They don't get it . . .

Today I was reading one of my first reads of everyday, Thoughts Preserved, and I Kari's newest post about the trip to the dentist office yesterday. She has 2 children with FAS and one particularly is very much like Dustin at her age. The dentist wanted to count her teeth and instead of letting them count them all, Anna finally had had enough after counting 17 of 20 teeth. To the dentist that wasn't successful and she didn't get her prize they were trying to bribe her with. Kari says this:

"So they put the toothbrush back in the drawer and told her that maybe next time she could get one and they took her bib off. No toothbrush, no prize. Now I'm supposed to reschedule her appointment so they can try again. I'm hoping she forgets what happened today because her previous dental appointments have been much better than this one.

What would have been the harm in giving a little girl with brain damage a new toothbrush for allowing them to look at 17 of her teeth? The more I think about it the madder I get."

I get mad also. That toothbrush probably cost that dentist 20 cents or less. It wasn't about the money it was a power trip. He didn't get what he wanted and thought it would be a good plan to "punish" the child with "no toothbrush today missy". How in the world is that okay?

This reminded me of an issue I had a couple weeks ago when Robert was in D.C. I took Dustin to have his weekly blood work done. We go to the same hospital, the same day of the week and about the same time of day. Robert and I used to share the burden, but we realized he is horrific when I go and pretty darn good when Robert goes. So it's Robert's job now. Well, I went in the morning before school which was my first problem. I didn't even think about it until I walked into the hospital that it would be different techs. But, I saw one tech who had done his work before so I decided to stay. I informed the check in nurse that we don't ever wait, due to his anxiety about the blood draw they always put us in front of the line. She rolled her eyes, but then did call him back right away.

The tech that we kinda knew called Dustin by name and I was pleased to see that she did remember him and his issues. We shut the door and I braced him against the seat. (Robert doesn't have to hold him at all, but I have to brace him.) He was talking loudly saying, "Wait a minute I have to get ready" when an unfamiliar tech walked into the room and began putting gloves on to hold him down. I politely said, "Ma'am my son is special needs and if you hold him we will never get the blood drawn. We do this weekly and we have a system." She shrugged me off, turned to Dustin and said, "Son you have to sit still; I will hold your arm" and grabbed his forearm. He shot out of the seat and began screaming. I forcefully said, "Ma'am, I apologize, but I need you to stop holding him you are going to make it worse. Please give him a chance." The other tech, was echoing my pleas and she was refusing to listen. Then "it" came. "Do you want a prize? You need to stop acting like this." To which I rebutted, "You're not listening to me. You need to step out of this room NOW. Please go."

Finally we got the blood drawn with a heck of a lot more difficulty that could've been avoided. The woman in charge of the lab came in and said "Dustin, you're here early! They didn't tell me you were here!" and totally subdued the situation. I apologized to her for irritating the tech (who by the way was talking rotten about me right in front of our room's door) and explained that she didn't even give me a chance to talk to her before brushing me off. She assured me that the tech was out of line and she would deal with it and explain that I was not simply being rude.

We walked out of the room and the "nasty tech" said, "I guess there's no prize for you today." Dustin wheels around and says to her "I don't get a prize. I come here every week and I save the prizes for other children who need them. You were mean."

Chalk one up to Dustin.

Happy Birthday, McCartney . . .

Four years ago today my baby girl was born. She was a precious little thing and we were ecstatic to complete our family. I knew from the minute I found out I was pregnant that she would be our last. Robert and I were both getting older, and with Dustin more than 3 kids seemed impossible to me. I gave birth and was taken into surgery within minutes to have my tubes tied. When people find out our kids are named Harrison and McCartney we are inevitably asked if there will be a Lennon and Starr. I attempted to fake a laugh and say "no can do".

McCartney is strong-willed and very opinionated just like me. She has an iron will when it comes to what she wants and how she wants it. She definitely carries my OCD and has a real affection for cleaning. She is independent and yet very lovie and cuddly when she wants to be. In fact most everything happens on her terms and her terms alone. She knows precisely how to push her daddy's buttons and unlike Harrison she will not perform for you.

When Harrison was born he was definitely his father's son. He took to Robert much more because he was his primary care-giver. He certainly loved me, but preferred Robert. I never knew what it was like to be adored by your child until McCartney came along. She is mommy's girl through and through. We actually had to buy a sling to help Robert and McCartney bond when I went back to work so she wouldn't wail for me all day. When I leave the house she goes, she's the easiest for me to take, but the worst for Robert if I leave her. If she doesn't go she waits and waits for me to return, sometimes sitting in the window watching for the van.

I adore my baby girl. She completes my world. I love you McCartney.

Fetal Alcohol Syndrome at it's best . . .

. . . or worst I suppose. Last night Dustin was angry with me because he didn't want the supper we had prepared. You have choice in our home. You eat what we eat or you eat a peanut butter sandwich. He wanted nothing. I know he LOVES the meal we prepared. It's actually a favorite of his. I could tell he was being obstinate. I thought he would choose eat once we all sat down at the table.

Nope. He pushed and pushed and pushed. I was not going to be pulled into a power struggle and that made him more irritated. Later I was getting the kitchen cleaned up and he came in a sat down on a stool. After about 5 minutes of silence he said one thing. "I wish I had said no". I was confused as to what he was talking about and I asked him to clarify. He said, "When the judge asked me if I wanted to be a part of this family, I should've said no". I was shocked on several levels. One . . . I can't believe he actually remembers that day. That is astounding. Two. . . he isn't typically a hateful and spiteful child.

I immediately stopped what I was doing, turned to him and said. "Dustin. That breaks my heart. That day was one of the best days of my life and I would completely miss having you in the family. Is it always happy? No. Is it always fun? Nope. But that's what a family. We are a family and you don't give up on your family." He shook his head and said, "I want a peanut butter sandwich."

And with that the crisis was over. He was a lovie and cuddly the remainder of the night as always. FAS is crappy.

My boy

My hubby is home . . .

Robert strolled into the house last ngiht about 8:45. I was thrilled because the kids were waiting to see him and it was just after bedtime. He walked in, I said "Welcome home! Now you can put the kids to bed!" And I grabbed my time card and officially checked-out. Bedtime is ugly at our house. It has been a battle ever since McCartney was 2 years old. Robert had a routine, a plan and is patient. I, on the other hand, am not and they know it, and they take advantage of it as much as possible. I am so not made to be a stay-at-home mom and you women who are single-moms have my utmost regards.

I was visiting Carol for Peace and looking at her pictures from the weekend march. This one I borrowed from her of Carol, Robert and Mary from Get Your Own. I loved Carol's assessment of the march and the importance of it. She says this:

Anyway, I have little faith that our administration will change any foreign policy in response to yesterday's march. Because I am so sickened by the death and destruction that our nation causes around the world, my hope is that the march will at least be a sign to people everywhere that our government is not a reflection of the will of the majority of Americans.

Mary attended the march with her family, well, all but one of her family. Mary's son is stationed in Baghdad. She had this to say :

Robert was so kind as to introduce me first to Cindy Sheehan's daughter, Carly AND then to Cindy! What a great moment for me as I really respect everything she does. I was also introduced to Tina Richards who could not have been kinder to me and gave me a big hug when she heard Michael was in Baghdad. I can't thank Robert enough as I really admire these women.

I love that Robert enjoyed himself. I would love to join him at one of these rallies, but alas, Dustin is not able to be left with just anyone and if we took the kids the prospect of 12 hours in a car with him scares the pants off me.

Polly want a cracker . . .

Alex is an amazing African Grey Parrot who died recently. He was bought at a pet store when he was about 1 year old and wsa the subject of a study at several universities over the years. The video is a great example of things Alex can do. There is also los of information all over the web about Alex and his owner, Irene Pepperberg.

Goodbye Alex, we will miss you.

The following is from Wikipedia:

Before Pepperberg's work with Alex, it was widely believed in the scientific community that birds were not intelligent and could only use words by mimicking, but Alex's accomplishments indicated that birds may be able to reason on a basic level and use words creatively. Pepperberg wrote that Alex's intelligence was on par with that of dolphins and great apes. She also reported that Alex had the intelligence of a five-year-old human and had not reached his full potential by the time he died. She said that the bird had the emotional level of a human two-year-old at the time of his death.

Alex's death, on 6 September 2007, came as a complete surprise; the average life span for African grey parrots is 50 years. He had appeared healthy the day before, and was found dead in the morning. The cause of death is unknown. According to a press release issued by the Alex Foundation, "Alex was found to be in good health at his most recent annual physical about two weeks [before his death]. According to the vet who conducted the necropsy, there was no obvious cause of death."


Robert and I have an African Grey Parrot as well. Caesar came to live with us shortly after we were married. I wanted one so badly after reading about Alex. Robert found an ad for an African Grey for sale at a pet store. He has an amazing vocabulary. He asks questions and makes smart-alec comments. If I am home from work he will ask, "Honey, what's wrong are you sick?" IF I respond yes, he will tell Boomer, the macaw, "Shut up Boomer, honey has a headache". He is always aware of what is going on around him. He figures things out and constantly amazes me with his wit. He is by no means as smart as Alex, (do not tell him I said that) but I can definitely see the possibilities of the species in him. Sometimes it frightens me that I am actually conversing with a bird. Caesar does say the "f" word, always in context when he is irritated with me and always quietly so the kids don't hear him. We have owned several parrots over the years, Caesar is by far my favorite. Caesar only likes Robert to handle him, he only remotely tolerates me.

I actually snicker while telling you these things because if y'all came over the visit Caesar probably wouldn't perform at all. He only speaks when he is with familiar people or people he is immediately comfortable with. We had a friend that was totally enamored with Caesar and would talk to him like crazy while visiting. Caesar would turn his head and tuck it into his wing feather ignoring him. When Kevin would leave, Caesar would begin answering all the questions he asked him in order and then laugh up a storm. Funny bird. We have attempted to videotape him on numerous occassions, but he is always the wiser.

The weekend kicks off early . . .

Today Robert's plans for Washington DC took a sharp left (no pun intended) turn. His ride to DC called to tell him that he was leaving tonight instead of Friday evening. Yikes. He didn't thin kit would still be possible to go, but a little schmoozing at my work and he is off. You see, when you have a child like Dustin, you cannot just up and leave without finding suitable care, and suitable care means one of us. With Dustin only going to school 3 hours a day, one of us has to be at home.

This means my night got a little hairy. McCartney and I left work and headed to Meijer to do some grocery shopping, because there is no chance in hades of me doing grocery shopping this weekend with all 3 kids. That would be nuts. We got Daddy all kinds of goodies for his trip. McCartney was an excellent helper.

I came home to a house in chaos, with camera batteries plugged into every conceivable outlet, and the boys ready for a late dinner. I spent the greater part of 5 minutes putting my foot down and having a discussion about why Robert cannot take the laptop to DC. I won, but did you really doubt that? Right now, the kids are in bed, Robert is making a quick run to the grocery for the milk I forgot and purchasing another memory card for the camera and one for my new phone.

Oooo, since I have the laptop, and the memory card, maybe I will try to spend some time this weekend importing some music into my phone. Yippee-skipee. I will try not to get too excited, because I'm not certain I will have the time or the patience to try to navigate new software while I have all three kids at home. I will however look forward to some downtime from work. It has been particularly grueling with the move and such, and I just realized I haven't taken a day off since early summer. . .

9/11 . . .

I wasn't going to post anything about the history of today. But I was watching TV tonight and came across the MSNBC repaly of the morning show that fateful day. It is shocking to re-watch it. I recall that day very plainly and since everyone else around the blog-o-hood is talking about "where they were then" I will too.

I had recently found out I was pregnant and had wicked morning sickness and Dustin had been kicked out of school for something or other. So, I had taken the day off work because Robert had just started a job with Van Dyne Crotty. By the time I had heard the news, the first tower had fallen and I sat riveted to the TV the remainder of the day. Our whole world changed that day.

I remember the fear, the disbelief, the outrage. My brother was born September 11, 1977. I remember him once talking about being sad it was his birthday, he felt wrong to celebrate on this day.

I read a blog post about someone being angry about people looking at 9/11 as a holiday and then began talking about it being a day to honor our fallen soliders. Huh? People talk about 9/11 because of the tragic events of this day back in 2001. I see it as a day to honor the victims of that day and their families as they have endured a tragic day in our country's history. (Similar to April 19, 1995 when the Oklahoma City bombing occured) I certainly don't see 9/11 as a holiday. I see it as a day that our country came to realize we are not exempt from the hatred and voilence we have seen for so long in other parts of the world. It sucks. They then said the following: "Seems to me the same people that feel so strongly about 9/11 should be the same ones that believe in this war against terrorism." Huh? The attack that we began in Afghanistan on October 7th, simply 26 days after the attacks, was directly linked to the attack on 9/11. The war in Iraq has nothing to do with that day. The fact that people say that still boggles my mind.

Today I was told that one of our employees will be deployed to Iraq in February. I posted about him when he joined the Air National Guard because he was "PROMISED" that he would not have to serve overseas unless he choose to go. I knew it was a crock. I was pissed because I felt they directly lied to him to get him to join, saying he could decline, He has declined a deployment 4 times. This time he was "volun-told" to deploy. Bascially he was told he had declined too many times and he didn't have a choice. I understand fully that the military is volunteer. He made his choice when he enlisted. I take HUGE issue with the fact that he was deliberately misled. I take issue with lies to get boys to enlist and giving them large enlisting bonuses to attract them. Don't get me wrong, he will serve proudly and I am proud of him. I simply wish he had been told the truth up front.

FASD Awareness Day

Yesterday I had a wicked headache. I spent most of the day covering my head with a pillow and snoozing on the couch. I missed posting about FASD Awareness Day which is on the ninth day of the nine month, Sept. 9th.

On this day back in 1999 some families got together to raise their voices and educate people about the dangers in drinking during the 9 months of pregnancy. It also served to educate the public on children who have been afflicted with FASD and how their lives have been changed simply by their birth mother partaking in alcohol during those precious 9 months in utero. NINE MONTHS. Such a short time in the life of that mother has changed my son's life forever. I sometimes sit and mourn the life he could be living. The life that he would have without alcohol pervading his little body in the womb. The life that he could've had without the brain damage that he has due to those drinks. . .

Then I get angry. I get angry at the selfishness of birth mother's who should know better. I get mad at birth mother's who have access to birth control if they are choosing to drink or suffering from alcoholism. I get angry that I have to see the frustration and the struggles he goes through on a minute by minute basis. I get frustrated that his brain doesn't function in the way most people's do. I get livid that she still doesn't understand she has affeected him for life and created a child who can NEVER be fully functional on an independant level.

Then I get motivated. Motivated to educate every woman of child bearing age that you SHOULD NOT drink one drop of alcohol during those precious months. You should not drink if there is any possiblitiy of conceiving. I want to educate them that you can mess up a life in the same way that drunk drivers destroy a family by killing someone on the road. I want to grab them, shake them and make them understand what this child deals with on a daily basis. I want to educate people in restaurants, the grocery and my child's school that FASD is not a "made-up" disorder or a "fabricated" reason for my child's behaviors. I want them to realize that just because a child looks "normal" they still can have brain damage. I want them o stop looking at me like my parenting has caused this behavior. I want to make FASD a part of everyone's vocabulary.

I want to shout from the rooftops, "Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is the ONLY birth defect that can be 100% preventable!" It is up to all of us! Raise your voice, educate someone today! (even though it is a day late) Heck, educate someone everyday!

Labor Day . . . no kidding . . .

Okay, when I posted Saturday morning I had no idea what crazy things would transpire. I was cleaning my heart out while Robert went to the monthly peace gathering on the courthouse green. I got this twinge that I was forgetting something and decided it was simply because I forgot the time for my grandmother's surprise party next weekend. I decided to finally sit down and call my uncle to find out when it was so I could get that naggy feeling off my mind. When I got ahold of him heres how the conversation went . . .

Me: Barry, I lost the paper I wrote grandma's party info on.
Him: Well, you take a left on Fairfield . . . .
Me: I know where it is. What time is it next Saturday.
Him: It's in 20 minutes.
Me: &^#$@!

What came next was similar to that running in circles you do when you wake up late and start trying to get dressed for work even before you fully wake up. I called the cell phone and found it ringing in my purse. I run out of the house with a neighbor taking me downtown to retrieve Robert and tell him to get home NOW. I jump in the shower since I was nasty from sweating and claening. Robert dresses the kids, jumps in the shower himself. I throw on some makeup and we make it to the party in a half hour. We missed the whole "Surprise!" portion, but made it to the party none-the-less. I am so lucky I didn't just brush it off, my family would've killed me, and it was her 80th birthday, . .

I did come home and finished cleaning and moving furniture. Robert was terribly helpful as well. The kids drove me nuts, okay, McCartney drove me nuts. She has to be in the middle of everything I am doing. When I finally sat her on top of the dresser that was waiting in the doorway for it's new home she was able to see everything going on and she was a little better.

Saturday I moved outside and worked in the yard. I moved the gazebo because we are having a tree cut down that grows like a weed and gets tangled in all the wires and the gutters and everything else. I asked the neighbor for help resetting the gazebo and his wife and I ended up taking about 90% of the tree down ourselves. She is fearless and when she gets an idea in her head, there is no stopping her. We are usually a lethal combination when it comes to projects. We didn't have a chainsaw because I had planned to pay to have it removed, so we took it down with a reciprocating saw and a hand saw. Pretty darn amazing! I will never forget the look on Robert's face when he came to the back door and saw the giant part of the tree coming down. He had no idea what we were doing back there, When done, we looked around and saw the GINORMOUS mess in the yard and in the neighbors yard. ACK! We ended up loading it into their truck and taking it to the compost site. That pretty much did me in for the day.

Monday, the neighbor and I decided to chop up the old metal swingset we got Harrison when he was 2 and put up their big wooden one. The reciprocating saw came out yet again. I love destroying things. I did some more work in the backyard, trimmed some trees in the front and surveyed the gigantic pile of trash for the trashmen tomorrow morning. Mission accomplished.

I love being productive.

Spring . . . Fall Cleaning . . .

Today is a good day to purge. No eating disorder here . . . I am in the mood to CLEAN. My goal for the day is to make the garbage men hate me Monday morning. I aim to clean the upstairs, do some moving around of the furniture and some tossing of the unneeded junk. Sometimes it pays to have OCD . . .

For a comedy break . . . check out my boy .

Dust-a-rooni . . .

Yesterday, a co-worker and I stopped by my house to drop something off while we were running some errands. I called ahead and warned Robert that we would be there shortly and have Dustin watch for us out the front window so we could have some help bringing it inside. We pull up and there is Dustin bright eyed and cheery in the front window, the dogs on each side of him.

I nearly cried. Sometimes I look at that boy and my heart swells with love and pride. Even though sometimes I want to "pull his ears off" (as my mother loves to say) I adore that little bugger. Dustin bounded out of the house, said "Hey mom. I had a good day at school." and helped take the boxes inside. My co-worker who has worked with me for more than 10 years said, "Boy, he sure has come a long way!" That sure is true. . . sometimes it's so hard to see when you are living through the daily turmoil of his disability, and the rages, and the impulsivity, and the stealing, and the hoarding, and, and, and . . . .but he truly has come a long way!

I had a phone call from a woman in my support group from church the other day. She is the grandmother of two children that she and her husband have raised since birth. Both boys have organic brain disorders, one is definitely and FAS kid (Fetal Alcohol Syndrome). She is STRUGGLING! Our conversation reminded me that our world, the one with FAS children, is a fickle and ever changing one. It could be "hell and high water" one day and perfect peace the next. Her rough patch is continuing for some time and she is overwhelmed, tired, feeling like a failure and just ready to give up. She knows her child cannot control most of what she deals with, but that realization doesn't always make it easier when you're going through it. I have SOOOOO been there. She is talking about a residential placement being her only option. I feel for her.

The talk we had made me realize all that I am thankful for. I am blessed to have a good report with our doctor and he listens to what we say. He understands Dustin's brain chemistry as much as is possible and truly takes to heart what we say. He is a God-send. I am thankful that I don't have to fight the insurance companies like others do. We are blessed to receive Medi-caid for Dustin automatically since he is an adopted special needs child and from what I read in the blog-o-hood, Indiana's is far superior to most. I am thankful for a husband who truly takes Dustin's best interest to heart. He is patient and kind, loving and thoughtful when it comes to Dustin. For the most part, because his behaviors can tire anyone out, we are human we lose it occasionally, but we do our best.

I say all this knowing that today he could come home from school and have pulled a a stunt that will have grave consciences (again). He could have a rage and take off running down the street and the authorities will have to be called to "retrieve" him (again) . He could attempt to pull the cat's whiskers out with needle-nose pliers (again), or he could get mad and leave the faucet on in the upstairs bathroom and make it rain in the dining room (again). He could. . . . but maybe he won't. . .

That is life with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.

Two Years Ago . . .

Lots of great posts out there in the blog-o-sphere marking the second anniversary of Katrina and the whammy it struck on New Orleans. Most of it is fraught with outrage over the continuing disaster down there . . .

I can remember the devastation and being glued to the television, watching the horrible footage of trapped people and hungry children, dying for a drink of water. It broke my heart. Hearing story after story of nursing homes, hospitals, and retirement homes full of people who didn't make it out. I watched not understanding why reporters could be there giving everything they had with them to needy people and not understanding why the government couldn't get the trucks full of aid into the areas that needed it most. I can remember the joy of watching the trucks full of soldiers and supplies parade through the city. The relief, knowing that thousands of people would be rescued, fed and given water, was overwhelming. I vividly remember watching that video at work and crying out of pure relief.

The arguments of why it took so long, was it a racial issue, would more help have come from other countries if we had not burned so many bridges with Iraq, didn't matter to me. What mattered was that people and children and animals were suffering. Our government has treated refugees in Iraq and Afghanistan with more aid than our people received in the short days that followed Katrina.

The following is a video my husband created marking this anniversary. Please share it . . .



I have mentioned that we adopted a hurricane dog on several occasions. Here is a picture that we believe is her chained to her home in New Orleans. And then one of Cayenne now. She is my precious baby-dog and we love her with all our hearts!

The new digs . . .

I promised awhile ago that I'd post some pictures of the new daycare later . . . Later has come. The theme is Kids Town and all the room as made to look like store fronts. . . . enjoy!


Outside Joshua's Demolition . . .


The wrecking ball coming thourgh the wall . . .


Noah's Pet Shop, some of the "windows" will be filled aquariums . . . .


Inside the "Surf Shop" . . . .


Outside of Samson's Gym . . . (our playrooms)


Down one finished a hall . . . .

Pretty cool huh?

Trying not to be too positive . . .

How horrible does that sound? My adoptive son with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome has had pretty darn good first week of school. Bear in mind that he is only able to attend 3 hours a day due to issues we had last year. He has his own 1:1 personal aid and works in a separate classroom for the vast majority of the day. He has however had a pretty good week. He has had no "unhappy faces" on his behavior card. Yeah! I take that with a grain of salt, because you never know what can be around the bend for children like these. I am learning how to be proud of today's accomplishments without having expectations for tomorrow. . . That's difficult for me. Good job Dustin! Keep trying your best.

I have had some realizations lately of exactly how far behind Dustin is compared to other children his age. Our neighbor's step son ran away with his pregnant girlfriend last week. He is 13. Dustin will be 13 never February. Dustin is in seventh grade, and here I am talking about receiving unhappy faces on a behavior card. This child is getting girls pregnant. I am grateful for mental illness sometimes. Does that sound callus?

A Day of Firsts . . .

Today the daycare opened in the new location. It was awesome. I also sent my baby boy to kindergarten today. I put my baby on the bus at daycare and got in the car and drove to the school so that I would be there when he arrived. I was terrified that he would cry when he got on the bus, but he did great. He was terribly excited. I was also afraid I would cry, but I held it together. He had a great day. I was a little nervous as his bus was over minutes late. I knew it was the first day of school, and the buses are usually crazy, so I tried to keep busy and ignore the fact that I had no idea where my boy was. He bounded off the bus and was so happy to see me. That was when I cried. I'm sappy I guess.
This was our conversation on the way home:

Me: What did you have for lunch?
Harrison: Pizza. Guess what color it was.
Me: What color?
Harrison: Gray.
Me; Oh! Was it good?
Harrison:Yes, but it was gray.

I spent the remainder of the ride home having to hear McCartney continually saying, "I want gray pizza!"

Mmmm. School lunches . . .

Saved by the flip flops . . .

Remember at the beginning of the summer when I wrote about my love of Old Navy flip-flops? Today I was saved by those flip flops. Hot pink to be exact.

I was working at the new building and the cook needed some help in the kitchen. I came to her aid and was putting some things away and making some decisions about what would work best where. This kitchen was a professional kitchen. It was an empty shell when we took possession and it has taken some imagination to decide how it could be set up. We bought these large and quite expensive stainless 6 foot tables. These tables are in 2 separate areas of the kitchen. Under each set are double electrical outlets on the floor. We decided to run a surge protector up the table leg and use some industrial velcro on the bottom of the table to plug in appliances such as electric griddles. I collected all the stuff and sat down on the tile floor to plug the surge strip in.

I flipped open the outlet cover and stuck the plug in. It nearly knocked me on my butt. Sparks shot up about 15 inches and it began humming and making horrid smoke. I grabbed the other end of the strip and pulled it out, after saying my first round of choice words in the new church. I shouted for the cook as it was still smoking and sparking and told her to call the director, my mother. I forgot that the kitchen is in the other side of the building from us and the guys pulling wire had yet to get a phone down to the kitchen. My asthmatic self ran to another room quite a way away and intercom-ed mom. "I need you in the kitchen right away. I think it could be on fire." Nice . . .

She runs down, hollers at me to grab and extinguisher. No flames at this point, but much smoke and sparking. Flames begin. I say, "Do I shoot it?" She says, "Shoot it, while on the phone with 911." I shoot it. Then and only then do I realize that it is a K extinguisher and I have just shot water into and electrical outlet. And, I am standing in that very water as well as being covered in water as it sprayed back at me. Needless to say I stopped shooting it and backed out of the kitchen. At this point it was only humming and slightly sparking. Even though I could've been electrocuted, it did put out the flames. . .

The firemen came. Cute too. They thought I was nuts for spraying the fire with water. Then they infomr me that it isn't just water, but ot does have some chemical in it and I probably should go remove my shirt. I was on the phone to my husband, he asked if I was barefoot, which I usually am. The only reason I had my flip flops on was that you have to go through an area that is still construction , and Saturday I stepped on something in there that hurt. Thank God I was a hillbilly on Saturday or else I would've probably been barefoot today. My husband pointed out that I was probably saved by having on my beloved flip flops.

Yeah flip flops. Maybe I should tell that story to Old Navy. I can see it now, they could offer to keep me in flip flops for life . . .

On a side note, the kitchen is fine. Our building committee chairman happens to be an electrician. He came over and unhooked the outlet and safely capped the wires. A new outlet will be installed tomorrow. We did find out that had I discharged the correct kind of extinguisher, the kitchen would have to be shut down for 24 hours, have to be cleaned top to bottom, and be checked by the board of health before it was cleared to use. The cook JUST finished washing everything in the kitchen since the move AND we open tomorrow at 6:00 am. Thank heavens I screwed up! Thank heavens for flip flops.

You have no idea . . .

Wow, this week has been crazy, tiring, amazing and I am quite glad it is just about over. I don't think my body has ever felt like it does right now. We successfully moved the entire daycare this weekend. We started moving the big stuff on Friday morning along with all the items that the teachers had already boxed up. There were about 50 church members that showed up to volunteer their time moving the facility. It went more smoothly than I ever could've imagined! The first load consisted of a semi-truck load, and 2 giant Penske rental trucks FULL. They were loaded from 8:30 to about 10:30 and then we went to the new facility. The trucks were unloaded and placed in their new classrooms and storage areas before lunch at 11:45! AMAZING. The coordinator was so organized. All the areas were color coded, the boxes were labeled with a shape code and a color code and the "putting away" went so very easily. He even tagged the halls with crepe paper to show they way to the color coded areas. (Yes, I said HE. A man is organized?! My world is crumbling) Our staff then were able to simply be in their room putting all the stuff away in it's new home. We had planned to be moving from 8am - 8pm both Saturday and Sunday, but the movers were done by Friday evening about 7:30. I was there with a handful of people until midnight. Yesterday was filled with all the little things and I worked 10 hours. Today holds about 8 hours of work as well, but I feel to thankful for all the help and great relief that it is DONE!

You need to understand that the church that was in he building we are now moving into had many issues over the years. The family that founded the church and ran it for many years as pastors were not exactly honest with their congregation and didn't have the highest moral values. The church split for a second time about 3 years ago now and it has been a struggle in the "religious" (I hate that word) community of our city. The family went on to found another church which then gave them the "boot" recently for the same issues that were evident in the other church. I will not sit and bash this family, or the people who chose to follow this pastoral family and finally saw in the end they were being bamboozled, I will however say they smashed people and their hearts. Many of the congregation that struggled after the split, have wandered over to our church. They have healed and moved on, but this move back into the church-home they knew for so long will be difficult for many of them. Many are happy to see it come full circle. For many, wounds will be opened and the healing will have to begin anew. It does help that the building was in pretty great disrepair so it has been almost completely renovated (since we got it in foreclosure this was possible with funding) so these families will see the shell of the building, but will see new insides. What an allegory for what happened there and in their own hearts . . .

I will say that the people of that particular congregation know how to work. They will pitch in for anything! I must say that has been lacking in my current church for many years. People are content to sit in church and be "ministered to" without putting in a helping hand. Ministries such as our outreach for construction help, community projects etc has come from those from that congregation. Volunteers come out of the woodwork for projects and special gatherings at the church, most of whom are from that former congregation. They have a strong volunteer and work value. I think those from our "original" congregation can learn greatly from them. I pride myself on being what my mother calls a "workhorse" and I will jump in a help in anyway I can. That is sorely lacking in some in our church. Going on a mission's trip, or volunteering once a year for a carnival is fine, but what happens day-to-day in helping the needs of our community needs to be one mission of a seeker-friendly church. That pastoral family which lacked in so many other areas, definitely taught their followers that goal.

I give you all that background to tell you that I discovered a wonderful family yesterday. This family used to be on staff at this former church. They have adopted several teenage boys out of the "system." The boys all seem to have special needs. What a WONDERFUL bunch of boys. I have yet to meet their mother and father, but I know that with a bunch of special needs kids, from the system that act like these boys do they must be fabulous. These boys were polite, kind-hearted, nice, helpful boys. Kudos to their parents! What a ministry.

The day is about to get hectic for me. Hopefully all the jobs will get done. Coffee is calling my name . . .

Colorful in more ways than one . . .

I was sitting in the car while Robert filled up the tank today when I heard him start laughing. He had been looking at a newspaper box and had read a funny headline. The paper was talking about one of the animals at Black Pine Animal Park. I have previously posted about Back Pine which is a sanctuary for unwanted pets, retired circus animals and wild animals that have been rescued for another reason. This article was about Peaches, a Moluccan Cockatoo. Apparently one of the construction workers got too close to the Chimpanzee's inclosure. Coby, one of it's residents, took offense and tossed some poo at the worker. The worker let fly with a few choice words, and Peaches began using her learned vocabulary. . . In other words, she let the blankety-blank fly.

The picture at the beginning of this post is Caesar. Caesar is our Timneh African Grey Parrot. Caesar is a smart bird. Research has shown that African Grey's can have the intelligence of a five year old child. Caesar is definitely a fun bird. He asks questions, immitates noises, and will speak in my voice, Robert's voice and his own "voice". He imitates the keys in the door, the dog's barking and the telephone along with many other things. He loves to laugh. He however will do NONE of this on command. Caesar came to us when he was about 2 years old. Before that, the woman who owned him was afraid of him and handled him with elbow length raptor gloves. She was unable to spend much time with him due to her hectic schedule and being a single mom of a teenager. She was upset that he wasn't talking. Two days after he came to live with us he said, "You think that's funny?" while I was laughing at Robert and he hasn't stopped talking since. And he definitely has an attitude.

Being in a home with a teenager he learned a few choice things. He learned when the phone rings, you shout "Phone!" and he learned the "F" word. He loves to say it when he is mad. If I clean his cage, he drops it on me. If the dog's irritate him he says it. I remember one time I was cleaning up poop he had oh-so-lovingly shot of of his cage onto the floor and I was scolding him and he said, "Oh yeah! F--- you!" Oddly enough, he says it really low, almost under his breath, like he knows it is a bad word. Usually I just ignore it.

Below is Boomer, our Blue and Gold Macaw. He is dumb as a box of rocks. He simply repeats things that have been said to him many times, or with great vigor. He shouts at Dustin to "go to time out", he shouts "Dinner!" and "hello". His favorite words are "shut up". We said that many times to him before we had kids. We tried to teach him to say thank you by always saying "Say thank you Boomer" when we gave him a treat. Now he says, "Say thank you Boomer" not just "Thank you" when he is given something. Duh! We should've thought that one through better.

Both birds are tame and allow us to handle them quite well. I even got so tired of paying the vet to trim their nails and beaks that I bought a dremel tool and do it myself. That is pretty amazing. Caesar doesn't much like to be handled since he wasn't early in his life, but he will tolerate it and he isn't mean. They are a real joy! I'm glad we enjoy them because they will be around a long time. They both will live well over 60 years. . . .

I hate humidity . . .

I cannot stand humidity. It has been so humid lately that it feels like my skin can't even breath. I am horribly asthmatic and these are the days the absolute worst. I guess we have very blessed this summer as the weather hasn't really been too bad. But, this last week has truly taken it's toll on me.

This is my last week of pool trips at work. I am looking forward to being able to come home from work without wet towels to wash every night. I always bring an extra one because either one of our staff members or one of the kids forget their towel. It always get used, which means it needs washed. I know it sounds ridiculous, but the pool is so stressful for me because I am ultimately responsible for 15-20 kids that belong to other people. People who pay me to keep their kids alive. It's nerve wrecking, but the kids enjoy it and I like being outside typically. By this time in the summer, I'm done with swimming, going back to work with wet hair, and washing towels. . .

The inspection went well last week. All is full steam ahead to move the daycare in a week and a half. The things that needed to be fixed are fixed and all is well. The license is steadily moving forward. It is crazy to think about moving 15 room daycare that houses 269 children. The church has come to our aid for the most part, and they have a large moving crew to help. Hopefully all will go well.

I registered my baby boy for kindergarten last Friday, including filling out those crappy green cards in triplicate. I paid his lunch fees, set up busing and then we went to Steak 'n Shake. I was sitting in the booth and was reading the school's handbook. I burst out crying. Then I realized how ridiculous I was being and began laughing hysterically. So now I am laughing, shoulders shaking and tears rolling down my face. Nice. I'm certain I looked like a real basket case. But, WOW, my baby boy is going to kindergarten. He is almost as old as Dustin was when he came to live with us.

A small mention . . .

Kelty grand jury began today. We shall see how this all pans out. A certain liberal activist flashed dear Mr. Kelty his "undershirt" the other day. It happened to be a Henry for Mayor shirt. I hear it was quite amusing, I wish I could've seen Matty's face.

It has been reported in the Journal Gazette that Kelty took out a new loan . . .

The Fort Wayne mayoral candidate who has campaigned about the city being too far in debt has taken out another loan of his own.

Republican nominee Matt Kelty and his wife, Tamilia, took out a $46,000 variable-rate line of credit in June, according to documents from the Allen County recorder. About the same time, the Keltys also closed a $16,000 loan with Tower Bank, leaving the candidate with a potential $30,000 net increase in debt.

Perhaps that money will be used to pay this months $26,000 loan payment to Fred Rost. Who knows. . .