tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12520782077445630232024-03-04T23:17:09.007-07:00My Wild DaisiesI am a stay at home foster-mom
I adopted 2 children out of fostercare, Buggy (who is 3) and Nanna (who is 4).
We are now on our 10th and 11th placements. Bleu who is a 10 year old boy and Sunshine, a 3 year old girl. They are great kids with amazing manners. We enjoy them very much!GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-80997165417945129262012-08-26T23:01:00.001-06:002012-08-27T04:43:27.206-06:00Our Family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAjTVPctrcdkXLuBsIwZB32rI73aeUK6ImRvtUDqvS-zbXPZiaIKn8q3lHOZP-cDAbyuGy8Au-r7PYF6-HuQpx9DlmUnkw1hSuS84yEzHcz1CwR6rHBX9pYV-kEkDBYbIsX3TjKLIfdo/s1600/all+photos+from+nikkon+2010-08-29+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAjTVPctrcdkXLuBsIwZB32rI73aeUK6ImRvtUDqvS-zbXPZiaIKn8q3lHOZP-cDAbyuGy8Au-r7PYF6-HuQpx9DlmUnkw1hSuS84yEzHcz1CwR6rHBX9pYV-kEkDBYbIsX3TjKLIfdo/s320/all+photos+from+nikkon+2010-08-29+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
On the morning of August 5 2009 we got a call from DCFS. It wasn't a call we were expecting. We were supposed to begin move-in day with a 4 year old boy and a 6 year old girl. The reason DCFS called was that the children would not be joining us, instead they would be living with their great aunt. I was devistated.<br />
4 hours later DCFS called us again. this time with happier news, stating that they had a 6 week old baby who was in need of emergency placement. My heart raced. I needed no other information. I wanted that baby! Then the caseworker proceeded with, "before you answer, you have to know that she has a 16 month old sister as well."<br />
I could hardly believe it! I was in tears, but frantic at the same time. I had been expecting a 4 year old boy and 6 year old girl... not two babies! I had NOTHING for 2 babies!<br />
Baynard was not home. he would not be home for 2 more days. I cant imagine how difficult it must have been for him.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTiK_Rm3UV-WjTSWihH6oyg8XnON667IDA_oYKAZKTWSj6rpwdW9ZYUvbIQ2IktCyVAOrgq8ZH6IXt3mQDr2ObBwGwZwkSv0a1G32C20H_cbbLddMvCrKGJULWM_9beeBE4rBDsothxA/s1600/tiana+first+day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWTiK_Rm3UV-WjTSWihH6oyg8XnON667IDA_oYKAZKTWSj6rpwdW9ZYUvbIQ2IktCyVAOrgq8ZH6IXt3mQDr2ObBwGwZwkSv0a1G32C20H_cbbLddMvCrKGJULWM_9beeBE4rBDsothxA/s320/tiana+first+day.jpg" width="320" /></a>When DCFS came, I was thrilled! The first child i was to see was Nanna. Nanna was beautiful. she had silky shoulder length hair, these bold cheeks, a beautiful smile and this amazing almond shaped eyes I was in love! My first meal with Nanna was macaroni and hot dogs (still a favorite of Nannas). She ate everything on her plate. and was rewarded with an Oreo cookie, (thus the messy face) She was able to use both a spoon and a fork. She would not take a bottle. She had no security object. She was a sweet child with a silly gurgly voice. She had 3 words. "Dadda, Eat, and ah me" (which was actually airplane) She didn't cry for 2 days, but she also didn't sleep. She would NOT sleep. She would not be cuddled, She would not be held. She would not look me in the eye. </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyFJC6dOm0QHyOdlkWUo8LFC6BN7UPhnTpvF1gk3Zt_AOoKVbxDKPiG35iuBnRAKTCNQopEvTmN_fm1VX_AT3kSzoMlKWx3fybTcJ1h5_84EvOmFuu8Qd7xeyVOzszJjRK4MjWYlS-8Q/s1600/62230_1611475092156_6610150_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyFJC6dOm0QHyOdlkWUo8LFC6BN7UPhnTpvF1gk3Zt_AOoKVbxDKPiG35iuBnRAKTCNQopEvTmN_fm1VX_AT3kSzoMlKWx3fybTcJ1h5_84EvOmFuu8Qd7xeyVOzszJjRK4MjWYlS-8Q/s320/62230_1611475092156_6610150_n.jpg" width="240" /></a>When they brought Buggy-Boo in to me, I know it was bad, but i just couldn't bring myself to calling her by her birth name. so I began calling her "Baby Girl". As Nanna grew, she couldn't say Baby Girl, so it turned into Gee Bee Gee. To this day, we still call her "Gee" (with a soft "g" sound) She had this funny little hair that stood up just like a little monchichi doll I used to have. She was so tiny. She was so somber. she was so helpless... and I knew she was mine. I knew that this little 6 week old, meth addicted 8lb baby girl, Gee Bee Gee was the baby I had dreamed of. She would not take a pacifier, and only would drink from dollar store bottles. She attached herself to her Tinkerbell blanket and she still carries it around.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzf4D0E2iy3oYuzXc7KZEmXE6mbwqjQx5Gm6UsQBPxk-rvJ_azkUerCcQ_TXJQtl9WCaPNno3QU57TfcXd4nK6E10Ouoln9HIDs6z9ZxkXXom2JEkpbq6aPlm-aneJ5VaWZdvpJqY3Djw/s1600/59447_1611479972278_3463956_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzf4D0E2iy3oYuzXc7KZEmXE6mbwqjQx5Gm6UsQBPxk-rvJ_azkUerCcQ_TXJQtl9WCaPNno3QU57TfcXd4nK6E10Ouoln9HIDs6z9ZxkXXom2JEkpbq6aPlm-aneJ5VaWZdvpJqY3Djw/s200/59447_1611479972278_3463956_n.jpg" width="200" /></a>I couldn't believe that I now had not only ONE baby, but TWO! The first year was a total roller coaster ride.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8noWiXHpqcP-UpGIP3rr5Bv9GfzDM48-5yXzuA6I6jl5l6YJO8EvtpB3Ej0-cl1NgYW2VjgNOhn761maFXHwICmCk0ZVhzADaFD-a7mIiGK5djLOn-FelcLnU1btTKf63jCwqXKjsh8U/s1600/tiana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8noWiXHpqcP-UpGIP3rr5Bv9GfzDM48-5yXzuA6I6jl5l6YJO8EvtpB3Ej0-cl1NgYW2VjgNOhn761maFXHwICmCk0ZVhzADaFD-a7mIiGK5djLOn-FelcLnU1btTKf63jCwqXKjsh8U/s200/tiana.jpg" width="200" /></a>There were promises of rehab, inpatient treatment where the girls would be allowed to go with with mom, or with dad. There were promises of extended family trying to get them. It was such turmoil. Visitations were horrible on Buggy. they were worse on Nanna. She still remembers her birth mom and calls her "Moo moo". We have no idea why, and every time we go near the Oquirrh office, she asks if she can stop by "moo-moo's" house and see her. Buggy Boo had a few weeks of withdrawals, but not too big of a deal. She was left with no residual effects with the exception of a slower to develop left side. <br />
Now, Nanna has finished up her time at her therapeutic preschool, She has a monstrous vocabulary, is very active and very brave. She loves to draw, and eat. she loves to be daring and bold. She makes friends easily and is a charming child to be around. She wants to grow up and be a princess or a therapist!<br />
Buggy is growing up too fast. She is a sweet and quiet child. She has an amazing imagination. She is very smart, loving and a sweet soul. She still doesn't run and jump like other children, but she is just fine with her galloping lope. When she grows up she wants to be a baby dragon.<br />
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On August 30, we will have been an official family for 2 years. I love my girls very much. I will always be grateful for their birthmom for bringing them into this world to be a part of our family. <br />
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GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-37288790372917489052012-08-24T19:20:00.001-06:002012-08-24T19:21:18.693-06:00One whacky morning<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today was an eventful morning.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It is Friday and.. well? aren't Fridays supposed to be the most anticipated day of the week? well, I heave a sigh and say that I hope this is NOT how the weekend is going to go.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It began at 3:30 a.m. when Buggy, Nanna and Sunshine ALL climbed in bed with me. it is against the rules to have foster children in your room, so I had to send all 3 girls back to bed. It wasn't 20 minutes later when Nanna and Buggy showed back up. After 45 minutes they fell asleep, although with as much wiggling as they were doing, you would never know that they really were asleep. I got up, went upstairs and slept on the couch.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I woke up to the sound of the downstairs TV blaring at top volume "Salagadoola Mechicka Boola Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo!" I go downstairs to see all three girls dancing and around a huge pile of ribbon,lace, pins, glue sticks and various other craft supplies.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I look at the clock and it is 7:45. 45 minutes before Buggy needs to catch her bus. I send her up to get dressed. She actually chooses clothes that match.. a long sleeve sweat shirt with a spider on it and pink shorts. Hey, its predicted that the temperature is lower today... 94 degrees. OK. I guess. whatever. on closer inspection I realize that her shirt is on backwards, her pants are inside out and her underpants are on sideways. Self expression has GOT to draw the line somewhere. I get her re-arranged and ready for breakfast. I am relieved that they want cold cereal this morning. And today we are lucky, only one bowl of cereal found the floor. I am thinking in spite of the crafty mess downstairs it must be a good day!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But then.... it is now 8:15. Oh no! there is a horrible horrible stench emanating from... the kitchen... the garbage? no. the sink? no. it is near the table. HOLY COW! it is Sunshine. She has poop up her back, it is nasty nasty green. it is all over her booster chair, all over her jammies. All over her. ICK!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Off to the shower. I get her clothes off I hear Bleu scream "Why did you do that? its a huge mess! what did you do that for!" and I hear scampering, drawers being pulled open and the water turn on. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">BREATHE! I tell myself. I close my eyes and take that deep breath. I swear i hear a groan coming from my mouth. part of me wants to just shut the door and pretend that nothing has happened. maybe it isn't as bad as i imagine? Maybe they will clean it up and i wont be any wiser? Doubtful! I finish with Sunshine. Rinse the poopies down the sink and throw some bleach around the tub. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I send Sunshine off to finish her breakfast. I walk into the living room. Two oldest children are huddling around the lounge chair, frantically scrubbing it with a towel. Upon closer inspection, I realize that it is a mess. I am sure that Nanna is behind it. After a minor tantrum, I get it out of her that she had the last of the eggs, (5 of them) and sat on them in the chair.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am at a loss. I have no idea what to do or how to handle this. I did the first thing I could think of. Maybe not the ideal discipline, but it was spontaneous and the only thing I could think of.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I noticed there was one egg left. I grabbed it and cracked it over her head and realized I was hearing the bus honking outside.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Buggy doesn't have a lunch. We cant find her shoes. Her hair is not combed. OH MAN! I send her off on the bus carrying socks and with Nanna's winter boots.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I come back in. Nanna is still standing in the middle of the kitchen with raw egg dripping down her head. screaming.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have her clean up the mess from the dripping egg. it takes her about 20 minutes.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Then i throw her in the shower. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I can't figure what to do with the egg in the chair. I wipe it up as best as I can and throw baking soda and vinegar on it. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Oh yeah. I need to run Buggy's lunch to school. then I get a call from a man that i had been doing business with. He claims that i had done the project all wrong even though it was exactly as he had said. Sigh. 9 hours of typesetting down the tubes!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I look at the clock. it is 10:30. Her lunch is at 11. I need to run it to her ASAP.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I cant find MY shoes. I go barefoot.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I need a break. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Back home Bleu decides he is going to play "Lets Dance" on the Wii. Maybe I need the distraction.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I begin playing. I am surprised! I am doing better than I would have thought. Sunshine is upset however that one of the character she says is "Scary!" so she goes off to play in her room.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">About 30 minutes later, I cant find her!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She is not in her room. She is not outside anywhere. I check downstairs. She is not there. She isn't in the shed, She isn't in the playroom, she isn't in the bathroom. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I CANT FIND HER ANYWHERE!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I go out in the front and begin asking the neighbors if they had seen her. They hadn't either.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am totally panicking!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The thoughts that are going through my head are that we have to leave for visitation in 20 minutes!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Where is she?</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I know there are a few registered offenders in the neighborhood. Oh. no. please don't tell me! No No No!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Finally, Bleu hollers out at me, and he is laughing.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"I found her!"</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am relieved, but part of me is hesitant, I am still worried that something has happened.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I walk into the girls' room. There she is, asleep under a pile of about 4 blankets, covered head to toe.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am so relieved!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I need to go to the bathroom.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I puke!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">OK. kids, time to get in the van! Lets go! march march march!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thank heavens the rest of the day was much less eventful. A little shopping and a nap?</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<br />GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-5017145402903201372012-04-26T22:03:00.000-06:002012-04-26T22:03:29.613-06:00here we go againI heave a heavy sigh.<br />
I thought we were done with the whole female drama issue, but... too much to hope for.<br />
Something wasn't feeling right to me, so I made another Dr appointment. My regular doctor was out of town for the week, so i went to the doc on call. He suggested another ultrasound.<br />
This time, my endometrium went from a 2 (just a weeks ago) to a 7. and they seen a lump on my ovary.<br />
I believe I am going to have to have a biopsy.<br />
<br />
It appears to mean one of 3 things. <br />
Endometrioses,<br />
a cyst on the ovary<br />
or<br />
Ovarian Cancer.<br />
I would like to say I am positive and brave.<br />
the fact is, I am terrified. and... I feel the little girl in me coming out. I want my mommy.<br />
at the same time, I want my daughters. I don't want my daughters to miss out on having a mommy. We were involved in them being removed from their mommy, I don't want them to go through losing another one.<br />
My mom was brave and strong and I could always lean on her to steer me in the right direction, help me make the right decisions, and be there for me.<br />
Now, although I am 40... something... I am having to grow up and face grown up issues that the little girl in me does not want to face.<br />
<br />
Oh, I know that Baynard will be there for me, he will be strong for me, I can rely on him and we will get through this, but ... I want my mommy.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-71036411707911495102012-04-19T00:10:00.000-06:002012-04-19T00:10:01.432-06:004 wheels and a life sparedMy little family decided to pack up and go 4 wheelin' to celebrate my good news.<br />
We pulled together the little green 4 wheeler (mine) and the white speedster (Baynard's) and headed for the hills near Eagle Mountain, called 5 Mile pass.<br />
We were just buzzing around, and my friends, Earl and Anne were with us. Baynard decided to try going up this incredible hill. Me being a scary-cat, couldn't even go near the hill. But Baynard is up for the thrill.<br />
He was determined to trek it on the white speedster.<br />
I on the other hand, am much less about the thrill as I am the adventure. I like to ride to "see whats on the other side". and I am too chicken. if i don't feel completely in control, I wont do it. But.... my adventurousness caused me to get lost the last time we went out. so it has its draw backs too! I took off and went towards the dry creek bed.<br />
He went for the scary hill.<br />
He got a pretty good run on it at first, but as he neared about 3/4 the way up, the trail became very rocky. the torque of his super powerful man-bike became too much and the bike flipped over the top of him. <br />
He was NOT wearing a helmet. <br />
He had the presence of mind to let go of the bike and I believe that he kicked it off of him. but now he has 2 broken ribs, a bruised lung, serious road rash on his back, a nasty looking knee and several cuts and bruises on various parts of his body.<br />
but not a single head wound<br />
We (He) is very lucky.<br />
the ranger chewed him out and told him he was damn lucky to be alive.<br />
We think so too.<br />
Sometimes the thrill is just not worth it.<br />
As Baynard's Brother says, "you have to respect the machine".<br />
We were lucky also that Earl was with us because he talked the ranger out of giving us a fine for not having helmets. He also wanted to take Baynard to the hospital right then and there. He, and the people that helped him back down the hill, were all surprised he didnt have head injury.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-72097921557152978662012-04-18T23:25:00.000-06:002012-04-18T23:25:18.319-06:00reliefI was just recovering from my good news. It is hard having that potential "c" word hanging over your head.<br />
I guess the one good thing is that I really appreciate what my mother went through, both with her own cancer, as well as dealing with my fathers and raising a child on her own.<br />
I hope I never have to deal with that stress again.<br />
You begin to see things in a different light I guess when you have that possibility looming.<br />
My father passed away when I was 10.<br />
My mother had not worked in years, she had not graduated from high school, She didn't even have a driver's license. What she did have was incredible medical bills, a mortgage and a 10 year old daughter she was left to raise on her own.<br />
But she pulled it together, got a job as a school lunch lady so she would have the same days off I had, She got her drivers license, and she budgeted and even paid off the mortgage. I would also like to think that she reared one terrific kid. but... that would be debatable.<br />
I don't know how she did it.<br />
Twenty five years later, it was her turn. She was diagnosed. She was so strong and so responsible, I honestly don't know how she did it.<br />
My mother was an amazing woman, I really appreciate her and everything she did for me and how strong she was.<br />
When I was stressing, hoping for the best, but worried about the worst, I was thinking a lot about my girls. What would happen to them. All the things they would miss out on. All the things I would not get to see them grow up to do.<br />
I wondered if they would feel the same hurt that I did when my father passed away.<br />
I wondered if Baynard would be able to hold things together for them.<br />
the words that Buggy Boo said kept coming back to haunt me: "But if you and daddy die, we wont be a family any more." <br />
That was devistating.<br />
I am thankful that I do not have to find out the answers to those sorts of questions right now. I hope I never do. but, for any one of us, it is always a possibility.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-27532304902668959952012-04-14T10:19:00.000-06:002012-04-14T10:19:31.266-06:00good news, and baffling news<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I received some very exciting and yet confusing news.<o:p></o:p></span> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few long hours after my previous post, I received a call from my doctor,<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was strange. I have never felt “dizzy stress” before. You know… the kind where they usually say, “Are you sitting down?” well, now I know why.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The news was both great, and baffling.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All of my “girl” parts are working and looking fine, according to the blood work and ultrasound. That is the good part.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My entire “girl” parts are working and looking fine, is the baffling part.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was told more than a dozen years ago that I had no ovaries and had gone through menopause when I was just 21.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, the ultrasound doesn’t lie. I have 2 walnut shaped orbs. Interesting.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So… the diagnosis is that I am “peri menopausal”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">To most people it is a sign that their motherly possibilities are over, and that they are nearing the summit of their lives, and usually looking to grandmother-hood. For me, it was funny. <o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why was I told all those years ago that there was no way that I would ever have a baby of my own because I didn’t have ovaries, and yet, here this doctor found them, and apparently they ARE working?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, I can constantly drill on the why’s and how and what could have been, but the reality is this.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I do not have cancer.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I do have ovaries and probably now, PMS.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Its Friday the 13<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> today, but it is a good day!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today, I am given yet another chance.</span></div>GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-89723428485519990982012-04-12T15:36:00.000-06:002012-04-12T15:36:18.749-06:00WaitingSo, I guess by now you have realized that I have more potential serious health issues.<br />
I am trying to be strong. Trying to be positive, trying not to worry. Trying to maintain normalcy for my girls.<br />
Its not easy.<br />
A few hours ago i was fine. In the car with Nanna driving back from the other side of town. I was singing at the top of my lungs with her the old song, I think the original was by Karen Carpenter, "Sing, Sing a Song."<br />
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="<a href="http://www.youtube.com/embed/sU0MIJI-iio">http://www.youtube.com/embed/sU0MIJI-iio</a>" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
I was happy. I was wondering what I had to worry about.<br />
<br />
Now, 3 hours later I am a mess. I am sobbing uncontrollably. <br />
<br />
I think mostly it is the unknown. Not know what it is exactly that I am dealing with.<br />
<br />
I am watching the clock and watching the phone.<br />
I am checking my email to see if my test results have posted yet.<br />
It has only been 24 hours, I am not sure what I expect.<br />
but I am nervous.<br />
I am scared,<br />
and I dont want to miss a moment with my girls.<br />
I love them so much and I dont want to hurt them,GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-54506099095393025052012-04-10T23:16:00.001-06:002012-04-11T00:13:00.275-06:00Bad Bad day<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today was not a very good day.<o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This post is not like many others, it has a quite somber overtone. I apologize.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today I went to the doctor because I was having unusual bleeding. My doctor is very worried and dropped the “c” word on several occasions.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am trying not to over react; after all, we really do not know anything at all. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My husband is angry. He is angry at me for not going to my doctor sooner. He tells me it is selfish of me not to take care of myself and if I would have went in when he first suggested it. The outcome may have been different.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He’s probably right, although we don’t know what it is we are dealing with yet.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I tell him that hindsight is always 20/20 and since we can’t change the past we can only move forward one day at a time.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am pretty OK most of the time. Until I look at pictures of my beautiful daughters. I think of my post a few days ago about Nanna and her being afraid of me leaving her, and my promise that Mommy always comes back and that I will never die until she is grown.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s when I lose it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I cant have cancer. I cant do that to her. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My daughters are my world. I love them so much. They have been through so much, I pray that they will not have to endure any more.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But… I will wait until the blood work and ultra-sound tests come back and see what happens. There is no use upsetting myself when we just don’t know.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I am going to close right now. I will try to write more when I know more. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI6xvYe6qT6RQbA2GNOPLjVnaBtqCIo5BWedpXo55Pd62upnUxgC2v5QXzcDp_E48zZguogVrvG_FhsE7N2V0N3f38IP7DkhNTyT8XyyGmPxBwb-8DtUpsO9ATPM-dX63fBhPL4GXZVw/s1600/529276_10150670338778182_778753181_9386331_343855229_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBI6xvYe6qT6RQbA2GNOPLjVnaBtqCIo5BWedpXo55Pd62upnUxgC2v5QXzcDp_E48zZguogVrvG_FhsE7N2V0N3f38IP7DkhNTyT8XyyGmPxBwb-8DtUpsO9ATPM-dX63fBhPL4GXZVw/s320/529276_10150670338778182_778753181_9386331_343855229_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-59815070519403431092012-04-01T06:50:00.000-06:002012-04-01T06:50:30.253-06:00The time has come.<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I knew the time would come. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As with all things, I believe with most kids, it happens when you least expect it.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nanna Banana is very concerned and worried as well as afraid that I will die. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have tried to reassure her that I will not die until I am much much older, and she is much older, when she has kids or even grandkids of her own.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it doesn’t seem to help.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope that I am not lying to her about it.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You see, when I was very small, maybe near her age, as a matter of fact, I was very afraid of death and dying. I remember going to Canada with my family when I was 6. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was an elderly couple sitting on a bench in front of a gift shop. I remember tears welling up in my eyes. I remember the old couple trying to console me, but I cried even harder. I think they thought I was more upset about talking to a stranger. When my mom came back, she asked me, "why are you being a boob?" and I told her I was sad because that grandma and grandpa were going to die soon." She just kind of poo-pooed it saying I was being silly. But to me, it was scary and very sad.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember not being able to sleep at night because I was afraid of my father dying. Not so much my mother, but somewhere, I knew that my father would pass away before I was an adult. And he did, when I was 10.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope that Nanna does not have this same sort of intuition. Not as much that I am afraid to die, But because I am afraid of not living anymore. I have seen the other side, and I know that it is a wonderful place.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, Nanna has tearfully exclaimed on many occasions, "But I will miss you too much.”<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZ8OU1vAFWV76q-e22mVjQ6ydC0lRquI-4KT9DSF46klnhdM5c1gW4Ydse169KSD_h0syHNYEI90PfX86Ju8UGRsBrJdbzXJxI6FGi6nI4BlQgervpdbuv5iV3jxJZPPrrVb0RwlkWDU/s1600/229575_2030082277074_1394636288_32446907_7499430_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhZ8OU1vAFWV76q-e22mVjQ6ydC0lRquI-4KT9DSF46klnhdM5c1gW4Ydse169KSD_h0syHNYEI90PfX86Ju8UGRsBrJdbzXJxI6FGi6nI4BlQgervpdbuv5iV3jxJZPPrrVb0RwlkWDU/s1600/229575_2030082277074_1394636288_32446907_7499430_n.jpg" /></a></div><span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That is when I begin to tear up myself and those old feelings I had as a child come back. Gosh, those feeling I have as an adult child who recently lost her Mother. Part of me is still a little girl who misses her parents too.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not sure what to do at this point.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have always believed that things happen for a reason. I am not sure what, and often don’t know why things happen the way they do.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe it is to make myself feel better about my Mother’s passing, but if you do the math, from her passing to Emilee’s birth is 9 ½ months. Maybe I am silly, but even though Buggy is not of our blood, I believe that my mother helped her to get to us. This is one reason we named her a name that I knew my child would have when I was a child myself. Her middle name is Grace. I chose that name that she join our family by the Grace of God.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were sitting in the living room yesterday. Nanna brought up her fears again. Again I reassured her that I would not go anywhere for a very long time. I am glad to see the emotion that she has about it, but at the same time, that is such a huge emotional burden for a child so young to carry.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Buggy, not one to be left out says, “but if you die, and Daddy dies, we will be left all alone and we won’t be a family anymore.” <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How do you respond to that one? How did my 2 ½ year old come up with that and put it all together like that?</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Rest in Peace</u></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;">Bonnie and Steve</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;">Scott</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;">Eva and Lawrence</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;">Jon, Emogene</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;">Sherman and Violet</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;">Tom, Marie, Jack, Shirley, Rhea, Paula, Marvin, Helen, Ray, Lizzie</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;">DeeDee, Rick</span>GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-63754759797831393112012-03-20T04:35:00.002-06:002012-03-20T04:53:35.055-06:00Princess Nanna<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto;">Nanna</span> is going to be four (chronologically) in a few weeks. She is more like a 15 year old. If you ask her, she IS a princess. Not just any princess, but THE PRINCESS. As in.... there are no other princesses that exist, except her. Well, OK, I will buy that. There really are no other princesses quite like my <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto;">Nanna</span>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Most often she refuses to wear clothes, but instead chooses to dress in her dress-up princess clothes. She would wear them to school if I would allow it. She loves playing with make-up, and more than one child after a play date has gone home with a face stained with eye shadow (put on quite well, I might add) lipstick on their cheeks and somewhere near their mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">She always has to have her hair done, and especially loves it when I do it in a French braid or a bun. (She has very thick and very long hair).<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">She also will wear her heels (plastic dress-up shoes with about an inch heel). <o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">And her favorite color is pink, of course.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Probably the funniest princess thing about her is that she even has a boyfriend at her preschool whom she constantly refers to as her "Prince". He is a little 5 year old Latino boy (who is kind of cute, I have to admit) with dark hair cut in a Cesar cut, olive skin and huge round eyes, and don't forget the dimples. Yes, Prince Luke, has a dimple.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">If you ask her, she will tell you, "Luke is my boyfriend, he is my Prince". But in order to understand what she is saying, you have to SEE it. She will clasp her hands together and put them under her chin. Next is the classic head tilt and batting of the eyelashes. She tops it off with the spin-around. <o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">You can't help but smile and play along.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">So, Friday was Luke's last day in her class. She knew this was coming, and wanted to give him a going-away present. She made a little card for him and wanted to string him some beads for a bracelet. OK. <o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Yesterday was Monday. She came home from school and told me that her Prince was now Noah. This is an interesting dynamic because Noah was her boyfriend about 3 months ago. She used to play "puppy" with him. she would pull him around the classroom with a leash and tell him if he was a good puppy or a bad puppy. I hope this isn't a sign of deviant behavior later in life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">So, I ask her, “Is your relationship with Luke over?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">"Yes, I won’t see him anymore." she says.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">"Maybe you can hook up in High School?" I ask/<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">"No, mom, don't be silly! He's gone! He won’t be back! Never!" she says agitated, dancing from one foot to the other in her pink heels.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">"So you have moved on then?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">"Yes, she replies, "Noah is now my Prince. He does what I tell him to do."<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">"So, Luke is barely out the door, and he is replaced so suddenly with Noah?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ask, egging her on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">"Mo o o o m. she says, rolling her eyes. I HAVE to have a Prince! She is flailing her arms around now pleading for my understanding. It is quiet now as she is thinking. <o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I kid you not, this is what happened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">She sits down on the floor puts her head down, and says, "But.... I <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto;">shoulda</span> kissed Luke first." and she heaves a heavy sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">that's my 15 year old princess <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto;">Nanna</span>. what am I going to do with her? She even asked her dad when he was going to teach her to drive! What is she going to be like when she really IS 15?<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">I put my head down, heave a sigh and say to my self as I roll my eyes and think to myself, "oh <span style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto;">Nanna</span>, what am I going to do with you?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: magenta;"><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></strong></span></div>GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-13598614904522837762012-03-20T03:56:00.001-06:002012-03-20T04:38:26.335-06:00Buggy Boo<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="color: #274e13;">My Buggy Boo is growing up too fast. She is now 2 1/2 and a little genius.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">OK. I know all parents like to believe this about their children. But with her? She has had a good teacher, her sister, who is also a genius. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">We were sitting in the van the other day. It was a snowy and cloudy grey kind-of day. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">Nanna said to me, "Momma? Where does the sun go when it snows?"</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">"It is behind the clouds. The clouds are like a blanket to the sun. It is still there, just hiding in its blanket." I replied.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">She continues the conversation with, "but where does the moon go?"</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">"It is on the other side of the earth like a night light for the people who are sleeping." I said. I was really glad that she accepted this answer because I really didn't want to get into a physics/astronomy lesson with a 3 year old while driving to a Dr. appointment in a snow storm.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">But then Buggy joins in the conversation putting in her comment. "But Mommy? Where are the comets?"</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">Comets? My 2 1/2 year old already knows about comets? WOW, she knew enough that she knew they were in the sky with the sun and the moon. WOW, I think I was like 7 before I even heard about comets.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">While most children her age are into asking "why?" about everything, she is into asking, "What does ____ mean?"</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">Yesterday it was, "what does dead mean?" and "what does disgusting mean?" and "what does 'hang tight' mean'"? "What does alive mean?"</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">OK, so how do you explain what "alive" is to a 2 year old? The real kicker was when she asked me "mommy, what does 'because' mean?"</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">You tell me?</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">She is quite the character. She is beginning to rhyme words and put beginning sounds to words. She is able to tell you what number is bigger. For example, "which has the most, 3 or 8?" and she can answer it correctly about 4 out of 5 times.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">Yup... that's my little Genius!</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">However, as with all Geniuses, she has her quirks. She still does not use a fork or spoon and chooses to flat hand smash food into her face. What goes into her mouth is a bonus. What does not falls on the floor.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">But getting her to not make up stories with her food as she is eating? Well, that's a post for another day! </span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">BTW, green is her favorite color.</span><o:p></o:p><br />
</span><span style="color: black;"> </span>GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-72607399726800839092012-03-20T03:33:00.000-06:002012-03-20T03:33:46.695-06:00Movin' on<span style="color: #4c1130;">Lee Lee left us a little over a week ago.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">It was kind of bitter sweet. The morning she was to leave she was playing with the dogs before she went to school. We were talking and she seemed fine about it. all of a sudden she jumped up and ran outside without saying a word. She was waiting on the curb for her bus. I know that of all of us, it would be the dogs and the TV (anime) that she would miss the most.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">It was funny because she has these drawings that she had made of her family. Kind of like her own family album (since she had no pictures). The book she had made consisted of drawings of family members, very small on the page. above the drawings (which were not in color) she had written things like "This is my Grandma. I love her, she has a cat, a dog and a bird. The bird is very mean and bites" or "This is my Uncle ____, he has a farm with lots of goats and a cat. The cat is black and likes me to hold her and pet her chin."</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">I thought it was very interesting, yet sad. Sad that the connection she felt with her family was the unconditional love of their pets. I hope at her new foster home, (with her brother, Bubby, BTW) that she is doing well.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">When it became time for her to go, the new foster parents arrived to pick up massive amounts of her "stuff" (she is a bit of a hoarder). LeeLee was so over stimulated and was bouncing off the walls. I know it was probably a little bit of excitement, and a lot of anxiety and a total refusal to admit any type of emotion.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Her final good-bye, she literally picked me up off the ground in a hug. </span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">She is a tough child. I will miss her quirkyness and yes, her obsession with anime shows, just because it totally enveloped her. But... it is nice to have my TV back.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">I am a firm believer that things happen for a reason. Whether the decision to take LeeLee and Bubby were the correct choice for our family. they brought us a a sense of what real family is, and showed us just what neglect and wrong choices made by parents can do to older children. It also taught me that I need to cherish my own children. I know I now hug Nanna a little tighter, a lot more often and try to be much more patient with her. I try to delight in the child she is, instead of trying to change her. She has a disability, but it is a part of her, it does not define her. I do not want her growing up with the issues that these two children who were our last placement had. or the feeling of smallness, or the idea that only pets give love.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">I think these are the things that these two children taught our family.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">But, my girls, honestly, have not mentioned her all that much. Not like they did the boys. they still say they miss 4x4 and lucky 7.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">We will continue to be licensed.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">We will take on other children, but.... we will be more picky. Mostly I think I have learned that it is OK to use the word "no" to adults, and not just to my kids.</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">--</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Movin' On.</span>GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-54190959000219476042012-02-15T09:17:00.000-07:002012-02-15T09:17:31.153-07:00SPITE: it always comes back to bite you in the Petunia!<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, for whatever reason, Sundays, when Baynard is out on the road is the hardest day of the week. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am not sure if it is the change in routine, if it is the "I'm bored to no return", or if it is that pent up anxiety of "I have been good all week and now I need to let the naughties out!"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130;">Nanna had a rough day. well, more like I had a rough day dealing with Nanna and her shenanigans. The final straw was when she went into the bathroom, spray painted my walls with hairspray and then proceeded to take a bath... in the tiny sink that already has issues, it backs up big time. I was mad when there was a huge puddle of water that was dripping out of the overflowing sink that was full of bubbles. There was an empty can of hairspray and another empty bottle of shampoo over. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You have seen the movies where the washer or dishwasher has bubbles flowing out of it? well, this rivaled it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was mad. OK... I was downright angry. she was sent to her room.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">then pulled out of her room and told to clean it up. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I realized this was making it worse, again I yelled at her and sent her back to her room. I am sure I said many more words, but the last thing I remember saying in my tantrum was, "If you aren't a big enough girl to stay out of things that don't belong to you then you are not a big enough girl to go potty by yourself! I am going to lock the bathroom door and when you need to go, you have to ask me so I can babysit you while you go potty!"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">OK, so now? it sounds funny that it was so unreasonable, but i was frustrated and desperate.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I had just finished the words, clicked the lock, shut the door.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">OH CRAP! the bathroom door has a key lock!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So... I am frantically looking for the key. whew! there are 8 keys here. they match the 4 interior locks that we have. this wont be as bad as I had thought.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">WRONG!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the key would go in fine, it wouldn't turn the barrings to unlock the door. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe i could pick the lock?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No. I was never any good at picking key locks. I could do some combination locks, but not key locks.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Perhaps I could take off the hinges? Nope.... wrong side of the door.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At this point, desperate times call for desperate measures.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I pull out Baynards 4lb hammer and proceed to smash the crap out of the door knob.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I did a really good job with the knob itself, but the shaft with the lock? Not a dent.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I continued pounding for a good hour.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nothing.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, at least we have the bathroom downstairs. It will have to do for tonight.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next day, I resumed taking out my anger on the door knob. it was bending, but still the lock on the cheapest door knob money could buy, would not be broken!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I called my friend who used to be able to pick locks really well.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">there was enough damage done to the internal parts that it wouldn't be picked.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I hated to tell Baynard. I didn't was the "irresponsibility lecture".</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My friend pounded on the door for nearly an hour. She was finally able to break it free. the door for the most part remained in tact. there was just one slight hammer head dent. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I called Baynard and told him that I had killed the bathroom door knob, but that it had put up a valiant fight. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He then informed me that he had switched the bathroom door knobs. the key to that door was downstairs in the utility drawer.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I swear I heard the tone, "Wha Wha WhaAaAa". ...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I am looking at the bright side. at least it wasn't when one of the kids were locked in there! Or.... maybe it wasn't? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c1130; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Spite... It will always bite you in the petunia!</span>GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-20508406958937192082011-12-16T22:16:00.000-07:002011-12-16T22:16:17.017-07:00DramaMy family is wreaked with drama. <br />
We have had to ask for Bubby to be removed from our home due to reasons I am unable to disclose.<br />
LeeLee is still with us.<br />
Life for our normal circus has been tiring, exhausting and emotionally draining.<br />
I havent felt like posting.<br />
I will get back into the groove soon.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-45440007122143781382011-12-10T23:32:00.000-07:002011-12-10T23:32:14.481-07:00IPODOK. I am a self proclaimed techno-junkie. Not that I know a lot of tech or tech-talk, just that I am drawn to all the gizmo's and gadgets that are just... well... fun.<br />
However, I fought buying a smart phone as well as an Ipod. What did I need one for? I have my music on CD, right? I spend my day listening to my chili beans (aka, my kids) fighting, singing, arguing, and chattering all day. I have no time for an ipod anyhow. and I still have my PDA...<br />
A smart phone? I have a 12 mega pixel digital camera, and I have Internet on my computer. do I really want to be tied to my phone like that? what if I lose my phone? what if my phone gets broken? then what happens to all my photos??? Internet? are they really secure?<br />
OK, so.. I find myself checking my emails on my smart phone frequently. Especially those accounts that aren't as important as my main one. I find myself checking facebook, and.... Playing Angry Birds. OK... I like my smart phone. Yes... yes I do. and the picture quality honestly isn't as bad as I thought they would be.<br />
but... my IPOD.<br />
I actually ended up with it by accident. I bought them for bubby and leelee for Christmas and decided that they weren't what they wanted and are much too small and I am sure they would loose them. I tried sending them back, but it is a "no-refund" policy.<br />
Bummer.<br />
Fine, I will keep one for me. Give the other to my sister!<br />
and you know what? I think I kinda like it!<br />
It is nice to wash the dishes to "Bounce" by Bon Jovi, or clean the toilet to "Superstar Car Wash" by the GooGoo Dolls. Yeah... OK. I like it.<br />
I recommend it. Cant watch videos on it, but it is kinda fun anyhow.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-24569009973006318462011-12-03T21:35:00.000-07:002011-12-03T21:35:16.097-07:00Family Photos ...2011So, we finally did it.<br />
Family photos. <br />
We braved the Wal-Mart jungle and went to their photo studio to have our yearly family photo taken. OK... our yearly pilgrimage to have photos taken of the children, but this time we decided that we needed to have myself and Baynard in them as well as ALL the children.<br />
We opted for a simple navy polo to be worn by all, with jeans of your choice.<br />
Easy right?<br />
well.... the idea for the navy polos was because Baynard already has one, LeeLee has them for her school uniform, of which she can give one to Bubby. So, just myself and the little girls.<br />
First we started with Bubby and LeeLee together. Actually, these were probably some of the better shots, inspite of Bubbys cheesy over smile which I guess was to compensate for LeeLee's NON-Smile. but it really did end up being a decent picture. <br />
Next we tried to do the entire family. I dont know what was harder to deal with. the wackyness of the kids or the high strung "big kid". . I honestly don't think that they have ever had studio shots because they kept making bunny ears and gang-type signs. We finally got one that was... somewhat OK. <br />
we also did one with just all the kids, Nanna and Buggy-boo alone and one each of the girls alone.<br />
It was tough. not many of the shots turned out. I was not impressed with the photographer, nor of the photos themselves. I think she just wanted to leave. <br />
Next time... Tiffany for sure!<br />
I can't wait to see them in print however, even if goofy, there are still some OK shots.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-48716139839353180542011-11-21T18:03:00.000-07:002011-11-21T18:03:41.957-07:00Another Weird day<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today started out different. I don't know, I cant put my finger on it, but sometimes you have those amazingly wonderful days where everything goes right, everything you touch seems to turn to gold and every sound you hear is like a baby's giggle. Today was not one of those days.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sometimes you have those horrendous days where the first step out of bed is a stubbed toe, everything you touch is gooey and slimy, and every sound you hear is either a bill collector, a child screaming, or something breaking. (or all of the above all at once).Today was not one of those days either.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today was one of those days where you just scratch your head and go "huh?"</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I really noticed it when I got a call from Bubby's teacher. "Ma'am, would you please bring Bubby some clothes?"</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> "Clothes?" I asked.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> "Yes, ma'am. Bubby is not wearing clothes, he is in his pajamas, would you please bring him some clothes as quickly as possible?"</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> "Yes, of course" I said.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I sort-of throw on some of my clothes, and throw Buggyboo in the car. It was just going to be a quick trip to the school. no need for socks, slippers are fine.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I get to the school, and there stands Bubby in his camouflage one piece polar-fleece snugly Jammie's, with his snow boots. I roll my eyes, as I think back.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I remember thinking how compliant he was. He had not wanted to take a coat nor backpack to school for the last week. he had also insisted on wearing his "crocs" without socks even though there is snow. but today, he had his coat on and ready nearly 1/2 hour early, he had his backpack waiting and his snow boots on. I didn't pay attention to his pants because nearly all of his clothing is camouflage anyhow. I remember him looking a little nervous at me as he ran outside to wait for his bus... on the other side of the street. I swear I thought he had pants on, but I didn't do a full clothing inspection either. I guess that is a new chore on the list. </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was so obvious now, but thinking back, he knew exactly what he was doing.</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I stand there looking at this lanky 11 year old curly blond hair boy with hauntingly blue eyes with this tilted head and cheesy grin standing there in his classroom with his camouflage snugly Jammie's on. </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How can you not smile?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was just weird all day.... like that.</span>GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-13949558174630551362011-11-19T22:13:00.000-07:002011-11-19T22:13:35.887-07:00My new family motto.I had just gotten a report card from LeeLee and Bubby. They were... OK. I guess, considering both children are special needs. The good thing about it is that I have discovered that Bubby's reading is on a Kinder level, LeeLee's is about a 3rd grade level. <br />
I have been pondering this, and I think this is a good thing. A lot of work, but a good thing. One of the things I am going to begin is after school "homework". Neither of the older kids has homework. Bubby is back at learning letter sounds, just slightly ahead of Nanna who is learning letters. LeeLee can site read and sound out words. It will be perfect for teaching Sami to read. Kids learn more from their peers, so Bubby can teach Nanna, and LeeLee can teach Bubby. <br />
My new family motto. "Meet them where they are."<br />
I will try to keep you posted of what we are doing. I will add a little link for things in case you would like to try some of our ideas. Feedback will be much welcome, as well as your own ideas.<br />
i am actually excited about this, even though it will mean a LOT of work. :)GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-14209490913173222492011-11-19T22:02:00.000-07:002011-11-19T22:02:55.092-07:00Swimmingtoday we ventured out into the cold... and the snow... yes, snow. several inches. I guess winter is here now, and I didn't even get all the leaves raked up. Oh well, I guess they will be there in the spring covered in lovely shades of mold and mildew. <br />
We decided, of all things, to go swimming. I have really been blessed that none of the kids we have ever had in our home is afraid of water. Nanna just loves wiggling free with her water wings, LeeLee hangs around the warm water jets and does somersaults, Bubby is a fish and a really good swimmer. Buggy boo has always been a little baby fish. The first time we took her to the pool, she was about 6 months old. People kept taking pictures of this little tiny baby who would float on her back while sucking her toes. I have to admit, it was adorable! <br />
I am really missing the babies lately. I guess this is what normally people would call the "baby blues". I think part of it is also because as they are growing and our "home" situation is mutating, I am forced to get rid of unnecessary items, such as.... baby things. <br />
Sigh.<br />
but... we have had a breakthrough this week with Bubby!. He had an incredibly awful start to the week (resulting in ALL of us having an awful start of the week). I think he was feeling that he wasn't wanted, or wasn't sure if he belonged, or maybe he was just making sure he wasn't going back to his birth family, I don't know. I got a call from his school that his behavior was totally out of control and would I please come and get him. <br />
When I got there, he was struggling. He was spouting off random "hates". I just let him go, I think he was doing it to test, even though he really doesn't have that sort of a conscious.<br />
I think he was wondering "IF I am bad enough, will you send me back?" sort of thing. He really doesn't want to go back so I think he was just testing it. After he finished his rantings, we have had a really GREAT week. <br />
Even though I haven't fully "bonded" with these kids, I have to say that it melted my heart when he kept calling me "Mom". Today he slipped and kept calling Shane, Dad. <br />
These 2 are a lot of work. a LOT of work, but sometimes, just something so small, makes all the difference!GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-84476789505926776482011-11-16T10:48:00.001-07:002011-11-16T10:49:02.467-07:00Rooster in the morning If you are familiar with Winnie the Pooh, when he was stressed he had too phrases he said, one was "Oh Bother." and the other was "Fluff and Stuff".<br />
My life lately has been "fluff and stuff". crazy schedules, days spent running around the valley, and... therapy appointments up the wazoo. I am going to need my own therapy to recover from all the therapy appointments the 3 children have endlessly.<br />
In all the stress, It is nice that I could count on the humor and uncanny comedic timing of Buggy Boo.<br />
<br />
Today, Buggy, Nanna and LeeLee were up, dressed and ready for the morning. LeeLee catches her bus at 7:00. I just happened to be taking out the garbage in time to see LeeLee's bus slow down, then speed up right on by. I am puzzled by this but I look in the window to discover that one of the darlings have put the "No Bus" sign in the window. Could have been LeeLee, she hates school, could have been Bubby, he hasn't enjoyed the bus this week and it is the same sign for his bus. It could have been Nanna, just being "helpful", or it could have been Buggy playing with it, daddy taking it away and putting it facing the wrong way in the window. Anyhow. time to throw all the kids in the cold and buckle-em up. We take LeeLee to school.<br />
After we drop off LeeLee, it is 7:35. Buggy begins to crow like a rooster. I ask her what she is doing "Cock-a-doobie- doo!" she repeats. She then tells me, "I'm waking up the Sunny Shine, mama!" and she continues with her "Cock-a-doobie-doo!"<br />
It made the early morning cold, chaos and fluff and stuff, all worth it. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje030tAwdrMna6tdazB2Z8yLjJqmthxjI0YgJOUvmNsivFkE6JXzXv41TZ_vJ-BUPsiCNYXXBm3RT16xMeMqksWZxIMFSyLeTpe0pShNzO2M6Cr67f9gUVhrCKleum2lJjmZ_RjjPVL2Q/s1600/308804_2591322587731_1394636288_33053745_411038299_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje030tAwdrMna6tdazB2Z8yLjJqmthxjI0YgJOUvmNsivFkE6JXzXv41TZ_vJ-BUPsiCNYXXBm3RT16xMeMqksWZxIMFSyLeTpe0pShNzO2M6Cr67f9gUVhrCKleum2lJjmZ_RjjPVL2Q/s1600/308804_2591322587731_1394636288_33053745_411038299_a.jpg" /></a></div>Today may not be as crazy now.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-49752498033466596302011-11-02T22:44:00.000-06:002011-11-02T22:44:56.482-06:00Fun with LeeLee, the BCLC wayThis is a post about BCLC, a new parenting style. You may or may not agree with it, but for me, some of it is working and some of it makes sense. You may or may not choose to read further.<br />
<br />
So tonight, I swore that the kids would ALL be in bed by 8:30 after the fiasco this morning trying to get LeeLee up to go to school. It doesn't help that her bus comes at 7:00 am. <br />
That backfired. <br />
at 8:15 the little girls were asleep, but LeeLee informs me she has extra reading homework.<br />
It took a little creative ingenuity, and some giggles, tickles and fun, but after an hour she was finally done. (with the extra 10 min. of reading). It is 10:15.<br />
If you are familiar with "Beyond Consequences Learning and Control" check out the link.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.beyondconsequences.com/">http://www.beyondconsequences.com/</a><br />
<br />
You will note that the idea is that you have to build the relationship first. and sometimes you have to go backwards to go forwards.<br />
Some may feel it is enabling, others may feel it supports co dependency and doesn't encourage the self-help/self study skills that she needs in later life.<br />
BCLC works on building trust and self confidence first. <br />
For these children who have been neglected, malnourished, mistreated and/or abused, they missed out on a huge chunk of their development. <br />
If a child has Downs Syndrome, you don't expect them to have a PHD in physics. If a child has cerebral palsy, they are not expected to win the Boston Marathon. But if a child has spent most of their life locked away in one room with a TV and occasional food tossed to them, we still expect them to function on grade level, have grade level skills and functioning. It is so unfair to them, really. They never were taught, nor learned the basic skills of "get ready for school". they just got up when they wanted, wore the same clothes from the night before, disheveled hair, yellow teeth and smelly clothes, grabbed a quick Coke and maybe a cupcake and were out the door. Usually an hour or so late, if at all.<br />
So we have to go back to basics, and simplify.<br />
Wake up. use the toilet, flush. wash hands and face with soap. eat breakfast at the table. put on pants, shirt shoes and socks (which I have already gotten ready for them). brush teeth. brush hair(which i do for her). put on jacket, put on backpack. Even though teenagers, they have missed out on this and so have to go back to the basics. just like my 2 and 3 year old. It has to be this specific. <br />
Is it enabling a child when you get all their clothing out for them, find their shoes and pack their backpack when they are teenagers? For some, yes.<br />
For LeeLee, she honestly cannot focus enough to do these simple things. It totally over whelms her. She is not lazy. She just missed out and is unable to organize her thoughts and her daily self-help chores.<br />
Surprisingly, even my husband sees this, and although he doesnt get the BCLC thing, he is very sympathetic to her needs.<br />
I hope that someday she will be able to move past this stage.<br />
<br />
I know, many of you teachers would be falling all over themselves, but the Idea, to me, was to get her to read. period. So, she would read a page, I would read a page. For her this really worked. together we actually read more than i think she would have on her own, plus was able to stay more focused and could comprehend the story. I hope her teacher isn't upset by this. For her, right now, this worked. Whether she was reading on grade level, or even an appropriate book for her age, to me, doesn't matter. What does, is that she tried, she did and we completed the assignment, even if it wasn't in the way ordered.<br />
<br />
There are many things with BCLC that i just don't get. but there are also many that seem to be working for me and my style of parenting, such as it is. I can see the purpose in some of it.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-81129154289798649902011-11-01T22:06:00.001-06:002011-11-01T22:10:25.082-06:00My Baby GirlI had a good cry this afternoon. I didn't cry in the moment, I waited until I was alone in the car and a simple song came on. I know... That's just how it is to me. lyrics and poetry... they have a place in my heart.<br />
So, the tears actually began early this morning. Baynard was out on the road and my baby girl (buggy boo) climbed into bed with me. She said she wanted "nugg-o-time" <snuggle time>. She climbed into the bed and promptly took all the blankets from me and hunkered down into them. She looked up at me and smiled. "I love you mommy" she said, and she fell quickly back to sleep.<br />
As I was watching her, I got a little sentimental for a moment thinking of how fortunate we are to have her in our lives. What a joy, and what a blessing this little unwanted creature has been for us. We waited a long long time for her. She may not have come in the way expected, she may have had different parents, and she may have had a very rocky start in life. But the fact is, none of that matters. She was meant to be my baby girl.<br />
I was snapped quickly from my sentimentality with Bubby screaming at LeeLee for slamming the bathroom door. Sigh.<br />
<br />
A little while later I had an appointment to have my glasses checked. Alone! yes, I was alone. It was so nice to have my own thoughts even if for only an hour. As I drove in my car, (after the appointment fortunately) a song by Edwin McCain came on. It totally fit the description of what I had felt earlier in the day. <br />
This is my song to my Baby Girl<br />
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<br />
<em>I COULD NOT ASK FOR MORE</em><br />
<br />
<em>Lying here with you <br />
Listening to the rain <br />
Smiling just to see the smile upon your face <br />
These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive <br />
These are the moments I'll remember all my life <br />
I found all I've waited for <br />
And I could not ask for more <br />
Looking in your eyes <br />
Seeing all I need <br />
Everything you are is everything to me <br />
These are the moments <br />
I know heaven must exist <br />
These are the moments I know all I need is this <br />
I have all I've waited for <br />
And I could not ask for more <br />
Chorus <br />
I could not ask for more than this time together <br />
I could not ask for more than this time with you <br />
Every prayer has been answered <br />
Every dream I have's come true <br />
And right here in this moment is right where I'm meant to be <br />
Here with you here with me <br />
<br />
These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive <br />
These are the moments I'll remember all my life <br />
I've got all I've waited for <br />
And I could not ask for more <br />
<br />
Chorus <br />
<br />
I could not ask for more than the love you give me 'Coz it's all I've waited for <br />
And I could not ask for more <br />
I could not ask for more </em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vdSWhGo7WM29AYY_s0iCyjDfctaRdSIVaw48-jSoiSAFFplAu11ZJ11TefdJQqIeS7DyACc2IXafDO3gn77fJpdEFpZTf7jNGIE_I7TC3bp_dqY6jjlH1d6A6-GytFytr6Ws4SVnTxg/s1600/59513_1611474932152_1394636288_31690957_1222358_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vdSWhGo7WM29AYY_s0iCyjDfctaRdSIVaw48-jSoiSAFFplAu11ZJ11TefdJQqIeS7DyACc2IXafDO3gn77fJpdEFpZTf7jNGIE_I7TC3bp_dqY6jjlH1d6A6-GytFytr6Ws4SVnTxg/s320/59513_1611474932152_1394636288_31690957_1222358_n.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-84529331418395291802011-11-01T08:59:00.001-06:002011-11-02T07:39:34.740-06:00Post Halloween TraumaI'm not sure if it is just at my house, but why is it that every time you think that things are going along rather smoothly.. all... well, you know, breaks loose? For example yesterday. I was so on top of everything, so I thought. I had costumes bought, candy dish full, makeup ready, an idea how I was going to do said make-up. I had all props and accessories. All school bound children were out the door and on their respective buses. Whew!<br />
I have all morning to pick up my house and get it in semi-decent condition for those few parents who are nosey enough to pop their head in the door.<br />
Bubby, the big boy, was excited for me to come to his parade at 9:30. huh? 9:30? dang! I'm not even dressed yet. Hurry, grab a bowl of cereal! Oh dang! who is at the door? Oh MAN it is the woman from DDI to play with Emilee. crud. <br />
I forgot she was coming and for whatever crazy reason I have cancelled her last 3 visits. and... She has seen Buggyboo squealing in the window. OK... well... there goes Bubby's parade. crud!<br />
Maybe i can make it anyhow. I will cut the visit short and zoom over. they never start on time anyhow, do they? and they seem to go on and on an on, maybe he wont be one of the first classrooms. I can still make it.<br />
10:00 DDI is still here.... She is getting ready to pack up. Buggyboo is pulling more and more things out of her bag. The chat rolls on as i am constantly checking the clock.<br />
Finally she leaves. 10:15. OK, breathe, pushing it, but we can go.<br />
Buggyboo? Where are your pants. "in the baff room" she replies, "I peed in em." <br />
Great.<br />
Find new pants and looking frantically for shoes.... no deal, socks it is. (yes... I have done this!)<br />
We get ready to walk out the door. A phone call. MAN!!! what next?<br />
Seems that LeeLee has worn the wrong kind of shoes to school and could I please take her some more appropriate ones.<br />
WHAT??? Its not like they are 6 inch heels! they are black high top sneakers! Oh, but wait. they can only have WHITE SHOE LACES? ugh! Buggy? WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?<br />
ok, breathe, ditch the parade, take LeeLee some different shoes and hand them over with a stern glare to the administration of her school.<br />
OK, BREATHE!<br />
I still have time to pick up the laundry out of the living room. that will have to do until Nanna and Buggy take a nap.<br />
Nap time. no one naps. they just play. and squeal, and annoy each other. I am NOT taking ornery children trick or treating!<br />
Finally Buggy goes to sleep, but Nanna has no one to annoy except for me. And she does. Being naughty, talking naughty and being way too loud for Buggy to sleep. OK, you don't want to sleep? fine, YOU can clean the living room!<br />
So... the deal was, if she didn't clean the living room, then she would stay home tonight. <br />
Which really was an empty threat since there was no one home to be with her. but she finally took me serious. In the meantime I get a message on my phone that the visit is only going to be with LeeLee today and Bubby will have his visit on Wednesday. OK.... Just weird, but go for it. Bubby is looking forward to the visit, but i need to tell him. He gets sad, no tears, but sad. Goes for a ride on his bike.<br />
LeeLee and Bubby are home. we have one hour until visit with their mom. we can do this. Buggy takes off her costume, clothes and pants and proceeds to pee on the floor. Nanna is having tantrums, Bubby has fallen and has blood dripping down his leg. LeeLee is crying hysterically because she cannot find the top to her costume. She takes off on her scooter.<br />
OK... breathe! all kids are now in the car, mostly dressed (buggy? WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?!) and some of them have their make-up on. <br />
Ready to go. I get a text from the caseworker. Mom isn't coming to the visitation. I tell leeLee and she is disappointed. says that mom was going to bring her hamster today. I give her a hug and again she takes off on her scooter. no tears.<br />
Pull everyone out of the car, and get them in the house to finish make-up. Caseworker calls. Visitation is off, but therapy goes on.<br />
OK... everyone BACK into the van, LeeLee? where are you?<br />
she comes back just as I finish buckling in Buggyboo.<br />
Off to visitation. no show? ok... therapy then. It was pretty uneventful.<br />
it is now 6:30, the kids haven't eaten, and it is getting time to trick-or-treat.<br />
Buggyboo? NOW WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?<br />
Trick or Treating was uneventful, they were done much sooner than i thought they would be, Buggy walked into the house, threw her shoes, took off her costume and dived into her candy. nine 'clock, and dinner was either leftover pizza, or a hotdog with applesauce. None of the kids had difficulty going to bed, except for Nanna. She wanted to play and annoy LeeLee.<br />
So, Buggy's shoes are by the door, Nanna's time-out space is toy free, LeeLee and Bubby are both asleep.<br />
Sigh. time to raid the kids' candy!<br />
Hershey bar, mine! Butterfinger, Mine too! oh... 3 tootsie rolls. I'm good!<br />
<br />
Oh... forgot to feed the dogs.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-58853214504539512932011-10-31T07:21:00.000-06:002011-10-31T07:21:34.404-06:00Update on new placement.OK, I have to admit, the new placements are HARD. I am not used to having teenagers, especially teenagers who have been through what they have. and... it is difficult for me. <br />
But.... as hard as it is... there is something about these two... not like the boys, I feel like they are supposed to be with us.<br />
<br />
It is hard because one of them has extremely poor social skills and is developmentally delayed, and possilbly adhd. The other with issues all his own, will either live in his own little number world, or, because of the literal thinking, tends to argue incessantly with Nanna Banana.<br />
The other day they nearly got into a fist fight over gum. Not who had it, who it belonged to or even what flavor it was. What they were arguing over was a piece of Trident gum.<br />
Nanna said it was a "piece of gum". He said it wasn't just a piece, it was a whole. a whole gum. OK... so technically they are both right. but trying to convince 2 very strong willed children that they are both right in their own way was EXTREMELY difficult. This goes on all day long, between the two of them. <br />
As for the teenage girl, one bored 12 year old with a pair of scissors, a ball point pen and a stapler can turn your house totaly upside down. <br />
<br />
These two are a LOT of work and I think that we are going to be forced into a decision very very soon.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1252078207744563023.post-51279616714295491992011-10-30T22:22:00.001-06:002011-10-30T22:23:42.146-06:00The holidays.As a kid I remember Halloween. actually, nearly all of them. I remember looking in peoples windows because this was the beginning of the holidays where nearly everyone either painted scenes on their windows, or had cardboard cut-outs for each holiday. The children in the home would also put whatever witch, ghost or pumpkin art project they had recently made in the front window. It was exciting to see. You don't see that anymore. <br />
Costumes: While other kids had flimsy store-bought costumes that usually tore (they weren't much heavier that the average hefty garbage bag) before the trick or treating ended. Others also had awful plastic masks that hurt your eyes and the little rubber band string would get caught in your hair. One year I actually got a scooby-doo one. I was so disappointed!<br />
My mom made me the coolest costumes. I never really appreciated all the time and effort she put into them until now, having kids of my own. I was a bumble bee, complete with striped "leggings" (otherwise knows then as stirrup pants), There was the leopard, it was really cool because she made the head detachable, as well as the tail and I had cute one piece PJ's. One year she made me a full Raggedy Ann costume, as well as a little raggedy Ann doll to go with it. One year I was a hobo ghost. Cute costume, but not so friendly for the church costume parade! But... My favorite one of all was when she made my nephew Corey and I Indian (OK... Native American) costumes. They were much like traditional Navajo costumes right down to the moccasin laces. She even sewed each red white and yellow seed bead in patterns. all by hand.<br />
Yes, my mom was an amazing woman.<br />
But honestly, trick or treating was not my thing.<br />
First of all, I had this weird sensory thing about having makeup on. HATED it. it felt yucky like food that needed to be wiped off, and the smell, ICK! so... makeup wasn't even an option. And of course you could not wear any sort of mask to school. so really, even though my costumes were adorable... not so school friendly, at least for me.<br />
After getting home from school, it was a quick dinner, usually of chili dogs. Chili was OK. but hot dogs... oh man! hot dogs and I just don't get along. for many years my mom thought i was just a picky eater. But when i eat hot dogs, even to this day, I get severe migraines. when I was about 25 a doc told me that it is the nitrates in them. I was finally justified!<br />
So off we would go. me, at 7 with a migraine and a plastic pumpkin bucket. I was an early to bed type child so I was crabby about that as well. then the thoughts of going to peoples houses and begging for candy? awe mom! Especially those die-hard Halloween houses that were just scary for little sensitive me. I usually made it around the block, and I was done. too tired, to sick and too embarrassed.<br />
Come-on. just buy me a bag of m&m's and i would be happy.<br />
Which brings me to another point. some how, after trick-or treating, all of my chocolate based candy items disappeared under the pretense, "we have to make sure it is safe". there must have been a lot of unsafe chocolate back then. good thing there was that awful double bubble bubble gum that was always hard as a rock, the dumdum suckers which were so tiny you could almost swallow them home, and of course, the good ole stand-by to this day.... Smarties! They were always safe to eat. Bummer about that 3 Musketeers bar though!<br />
<br />
Five little pumpkins<br />
Sitting on a gate<br />
The first one said,<br />
"Oh, my, it's half past eight!"<br />
The second one said,<br />
"There are witches in the air!"<br />
The third one said,<br />
"Good folk, beware!"<br />
The fourth one said,<br />
"We'll run and run and run!"<br />
The fifth one said,<br />
"Let's have some fun!"<br />
OOOOOOOH, went the wind<br />
And OUT went the light<br />
And the five little pumpkins<br />
Rolled out of sight<br />
<br />
So, tomorrow is halloween, and i am getting ready to paint my kids' faces, I have their plastic buckets ready, and we are having chilidogs for dinner. Then we are off to beg for candy. I hope the snickers bars arent safe for my children to eat this year! ;)<br />
<br />
Happy Halloween everybody!<br />
BTW my kids are, Buggy boo wanted to be a dragon, Nanna wanted to be a dog, J wanted to be a military guy, and C wanted to be a female vampire.GKHBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14345296732350681141noreply@blogger.com0