Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Billy Claude, Esophageal cancer, family, Grief, Life, love, Poetry, Yonkers
This time he’s leaving for good.
to climb and flames still flickering.
I didn’t expect to attract the attention of a crackpot/rabble rouser when I wrote my adoption blogs. I write mainly because I enjoy it, and I hope something I say can be helpful to someone, in addition to myself. Today I did something out of character for me – I deleted them all. I don’t care about blog stats, but I do care about my blood pressure, which was sky rocketing with some of the slamming I took.
Contrary to the opinion of some, posting a blog , while giving you the right to comment RESPECTFULLY, does not give you the right to judge, condemn, condescend, or harass. I don’t care who you are. I give your position very little credence when you use these tactics. Especially when you don’t even take a few minutes to read my other related blogs so you know what is going on.
So what is the point of this post? Just to explain why blogs are missing and to make a request. Well, since it’s my weblog, a demand – if you are here to make trouble, just go away. Post your own blogs where you can rant away. No crackpots wanted here.
PS – Birth mothers who have their parental rights terminated are not victims, AND giving birth is the LEAST of what makes you a mother. That’s all folks!
right up my foot, biting my toes, as I sit here in my computer room. Note to self: no more midnight snacks while writing. Dh come to the rescue with his anti-ant spray, only he sprays our new carpet – AACCKK!!!! Right where our toddler loves to roll, or fling herself, if I don’t pull up her Nemo game because she’s been naughty. Good thing it was me and not her being bit, since she gets a bad reaction every time to a bite. When she falls outside we yell, “Quick, get up!”. Sympathy takes a back seat to ant bite prevention.
We found the source of the attraction – an errant corn chip hidden behind the closet door. Since I wasn’t flinging them, I have to wonder if the little buggers actually carried it off? And how did they know it was there? We never had ants in this house before! These creatures are amazing in their work ethic. Too bad we have to terminate them.
There are lots of rumors on how to go about getting rid of these fire ants. We tried them all – first off grits. My Yankee husband thinks this is the only good use for grits, though they have grown on me because I give them to the little one. Anyway, the grits didn’t get rid of them, they just seemed to have moved. A lot of useless of work for both dh and the ants. We tried cinnamon, which they thanked us for. We tried the boiling water and cayenne pepper trick, only I felt like a heartless sadist and wouldn’t do it again. Next up was dh setting the mounds on fire. Talk about mean!!! It was effective though, except for the little brown patches on our otherwise pristine lawn. Now we spray, which seems to shuffle them around. We aways seem to run out, leaving me to think I should add up the cost of spray. It may be cheaper just to call someone. Then again, dh seems to really love doing combat with them. Hey, it gets him out of the house! 
Oh, and me? I’m sitting here typing with my feet up in the air, just in case…..
From the song: The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah! The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah! The ants go marching one by one, the little one stops to suck his thumb and they all go marching down, into the ground, to get out of the rain, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!…….
Did you know if you ask for a trial for a speeding ticket, you could be liable for a $5,000 fine and a YEAR in prison? Yup, that’s right, which is exactly why dh pleaded no contest and paid the $200 fine when he wasn’t guilty. I’m still mourning – both the loss of money and the unfairness of it all.
My dh was slowing for a red light when he saw a police car tucked away to the right and up the hill from the light. As the light changed, he saw the car pull out and follow. BAM! The lights and sirens come one, to my dh’s amazement. The officer told him he got him on radar doing 65. Only it never happened since my dh SAW the car behind him and was careful – the man is no fool. The officer claimed it was after the light changed, while he was following him. So my dh does the only thing advisable; shuts up and takes the ticket.
My dh waits patiently for his day in court. It finally arrived today and he got dressed ever so nice and left. Now the only southern court I have been in was quite surprising. A sign was prominently displayed stating no cell phones, sandals, shorts, men must have their shirts tucked in and no male earrings. The security was as rigorous as any airport too, with a metal detector, wand search, xray machine and handbag search. But I digress……
The judge is not without sympathy and tells my dh that it is very difficult to beat the radar gun, to which dh points out they are not flawless. He is asked to sign a waiver for a trial, when he gets hit with the liability clause – a possible penalty of $5k and 1yr if found guilty. Now it is hard to hide how unreasonable he finds this, but he tells the judge he is not signing or risking a year in jail for a speeding ticket! He has a clean license and this just seems unreal. So the judge cuts him a deal – plead no contest and they would waive court fees, not give him any points on his license. Pay the $200 and go home. So he does. Most unhappily.
What a welcome to our new county. What an eye opener regarding the profitability of traffic violations. I guess the officer had to make a quota, since this happened on Memorial Day weekend. I know he has a job to do, but next time maybe he could pull over someone who is actually speeding, because there are plenty of Nascar wannabes around here!!!! 
We suddenly realized the For Sale sign was taken down next door, when we saw the new people moving themselves in. New neighbors are always worrisome to me; it’s that unknown factor. The last house we lived in was isolated, three acres with acres of nothing across the street, a goat farm on one side and acres of woods on the other. The builder assured us the woods would remain, since no one could build there. Two years later trouble arrived when two houses went up.
The people who moved in next to us had five kids and as many atv’s. Well, maybe only three, which they raced alongside our property at all hours, revving the engines and also running them on the road. They would target shoot off their back deck, the kids that is, aiming towards our woods, where we walked when the mood took us. Which wasn’t ever again, after Dad told us they could do what they wanted on their property. On the other side, the goat people, as we called the owners, got a bit too intrusive. A moat started looking good right about then, but it they still weren’t as bad as our New York neighbors.
The last place we lived was an attached duplex, with a couple downstairs that would drink too much and have screaming matches all night in French. Bad enough to keep us awake, but not even letting us eavesdrop? Next door we had a woman with mental issues, who drank AND smoked. We wondered if she would catch the place on fire, until she did, and then we hoped it wouldn’t happen again, until it did. Then we moved, but not until our lease was up, since the property manager wasn’t returning our two months security until then, threatening legal action to recover any remaining time left. You would think fire was a legitimate deal breaker, but apparently not.
For a time we lived in a lake community, where there was no parking. No sidewalks, few driveways or garages. This was originally a summer community and space was at a premium. We could only park in front of the house, which was at the crest of a hill. Our neighbor had a narrow driveway and an oversized truck, plus a boat. It was extremely difficult to back the truck in with the boat there, so he told us we shouldn’t park in front of our house because it blocked his view getting out. HUH? He felt we should just park up the road by the stores and walk home. After refusing , we had many screaming tirades directed at us, by both him and his wife. Did I mention we lived there first, and they could park in front of their own house? But then, that was too reasonable.
In Florida, we lived next to a very quiet family. Too bad about their twenty cats leaving their mementos every where, like on our patio furniture. They also had a rather annoying habit of digging up my flowers and yowling in heat. On the plus side, we also had the best neighbors ever across the street from us – the cemetery. I kid you not, the folks there were the most considerate neighbors we had ever had.
So we have had lousy neighbors in our life, but who knows what they say about us? We always tried to be considerate and private though. So far, everyone is this subdivision seems quite pleasant, keeping to themselves. Someone did bring us a dish when we moved in, an act that was previously unknown to us. Maybe it will work out fine, after all, I see no signs of pets and best of all, no atvs. It’s time for some neighbor luck, like where’s Mr. Rogers when you need him????
“Naughty, Messy Mommy”
from ‘Peppa Pig’
I’m all for a clean house, but my definition of clean differs, depending on what I have going on. Clean to me is emptying the sink and calling Gia, my toddler, to turn on the dishwasher, her daily chore. If the rugs look clean, the garbage is emptied, the clothes washed and put away, I feel ahead of the game. There is always something waiting to be done, such as mirrors to be Windexed and blinds to be dusted. My floor most likely needs a good shining. I’m fortunate that my dh sweeps after each meal, and one of us will make a pass with the Swifter, an easy method of mopping I wouldn’t want to do without. Right about now, you may be thinking my house is a mess, but the thing of it is, it usually looks good. My reasoning then is, if it looks good with a minimum of effort, why stress? I save the stress for something else, and have plenty of it on hand.
I use to be fanactical about cleaning, until I realized it was like shoveling during a blizzard. I will sometimes have marathon cleaning sessions, and we all go about sprucing the place up. There is one thing I never get to that actually embarrasses me – I don’t clean the car enough. Not all of this is my fault, my dh and toddler do more than their share of creating the sloppiness. Adding a toddler to my back seat changed things. When I was smug and single, I could never understand how my friend Aimee would let her car go, with empty wrappers, cheerios and toys everywhere. She should see my Honda now. As Peppa Pig would say, “Naughty messy Mommy”. In case you haven’t heard of Peppa Pig, go to UTube and choose Peppa Pig Cleaning the Car video. It’s a childrens show, with an English pig family, which is better than average, such as Barney or Dora. Blech.
I plan on getting out the shop vac and cleaning the car tomorrow, only Gia doesn’t get to hold the hose. She already got me yesterday with it yesterday. Amazing the damage a two year old can do with a garden hose. Until tomorrow then, I’ll keep my title, unless you know someone more deserving??? (Yoo-hoo, oh Aimee………)
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Children, Drinking during pregnancy, family, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, Health, kids, Life, parenting, Special Need Children, Thoughts
My daughter kicks me. Sometimes, that book she picks up turns into a incoming missile, and it’s aimed right for my head. She will let out the most bloodcurdling screams when tired or frustrated, no matter where we are. She also will pinch herself, pull her hair out, bang her head on a hard surface and gulp down bathwater. My daughter is a special needs child, and special to us. Gia has FAS, or Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. Her birth mother drank during pregnancy.
No one really knows how much alcohol is safe during pregnancy. Many say none, and I agree. Alcohol can cause brain damage to the unborn child. It affects the frontal lobe of the brain, and impacts the executive functions, such as memory and learning. It damages the parts of the brain that affect movement, coordination, emotion, behavior, appetite, temperature regulation, sleep, and pain perception. In fact the limbic system, which regulates emotions and allows us to understand the nuances of social and sexual behavior, takes a heavy hit when affected by alcohol, but unlike an adult imbibing, this damage doesn’t wear off in an unborn child. There is no getting better, or outgrowing this – ever. This is permanent brain damage, willfully inflicted when a pregnant woman chooses to have a drink. That drink can mess up your child for life.
Gia is very smart. You can have normal intelligence and have FAS. In fact, there is a whole spectrum of fetal alcohol damage, including profound mental retardation. Some are diagnosed with partial FAS. Some escape the physical characteristics that let you know right away there is something wrong. Gia has subtle characteristics, which can work for her, or against her, because, as our doctor explained, people may be more prone to help her since she is cute, BUT, it will be that much harder for them to remember she has FAS. Her bad behavior may be misinterpreted as defiance, or poor parenting. I see this now, when she acts up in public and people glare. In fact, one man made a rude comment to us on a bus in Disney when she kept struggling to get down. I was so mad, I looked him in the eye and said, very loudly, ”She’s brain damaged, what’s YOUR excuse?” He moved to the back of the bus.
How is this diagnosed? We might not have had her looked at, because our pediatricians told us there was no need, that she didn’t have FAS. The director of DFCS, Department of Family and Children’s Services, who had custody of her at the time, insisted we take her to a specialist. Gia had symptoms when we first got her, though we thought they were due to the circumstances of her life before us. The first red flag was a history of maternal alcohol abuse. She was premature and small for her age. I think it took a year of nurturing her before she even made any percentile on the growth chart. She had poor sucking. Gia needed physical therapy and occupational therapy for her gross and fine motor skills. She was very uncoordinated, falling constantly. We never saw our coffee table again after we got her, and decorated in a safety theme.
Gia also had difficulty regulating her temp. We always thought we had the sweatiest baby around, she simply couldn’t tolerate the heat. She could tolerate pain though, that was obvious when she was self abusive. We would cringe to hear the thud as she flung herself back against the floor, or she would start slamming against her high chair.
As for the physical symptoms, her ears were low and set back. She had a small upper lip. Her eyes had a crease underneath. Her fingers had blunted ends and she had abnormal creasing on her palms. Her nails were very brittle, with two of her nails malformed. Sometimes it is easier to diagnose a child early, when abnormal features are more apparent. We are fortunate to have a center in nearby Atlanta, called, ‘The Marcus Autism Center’. They have a FAS clinic and do research there. Early intervention is essential. We take her to the psychologist – we learn how to deal with the tantrums and the sleep problems. It’s nice to have someone that understands her.
We wake up each morning and do everything possible to get through the day with a minimum of problems. We keep to a routine, because above all else, Gia needs consistency and structure. As we move to one routine to the next, we tell her, so transitioning is not a problem. She has sensory issues, and gags if her food isn’t cut up small enough. She doesn’t eat bread – it’s one food she can’t handle. We try to choose our battles. Our priority is keeping her safe, so we have to anticipate a problem. Since she is so impulsive, nothing dangerous can be within reach. My dh has to stay with her when I cook, keeping her out of the kitchen. When we are outside, we have to be able to grab her fast, since she has run in the road quite suddenly.
Gia goes to preschool three times a week for three hours a day. She cries daily, her tearful pleas heartwrenching, but she does enjoy it and it helps her. She is doing well there, mostly because it so structured. I pray that a good school experience will continue in the coming years.
We have to avoid overstimulation because she cannot handle it. Shopping can send her over the edge. Too many people upset her. We have had to leave the circus twice , and Disney a few days early. We know we have to distract her when she perseverates about something. We have to calm her down at night, when her brain won’t shut down and she does her alligator log rolling for an hour straight, chattering incessantly. There are times I have to just grab her, hug her, and let her rage.
So we learn. We make mistakes along the way. One was timeout as a punishment. She liked it so much she became fixated on it, and continues to put everything and everybody in timeout. Now we use it as a calming technique, along with deep breathing and counting. If we have to discipline her, we find putting her beloved Elmo away for awhile works best.
Raising a special needs child is exhausting, but she is a blessing - a bundle of love. Things don’t get done in my house sometimes. I worry about the future, because Gia is so impulsive, and things are so uncertain. We won’t know until she gets older how much help she will need, or what she will be able to do. Will she be able to handle money, a job, living alone? Will she make wise choices for herself? I hope people will be kind to her, and see how loving and generous she is. Say a little prayer for her, and for all the special children out there. If you’re pregnant, please don’t drink, and if you’re not, tell the pregnant women you know not to. Don’t take away another child’s potential.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Children, family, kids, Life, love, parenting, Thoughts
Tonight my dh took our little one by her hand and went to her room, returning a few minutes later ready to go.Gia, (her nickname), was wearing her knee high, ladybug rain boots, her spotted raincoat over her pjs, and her Dad’s fishing hat. Dad had on a stylish trench coat over his sweats. Hand in hand, they stepped out, flashlights at the ready, for another night patrol.
Each night they do their rounds, checking the perimeter, their flashlights sweeping the night sky, searching for the moon and stars. On moonless nights, when visibility is low, they still will spend time looking. When they do see the moon, it’s to be admired and studied, while the stars get wished on.
On they go, rounding each corner, till they come upon Rosie’s spot. Rosie is a big, persistant arachnoid, that weaves her web in the same place each day. They check it from different angles, praising Rosie the Spider for a job well done. Then they move on.
Big Froggie and Little One live in the bushes, and usually hop out each night during night patrol. Gia and her daddy take a moment to watch their antics, with Gia sometimes keeping up a running commentary and imitating them. With one final check of the yard and the sky, they head in the house. Night patrol isn’t over until I get the Moon Report. Gia runs in and waits for me to ask the questions;
Me, using most excited voice: Did you see the moon?
Gia, with a small smile: No moon.
Me: Did you see the stars?
Gia: No stars.
Me: Did you see Rosie?
Gia, with a sad voice: No Rosie
Me, with sympathetic voice: Did you see the froggies?
Gia, holding palms out: No froggies
Me: Well, what did you see?
Gia, quite matter of factly: The dark.
I love the moon report and look forward to it each night. I wonder if Gia will remember the time my dh takes with her each night before bed. Gia loves her walks, and has the same excitement each night when they leave. This has become their tradition, one I hope she carries on with her own children. This has been MY moon report, may you be illuminated by your own bit of star shine. Good night and God Bless.
Some people just will say anything, no matter how dumb or offensive. My mouth actually dropped open a few days ago over something. My husband is a transplant patient, with some complications. I was relating an outcome of a doctors visit to someone who asked, when she suddenly came out with, “I stay away from transplant patients or anyone who’s going to die. “ WHAT!!! I told her we all die, and this was my husband she was talking about. She still didn’t even realize how insensitive she was. Unfortunately, this is someone I have to deal with, and it’s not the first dumb thing she has come out with.
My BIL, upon meeting our newly adopted daughter, came out and asked my dh if she was “all there mentally.” I am SO glad he didn’t say this in front of me, as I would have hustled him out of the house very quickly before I could hurt him. 
This is the same guy that told us he liked our old house better. And tossed a dirty shirt at me once when he visited, telling me,”here, wash this”. He still remembers my response to that gaffe.
The worse thing someone said to me, came from a very old childhood friend I hadn’t seen in years. When told we had a child that had died, she actually told me we were lucky not to have any kids. Wow. Almost as bad, was the remark made by my SIL (we have some awful family members), that I was lucky to be disabled and not have to go to work. Now I put in over twenty five years BEFORE my disability, and there was nothing lucky about being injured. Dumb, dumb, dumb!!
So what prompts people to say such things? Do they need to blurt something, just anything, to converse? Are they just as dumb as their remarks? I just don’t get it. There is an old saying, that it is better to be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. To all the foolish people with their foolish remarks, next time, please keep me guessing.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Christianity, death, faith, Life, Religion, Thoughts
My life is but the weaving
between my God and me.
I only choose the colors,
He weaveth steadily.
Sometimes He weaveth sorrow,
And I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper
And I the under side.
Author unknown
We don’t know the reason why things happen the way they do, but if there is any comfort at all to be had, we must remember that we are all unfinished. There is no ending to the story of our life, even our death is not an ending, but a beginning for us. I love the poem above, because to me, it explains everything. Think of your life as a tapestry that God is weaving. You don’t see the finished product, which is God’s design for you. You get to choose what colors you want, but God will weave in what He wants. I look forward to the day when I can see the whole design and understand what God intended. I believe we all have our life’s lessons to learn, and we should hold on to the thought that we cannot possibly presume to know what God’s plan for us is. All we can do is trust that God is busy weaving….
