Posted in the car wash.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Feelings of Inadequacy
The past few days have left me wondering if I am a real mother. Today I took one 6 year old boy to the grocery store. I needed just a few things: milk, ham steaks, & parsley (I killled what was growing in my garden.) At the grocery store, I was distracted and harried. I forgot the milk. I walked in the house shaking my head. I asked Michael how in the world I ever took 5 kids grocery shopping week after week without losing my head.
I have had Ethan since very early Thursday morning. His mom is out-of-town until tomorrow night. He has made amazing progress in school and therapy. This should make my job easier, right? He communicates in so many ways. He is using sign language again. Ethan looks at me and gestures with his hands.
"What do you need, little buddy?"
He keeps signing. Over and over because I don't get it. I have no idea what this sign is. He says something to me sounding as if he is fluent in a foreign language. But I don't speak this language. Nobody speaks his language. He continues to plead with me via hand motions. I don't know what he is saying. I hear the frustration in his voice. I begin offering him things. Juice, toys, anything I can think of. He begins melting down. He screams. He throws his transformer car across the room. He grabs the first thing he can reach, a DVD. He bites down hard, leaving teeth marks in the disc.
I don't blame him. He has no way to make me understand. I have no idea how to parent him in my daughter's absence. I don't know how to grandparent him at this moment. I fall to my knees. It's the only place I know to go. I feel so inadequate. Caring for a child shouldn't be this difficult.
I have had Ethan since very early Thursday morning. His mom is out-of-town until tomorrow night. He has made amazing progress in school and therapy. This should make my job easier, right? He communicates in so many ways. He is using sign language again. Ethan looks at me and gestures with his hands.
"What do you need, little buddy?"
He keeps signing. Over and over because I don't get it. I have no idea what this sign is. He says something to me sounding as if he is fluent in a foreign language. But I don't speak this language. Nobody speaks his language. He continues to plead with me via hand motions. I don't know what he is saying. I hear the frustration in his voice. I begin offering him things. Juice, toys, anything I can think of. He begins melting down. He screams. He throws his transformer car across the room. He grabs the first thing he can reach, a DVD. He bites down hard, leaving teeth marks in the disc.
I don't blame him. He has no way to make me understand. I have no idea how to parent him in my daughter's absence. I don't know how to grandparent him at this moment. I fall to my knees. It's the only place I know to go. I feel so inadequate. Caring for a child shouldn't be this difficult.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Break In
Elisabeth went to dinner with a friend last evening. When she returned to her car, she noticed something on her seat. It was her car registration from the glove box. Something was amiss. Sitting on the dash was an empty hole. Her car stereo was missing. Items from the console were strewn about.
It was 7:30p.m. when she came out of the restaurant. It was daylight. The area of town she was parked is a busy, active place. People coming and going, standing around. Nobody saw anything unusual. This is the same car that was attacked 3 years ago. And the same driver.
This was tough for Elisabeth. It felt like another personal assault.
It was 7:30p.m. when she came out of the restaurant. It was daylight. The area of town she was parked is a busy, active place. People coming and going, standing around. Nobody saw anything unusual. This is the same car that was attacked 3 years ago. And the same driver.
This was tough for Elisabeth. It felt like another personal assault.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Thunk!
Am I the only one who shakes my head in confusion as to why closer attention isn't paid to grammar/spelling/proper English when marketing a product in the United States? I understand that much of what is shipped here, comes from countries where English is not their native language. How difficult would it be to have someone proofread an item?
Or what about a sign that is printed and posted at a business with misspellings? Does the printer not notice the error and ask the purchaser of said item? Having a sign printed costs money, do those buying the item not care if it is printed incorrectly. Did they notice?
I've decided to post photos under my Thunk Awards. Here is the first one:
P.S. Just because this grammar thing on signage is a pet peeve, I do not claim to check my blogposts for spelling/grammar/proper English errors. But if I was selling a product, I'd hire an editor.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Six
Six is such a nice number. A half dozen. Lots of things come in a pack of 6, like soda. And who doesn't think six-pack abs are nice? Six Flags Amusement parks are packed with fun. But the very best thing about the number six happens today. Today is Ethan's 6th birthday. We celebrated yesterday.
I do believe this was his best birthday ever. Ethan blew out his candles for the very first time. (Well, at least 3 of them.) I had no idea he'd acquired this skill.
(This video is only 16 seconds.)
I do believe this was his best birthday ever. Ethan blew out his candles for the very first time. (Well, at least 3 of them.) I had no idea he'd acquired this skill.
(This video is only 16 seconds.)
I attempted to order a Transformers cake, but the bakery didn't make any without milk. I could bake my own cake and they agreed to decorate it. Great! Did they have icing without milk? ButterCream wouldn't work, but their non-dairy whipped icing would. Upon further inspection I realized the non-dairy icing contained milk. But the buttercream icing contained no butter. I decided to make it all myself.
Hilary came to the rescue and decorated the cake for me.
Ethan was one excited 6 year old. Transformers ruled the day.
Happy Birthday to my favorite 6 year old!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
After Birthday Post
After reading His Girl's "shallow observations" on Christopher's birthday post, I decided to upload the video his sister's created for him. She might see things differently. (I have no idea why my kids do what they do. I don't make silly faces, but maybe I wear ridiculous hats.)
Friday, July 11, 2008
Happy Birthday Christopher!!!!
Happy 24th Christopher. This is the last birthday you will celebrate as Christopher. Next year it will be as Mr. & Mrs.
Over the next few days, I'm planning to share your birth story. I don't have much time today. I'm taking your sister to her college orientation, like you and I went, just 5 short years ago.
How did we get from here:
to here:
running to here:
biking to there:
zooming past 6th grade to here:
Ooops, I mean here as Uncle Chris:
and landing here:
and staying here:
I'm out of time, but I want you to know how proud I am of you son. You have one terrific future wife and she has an amazing soon-to-be husband. May this birthday find you radiating with the knowledge of how very much you are loved. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, your kindness, your work ethic, the way you encourage everyone around you, and your positive attitude. I could go on about your many good qualities, but I gotta run. Happy 24th Birthday Christopher. Love, Mom
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Falling
Whenever I hear about an older person falling, it scares me. I worry about my inlaws falling. My dad wrenched his ankle recently going downstairs. A couple of years ago, my mom stepped off a curb, fell, and tore her rotator cuff. My grandmother fell taking out the trash. She never recovered and that fall cut short her life.
I watch a baby takes her first steps. She tumbles more than she stands, but bounces back to her feet. Sure she gets an occasional bump or bruise, but mostly it is no big deal. Adults do have farther to fall, but as we age, we no longer bounce. It is more like a thud.
I fell almost 2 weeks ago. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I lost my balance and came crashing down. I continue to have a residual headache which causes me to feel out of it almost daily. Last week I blamed feeling like this on having workers in my home, but I think it was the headache that made it difficult to deal with their banging. I've been especially forgetful.
I missed meeting with an online friend who was in town. I didn't remember the date.
I feel old.
I watch a baby takes her first steps. She tumbles more than she stands, but bounces back to her feet. Sure she gets an occasional bump or bruise, but mostly it is no big deal. Adults do have farther to fall, but as we age, we no longer bounce. It is more like a thud.
I fell almost 2 weeks ago. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I lost my balance and came crashing down. I continue to have a residual headache which causes me to feel out of it almost daily. Last week I blamed feeling like this on having workers in my home, but I think it was the headache that made it difficult to deal with their banging. I've been especially forgetful.
I missed meeting with an online friend who was in town. I didn't remember the date.
I feel old.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Ethan's EEG Results
Ethan had his neuro appointment. Christina liked the new nurse practioner. No seizures were seen on his EEG, but it did show abnormal brain activity. This was interpreted as: the medication is keeping the seizures in check, otherwise he'd be having lots of seizures throughout the day. Good news? Bad news? I'm taking it as good news.
One of the reasons for the latest EEG, besides that he was due for one, is his OT wanted the information. She is excited about a new therapy she recently learned about at a conference. She feels Ethan is a perfect candidate. She has used this new technique with him twice, with amazing results. But in order to take it further, it was imperative to know whether or not he was having seizures. Hopefully, the latest results will not hinder him from receiving this promising therapy.
We had a rather quiet 4th of July. My inlaws were here for dinner, as were Christina & Ethan. Just 6 of us. Oh so quiet. Ok, quiet is not really the right descriptive word, as Ethan can be oh so busy. Independance Day is a day for celebrating. We have much to be thankful for in this country. Fireworks, Family, Fun, Food. Sounds Fabulous to me.
Here are a few photos taken after Sarabeth arrived home from work.
Ethan loved the sparklers. This was the first year he really got into fireworks. He clapped, cheered, & kept signing please for some more. If I'd had any idea, I'd have bought more. Next year I will. And maybe, more than 2 of my kids will show up.
One of the reasons for the latest EEG, besides that he was due for one, is his OT wanted the information. She is excited about a new therapy she recently learned about at a conference. She feels Ethan is a perfect candidate. She has used this new technique with him twice, with amazing results. But in order to take it further, it was imperative to know whether or not he was having seizures. Hopefully, the latest results will not hinder him from receiving this promising therapy.
We had a rather quiet 4th of July. My inlaws were here for dinner, as were Christina & Ethan. Just 6 of us. Oh so quiet. Ok, quiet is not really the right descriptive word, as Ethan can be oh so busy. Independance Day is a day for celebrating. We have much to be thankful for in this country. Fireworks, Family, Fun, Food. Sounds Fabulous to me.
Here are a few photos taken after Sarabeth arrived home from work.
Ethan loved the sparklers. This was the first year he really got into fireworks. He clapped, cheered, & kept signing please for some more. If I'd had any idea, I'd have bought more. Next year I will. And maybe, more than 2 of my kids will show up.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
The Tyrant
I've never been one who is terribly organized. For years, I created these wonderfully detailed schedules that were ridiculously impossible to follow. But when I don't at least try, I become a victim to the urgency of the moment. And I miss out on truly important things. I hate that.
Sometimes the urgent things come by way of a phone call, the desire to check something out on the internet, or even a walk to the mailbox. I get caught up in the busyness of those around me and accomplish nothing seemingly worthwhile.
Today I wasn't terribly motivated to do the things that needed to be accomplished. But it wasn't that I was distracted by so many things. I was tired. I didn't go to sleep last night until 5 this morning.
I was on my way to bed around 1 a.m., but Elisabeth came in and was having severe back pain. After chastising her for not taking better care of herself, making her feel worse, I realized her pain was at the point of warranting a trip to the Emergency Room.
Have I mentioned I don't go anywhere without having my hair done and makeup on. Seriously, I don't even walk to the mailbox. But last night I'd already washed my face and was ready for some Zzzz's by the time we decided to go. For the first time that I can remember, I put my clothes on and off we went. Without a drop of makeup. And I survived. (Could my obsession with my hair/makeup routine be a tyrant of sorts?)
The ER at 2 in the morning is an interesting place. The thin curtain separating the beds allows one to peak into the lives of others who have arrived at this same place. The reasons for being there are varied. The language can be crude. I couldn't help but overhear the sordid details of the girl behind the curtain's life, the drugs she used, her injury and the breakup with her loser boyfriend-her words edited. The little lady who came in on a gurney because she was caring for her 91 year old husband when she fell. When she couldn't get up, he managed to drop a phone on her head, and the laceration was bleeding profusely. What was her husband doing with a phone at 3 in the morning?
Okay, I think I'm getting distracted. This is why I need to create more of a schedule to my life. I hate routines, but distraction is a terrible tyrant. I've lost much time to it.
Sometimes the urgent things come by way of a phone call, the desire to check something out on the internet, or even a walk to the mailbox. I get caught up in the busyness of those around me and accomplish nothing seemingly worthwhile.
Today I wasn't terribly motivated to do the things that needed to be accomplished. But it wasn't that I was distracted by so many things. I was tired. I didn't go to sleep last night until 5 this morning.
I was on my way to bed around 1 a.m., but Elisabeth came in and was having severe back pain. After chastising her for not taking better care of herself, making her feel worse, I realized her pain was at the point of warranting a trip to the Emergency Room.
Have I mentioned I don't go anywhere without having my hair done and makeup on. Seriously, I don't even walk to the mailbox. But last night I'd already washed my face and was ready for some Zzzz's by the time we decided to go. For the first time that I can remember, I put my clothes on and off we went. Without a drop of makeup. And I survived. (Could my obsession with my hair/makeup routine be a tyrant of sorts?)
The ER at 2 in the morning is an interesting place. The thin curtain separating the beds allows one to peak into the lives of others who have arrived at this same place. The reasons for being there are varied. The language can be crude. I couldn't help but overhear the sordid details of the girl behind the curtain's life, the drugs she used, her injury and the breakup with her loser boyfriend-her words edited. The little lady who came in on a gurney because she was caring for her 91 year old husband when she fell. When she couldn't get up, he managed to drop a phone on her head, and the laceration was bleeding profusely. What was her husband doing with a phone at 3 in the morning?
Okay, I think I'm getting distracted. This is why I need to create more of a schedule to my life. I hate routines, but distraction is a terrible tyrant. I've lost much time to it.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Summer Is Here
I woke up to loud banging this morning. It was expected, but still seemed harsh as it invaded the dream I was happily enjoying.
I don't like having strangers working inside my home. And to have them here, in my kitchen, before I've had one cup of coffee? Horrors! This wouldn't happen during the school year, but it is summer here people. I slept in. I was reading last night until quite late.
Yesterday was demolition day. I'm getting a new kitchen floor, but the old 3 layers of floor had to be ripped out first. The noise and dust made it impossible to blog. I couldn't go to the grocery store as I had no access to my refrigerator. Sigh. What was I supposed to do? Seemed like the perfect opportunity to get my nails painted for the 4th of July. In years past I've enjoyed decorating fingernails on my girls with splashes of fireworks, stripes of red, white, or blue. I'm patriotic like that. I came home with blue, yes blue as in the color on the flag blue.
Oh, and I picked up the new Guitar Hero Game that came out on Sunday. Before I began reading last night, I tried it out. Can you believe my kids were all gone (except the one who doesn't play) and I had to play alone? For 3 hours. Then I sat and read.
(Seriously, I think I should have had at least a half a dozen more children. I get carried away with too much free time.)
Friday, June 27, 2008
8 hours, 27 minutes
Ethan didn't keep the wires attached for the full 48 hours. He was 39 hours, 33 minutes short. I'm not sure how long it will take before we know if the torture we put him and ourselves through was worth it & if significant information was obtained during those long 8 hours.
The rest of the evening he was pretty darn happy.
We finished celebrating Sarabeth's birthday.
Since Ethan couldn't eat the cake, I made him a batch of brownies during his nap. He thought he needed candles too. Twenty-four candles in the box, 19 for Sarabeth and 5 for Ethan. Perfect.
Since Ethan couldn't eat the cake, I made him a batch of brownies during his nap. He thought he needed candles too. Twenty-four candles in the box, 19 for Sarabeth and 5 for Ethan. Perfect.
Not sure why, but after getting all 3 pairs of glasses fixed on Wednesday, he refuses to wear any of them. (Can you believe he'd broken all of them before we had a chance to get a replacement?)
P.S. Tammy, I will get back to the Early Years story.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
EEG
Today is Sarabeth's birthday. Happy 19th birthday!!!!
But most of my day so far has been spent with this little guy:
Ethan, undergoing a 48 hour EEG.
Checking out his new do.
A few seconds before he began ripping the dressing from his head
As we leave the hospital the first time, Ethan stops to watch the balls in the maze. We drive out of the parking lot just long enough to look back and see that Ethan has pulled out 4 wires. This is going to be a long 48 hours.
With his head wrapped more tightly, and carrying new toys, we leave the hospital a second time.
Three hours later, 4 of us have wrestled with him, re-wrapped his head, re-attached multiple wires, and now he is sleeping.
The tech was amazed at Ethan's strength and pain tolerance. He said the glue they use is similar to super glue and a solvent is used to remove the connectors so as not to remove skin with them. He said sometimes kids pull off wires, but Ethan definitely set a record for the fastest.
I doubt we will make it through 24 hours.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Where have I been?
Why is it that when I miss a couple of days it is hard to get back to blogging? Does anyone else suffer from this malady? If I have a lag in posting, I feel like I need to come back with something wonderful, humorous, poignant, meaningful, or just plain spectacular. Then I feel pressure, which makes it take that much longer to post. Oh well, I am back. Sorry this post will be none of the aforementioned.
What have I been up to?
NOT a luxurious vacation, no vacation plans in sight.
I have NOT been involved in sports, swimming, or other kid's activities.
No, I'm NOT leisurely enjoying the fun things that happen in summer.
So what has happened since I last posted?
Last Wednesday morning I had a Sheriff Officer yell at me. Yes, this really did happen. He didn't pull me over. He didn't give me a ticket. What he did do was roll down his window and yell at me as he drove past. Weird. I know. If he thought I did something wrong, which he did, why would he not pull me over. Give me a warning, or worse, a ticket. But to scream at me from his passing car? A bit childish if you ask me.
I proceeded to drive to Progressive Insurance Company. I was taking my car back for the 2nd time AFTER they'd "repaired it." Two days after getting it back the 2nd time, I was hand-washing my baby as I do about once-a-week. I noticed the front grill was not attached. What the...???? How did that happen? Then as I opened the hood to dry the edges I noticed paint overspray. I decided to get picky. The minor things I'd noticed before that I was going to let slide were suddenly no longer acceptable.
To make a long story shorter, I was told at Progressive that I had obviously hit something and scraped the bottom of my car, causing the grill to come loose and they refused to fix it. They also refused to consider my other complaints, claiming the "overspray" was the way my car comes from the Honda factory.
I was not in the best of moods, still feeling low from having a police officer yell at me. I wanted to yell at this man. I did not. We argued back and forth until I realized I was getting no where. I asked where the nearest Honda dealer was, and left. But I promised he would be hearing from me soon.
I'll post pictures tomorrow.
(In case you are wondering why the officer yelled at me. I stopped at the stop sign at the end of our street BEFORE the stop sign like I'm supposed to. But, the bushes and trees on the adjacent property make it impossible to see very far down the street. After stopping, I pulled far enough forward to see it was clear enough to go and kept going. The sheriff screamed, "YOU DIDN'T STOP AT THE STOP SIGN." I clearly did. He just didn't see me.)
What have I been up to?
NOT a luxurious vacation, no vacation plans in sight.
I have NOT been involved in sports, swimming, or other kid's activities.
No, I'm NOT leisurely enjoying the fun things that happen in summer.
So what has happened since I last posted?
Last Wednesday morning I had a Sheriff Officer yell at me. Yes, this really did happen. He didn't pull me over. He didn't give me a ticket. What he did do was roll down his window and yell at me as he drove past. Weird. I know. If he thought I did something wrong, which he did, why would he not pull me over. Give me a warning, or worse, a ticket. But to scream at me from his passing car? A bit childish if you ask me.
I proceeded to drive to Progressive Insurance Company. I was taking my car back for the 2nd time AFTER they'd "repaired it." Two days after getting it back the 2nd time, I was hand-washing my baby as I do about once-a-week. I noticed the front grill was not attached. What the...???? How did that happen? Then as I opened the hood to dry the edges I noticed paint overspray. I decided to get picky. The minor things I'd noticed before that I was going to let slide were suddenly no longer acceptable.
To make a long story shorter, I was told at Progressive that I had obviously hit something and scraped the bottom of my car, causing the grill to come loose and they refused to fix it. They also refused to consider my other complaints, claiming the "overspray" was the way my car comes from the Honda factory.
I was not in the best of moods, still feeling low from having a police officer yell at me. I wanted to yell at this man. I did not. We argued back and forth until I realized I was getting no where. I asked where the nearest Honda dealer was, and left. But I promised he would be hearing from me soon.
I'll post pictures tomorrow.
(In case you are wondering why the officer yelled at me. I stopped at the stop sign at the end of our street BEFORE the stop sign like I'm supposed to. But, the bushes and trees on the adjacent property make it impossible to see very far down the street. After stopping, I pulled far enough forward to see it was clear enough to go and kept going. The sheriff screamed, "YOU DIDN'T STOP AT THE STOP SIGN." I clearly did. He just didn't see me.)
Monday, June 16, 2008
Moms Get To Choose
I was reading On The Upside today, and Kellan shared a story about taking her kids to see Kung Fu Panda. She stated she really doesn't like going to kiddie movies. It reminded me of a conversation I had years ago with a friend.
I was at a church potluck, chatting with a her. I noticed our children playing together and having fun, so I decided to invite them to the zoo. I'd planned to take my kids the next day with another friend. I asked her if they'd like to come along.
Her response: "No thanks. I don't like the zoo. I don't like roller-skating either." (She must have heard me talking about a few days earlier.) I stood there for a moment, taking in what had been said.
She doesn't like the zoo??? Did I? I'd never asked myself if 'I' wanted to go to the zoo, or whether or not I liked it. Was she saying moms get to choose activities with their children based on their own likes and dislikes? Dragging my kids to the Natural History Museum was optional??? I had no idea moms like this existed.
I thought of my own mom. We went on many adventures. We picked strawberries, went mining at the Apache Tear mine, explored old Indian Ruins (I know, not a politically correct term now,) went rock climbing, swimming, picnics in the mountains. Dad took us camping, fishing, showed us how criminals were fingerprinted at his office. I wonder how many activities my parents shared with us, that they didn't particularly enjoy, but did just for us? I suspect there were a few, but I never knew it. I only have fond memories of our outings. (Even the ones I didn't want to do at the time.)
I'm thankful my parents weren't selfish parents, doing only things they "wanted" to do. How different my life would have been. Thanks Mom & Dad!
I was at a church potluck, chatting with a her. I noticed our children playing together and having fun, so I decided to invite them to the zoo. I'd planned to take my kids the next day with another friend. I asked her if they'd like to come along.
Her response: "No thanks. I don't like the zoo. I don't like roller-skating either." (She must have heard me talking about a few days earlier.) I stood there for a moment, taking in what had been said.
She doesn't like the zoo??? Did I? I'd never asked myself if 'I' wanted to go to the zoo, or whether or not I liked it. Was she saying moms get to choose activities with their children based on their own likes and dislikes? Dragging my kids to the Natural History Museum was optional??? I had no idea moms like this existed.
I thought of my own mom. We went on many adventures. We picked strawberries, went mining at the Apache Tear mine, explored old Indian Ruins (I know, not a politically correct term now,) went rock climbing, swimming, picnics in the mountains. Dad took us camping, fishing, showed us how criminals were fingerprinted at his office. I wonder how many activities my parents shared with us, that they didn't particularly enjoy, but did just for us? I suspect there were a few, but I never knew it. I only have fond memories of our outings. (Even the ones I didn't want to do at the time.)
I'm thankful my parents weren't selfish parents, doing only things they "wanted" to do. How different my life would have been. Thanks Mom & Dad!
Friday, June 13, 2008
Ethan Update
I haven't given an update on Ethan recently, so thought I would. First, I am giving an award to his physical therapist. I'm calling it the "Thunk Award." Not that I would ever clunk someone in the head, but if I had, I'm sure that this is the sound I would have heard. Plus she really should have "thunk" before she spoke.
The P.T. told Christina she was no longer going to be a physical therapist. She was moving on to another career. (Hallelujah!) Then she went on to say, "But I think it is a waste of time & money to keep Ethan in therapy. He isn't motivated enough. He hasn't made a bit of progress this past year, not one measurable difference. And truthfully, no he can't kick a ball, but does it matter? So he can't jump or hop, he can make it in life without doing that. He isn't able to go down a flight of stairs in typical fashion, but he can make it. So it really isn't a big deal if he gets physical therapy. He can still manage in life." Grrr....she is very deserving of the Thunk Award.
On a positive note, I'd like to offer a Kudos Award. I just don't know who to give it to. Christina received a phone call from the Autistic School telling her someone had anonymously paid for Ethan's schooling this summer. What a huge blessing!!! Meanwhile, she continues to battle the public school over his continued education. Several people in that mix deserve thunk awards too.
Aunt Sarabeth's Graduation
The P.T. told Christina she was no longer going to be a physical therapist. She was moving on to another career. (Hallelujah!) Then she went on to say, "But I think it is a waste of time & money to keep Ethan in therapy. He isn't motivated enough. He hasn't made a bit of progress this past year, not one measurable difference. And truthfully, no he can't kick a ball, but does it matter? So he can't jump or hop, he can make it in life without doing that. He isn't able to go down a flight of stairs in typical fashion, but he can make it. So it really isn't a big deal if he gets physical therapy. He can still manage in life." Grrr....she is very deserving of the Thunk Award.
On a positive note, I'd like to offer a Kudos Award. I just don't know who to give it to. Christina received a phone call from the Autistic School telling her someone had anonymously paid for Ethan's schooling this summer. What a huge blessing!!! Meanwhile, she continues to battle the public school over his continued education. Several people in that mix deserve thunk awards too.
Helping Gramma water
Aunt Sarabeth's Graduation
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Clarification
My dad came through again. (If you remember, dad brought clarification in a previous post.) I received this email after mentioning the napkin story:
"I was checking out your blog and saw your remarks about the napkin story. I can only give you my recollection of it. Here it is from the best of my memory.
We were out to eat at the Black Angus on Broadway in Tempe. You were still in high school and so was Laurie. I believe the conversation took place as we were leaving the restaurant as we were in the parking lot. You were fiddling around pulling what looked like wadded up napkins out of your jacket pocket. Apparently, you only wore that Jacket when you went out to eat somewhere. I asked you what all the wadded up paper was about. You told me that you put your napkin in your jacket pocket whenever you ate out, that way you could pull out a napkin, sniff it, and have a recollection of what you ate and of the evening.
Apparently, it was your way of revisiting a pleasant time. It sounded like something a teenager would do, so we laughed and that was it. I am surprised that you don't recall that. I don't know if you made up that answer on the spur of the moment to cover for why you had all these old napkins, or if you really kept them for the stated purpose. Anyway, it was a good story that we thought should be shared with Sarabeth.
Love, Dad "
I have my own ideas about my intentions. This was way before recycling was popular and I was ahead of my time. It was all about the environment. Instead of wasting a new tissue to blow my nose into, I saved my paper napkin to reuse for that purpose. As a bonus, they were pleasantly scented with savory food smells instead of perfumes-the way toilet paper and tissues were. I wonder how many trees I saved.
"I was checking out your blog and saw your remarks about the napkin story. I can only give you my recollection of it. Here it is from the best of my memory.
We were out to eat at the Black Angus on Broadway in Tempe. You were still in high school and so was Laurie. I believe the conversation took place as we were leaving the restaurant as we were in the parking lot. You were fiddling around pulling what looked like wadded up napkins out of your jacket pocket. Apparently, you only wore that Jacket when you went out to eat somewhere. I asked you what all the wadded up paper was about. You told me that you put your napkin in your jacket pocket whenever you ate out, that way you could pull out a napkin, sniff it, and have a recollection of what you ate and of the evening.
Apparently, it was your way of revisiting a pleasant time. It sounded like something a teenager would do, so we laughed and that was it. I am surprised that you don't recall that. I don't know if you made up that answer on the spur of the moment to cover for why you had all these old napkins, or if you really kept them for the stated purpose. Anyway, it was a good story that we thought should be shared with Sarabeth.
Love, Dad "
I have my own ideas about my intentions. This was way before recycling was popular and I was ahead of my time. It was all about the environment. Instead of wasting a new tissue to blow my nose into, I saved my paper napkin to reuse for that purpose. As a bonus, they were pleasantly scented with savory food smells instead of perfumes-the way toilet paper and tissues were. I wonder how many trees I saved.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
International Text Messaging
Did I mention my daughter, Sarabeth, is currently traveling in England with my mom and dad? My older sister went along as well. Before they left, I added international calling/text messaging to Sarabeth's phone-for emergencies. Phone calls are very expensive from Europe. Text messages aren't too bad, 35 cents to send, 15 cents to receive. But at this rate, considering her average text usage, she could easily reach the 300 dollar mark. No thank-you.
She flew to Arizona with her brother, where she met up with her grandparents. Christopher had come out for her graduation. He lives with my parents. I received a text message from Christopher a few hours before the plane was scheduled to depart for London.
"Please pray for Gramma. She is sick, and isn't sure she can get on a plane right now."
I began praying. The next message I got was from Sarabeth.
"Your sister is so funny. This will be a very entertaining trip."
Hmm...she didn't mention my mom at all. My sister, Carolyn, does like to talk. I wonder what sorts of things she will tell my daughter.
Eventually I get a message, not from Sarabeth, but Christopher assuring me that they boarded the plane. Whew!
I'm thinking I will hear from her at some point. A short text message lettin gme know they have arrived. Nope. Ok, I can accept that. She is being very wise with her text messaging privileges. Smart girl. But when 3 days later I hadn't heard anything, I send her a message asking if she'd made it to London. She sends me a picture text message of where she is and that she is having the time of her life. They were on their way to see "Wicked" at the Apollo Victoria. They'd been to Hampton Court, Westminster Abbey, etc. Wow, what an exciting time! Then out of the blue:
"By-the-way, I heard about your napkin thing." I rack my brain trying to figure out what my daughter means by this. It must be a story from the past my sister or parents have told. But I don't remember any napkin story. What sordid tales are being told??? My curiosity gets the best of me. I text her back, mentally figuring out how many messages it will take to understand and how much it will cost. Normallly, I'd ask a simple "what?" But that tranlates to 15 cents a word. Instead I ask several questions just to get my money's worth. I receive a response.
"Gramma said you used to keep used napkins and you would smell them later and know what you ate."
I have no recollection of this. I try to imagine myself with a stash of wadded paper napkins. Sniff. Ah yes, this one is bean tostadas and rice. Sniff. Mmmm...steak and baked potato.
Seriously. Is this for real? I quit sending text messages. That's enough information exchange for now. I will have to think real hard on this one. Was I a teenager when this took place? A little kid? I have no idea.
The following day I receive another message.
"Pray for your parents they are not in good shape. Papa is on his way to the hospital."
Could she not give just a bit more information than this??? The joys of international text messages.
(P.S. My parents are home and doing well. Sarabeth was home for 2 days and is now off on a cruise somewhere in the Carribean.)
She flew to Arizona with her brother, where she met up with her grandparents. Christopher had come out for her graduation. He lives with my parents. I received a text message from Christopher a few hours before the plane was scheduled to depart for London.
"Please pray for Gramma. She is sick, and isn't sure she can get on a plane right now."
I began praying. The next message I got was from Sarabeth.
"Your sister is so funny. This will be a very entertaining trip."
Hmm...she didn't mention my mom at all. My sister, Carolyn, does like to talk. I wonder what sorts of things she will tell my daughter.
Eventually I get a message, not from Sarabeth, but Christopher assuring me that they boarded the plane. Whew!
I'm thinking I will hear from her at some point. A short text message lettin gme know they have arrived. Nope. Ok, I can accept that. She is being very wise with her text messaging privileges. Smart girl. But when 3 days later I hadn't heard anything, I send her a message asking if she'd made it to London. She sends me a picture text message of where she is and that she is having the time of her life. They were on their way to see "Wicked" at the Apollo Victoria. They'd been to Hampton Court, Westminster Abbey, etc. Wow, what an exciting time! Then out of the blue:
"By-the-way, I heard about your napkin thing." I rack my brain trying to figure out what my daughter means by this. It must be a story from the past my sister or parents have told. But I don't remember any napkin story. What sordid tales are being told??? My curiosity gets the best of me. I text her back, mentally figuring out how many messages it will take to understand and how much it will cost. Normallly, I'd ask a simple "what?" But that tranlates to 15 cents a word. Instead I ask several questions just to get my money's worth. I receive a response.
"Gramma said you used to keep used napkins and you would smell them later and know what you ate."
I have no recollection of this. I try to imagine myself with a stash of wadded paper napkins. Sniff. Ah yes, this one is bean tostadas and rice. Sniff. Mmmm...steak and baked potato.
Seriously. Is this for real? I quit sending text messages. That's enough information exchange for now. I will have to think real hard on this one. Was I a teenager when this took place? A little kid? I have no idea.
The following day I receive another message.
"Pray for your parents they are not in good shape. Papa is on his way to the hospital."
Could she not give just a bit more information than this??? The joys of international text messages.
(P.S. My parents are home and doing well. Sarabeth was home for 2 days and is now off on a cruise somewhere in the Carribean.)
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Congratulations Sarabeth!
Congratulations Sarabeth! You have finished K-12 well. Gone are the imaginary Velcro strips pinned on by concerned friends and family. In their place are the wings of independence, I never doubted would sprout.
In Kindergarten, your teacher remarked that she had a class with several quiet, respectful, diligent students-and you were one of them. “But,” she said looking me in the eye, “there is so much more to Sarabeth. She isn’t just a quiet, hard-working girl.” She looked at me intently, without saying more. She didn’t have to. I knew exactly what she meant.
Mrs. Rowe saw passion, determination, a glowing ember inside this little girl. When necessary the spark could ignite to rage against the flames of adversity. Once a year, each teacher awarded one student with the Diligence Award Pin. That award went to you. God whispered to you at the tender age of 6, revealing gifts He’s placed within you.
You play by the rules & demand fairness. You go along quietly, completely every task set before you. But you aren’t afraid to stop the train, if you see it traveling down the wrong track. You stand firmly & without hesitation, whether or not you stand alone is inconsequential. You maintain the path of integrity.
It isn’t your nature to shine in the spotlight. But when called upon to lead, you step forward with grace and confidence. Others follow.
My fair-haired, blue-eyed little girl is now a beautiful, talented, wise, educated, young lady. Don’t worry that you don’t have your college major picked yet. You take after your multi-talented grandmother. Like her, I doubt you will be locked into any one vocation in life. You are more like the Virtuous Woman spoken of in Proverbs 31. She accomplished many things, and excelled at them all.
I’m so very proud of you, Sarabeth.
In Kindergarten, your teacher remarked that she had a class with several quiet, respectful, diligent students-and you were one of them. “But,” she said looking me in the eye, “there is so much more to Sarabeth. She isn’t just a quiet, hard-working girl.” She looked at me intently, without saying more. She didn’t have to. I knew exactly what she meant.
Mrs. Rowe saw passion, determination, a glowing ember inside this little girl. When necessary the spark could ignite to rage against the flames of adversity. Once a year, each teacher awarded one student with the Diligence Award Pin. That award went to you. God whispered to you at the tender age of 6, revealing gifts He’s placed within you.
You play by the rules & demand fairness. You go along quietly, completely every task set before you. But you aren’t afraid to stop the train, if you see it traveling down the wrong track. You stand firmly & without hesitation, whether or not you stand alone is inconsequential. You maintain the path of integrity.
It isn’t your nature to shine in the spotlight. But when called upon to lead, you step forward with grace and confidence. Others follow.
My fair-haired, blue-eyed little girl is now a beautiful, talented, wise, educated, young lady. Don’t worry that you don’t have your college major picked yet. You take after your multi-talented grandmother. Like her, I doubt you will be locked into any one vocation in life. You are more like the Virtuous Woman spoken of in Proverbs 31. She accomplished many things, and excelled at them all.
I’m so very proud of you, Sarabeth.
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