The princess . . .

McCartney Raye was born in September 2003. We were fostering 2 very difficult children at the time, Dustin was in a very difficult mental state at the time, and Harrison was 15 months old. I was a crazy-busy pregnant mommy. I began to have problems with my blood pressure and was put on strict bed rest. The following day I began to black out and was sent directly to the hospital to be induced the following morning. I gave birth to McCartney 4 hours later before being induced. She was 17 days early. After she was born, I went directly into surgery and McCartney had difficulty regulating her body temperature so she went into an incubator. Daddy spent the night by her side. We found out the next morning that she had a sacral dimple and could suffer from some form of Spina Biffida. After a few weeks of horrific waiting, we found out she was fine.

She was a mellow baby who slept through the night at 3 weeks old. She was active and alert. She loved being next to her brothers and her eyes lit up when they spoke to her. She was completely bonded to me. Where Harrison was Robert's boy, McCartney was MINE. She cried whenever I was away from her. I was totally responsible for her happiness. I found the "art of baby-wearing" and purchased a sling from Cindy. It was the best thing I ever did. She could be with me and up against me at all times, and yet I could function. When I went back to work, Robert would "wear" her in the sling and it totally helped create a bond. She loves her daddy, but to this day she is MY GIRL.

She was enrolled in speech when she was a toddler because she had nearly no words. After about 3 visits, she was speaking like crazy. I fully believe she could before, she just had no reason to. She knows all her "stuff" but will not perform. Still at 4 years old, it amazes me when she reads a word like she has known what it was for years. You think she has no idea and it quite ditzy, she isn't, she just doesn't flaunt what she knows. I'll ask her how she knows something and she says, "Because I'm smart."

She is bossy and strong-willed. She is sweet and ornery. She can charm the pants off you one minute and scream in your face "you're stupid!" the next. She's purely a girl. When Harrison was little we would ask him, "Are you rotten?" He'd say, "I not rotten, Sissy's rotten!" As ornery as she is, she is also very thoughtful and kind. She knows when someone is upset or angry and tries to reach out to you. She is extremely cuddly, but doesn't like to be held for more than short periods of time. Where Harrison would be content to sit in you lap for hours, she will hug you 15 times in that hour, but will not sit there and will not be still. She is full of energy and always on the move. She is tenacious and determined.

She's my princess who loves to dress up in dresses and skirts and then wants to where jeans and play with the boys. She constantly changes her mind and loves to annoy the pants off her brothers. She pushes Daddy's buttons and drives me over the edge. She's definitely a female!

Awwww. . .

The boy . . .

Harrison Tyler was born in May of 2002. I was frantically dreading labor and promised Robert that there would much screaming and gnashing of teeth. As the day grew nearer, I became quite ill with laryngitis. Robert found it quite amusing. On Monday morning I went into the OB to have a stress test (with 18 days before my due date) and the OB said, "Do you have a bag packed and waiting by the door?" I said, "Yep" and he said quite unexpectedly, "Go home and get it and head to the hospital. This one has cooked long enough, we're gonna induce" I freaked. We headed to the hospital and started the "devil water" drip. 37 hours later I held my wonderfully beautiful baby boy. By the way, during that time in the hospital they had me on IV medications for my throat and by the time birthing time came, I could holler nicely thank you!

Harrison was a mellow and happy baby. He was small and cuddly. He loved to be next to you and against your skin. . . plastered to you actually. Still to this day he cuddles up next to one of us at night when he climbs into bed with us. Since he was born in the spring all of my early memories of Harrison are outside in the yard or on the porch. The best part of that early time with the first baby was the wonder on my husband's face as he looked at his son. The youngest Rouse, the child who would carry on the name. The joy and love that I felt as I looked at my child and my husband were unmatched by any other experience in my life. The bond that I felt was unlike anything else. It always made me weep for Dustin as I imagined his early life and the trauma it contained as I held my little bundle who completely relied on me. Harrison was completely and wholly bonded to daddy. He was definitely Robert's child and spent every waking moment with him. I have a myriad of pictures of Harrison sleeping in the crook of Robert's arm as he types away on the computer.

Harrison has always been a little precocious. He got all of his teeth early. I was at the dentist with him at 11 months asking what the black blood blisters were in his mouth. Astounded the dentist found that they happened to be his 3 year molars. He was speaking to his daycare teacher in full sentences at 13 months. By 2 he could tell you all his colors and recite simple poems and sang a boat-load of songs from memory. He knew all of his letters, upper case and lower case at 3. By 4 he was reading with comprehension. He seemed to absorb everything he saw. He is inquisitive and veracious in his learning and questioning. He is intuitive to his surroundings. He is curious and lovable . . . and ornery.

Kindergarten has been a challenge. As advanced as he is in his learning, he is immature. He is sensitive and can have what we refer to as "melt-downs". He astounds me with his wit and his humor. He is a likable child who makes friends easily. He is out going with other children and is very imaginative in his play. He's my boy, my first born and I couldn't live without him.

Comfort food . . .

My favorite cold weather soup. . .

In about 4 cups of water boil 3 potatoes cubed and a chopped onion until potatoes are tender. Add 4 bouillon cubes, 2 cans of cream of chicken soup, one package of chopped broccoli pieces thawed, one pound of velveeta cheese cubed.

Curl up on the couch with a comfy blankie and eat broccoli soup while watching football. Recipe for a great Sunday!

The chosen one . . .

I decided this Christmas season I would do a post about each one of my kids. Today is Dustin's day. I talk about him a lot, but I decided I would share with you about my eldest and maybe you'll learn something you don't yet know about him.

Dustin has only been in our lives since 2001, but he has certainly made an impact on the way we see the world. He is a loving, kind and helpful child. He will happily complete any task or chore that you give him as long as he is kept on task and he doesn't think it is a punishment. He loves to be a "helper" and this can really distract him from unwanted behaviors if used properly.

The day he came into our life was a rainy one. He had a silly bowl cut haircut, a dirty jean jacket under a too-large spiderman raincoat. He also had a striped weighted "Snake" on his neck. He was sitting in the front seat of a pickup truck rocking back and forth, sucking his cheeks in. He had large "pick marks" across the top of his head from his obsessive-compulsive picking. He was obviously a mess. I can't say it was "love at first sight", actually it was fairly obvious this child came with "baggage" and it scared the stink out of me. Robert turned to me and said, "Is it too late to run?" The next few hours were interesting as he explored our home and got into far too many things. We dug worms all afternoon. He was loving and fun and yet very distant. The next visit was far better and by then, we had become attached to this odd, funny, "broken" child. We knew we were destined to be a home for Dustin, if only til the "right one" came along. Little did we know, the "right one" was us!

Having Dustin has made me look at the world in a different way. In one respect it has made me more aware of the "ugliness" the world has to offer. The ugliness that allows mother's to drink while pregnant, the ugliness of mother's allowing others to harm your child in your own home, and the ugliness of some aspects of foster care. In another respect we have seen ugliness in people's reactions to our son and his behavior, the ugliness of expectations the school has had of him complying with "general education" standards, and the ugliness of misunderstanding even within our own extended families when it comes to "what is best" for Dustin and our choices in dealing with him. We can also experience the ugliness in ourselves when we have "reached our limit" in dealing with the daily struggles that life with Dustin comes with. It is those time when having a supportive spouse and a committed father is absolutely a god-send. We have learned when it is time to "tag-team" Dustin.

Thankfully having Dustin has also opened us up to a whole new world of kindness. I have experienced the kindness of another mother in a restaurant who gives you that "knowing" look and a kind smile when he is wailing about something. I have seen how he touches people and how his story has changed someone's perception about the world of a moderately handicapped child. I have experienced the kindness and patience of his teachers and his administrators who deal with his issues daily. The kindeness of the ones who have a true heart for the moderately hanidcapped child and truly give all they have on a daily basis and still can give a parent encouragement and praise. I have unfortunately experienced the kindness of behavioral hospital staff who take care of your baby when you cannot keep him safe from himself. Those staff who know it is not the fault of bad parenting that your child needs their services. I have also seen the kindness of my husband in his dealing with Dustin. He is so very patient and determined to give Dustin the best possible life. I have also felt the kindness of families like my own and some who are learning about families like ours who have commented on this blog and others. These words of encouragement and advice mean more than you can know.

We often say that Dustin's saving grace is his kindness. We have been touched by the kindness and acceptance from a child who has been "for-saken" by some many other adults in his life. He loves us unconditionally. He trusts. For that we are truly blessed.

Good news . . .

I just got word that my daughter's MRI results were normal. That makes my day. Now I cen rest assured that the leg pains are growing pains and the "piddling" is normal 4 year old stuff. Life is good.

My boy acting goofy . . .

The update . . .

Today we were supposed to go to McCartney's pediatrician for her blood work results. They called and we need to repeat one of the tests. Meaning another blood draw. Stink! She was good the first time, so maybe it will be alright. The MRI went great the other day, by the way. She was a fabulous patient and the nurses at the Lutheran Children's Hospital outpatient clinic are PHENOMENAL! It was a very positive experience and the intensivist that did her sedation was great. The meds were easy on her and it was as though nothing was done about 5 minutes after the procedure. I should know something soon from that test.

The bloodwork issue is a bit concerning. The doc said that she had an odd bacteria, and he wanted to repeat the test so they could rule something out. Hmmm. I'm so glad I am medicated, because "pre-OCD medicated Sheri" would be crawling out her skin waiting to hear something. Modern medicine is amazing.

Now how about modern non-medicine. I have used alternative medicine in the past, actually quite often. I have seen an iridologist, and would love to visit Solomon Wickey someday. My mom has learned about something called an Aqua Chi Footbath. Anyone heard about this? The info on the web looks promising and interesting, but you could find a website for making gold out of soap if you wanted to. I wanna try it, but it is quite pricey to have the procedure done. Anyone out there seen this or have any testimonials? Or am I just crazy?

My baby . . .

The first Christmas Robert and I were married, he bought me a special present. He bought me a cockatiel. We thought for sure it was aboy so we named it Elvis. Elvis turned out to be a girl. She was an awesome bird. Fully flighted and really special. I adored her and it spawned a love of birds for me. I became addicted to birds. We ended up with many different birds over the years, some from bredding, some from rescue. With the birth of the kids we have decreased our flock to 2 birds. (We recently lost our last cockatiel a month or so ago) We have a blue and gold macaw named "Boomer" and an african grey named "Caesar". I have blogged about Caesar and his escapades before when I spoke about the passing of Alex, a famous African Grey.

Boomer is my baby. We brought him home before he was fully weaned, which was a huge mistake. I had to hand-feed him day and night and make sure he was eating and gaining weight. At first I had to feed him through a syringe and then by soaking food and dropping it in his mouth. I was un-godly concerned about him not gaining weight and I had to take him to the vet and weigh him weekly. It was a mess. He is definitely my baby. He does speak. He says, "Shut Up Boomer" and "Dustin! Go to time out" and "Diiinnnnner!" and "That's enough!" and "Robert, I need you!" other wonderful things we say around here constantly. We wanted him to be able to say thank you when he was handed something so every time we gave him a treat, we would say, "Say Thank You Boomer". You guessed it, he now says, "Say Thank You Boomer". Not too bright, but loveable.

I'm not sure he is doing well. He should live to be about 60-80 years old and I think he is about 10 years old. He doesn't seem quite right. Tonight I got him out of the cage and gave him some lovin' and decided to take some photos to share.


Showin' the love!


Who's your momma?


A pretty boy! (or maybe a girl, who knows?)


Lovin' the scratchin'


Cayenne isn't too happy when Boomer tries to kiss her.

Flashback . . .

Today I went to get my haircut. My sister-in-law has been cutting my hair for some time, but infomed me last month that she was no longer doing hair. I freaked out when she told me but then she reminded me that her mom was doing hair again. Her mother who used to cut my hair back in my "punk rock" days and always had some crazy cut or color for my hair. So today, I made me first trek up to the small town north of here to get a cut. She asked me if I wanted to get colored to and I said I hadn't planned on it, but I would like to. She said she already had some color mixed, so it would be easy. She then went in the back to mix another red and began coloring. I sat there processing while she cut someone else's hair and she came over the check on me. She made this little laughing sound and said, "Oh yeah, I think you're definintely ready to rinse." When she was done rinsing, she said, "If I remember right you like crazy right?" Yeah, like 20 years ago, but it was a little late. My hair is crazy and I love it.

If only . . .

I blogged on Friday about Dustin saying things at school about his former abuse. I also blogged that he had a therapy appointment later that day and I thought it would be nice to visit that topic then. When Robert picked me up at work Friday evening, I asked how it went. He said that Dustin told her that he was thinking about being hurt because he had some bad dreams about his abuser lately (which I think is a crock). He tends to say he has bad dreams every time he gets in trouble, steals or says things that aren't true. He has learned through years of therapy that they always ask him if he has bad dreams and he always says "yes" even if he never mentions having bad dreams at home. I don't fully believe he has them, I think he uses that as a learned excuse. Whether or not he does doesn't dismiss the idea that he is telling people at school things that are not true.

So, do you know what his therapists answer to the issue is?

Freakin' pixie dust.

She told my concrete thinking, 12 year old FAS child to sprinkle pixie dust around his bed at night to keep the bad dreams away. This is a woman who is supposed to understand FAS. Pixie dust is her answer.

Please.

She didn't talk about telling truths. She didn't talk about past tense or present tense. She didn't deal with his PTSD issues. She told him to sprinkle imaginary pixie dust. Better yet. . . she actually told my husband to get a shaker and put some pixie dust (nothing) in it and use it at bedtime.

No. I will not. And she better be glad I didn't take him to this appointment. If only it were that easy.

Soap, neurology, and accusations . . .

Thank goodness today is Friday, I'm not sure I can handle another day this week. Today was McCarntey's doctor's appointment with the neurologist, but we took a detour first. We ended up over at Cindy's house and bought a bunch of her fabulous hand-made soups for Christmas gifts. She is quite a talented lady. I sniffed so much soap that my nose still has the aroma of soap in it. I did buy a tub of body butter in Icy Juniper that I am already addicted to. I can't wait to bless my friends with some awesome soaps for the holidays,. and I can't wait to take a shower! Stop on over to Simple Indulgence and visit her website today to buy some soaps! If you are in area, she also has a display over at Angie's shop, the Lakeside Learning Garden, that she said she will restock soon.

On to the appointment. The neurologist is a wonderful man! I forgot how much I liked him. we talked at length about McCartney's issues and he is concerned with the 2 diferent forms of incontinence that she has. He said he felt she was fine, but felt "in his gut" that he should do some testing to be certain we aren't dealing with an issue related to the Spina Bifida Occulta. She will have blood work, xrays and 2 kinds of MRI's done. That will tell us if there are any issues going on that need specialized attention. He also fouond that the reflexes in her lower limbs are deficient. She has almost none in her knees, hips or ankles. Odd. He said he could feel them, but they are not what they should be. So, something else to make me worry. Actually he did make me feel at peace with all this and said he is fairly confident that she is fine. He said that if an issue is found it is reasonably easy to fix and/or deal with at this age. So that helps.

I came home to have Robert take me back to work so that he can use the van (we are a one car family) and he tells me something even more concerning. Dustin told the teachers at school today that he was constantly hit and pushed this morning before school by his father. UGH! not this again. Due to Dustin's PTSD, we struggle with invasive memories that pop up from time to time. We usually see him bring these things up near the holdiay season, so it wasn't really a surprise as much as it was concerning. It alway freak out when he says these things beacuse you're not certain who is going to believe them and start an investigation. With Dustin's functional level combined with the FAS he has no concept of time order and when you ask him about something in the past he will always say yesterday, or this morning, or today. So, it can be confusing. Robert talked to the teacher and she didn't believe Dustin, but I know the red flags are always there. It scares the crap out of me. When I talked to Dustin about it he said, "Oh I meant a long time ago." We talked about how people can believe him and he says he understands, but I know it won't matter the next time. Thankfully he has therapy today and maybe they can talk about it, or at least get our concerns on the record.

My funny boy . . .

Last night I was whooped and decided to go to bed early. The kids were still awake (fortunately still in their beds) and when they heard me coming up the stairs I was blessed with their presence in MY bed. We prayed together, laughed and said our goodnights. McCartney reached over to take my hand and accidently hit Harrison in the nose. I said, "Oh man, did sis hit you in the schnoz?" He giggled and said, "What the heck is a schnoz?" I told him it was a silly word for nose.

It became quiet. Suddenly in this sweet little voice Harrison said, "I love you mommy. Know how much?" To which the answer is inevitably "all my heart." But last night, in the quietest little voice, he said, "With all my schnoz." And all three of us broke out in the most uncontrollable laughter.

Catching you unaware . . .

A while ago, I read a post over at Adventures with Toots and Noodles about her crying over something that reminded her of her father who recently passed away. She had heard a commercial for a Christmas toy truck from the company that her father worked for. Her father used to purchase one every year for her son. She talked about the emotions that hit her and she cried in the car. She asked if this is the kind of thing that happens.

It has been 11 years since my father passed. Occassionally I get teary when I think about my children birthdays or Christmas traditions that my father will never be able to be a part of. I smile when I hear certain songs he liked on the radio and think about times we sang them together. It weird the things you remember. I vividly remember singing "(Don't Fear) The Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult in dads car going home from Sam's Club one night. (I told you it was weird) Whenver I hear that song I am taken back to that road on that night in his red Berretta Z26, singing BOC with dad.

This weekend I was sitting in my sister-in-laws living room in Kentucky and I saw something that made me weep. Lotion. My dad always had a bottle od Cornhuskers Lotion in his side of the headboard. A bottle of lotion made me cry. I think Teresa thought I was nuts. So yeah, this like this happen.

Attraction . . .

On the way home, we took a little detour so Robert could show me a cool little place near Mammoth Cave. He remembers staying here as a little boy. It is too neat.

Holiday Road . . .

Wednesday started awfully scary. The pediatrician was concerned about McCartney's issues and said that each one of them is nothing to be alarmed with. The fact that she has a sacral dimple and had both of these issues is of pretty big concern. He is having some blood work done on her to rule out arthritis, etc. He is also sending us back to her neurologist. I'm assuming that means we have another MRI. We had one when she was 3 weeks old and then one when she was 2 years old. This one I think will be more traumatic. I can't imagine her being still for this one. They will probably have to sedate her. The pediatrician did tell me that they will check to see if her spinal cord is tethered (stuck to the boney defect in her pelvis). I told him that they dtermined ti wasn't back when she was born. That was what I held on to all this time knowing that we coudln't have any spina bifida issues later if the cord was not involved. Well, I found out that all can change. The cord can become tethered as she grows. Great. We see the neurologist Friday, they got us in right away. I hope he thinks we are worrying for nothing, and I am praying all the tests come back okay.

The rip to Kentucky was nice. The drive on Wednesday was horrendous and the rainny conditions didn't help much. They kids had a great time with Aunt Teresa and Grandy Wanda. And they were thrilled to have their Christmas presents from that side of the family. McCartney ahd a huge meltdown at bedtime. After listening to her cry for about an hour and a half, I pulled on some jeans over my jammies and carried her out to the car to go for a ride. No shoes, no coat, no phone. I actually had to cover her mouth because she began screaming, "No don't take me!" I thought one of Teresa's neighbors may actually think I was abducting her. She settled down after about 6 trips down 31W in Bowling Green. She was cmpletely exhausted and went to sleep before we even got into the house.

Dinner was great. Grandy Wanda came over to cook about 7:00 am and the dinner was done about 10:00 so we did what any respectable family would do. We ate before it could get cold and have to be rewarmed. It was pretty odd eating Thanksgiving dinner at 10:00 am, but what the heck, it was good.

The trip home was pretty uneventful until we got into Fort Wayne and saw a gruesome accident Thanksgiving night. It did remind me of how thankful I am for my family and how I am very blessed.


I rode in the back most of the time so Dustin couldn't irritate "the littles"


The sillies creeped in by Louisville.


Annoying the brother.


Sweetness.

Kentucky and OSD . . .

The blue hills of Kentucky are calling our names, maybe that's just Grandy Wanda (as McCartney calls her). We are heading south for the turkey holiday and I have TONS to do to get ready. We haven't ventured to the Bluegrass state since the weekend after last year's Thanksgiving. I look forward to seeing Robert's mom and sister and all the rest of the family. The kids look forward to running around the farm chasing cows and torturing Grandy Wanda's farm cats. My mom has returned from Florida and is taking "the littles" home tonight to play at her house, so maybe I'll get some stuff done.

I am also fretting over a doctor's appointment that McCartney tomorrow morning. She has been complaining about her legs hurting for about 3 weeks. I have brushed it off to "growing pains", but this weekend she was really complaining. (McCartney can run a 103 fever and act like nothing's wrong. She has a pretty high pain tolerance) After I investigated, I found out that what is really hurting her are the front of her thighs up around her hips. McCartney was born with Spina Biffida Occulta and has a visible sacral dimple. We have had MRIs in the past to rule out a smaller opening at the top of her spinal cord and a tethered cord at the bottom. I am however concerned about her hips hurting along with her incontinence that she struggles with. She is a "piddler". Some kids with OSD (occult spinal dysraphism) have issues with due to lack of sensation and don't feel like they have to potty until it is too late. That's my girl. I've never thought it was too big of an issue, but this coupled with leg pain worries me.

Our pediatrician is awesome I adore him. I worry that he will think I'm nuts and she is fine. I also worry that it could be a problem. I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly . .

The GOOD. It was a nice day. I left work early to take Dustin to a therapy appointment. I spoke to the therapist about how I can react to Dustin and his issues differently. We also spoke about how his behavior is effecting "the littles" and how I can stop some of that as well. Most of what she said I will incorporate into my daily parenting, some not so much. She is good, but she doesn't get what it is like to live with an FAS child. After the appointment we did the bi-weekly blood work and for the first time ever he was good with me. (usually he's great with Robert). I didn't even have to go into the lab room. We had a wonderful day running errands and doing a small bit of grocery shopping. He was happy and funny and a joy to be around.

We went to pick up "the littles" at daycare and he was very well behaved as well. Robert is sick in bed with a fever and I came home, put away groceries, made dinner and cleaned up with minimal issues from the kids. Super. However, about 20 minutes ago the BAD started. Dustin stormed up the stairs and slammed his door because I busted him putting things under his rug instead of picking them up. He is really mad at me. I'm letting him cool down before I tell him the consequences of his fit.

The UGLY. I have opened my mouth thinking I was asked to be honest by someone and inserted my foot. Either this person thought I was going to sugar coat my feelings, or they really had no idea that their actions effected me as they did. I should have just pushed it back down because I had already dealt with the issues and gotten over them. I thought we were "clearing our chests". Apparently not. I have never been one to sugar coat anything. I have very little tact. Pretty much what you see is what you get from me. I like to think that I am a very trusting and caring person who would give and give and give until it hurt if I considered you a friend and thought you needed it. Sometimes it gets me in trouble, but you know what? I'd do it again, just with less emotion. I trust too much sometimes. I let things go when I probably shouldn't. I have become more jaded over this past year, and I thought by sharing it would help heal. Maybe I was wrong.

The result. I will go on. My family is more important than stressing over something I cannot change. Years ago this would've devastated me. I have learned that you make your own choices and not coming to grips with your emotions can destroy you. I wish I would've smiled and said, "No problem.", but then again, that wouldn't have been me. What is left is between me and my God.

Roll on . . .

Last night I took both "the littles" to their first roller skating outing. Harrison's school had a skate party at the Roller Dome and we had a blast. I nearly peed my pants watching my kids fall over and over and over. Actually, Harrison must have fallen 300+ times, but McCartney, who is the klutziest child, did remarkably well. She had so much fun watching Harrison fall that she actually would "sympathy-fall" for him right after he would.

It was interesting to see her interact with other children. Until know I really haven't observed her with other kids other than daycare and church. She has no fear of rejection, she will talk to any and every child. She made friends with a little girl and they skated around holding hands most of the night. She also watched the kids do the macarena and the cha-cha slide and did all the motions as well. It was hysterical.

The night actually made me remember all the skating parties I went to in elementary school. I can remember tooling around the rink in my jeans with the satin roller skate on the butt and woven ribbon- braided barretts in my hair, groovin' to Blondie's "Rapture" or Queen's "Another One Bite's the Dust". We would then take a break and eat a big ol' Dill Pickle.

Boy, we thought we were cool.

A gift from Harrison . . .

Yesterday afternoon the supervisor came into my office to tell me that Harrison had "thrown up everywhere". When you work at a daycare, you realize that some people have a different idea of what constitutes "everywhere". I went to his room, and sure enough, he had puked everywhere. But, because he is my boy, he didn't get anything on his clothes. I am a good puker. My boy has no problems letting it fly so to speak.

We went home and propped him up on the small couch and he proceeded to beg for food. No way Jay. Finally I got him to sleep and he slept through the evening. I woke about 1:30 in the morning and had the very same issues. Nice. Thanks son.

This morning, after being up all night, I took the kids downstairs and McCartney began the wonderful job of yakking. Nice. She however never acts sick, so she spent the day running around and making a mess. I spent the day on the couch sleeping on and off. Hopefully tomorrow we will be back to work and school.

Every parent's nightmare . . . School pictures . . .

My sweet little kindergartener . . .






My dear Pre-K girl . . .

Call me anytime . . .

I had the most wonderful phone call from Dustin's teacher last night. She began by calling us about busing since there are 1/2 days of school today for teacher conferences. Since Dustin goes to school on a modified day, his buses are not available to bring him home. We are keeping him out of school since I cannot provide transportation. What followed gave my heart hope.

I have been astounded lately at Dustin's progress. The behaviors are still there and always will be. His is impulsive as always and can turn his attitude from good to ugly on a dime. Even though he is more like a 4 year old than a 12 year old, he still has the hormones, and the snarky pre-teen seeps out from time to time. That being said . . .

He is doing REALLY well in school. For those of you who may be new readers, Dustin had a particularly bad run of school last year. His first year of middle school (in a Moderately Handicapped Program) consisted of a 14 day hospital stay, 9 suspensions, countless days in In-School-Suspensions. Behaviorally he was running out of the building, stabbing people with pencils, wrapping the television cord around a teachers neck, biting, yelling, riding on a child's electric wheelchair WHILE the child was in it, etc. Need I say more? Near the end of the school year, we chose in an IEP conference to modify his school day to 2 hours and provide a 1:1 aide. Did I say we chose? I didn't have an option. It was either that or the school system was done. Alternative placements had been exhausted and due to his ow IQ, a behavioral placement would not have been functional for him. (Thankfully, because that was a washout before) According to Article 7 in Indiana, the school is required to provide appropriate placement for my child and if there isn't one they have to create one. In Dustin's case it seemed appropriate placement was home-bound instruction if modified day didn't work. Much to my surprise and delight, it did work. We then increased his day to 3 hours at the beginning of this school year.

This first 10 weeks of school has been spent reintegrating Dustin back into the classroom. His aide accompanies him, but she has taken more and more time to help other children and give Dustin the space to learn to regulate himself in the classroom on his own. He has done REMARKABLY well. When his teacher called me last night, she had nothing but positive things to say about this "new" child in her classroom. His aggressive behaviors have disappeared, and his learning has definitely taken and up-swing. The emergent literacy I am seeing at home is definitely being noticed at school. His writing skills are far superior to where he was before and he has even begun cursive and is excelling. She told me the days that comes home with sad faces on his behavior card is simply because they are increasing their expectations and that those "sad face" days would've been happy face days last year. INCREDIBLE! His aide is increasingly away from his side and he is still remaining on task and focused for the most part. He is even doing 2nd grade story problems in math and loves it.

I was flabbergasted when I got off the phone. I have never, in the 7 years we have had Dustin, received a phone call from the teacher such as this one. I am thrilled at his progress. Now, if he could leave his sister alone. . .

Sunday at the Courthouse Green . . .

Family.

We've heard it all over this election from Matt Kelty. The "families of Fort Wayne". Well, today at the Courthouse Green we saw those families of Fort Wayne and they were supporting Tom Henry. As opposed to the "white crew" that supports Matt Kelty in this flyer, this was a diverse crowd kn support of the ONLY mayoral candidate in Fort Wayne. It wsa a beautiful day, a good crowd and a nice visit from Evan Bayh. I saw friends, neighbors, bloggers and some other wonderful people downtown supporting Tom.

I now have a picture of three generations, my father, my husband and my daughter, with Senator Bayh.

I found it amusing that when asked about Evan Bayh flying in to endorse Tom, Kelty said something to the effect of "it's not who support you about economic growth in our community". Maybe that's because no one is supporting you! Ha Ha!

Raise the roof . . .

Today is the day. We begin our roof project. It has needed done for the entire summer, but thankfully has not leaked yet. So today, we have shingles coming to complete the project. I had planned to get up there and help my brother, but I just told Robert that and he said, "I don't think that is a good idea." I laughed and asked why. He replied, "I've seen you trip and fall on a flat surface."

Good point.

Maybe I will still defy my husband and the laws of gravity. If so I'll be sure to post a picture. Isn't home ownership fun?

A Few FAS rants . . .

Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Yucky! Yucky for Dustin to live through and yucky for us to deal with. Yucky to see my 12 year old boy struggle with simple tasks a 5 year old can accomplish. Just plain yucky.

Let's review . . . FAS = yucky.

I had a co-worker tell me that her daughter's midwife told her to drink a glass of wine. She said her daughter was overdue and that this would help her go into labor. HALT. You are telling a pregnant woman to drink alcohol. These professionals who tell their patients that's it's okay to drink any quantity of alcohol at any time during pregnancy should spend one day with Dustin. Let alone one's who suggest it. AGH! Stupidity abounds.

Let's review . . . professionals who advocate for alcohol = stupidity.

Dustin returned this weekend to the special needs program at church. We have been absent for a few months since his behavior was so horrible there. He did well. They had a Harvest Party on Friday evening and they had someone to escort all the kids around to each game. He had a blast and I love it when he gets one-on-one time with another adult and has as successful trip into the "real world". I took the other two kids to a birthday party at McDonalds and then we went shopping without Dustin. It was nice to have the littles alone, and I think it was good for them as well. All of us need respite every once in a while for our sanity.

Let's review . . . shopping without Dustin = calm.

I spent the other day talking to a friend about Dustin and the road we have been down with him thus far in our lives together. It is always nice to not only educate people about the struggles these children deal with, but how far he has truly come. It is so difficult to see the larger picture when you live through it daily. He really has come a long way. Hopefully the coming years will allow him the opportunity to grow and flourish even more. I have been noticing in the past few weeks the beginnings of reading skills. Dustin has come a long way when it comes to "functional literacy" with the curriculum in his MoMH classroom. They teach things like in/out, push/pull, open/closed. They also work on food site words and things that will help these children be more independent when they grow to be on their own, whether that be independent living or a residential facility. He has done well for the most part with the memorization. Lately I have seen a HUGE increase in print awareness and him trying to decode words. He doesn't have the skills to decode phonetically, but he does use the words that he does know or the pictures to attempt to decode what he wants to read. Oddly enough he can read most of the titles of shows on our DVR menu and our onscreen guide. It is amazing! I will take any little glimmer of hope I an get if it means his reading skills are finally emerging.

Let's review . . . Hope = peace.

A man of God . . .

Today I was decidedly not going to church. I was tired from a day at home with the kids while Robert traveled to the windy city for a peace rally, and I had one wicked headache that I had been nursing since Thursday. I had gone to bed late, and I was not going to get up early for church. Do you hear me . . . not.

Well, my dear sweet children had different plans, and thus, we went to church. I was so happy that I got my lazy butt up, because an old friend was a guest speaker. We need to go back about 15 years. . .

I was involved in the youth group at our church when I was just out of college. We had a new youth paster and he wanted some older "twenty-ish" kids to help out as "youth leaders". I becam pretty close to Pastor Tim, or PT as we called him. PT had a desire to reach others and really connected with the kids. He was also a bit unconventional, and didn't care much what the older generation thought of him. He instilled in our youth a fire for the word of God. Our little youth group grew from about 40 weekly to well over 200 weekly. PT left after about 4 years, but he definitely made a difference in the youth of our church. PT once brought a man to our church to speak named Roosevelt Hunter.

Roosevelt became a good friend of our head pastor and he comes to speak every now and then. He is a wonderful man and I am so glad I did not miss him this morning. He has a unique ability to transcend barriers of race and generation and even denomination when he speaks. He is a sought after speaker. He spoke this morning about being REAL. His one comment I really liked was "In a world where we crave reality TV you would think people would be looking for authenticity."

I am not known for my tact. Pretty much what you see is what you get when you meet me. I think being "plastic" is far more difficult than being "real". I don't have time to try to shmooze you, and then remember it for next time. I hate fake. I am by no means saying I am perfect, but I do not fake anything. I hate something, you'll know. I like it, you won't wonder. I think that my father really instilled that in me. He was pretty upfront as well. For me it's about simplicity and effort. It's easy to be real, hard to fake it.

Let the whining begin . . .

My mother is super close to my kids. We see her daily since I work with her. The kids HAVE to give her a hug before school and one after school. On days she leaves early I have a chorus of whines and cries on the drive home that they didn't give Nanny (pronounced like Bonnie with an N) a hug! The weeping and gnashing of teeth may soon ensue if I can't get them side-tracked.

Sometimes I wonder if it is healthy. They truly stress when they cannot see her. I'm sure it is fine. I like they we are close. I was extremeley close to my grandmother and spent tons of time with her. I have posted before that she was the matriarch of the family and once she passed away the family pretty much stopped spending time together which greatly saddens me. But I digress . . .

My mom, the infamous Nanny, is leaving for Florida tomorrow. Three weeks of whining and crying for Nanny, counting the days until her return. Ugh! I do love that we can pretty much reach her at whim since she most always carries her cell phone. I can usually even reach her on the beach since my step-dad's cell phone seems to be surgically implanted on his hip. So, I let the kids bother her as they want. What is a Nanny for? Especially one who has forsaken you for sand and sea. This time may be particularly bad since the last time they went on the bi-yearly trek we went also. The kids are asking when we are leaving. Not this time sugar. As much as I'd love to go, it's not in the cards this season. We are however planning for next spring again, but as Harrison says, "That is forever." Especially to a kid who's Nanny is there right now.

Anyhoo, not only do I get to hear the whines, but I get more work as I step in for most of her jobs while she is gone. Whoppeee.

Stiller does Manning

The opening to Monday Night Football on ESPN featured Ben Stiller attempting to duplicate Peyton Manning's movements on the line of scrimmage.

MNF Ben Stiller

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A busy weekend . . .

This weekend was wonderful. Busy, but not overwhelming.

First, I helped a friend with a Children's Clothing Resale at their church. I am a super fan of Kid's Resales. I get most of my kid's clothing at resales and we have quite a few in the city. I also sell my kid's clothing at some of them as well. Most sales you can purchase a seller number for $5 - $10 and get anywhere from 90% - 100% of your profits. You price it and deliver it and they do all the work. This weekend I took 14 boxes and came home with only 4. The best part was that I made more than I actually spent. I love when you can get good quailty brand name clothing that is gently used for a fraction of the price. I have a whole system in my attic where I put back sizes that will fit them in the future. If I can get it now for $1 and they can wear it in 2 years, I certainly will.

I came home a spent most of the day on the couch dozing. You gotta like that. Dustin was having a difficult day and he does well with pressure. So we cuddled up on the couch and layed across his lap. He stayed out of trouble and I could doze knowing where we was.

Today I spent the morning in church with the two littles while Dustin and Robert slept in. Then we went over to John Good's house for a meet and greet with Chris Stewart and Tom Henry. It was an intimte gathering and I am continually impressed with Tom and they way he communicates his goals and visions for our city. He is knowledgeable, personable and will make a fabulous mayor. I also got to to meet a few blog-o-holics from the Fort Wayne 'Sphere. The "two littles" enjopyed playing with the "two witches" and Dustin enjoyed having my mother all to himself. When we got to my mom's to pick him up, Grandma offered to watch all three while we went grocery shopping. Woooohooooo! Grocery shopping without the kids!

The worst part of the weekend was the Dallas crumbled to the Patriots. Can anyone stop them? Hopefully November 4th will hold the answer to that question. I hate the Patriots.

What a weekend . . .

Ever wondered how much the awesome playgorund e quipment your kids love at the park costs? I can tell you it is a pretty penny. When we left our old building, we let behind a playground that reached $100,000. That playground was bought in peices and was done over about 8 years. This weekend we put in 5 LARGE peices of equipment at the new site. All totaling over $55,000. It was a HUGE project and this record breaking hot and humid weather did not help. There are still many things to finish before all the peices are functional, and about 30% of the mulch needs moved back, but it is mostly finished. It was back breaking work and I'm tired.

I did manage to get up and attend our first church service in our new building this morning. When I left the building at 8:30 last evening I thought there was no way I could make it this morning, but I was up and wide awake at 7:00 this morning and then was joined by McCartney, so we got dressed and went. We are pretty much unable to attend church as a family since Dustin really isn't able to go, which breaks my heart, but maybe someday. The service was fabulous, and the new digs are great. Working in the new place for the past 2 months, it has been great seeing the final touches going into the building. I still have some sewing to do this week for a couple awnings that the decorating commitee asked me to do, but I plan on knocking them out tomorrow.

This building was home to another congregation for many years. That church split in much ugliness. It was diffcult for many of our members that used to attend church there to sit in the service in their old sanctuary. I asked one woman if it was more difficult that so many things had changed or if that made it easier. She said, "It's just very strange to be sitting in this place again." I sat near the wife of one of the former church's pastor. You could tell she was quite emotional. I felt for her as we worshipped in this new place. It must have been incredibly difficult and yet healing to come full circle. It will be interesting how our congregation changes in this new home and in this new area of town. For me it was quite a relief, I am thankful that all the work is done and we can finally enjoy it.

Ever had one of those moments . . .

. . . when you come across an old friend and you get so thrilled you squeal. (Did I just say squeal? I have never thought of myself as a girly girl and I don't think I've ever squealed, but you know what I mean) Today when I came online I read a comment on the last post from someone long ago (come on Ang . . . it has been ** years) Angie is the author of Gathering Up the Pebbles blog and the owner of a bookstore here in town.

Long ago, we ran in the same circles and had the same friends. We were definitley, punk rock BEFORE everyone else was. LOL I wrote about that group of friends last year when we all were brought back together by a website and we had a reunion. What a great night! It was fun seeing that we all had grown up (for the most part *wink*), turned into fabulous citizens and have wonderful families. I remember once Angie got left at the Coliseum after the fireworks and I "delivered" her to Friemann, and you can't think about Angie without thinking PURPLE.

Angie's blog is a great read. If you get the chance to stop over and visit her, please say hello. She is the mother of 2 beautiful children and a kindred democrat, which seems hard to find in these parts. She is suppoirting Tom Henry for Mayor as we both grew up with the youngest Henry, Jessica, and had many an adventure with her. We both hold the Henry family near and dear in your hearts because it was easy to see the love and nuturing in their family through the children.

Thanks for stopping by Angie! My day was better for all the memories you prompted!

A thread on another site . . .

I was reading another site I came across this week and a foster mom asked a question about obsessive behaviors. She is struggling with helping a foster son deal with things he is obsessed about. She asked for help, and I gave her a bit of my story. I thought I'd bless y'all with more. . .

When I moved out of my house I moved in with a girl whom I was best friends with from church. She was younger than me and quite disorganized. She allowed me to take care of the house and make things just so. I did all the dishes, the grocery shopping, the cleaning and folding the laundry. I even cleaned and organized her room. She loved it and I HAD to do it or else I would go nuts. She got a good deal out of it, and I got the house into my idea of order. We had many clashes when it came to her irresponsibility and my obsession over having the bills paid on time and it got ugly on many occasions. But we tolerated one another. When she moved out her sister moved in briefly and then I lived alone for severally years until I met Robert.

By that time I was 26. Pretty darn set in my ways when it came to how I wanted stuff and how I thought things should be. I thought that's all it was, set in my ways. But alas, more and more problems occurred due to my inability to deal with changes and things out of order, or the order I had created in my head. To make an ugly story simple, it was not good. I nearly lost my marriage. We went to counseling and the counselor said, I think you need medicated.

I was astounded. She spelled out the issues I had and pointed them out. The obsessions, the ruminations, the stressors were right in line with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I had always thought of someone with OCD as the crazed hand-washing person, or the person who has to check the lock on the front door 35 times before leaving the house. I truly never had the compulsive portion, but when I started taking a clearer look at myself I could definitely see the obsessive part.

I visited my family doctor and she immediately started medication. She said it would take about 6 weeks to kick in, and about 5 weeks later my life took a turn toward calm. It is amazing. Now, I still have things I must do, but it is much easier to deal with now. If I have my mind set on doing something I am going to do it no matter what gets in my way, for the most part. I would've never thought I would be able to handle a sink full of dishes or a messy bedroom floor before medication. Now I can speak in terms BZ and AZ - before Zoloft and after Zoloft.

My doctor encouraged me to go off Zoloft a few years ago to see if I could handle it. That lasted all of about 3 weeks. Not a good plan. That time did however, reinforce to me that I am justified in taking psychotropic meds daily. I can see clearly the familial connection with OCD and my immediate family. My mother and my brother have OCD to different extents. My mother is the cleaner, and my brother simply has to have things just so. The way he eats his food in order on his plate, and cuts his food, and so on cracks me up.

Before, I was pretty opposed to long term medication. Now I see that it saved not only my marriage, but my life.

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.