the difference in how a teacher perceives a child.
He is still reading slowly. Painfully slow sometimes. But he's reading. And I am thrilled by this.
Last night we sat and he read to me the first three pages of The Cat in the Hat and the only two words he asked me to help him with were nothing and could.
I'm very proud of how far he has come in terms of his attitude and his belief in himself. I'm beginning to see that he is proud of his efforts and realizes that he is accomplishing something in learning to read.
I also have to keep reminding myself that these standards of expecting children to read in Kindergarten are really abnormal standards and that technically he's actually almost right on track.
There's absolutely no doubt about his intelligence. He's a very bright kid. It's simply a matter of working around his dyspraxia and its effects on his ability to perceive and recreate phonemic sequences. It's all just a little harder for him to do.
Just like everything in life has been, is, and will continue to be just a little more difficult for him because of the way his brain processes information. It takes just a few seconds longer for information to hit its mark while traveling from brain to body and those seconds make all the difference in being able to read 35 words in a minute versus 75. And those 40 words make all the difference in how a teacher perceives a child.
He is still reading slowly. Painfully slow sometimes. But he's reading. And I am thrilled by this.
Last night we sat and he read to me the first three pages of The Cat in the Hat and the only two words he asked me to help him with were nothing and could.
I'm very proud of how far he has come in terms of his attitude and his belief in himself. I'm beginning to see that he is proud of his efforts and realizes that he is accomplishing something in learning to read.
I also have to keep reminding myself that these standards of expecting children to read in Kindergarten are really abnormal standards and that technically he's actually almost right on track.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Shine: God's Love is Brighter than Hate
My friend Sarah is an Episcopal priest at a parish in Chicago. I link to her blog the caffeinated priest in my sidebar.
Last weekend she and many of her parishoners marched in Chicago's Pride parade along with congregants and ministers from 22 other churches. Sadly, I'm going to guess there weren't many Roman Catholic parishes participating.
Here's an excerpt from her post, but I urge you to stop by her blog and check out the full post:
I think she provides an insightful and moving account of her experience and what a testament to God's love each of us can be.
Last weekend she and many of her parishoners marched in Chicago's Pride parade along with congregants and ministers from 22 other churches. Sadly, I'm going to guess there weren't many Roman Catholic parishes participating.
Here's an excerpt from her post, but I urge you to stop by her blog and check out the full post:
For me, it was a powerful experience. I missed the step off (and took the picture above) but jumped in the parade a bit later. What amazed me most, standing on the sidelines and watching, was the sheer increase in volume that happened when the church groups walked by. The joyful and exuberant crowd took their jubilee to a whole new level. Cheering, yelling thank you. In the midst of floats with barely dressed men, drag queens and beer adverts (there were a lot of beer floats), the church groups stand out. And I think it's a visible witness that God's love is there for all, not only for the few.
I think she provides an insightful and moving account of her experience and what a testament to God's love each of us can be.
Friday, July 3, 2009
All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth: Searching for Meaning in Life's Milestones
If my life were a movie, in it, I would be standing there, holding my newborn baby. I would blink and then a sweeping, spinning rotation of the camera would highlight images of Brendan as a baby, then a toddler, then an older boy. It would all be beautifully shot, with sunlight glinting and glaring through a canopy of spring and autumn leaves. In an instant, I'd open my eyes and see standing before me my college-aged son, handsome and smiling. It would all take place in the blink of an eye.
That's what my life feels like today.
To me, it seems like yesterday that I stood inside our church, holding him as the priest poured holy water over his tiny little head and anointed him with chrism. Sunlight streamed through a skylight at the very moment the priest anointed him and shone on his peaceful, sleeping face.
I remember holding Brendan in those first few weeks of his life, overcome with emotion and feeling unworthy of this gift I had been given by God and thinking that he was not just a gift from God, but was of God, an extension of the Creator, embodying everything that is good and holy.
That moment that stands out so vividly against a blur of 2:00 a.m. feedings, diaper changes, and hormones feels like yesterday or last week, not six years ago.
Yet, here we are. Summer 2009. And my baby has his first loose tooth.
When he discovered it last night, I was really excited for him and a little panicky because I'm not sure what the going rate is for the tooth fairy and I knew I had no cash. I was hoping it wouldn't come out for a day or two more.
After that initial reaction, it only took a few moments for sentiment to overtake me and bring me here, to this place where it feels like it's all going so fast. Too fast. Where I feel like such an ungrateful heel for the times I've complained about lack of sleep or lack of place and space and lost identity. Where I wish I had never lost a moment of joy to depression or fear or sorrow.
So what to do? Let it go. That's all I can do. Any time spent on regret for the mistakes of my past would just be more wasted time. All I can do is embrace the here and now. Be here. Be present. Be positive. Roll with the punches and do the best I can. Love my boys. Love their dad. Love myself. Just keep livin'.
And figure out how this whole tooth fairy thing works.
That's what my life feels like today.
To me, it seems like yesterday that I stood inside our church, holding him as the priest poured holy water over his tiny little head and anointed him with chrism. Sunlight streamed through a skylight at the very moment the priest anointed him and shone on his peaceful, sleeping face.
I remember holding Brendan in those first few weeks of his life, overcome with emotion and feeling unworthy of this gift I had been given by God and thinking that he was not just a gift from God, but was of God, an extension of the Creator, embodying everything that is good and holy.
That moment that stands out so vividly against a blur of 2:00 a.m. feedings, diaper changes, and hormones feels like yesterday or last week, not six years ago.
Yet, here we are. Summer 2009. And my baby has his first loose tooth.
When he discovered it last night, I was really excited for him and a little panicky because I'm not sure what the going rate is for the tooth fairy and I knew I had no cash. I was hoping it wouldn't come out for a day or two more.
After that initial reaction, it only took a few moments for sentiment to overtake me and bring me here, to this place where it feels like it's all going so fast. Too fast. Where I feel like such an ungrateful heel for the times I've complained about lack of sleep or lack of place and space and lost identity. Where I wish I had never lost a moment of joy to depression or fear or sorrow.
So what to do? Let it go. That's all I can do. Any time spent on regret for the mistakes of my past would just be more wasted time. All I can do is embrace the here and now. Be here. Be present. Be positive. Roll with the punches and do the best I can. Love my boys. Love their dad. Love myself. Just keep livin'.
And figure out how this whole tooth fairy thing works.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Ave Maria
My husband may be embarrassed by what he would term an act of superstition. Not that he doesn't have faith. He does. He just doesn't give a lot of credit to intercessory prayer, an act of faith in which I am a tremendous believer, but don't practice as much as I'd like because I don't really practice any act of faith and spirituality as much as I would like these days.
But, I credit my mother-in-law's recovery from a kidney infection and sepsis as much to the Blessed Virgin Mary as I do to the doctors and nurses who tended her in the hospital.
The first 48 hours she was in ICU, I prayed this prayer almost non-stop. It is a beautiful prayer that I love and have used before in times of crisis. I first learned it when I was going through post-partum depression and was scared of and for myself. When I would have an anxiety attack and feel like I was literally crumbling apart, I would say this prayer, asking Mother Mary to intercede and save me. Always, within a few minutes, calm would return to me.
Mother Theresa called it her Miracle Prayer and believed that it worked miracles. So do I. As I mentioned before, sepsis has a 60% mortality rate and my mother-in-law was in relatively poor health to start with. My mother died of sepsis, so to me, a miracle was the only hope. And I believe, fervently, that because of the intercession of the Holy Virgin Mary, we got one.
Thank you, Blessed Virgin, for offering your prayers on behalf of my mother-in-law and helping to bring her back to a semblance of health. Amen.
But, I credit my mother-in-law's recovery from a kidney infection and sepsis as much to the Blessed Virgin Mary as I do to the doctors and nurses who tended her in the hospital.
The first 48 hours she was in ICU, I prayed this prayer almost non-stop. It is a beautiful prayer that I love and have used before in times of crisis. I first learned it when I was going through post-partum depression and was scared of and for myself. When I would have an anxiety attack and feel like I was literally crumbling apart, I would say this prayer, asking Mother Mary to intercede and save me. Always, within a few minutes, calm would return to me.
Mother Theresa called it her Miracle Prayer and believed that it worked miracles. So do I. As I mentioned before, sepsis has a 60% mortality rate and my mother-in-law was in relatively poor health to start with. My mother died of sepsis, so to me, a miracle was the only hope. And I believe, fervently, that because of the intercession of the Holy Virgin Mary, we got one.
Thank you, Blessed Virgin, for offering your prayers on behalf of my mother-in-law and helping to bring her back to a semblance of health. Amen.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Whiter Shade of Pale
Need proof that all of us white folk look the same?
I'm posting from the waiting room of the Children's Hospital where Brendan is getting OT.
I'm posting from the waiting room of the Children's Hospital where Brendan is getting OT.
She's looking for the mom whose driver's license and insurance card she holds in her hand. She looks down at the license and walks up to me and says, "Holly? Holly Whosit?"
Nope. Not me.
So, she then kind of yells the name out. The mom who responds to the name and comes over to her is no less than three inches shorter than me, has white blond hair and a darker complexion, and looks absolutely nothing like me.
The only explanation I have is that all white people look the same if you're not white. I recently saw an article that said babies can easily tell the difference between lots of different kinds of faces, but it's a skill that is lost over time.
I tried to find it to link to it, but the site was down.
Anyway, it kind of tickled me because I had just read a The Wordy Shipmates and in it Sarah Vowell tells a story about how one of the Algonquin tribes that has a relationship with the English basically tells Roger Williams (I think) that they can't tell one white guy from the next. This is after a Dutch trader has killed an Indian and the Indians kill an Englishman, thinking he's the Dutch guy. It was an amusing anecdote and I was just reminded of it today.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Trouble
I've spent the last 24 hours or so trying hard not to worry about my mother-in-law.
She's in ICU with sepsis, the result of a kidney infection left untreated. She's diabetic, and although no one has said this, I think her diabetes combined with recurring kidney stones ultimately led to this infection which has now spread to her bloodstream.
We got a call yesterday morning form my sister-in-law to let us know and have been in wait, pray, and see mode ever since.
I'm terrified. She's like a mother to me. I love her. I can't imagine what it would do to Scott to lose his mom, to my sons to lose the grandmother they adore. Beckett walks around the house asking for her; gets out my cell phone and pretends he's calling her or asks me to call her so he can talk to her.
72 hours. That's how long the doctor said it could take for the antibiotic to work. And I can't help but wonder if a small city doctor has the resources and the knowledge a doctor at a major medical facility in a large city would. Is that weird?
My mother died of sepsis in a small town hospital. I didn't even know what it was when they told me she had it. Today, I have a general idea of exactly what the doctor should be doing thanks to Google. Of course, I'm not there to ask all the questions and I think I pissed my brother-in-law off or he just thinks I'm a freak because I sent him a link to the Surviving Sepsis Campaign's guidelines for treating sepsis and asked him to discuss it with the doctor. I guess my attitude is that I may piss off the doctor, but what if I piss her off and she reconsiders her course of action and my loved one lives as a result. It would be worth it.
I'm rambling. Thankfully, I've had lots of distractions today with the boys.
I think I'll turn in now, say a few prayers, and believe that when I awake tomorrow she'll be better.
She's in ICU with sepsis, the result of a kidney infection left untreated. She's diabetic, and although no one has said this, I think her diabetes combined with recurring kidney stones ultimately led to this infection which has now spread to her bloodstream.
We got a call yesterday morning form my sister-in-law to let us know and have been in wait, pray, and see mode ever since.
I'm terrified. She's like a mother to me. I love her. I can't imagine what it would do to Scott to lose his mom, to my sons to lose the grandmother they adore. Beckett walks around the house asking for her; gets out my cell phone and pretends he's calling her or asks me to call her so he can talk to her.
72 hours. That's how long the doctor said it could take for the antibiotic to work. And I can't help but wonder if a small city doctor has the resources and the knowledge a doctor at a major medical facility in a large city would. Is that weird?
My mother died of sepsis in a small town hospital. I didn't even know what it was when they told me she had it. Today, I have a general idea of exactly what the doctor should be doing thanks to Google. Of course, I'm not there to ask all the questions and I think I pissed my brother-in-law off or he just thinks I'm a freak because I sent him a link to the Surviving Sepsis Campaign's guidelines for treating sepsis and asked him to discuss it with the doctor. I guess my attitude is that I may piss off the doctor, but what if I piss her off and she reconsiders her course of action and my loved one lives as a result. It would be worth it.
I'm rambling. Thankfully, I've had lots of distractions today with the boys.
I think I'll turn in now, say a few prayers, and believe that when I awake tomorrow she'll be better.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Feather Your Nest
For most of my life, I have battled my inability to get and stay organized. I would move things around, maybe, if desperate, get rid of a few things. I would get things together, for a bit, and inevitably, I'd fail to maintain whatever sense of semi-order I had managed to create, and things would once again spiral into chaos.
I finally admitted that I just don't think like an organized person. Some of us are born messies and some are organizational wunderkinds, born to keep the world in order.
So, I broke down and decided to work with a home organizer. Her name is Laura Ray and she used to work with my husband. Initially, after talking with her on the phone, I decided there was no way I could afford it. The kind of help I needed, would literally cost thousands of dollars. During our initial consultation I mentioned to Laura that I was a writer and worked in marketing. She must have retained that piece of information. She called me back a few weeks later and suggested that we trade our services. So, in turn for her helping me get organized, I agreed to write a brochure and her web site copy.
For six, four-hour sessions, Laura and I worked on my basement. We set up a home office area, a play area, organized my closets in the basement, and created a gift-wrap station under the bar in the basement. We also turned one of the closets behind the bar into a place for Scott to keep his stuff so he has his own space for his things.
I'm so very pleased with the results. I'm embarrassed to show you a before picture, but the after photos are above.
One of the most important things I learned is that this is a process and you have to create systems that will work for you. There were times when my naturally messy, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants tendencies resisted some of her suggestions, but in the end, I had to admit she was right about everything.
I'm so inspired that now I'm about to start tackling the kitchen. I also learned that it isn't a race. It's okay to make changes by degrees and create a system that actually works as opposed to rushing it and not making any real substantial changes.
Wish me luck in keeping it going and spreading the change throughout the rest of my home and life!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Concrete Angel
I just read this story on cnn.com. It really disturbed me on several levels.
The detail about the boy's tiny black, lime, and grey Skechers upset me because that's a perfect description of my own son's sneakers.
But that's not the thing that upset me the most. What bothered me was wondering where this so-called community that has poured out its heart and emptied its collective pocketbook in an effort to bury the child and buy new lighting for their park was while he was being murdered and probably abused beforehand.
Maybe if they had offered that same sense of reaching out and providing support to his family before he was murdered, he would still be alive.
How many kids today would have avoided being murdered if a neighbor, cousin, friend, teacher, or colleague or government agency gave an over-stressed parent an outlet for venting his or her anger or offered a parenting class, or took the baby for an afternoon so the mother could sleep?
I am not excusing or dismissing the fact that anyone who murders a child is acting in a monstrous manner.
I just fail to see the purpose in expressing outrage and collecting donations after a baby boy has been senselessly murdered. It seems that energy and those resources would have been put to better use trying to figure out some way to ensure that something like that never happens.
The detail about the boy's tiny black, lime, and grey Skechers upset me because that's a perfect description of my own son's sneakers.
But that's not the thing that upset me the most. What bothered me was wondering where this so-called community that has poured out its heart and emptied its collective pocketbook in an effort to bury the child and buy new lighting for their park was while he was being murdered and probably abused beforehand.
Maybe if they had offered that same sense of reaching out and providing support to his family before he was murdered, he would still be alive.
How many kids today would have avoided being murdered if a neighbor, cousin, friend, teacher, or colleague or government agency gave an over-stressed parent an outlet for venting his or her anger or offered a parenting class, or took the baby for an afternoon so the mother could sleep?
I am not excusing or dismissing the fact that anyone who murders a child is acting in a monstrous manner.
I just fail to see the purpose in expressing outrage and collecting donations after a baby boy has been senselessly murdered. It seems that energy and those resources would have been put to better use trying to figure out some way to ensure that something like that never happens.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Vacation
So, technically, this isn't our vacation...
But for me, it's a break from the day to day activities of my life. That includes crying children. If a baby or child fusses or cries, it's not my problem (beyond the grand principle that ultimately we are all responsible for one another, but hey, I'm not preaching that philosophy right now). I can choose to walk away knowing other responsible adults are going to take care of it.
And thank the Lord, for that fact!
I was just at the hotel pool, lounging in the sun (I know. Cancer!) and reading a magazine. For fun. Not so I could figure out what to cook for supper.
And just as I was getting drowsy and thinking of closing my eyes for a few minutes...Whaaaaa! Mom! Whaaaa-whaaaa-whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! And then, chaos, as half-a-dozen siblings surround the screamer and mom runs over to see what's wrong.
That's the point at which I gathered up my DC, bottle of water, towel, and Time magazine and came inside.
Not my screamer, not my problem.
But for me, it's a break from the day to day activities of my life. That includes crying children. If a baby or child fusses or cries, it's not my problem (beyond the grand principle that ultimately we are all responsible for one another, but hey, I'm not preaching that philosophy right now). I can choose to walk away knowing other responsible adults are going to take care of it.
And thank the Lord, for that fact!
I was just at the hotel pool, lounging in the sun (I know. Cancer!) and reading a magazine. For fun. Not so I could figure out what to cook for supper.
And just as I was getting drowsy and thinking of closing my eyes for a few minutes...Whaaaaa! Mom! Whaaaa-whaaaa-whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! And then, chaos, as half-a-dozen siblings surround the screamer and mom runs over to see what's wrong.
That's the point at which I gathered up my DC, bottle of water, towel, and Time magazine and came inside.
Not my screamer, not my problem.
Behind the Wall of Sleep
I have slept more soundly in the last 48 hours than I have in months. Even last weekend in NY I couldn't sleep because I was worried about being late for things and it was loud and the hotel room was tiny which kind of stressed me out.
Here, in the capacious and stylishly adorned Chapel HIll hotel, I can spread out, relax, and sleep like a log. And I have.
Still, on Friday morning, I was awake at 5 a.m., worried that Brendan would be late for the Student of the Month breakfast at his school. He's been anxious about it all week and I absorbed his anxiety. After going back to sleep for an hour and a half, I awoke at 7:30 and unable to stop myself I called home to make sure they were out the door.
My darling mother-in-law told me they were at school at 7:19 a.m. She had both boys up and dressed and out the door, lunch packed, even remembering to take the whole watermelon she had cut up on Thursday morning before we left. The watermelon was our contribution to the end of year luau which also took place yesterday.
All is well at home. MeMe and the boys are having fun.
I guess I'll just go back to sleep for a while.
Here, in the capacious and stylishly adorned Chapel HIll hotel, I can spread out, relax, and sleep like a log. And I have.
Still, on Friday morning, I was awake at 5 a.m., worried that Brendan would be late for the Student of the Month breakfast at his school. He's been anxious about it all week and I absorbed his anxiety. After going back to sleep for an hour and a half, I awoke at 7:30 and unable to stop myself I called home to make sure they were out the door.
My darling mother-in-law told me they were at school at 7:19 a.m. She had both boys up and dressed and out the door, lunch packed, even remembering to take the whole watermelon she had cut up on Thursday morning before we left. The watermelon was our contribution to the end of year luau which also took place yesterday.
All is well at home. MeMe and the boys are having fun.
I guess I'll just go back to sleep for a while.
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