Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Random Thoughts Tuesday...



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I have noticed that all the ads on the sidebar of your blogs and my face book account all have one common theme.  Weight loss.  There's a whole lot of running ads, Dr. Oz, and of course the "one weird tip" ads.  Which got me to thinking.  If we could really "melt away all our belly fat by just following this one weird tip", don't you think none of us would have belly fat?

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We scored another free treadmill on Sunday.  Our last one broke in January, so I have been walking/running contingent on weather which has it's good and bad points.  Needless to say, I'm loving that it will make the 3-Day training easier since I won't have to leave the house for hours on end to get in my miles.  And, hating that it is now 85 degrees with 90% humidity. Sadly, it just magnifies the fact that I really need a haircut.

~~~~~~

The Bruins are in the playoffs again.  Which is good, really it is.  But here in New England, we just aren't used to hockey going this long.  It's overlapping with all our other sports.  Throw in NASCAR and Tony's a  statistic mess.  And seriously, can we just finish this off within the allotted amount of time?  Midnight people!  Triple overtime!  This is insanity!  We are OLD!  We can't be staying up until all hours of the night.  Chop chop B's.  Get 'er done.

~~~~~~

We still have 9 more days of school.  NINE more stinking days folks.  Youngest's grades have closed already so they are literally doing a whole lot of nothing. Field day, pizza parties, field trips to the beach, outdoor concerts, and a whole lot of Popsicles.  Oldest is trudging through finals, and much to his dismay has been selected for advanced math next year.

~~~~~~

The kitchen is almost done.  Almost.  Just one more wall section to go.  Hopefully it will come together this week before I lose my mind.  And then it's on to the garage... and a nap.  Well, maybe the nap first...

~~~~~~

I've recently discovered that there's a section on Craig's List  called Missed Connections.  You post about your "missed connection" and that person answers your "Want ad of love".  Am I the only one who finds this hysterically funny and seriously concerning at the same time?  I mean, come on?  Do you really think that that girl you saw at the Luke Bryon concert was even sober enough to remember her own name?  Or, that the pizza delivery guy will ring your bell again because of that spark between you while paying the bill?  *sigh*  I think this means I'm officially part of the older generation now.  You know, the generation that thinks it's NOT acceptable to advertise for an affair or break up via text message.

~~~~~~~

And most importantly.... wait... what....

Train of Thought Button

Seriously.  Time for that nap.

Friday, June 14, 2013

It's Not Really About The Chickens....

You never know in what form learning will be most effective.  Some learn best from books, some from practice, others from trial and error. When it comes to fifth grade and human growth and development, otherwise known as sex education, teaching from a textbook most often results in blank horrified stares of boys and red faced giggling girls. Text book teaching is still the best way to broach this subject, because quite simply applied trial and error is NEVER a good idea. Unless of course, you can take the yucky-gross-I'm never doing that out of it.  The thing about babies, any kind of baby, is that everything has to come together just right in order for it to happen.  Take the right number of compatible genes, cellular development, optimum temperature, and proper nutrition and bingo-bang-go, you've got a baby. But, if one thing isn't right that's it, game over.  But how can you teach this, in it's full magnitude, without a text book or loss of life?

 A month ago (not long after the human growth and development "booklets" were handed out) 23 eggs arrived in Youngest's class.  Each one round and flawless, some the perfect shade of brown, others reddish or green in hue. Carefully, they each penciled their number onto the shell and placed them on the turner in the  incubator.  Then, they waited.

Around day five they removed the eggs, two at a time, and candled them.  Each child was excited to see what, if anything, they would see.  Most saw little blobs within the shell.  One did not.  Another week past and they candled again.  Some eggs showed larger blobs, some blobs moved and squirmed about within the shell.  Others did not. On the farm the mother hen would have long abandoned those eggs, somehow knowing that they were not going to thrive.  It's called survival of the fittest.  But here, in the classroom, they are just another reminder that things don't always work out like we'd hoped.

On day 22 exciting things began to happen.  Cracks formed and beaks pecked through.  Data was recorded, and the whole class watched and waited as their "babies" hatched.  Soon enough, gooey wet babies emerged discarding their blood lined mucus covered shells.

Funny how none of the kids found this part of birth gross or yucky as they had in the text books.  Each child had names picked for their chicks.  "Larry" emerged before his brothers, Moe and Curly, and it was clear that while he looked and sounded perfect, something was wrong with his legs.

He was the third chick hatched, and it was clear that he would not be able to eat if he was left alone.  More healthy chicks hatched, and soon the kid's attention was diverted from Larry.  The classmate was sad.  He felt hopeless, as we all did.  We kept looking for a sign that things would be okay, but no amount of hope would heal his legs.  But a quick trip to Walmart and some internet ingenuity could.
Angry Birds Medical Tape.
Because irony is never lost on me.
It seemed that his legs could be taped and corrected if you could brace them before the bones hardened.  We returned to the quiet classroom, well after hours, and went to work.  Youngest held him while I taped. He actually fell asleep while we worked.
Cutest Chick ever.
Reminds me of Ming Ming the Wonder Pet

And then we took him home.  All the "research" we did said he needed to be watched for 24 hours, so we packed him up and brought him home.  We watched.  We waited. I fed him water with an eye dropper.  I listened for peeps at all hours of the night. Tony cursed me under his breath, but was thankfully distracted by the hockey game...

And the next day we returned him to school.  The classmate was thrilled.  He knew it may not work, but it was something.  Soon all the kids and teachers were rooting for Larry, and sure enough he grew stronger.  He hobbled back and forth to his water and food.  And, all the while more chicks hatched.
Climber... he's all yellow with one patch of black on his head.

Yellow ones, brown ones, reddish ones.  Beaks peeped though and legs popped out.  Eventually all but two had hatched completely.  After two days, the beaks that had so readily been peeping, stopped moving.  Clearly something had gone wrong.  It was decided to help both chicks since it clearly could not get worse.

One, despite everyone's best efforts, past away during the night.  The other, small and gooey, had clearly defecated on himself and was no where near as strong as he should have been.  His cord was still stuck to him.  This classmate was devastated.  He returned twice to the classroom under the guise of forgetting something, but we knew why he had gone.  He was hoping he would live.

The next day, he was placed with Larry, as the other chicks were so much bigger and already establishing a pecking order.  He struggled to his feet.  Struggled to water.  Struggled to food.  He survived, even when all logic said he shouldn't have.

This is life folks.  You can teach the birds and the bees from a text book all you want.  You can use pop up books, politically correct terms, and insert tab A into tab B diagrams, but THIS is the real thing.

You don't get to choose what you get.  Some babies are born healthy, perfect and beautiful, and others not at all.  Some are born strong from the start and others have to learn strength.  Some need a little help along the way, and others need to just be let go.  Each one is no less important than the other, and each can teach us immeasurable things about themselves and who we are as people.  Because while we don't get to choose what we get, we do get to choose  how we spend our time, our best efforts, and our kindness.

And, who we hold close under our wings.

Larry and Lil' Nugget.
Best Buddies.


Wednesday, June 12, 2013

I May Need Medication...

The problem with adult ADD is that in order to get things done, you need a list.

Then you need to remember what you did with the list.

Otherwise you get a whole lot of little things done, but never the little things that actually need to get done.

Because of course, as we all know, people with ADD are easily distracted.

By noise....

shiny things....

and chickens....




Youngest's class is hatching chickens.

They had six hatch overnight.

They have this fan-dangled camera thing that allows video of them to be projected onto the screen in the front of the room so the kids can see them all day.

As you can imagine, nothing's getting done in class.

Kind of like at home.

Now where is that list??????

Monday, June 10, 2013

Weekend Recap...

So here it is.

The post I think most of you never thought you'd see.

Ever.

My weekend consisted of this...

Friday night, I made dinner, painted a 3 X 4 foot wall section behind the stove, did a few loads of laundry, and went to bed.

Saturday I went to work, TONY finished the laundry, came home and went for a nice four mile run with Youngest.  We discussed middle school, animals, his life's ambitions, and the pros and cons of moving his room upstairs while running.  Cause that's my boy... he's a tough nut all week.  Nothing but "fine" and "good", but take him for a run and he's redefining Einstein's theories in great excruciating detail.

Sunday I slept until 10.  I went for a 7 mile walk. Came home, showered, grabbed some homemade cherry pomegranate sangria, and walked a half mile to my friend's house for a little get together with the girls.

And that's it.

Nothing but sunshine, sangria, and a bit of sunburn.

Good times, pen pals, good times.

There's a decent post coming, I promise.

Maybe Wednesday.

Maybe.




Thursday, June 6, 2013

Truth Is Thursday...



Truth is... Oldest announced that according to his Science class, he can not be held accountable for his memory span.  It is only half his age. According to this logic, he has an attention span of 6 minutes.  It would stand to reason then, that my memory span would be 19 minutes, but he says no.  It's only 11 minutes.  It seems that it stops at 11 minutes once you get older.

So there you have it.  Scientifically speaking, I peaked at 22.

He also is horrified that I buy him white bread.  Seems there's something in white bread that will make him have to pee in a bag when he gets older. He says he also learned this in Science. Hmmmm.  I offered to have him go gluten free with Youngest and I, but he didn't buy it. Kind of like his efforts to scientifically get out of having to remember our rules with his 6 minute memory span.

Truth is... I went for a four mile walk today.  With only 50 days left before the walk, it's time to get my butt in gear again.

Truth is.. I'm starting to freak out a little.  Fifty. Days. Yikes.

Truth is... It's a bit sad that this will be the last Boston 3-day.  I'm very glad I chose to do it this year since the next available city will be Philly, which would just never be feasible for us. Seems there was a reason my for that nagging feeling in my gut aside from indigestion.

Truth is... Aside from work, I've got no major plans for the weekend. Which is really nice since tropical storm Andrea seems to be making a visit, complete with lots of rain and 45 mph winds.  Might be the perfect weekend to put my feet up on the couch and rent some of the movies Janie's been telling me about.

Truth is... that's all I've got.  How about you?

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Our Big Fat Vacation...

Sorry.  Things have been a bit busy here.

It all started the Sunday before Memorial Day, when we flew to Philly for a quick get away.  Planes, rented automobiles, and five deer side road kill later, we arrived in Hershey PA around ten in the morning.  Too early to check in, we ditched the car at the hotel and headed to Chocolate World and made ourselves some chocolate bars...




That's my chocolate bar being made!


Monday we hit Hershey Park itself...  and all the coasters...





we fed the ducks...


The kids are on there somewhere...


I have no idea who these people are,
but that's the top of Oldest's mushroom!

Tuesday morning we went to Gettysburg...


Cannons are original, wheels have been rebuilt


View from Little Round Top




Cannon Ball Hole in side of farm house


Stone walls were all there before the battle

Then, Tuesday afternoon we went Zip lining.  I have only one picture from this and can't get it off my phone. But the entire experience was AMAZING.  I highly recommend it.

Wednesday we spent the day traveling home, creatively transporting a fungus across state lines...

Thursday the kids returned to school, so Tony and I hit Home Depot, rented their truck, bought drywall, plywood, and a BRAND NEW pretty ladder, and dropped it all off at the house.  Then we loaded the tree that we had cut down...

and dropped it all off at our friend's house, returned the truck, and decided we needed lunch. Well, Tony needed a margarita.  Later, Youngest needed to meet his boy scout troop and shop for their upcoming camp out, so I tagged along and shopped for the week since we were down to milk, 3 eggs, and a questionable banana.

Friday I had an eye doctor's appointment.  Tony dropped me off since I would need to have my eyes dilated and would not be able to drive. He headed to the gym and I had my appointment.  When I was done, I headed over to the "ancient eyebrow threading place" and decided to take care of some much needed maintenance.  So let me paint the picture for you... Pupils the size of dimes, I can't see, I have welts all over my face from the threading, and Tony decides to go to lunch at the ONE restaurant where we know the owner.  He leaves me at the bar to go check out the outside area with the owner and I order some Sangria. I assumed it would be light, watered down, and subtle.  WRONG.  They make it fresh, by the glass. *sigh*

So now I have pupils the size of dimes, blotches all over my face and I'm buzzed.  Oh, and I still can't see.

Good times my friends.  Good Times.

Later, fully sober and less blotchy, I dropped Youngest off for a three day camp out...

His first EVER, and without us to boot.  He did awesome, but the 12 gauge he shot nearly knocked him on his booty.

Saturday it was just me and Oldest.  Tony was at a golf tournament and Youngest was making himself one with nature.  Oldest's brand new headset for his computer came so for the most part I let him game all day.  I tiled some more of the kitchen...

I built two shelves by the left hand upper cabinets for spice storage, rewired the phone jack, fashioned some panels to make the bottom cabinets more cohesive, and tiled behind the stove.  It still needs grout and paint (where applicable) but it's coming along.  I also fixed the floor so the cat food no longer gets stuck.  Yeah!

Sunday we picked up Youngest early for our 5K....
Stretch it out... :)

Tony did really well.  He placed 2nd in his age group.  I walked and ran with a friend, which was just what I needed since I had eaten my weight in chocolate earlier in the week.  Youngest started out running, then walked back to join a friend of his to walk the rest.

Sunday Night we had tickets to the Revs game....

What can I say?  Excellent game, but I could have skipped all but the last 10 minutes.  We won 5-0 scoring 4 goals in the last 10.  And that Fagundez is adorable, you know in the he's 18 and I'm way too old to think about him in that way, kind of adorable.

Monday I had to work and the kids had school, but aside from that we slept. Tony was on his last day of vacation and since it rained all day, decided to finally clean up and organize the office and make me the happiest wife on the planet.

This morning, Youngest woke up and said "I finally feel like I'm not tired".

I wish buddy, I wish.

My next vacation is being spent poolside pen pals.  Mark. My. Words.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

How To Get A Fungus Across State Lines...

Step One: Plan a way fun trip to an amusement park 8 hours away.  Give in to your husband's insistence that he WILL not drive there.  Score a sweet deal on Jet Blue and book round trip tickets for $65.

Step Two:  Wait 6 months for said vacation.

Step Three:  Arrive at the amusement park prepared to spend the entire day.  Having obtained a park map the day prior, plan your strategic hit list of must-ride coasters.  Proceed to drag your parents on this:

(Skyrush images from here)



Listen to your mother scream until she runs out of air. Then listen to her scream again.  Aaannnnddddd again.

Step 4:  Knock out two more coasters, get stuck in one when the lap belt release won't release.  Realize it's better to be stuck in the coaster than dangling from it.  Regardless, decide it's time for some old fashioned carnival games.

Step 5:  Beg your mother for $5 to play the "Knock Down The Cups" game simply because you can use a  gun that shoots ping pong balls.

Step 6:  Ignore your mother when she says over and over that you will not be able to get the prize home on the plane. And that you'll have to carry it all over the park for the next 8 hours.

Step 7: Ignore her again.

Step 8: Win anyway. Gloriously claim your prize.

Step 9: Drag prize all over the park for the next 8 hours.  Find it a seat during lunch.  Juggle it while eating ice cream.  Thank Mom every time she holds it while you are on a ride.  Find space for it on the shuttle back to the hotel.

Step 10:  Debate all options on how to get it home.  Shipping?  Too expensive.  Utilize the extra seat we purchased on the airplane that went unused?  Nope.  No one wants to sit next to fungus.  Un-stuff it?  Nope.  Squish it into the suitcase?  No. Way. On. Gawd's. Earth.

Step 11: Realize that Mom's a genius.  While at Rite Aid, she asks for an old shipment box.  Then she asks the hotel for packing tape and a black sharpie marker. Bow to her brilliance.


Step 12:  Excited at the new found solution, you attempt to stow it in the rental car's trunk to no avail. Proceed to drive the next 2 hours to the airport with it on your lap.  Face plant your forehead into your extra comfy box "pillow" and take a nap.

Step 13:  Arrive at airport and check luggage.  Explain to every one what the giant box is that only weighs 4 pounds.
Step 14: Have all luggage diverted to a different terminal.  Slightly panic when the suitcases have arrived but your box has not.  Breathe easy when your box appears. Tote it all the way through the parking lot and have Step Dad cram it into the trunk.

Step 15:  Arrive home. Unpack your fungus.  Give it a big hug as you welcome it into your home.



*Note:  That is my TWELVE year old, 5'2" son behind that Mario mushroom. *sigh* The thing is enormous and now resides in the corner of his room.  Shakes head... the things we do for our kids...  Thankfully his Younger brother only wanted a twelve inch purple squirrel, which of course, went carry on.

Monday, May 27, 2013

Random Acts Of Kindness - Part 2

 photo raoc_zps0fb7dd8c.jpg

God makes them cute so you don't kill them. In fact, God made Youngest so beyond Gerber baby cute, I began to wonder who his parents were.  But, by the time he was 4 I knew why.  God had a plan for him, and it involved me not killing him by his fifth birthday.

Youngest was 11 months old when his father left.  He was not quick to speak, but when he did it was concise and articulate.  He internalized everything from a very young age, and then without warning, unleashed his every emotion on anything, anyone in his path.  He broke a computer at 3, knocked over 200 pound anchored bookcases at 4, and kicked a well meaning, but completely misguided day care worker's bridge right out of her mouth.  He took it out on himself as well, shoving raisins up his nose, stabbing himself with pencils, and escaping from various classrooms and playgrounds by the time he was five.  

I sought counselling for all of us, and multiple highly paid professionals diagnosed him with one thing or another.  He had more labels than a spice rack, bipolar, manic, Op-positional Defiant Disorder, Autism Spectrum, ADHD, the list was endless.  Add to this a delusional, vindictive father who fabricated stories which both his sons under age four truly believed.  They wanted his love and approval, and played right into his seeded destructive game, regardless of the consequences. Youngest was heavily medicated, expelled from daycare over and over, and at age FOUR it was suggested that I relinquish my rights and check him into Mass General Psychiatric Ward for testing. Seeing my resistance to their professional opinion, I was then told that he'd likely never amount to a viable part of society, would never have friends, and would always struggle. 

The whole world had seemed to have turned on us, so I turned a blind eye right back and kept trudging through.  It was this persistence that lead me to a therapist that recognized what was going on with their father and through legal means (yet definitely dicey borderline breach of practice) ensured I got what I needed for both of my boys.  She found ways around their company policy and spoke confidentially to different agencies to allow me to get what I needed for both my boys.  We were not just another broken family to her, and her act of kindness was the first time I had felt like our little family of three would be just fine.

It could not have been easy for my parents to have us back living in their home when my divorce became final.  It would have likely been easier to tell me to lay in the bed I had made, but instead they renovated their home to accommodate all three of us.  Their once nearly empty, quiet home was now filled with obnoxiously loud screaming toddlers, safety gates on every door, and the unmistakable aroma of diaper permeated the once pristine formal living room.  And lest not forget those fabulous door knob covers that made it near impossible to get into the bathroom in a hurry, or the safety plugs in every. stinking. outlet.  But,  it was their act of kindness that allowed me to refocus and buy our first home.

Being a working mother meant full time day care.  Countless day care centers, each one a fantastic fit until something happened.  And then it would start.  The rolling of eyes when we walked in, the deep sighs when I'd say it had been a rough morning. Just as it seemed we'd be moving on, viable options of local centers dwindling, there was one person who saw in him what I saw.  She worked with him, she learned his language, she loved him.  She hugged him and let him fall asleep on her lap, State guidelines be damned.  She'd call to check on him when he was home sick and always made sure he got the care he needed.  She lost her job eventually, and while I don't know the specifics, I know that those things she did for Youngest, the things he NEEDED, were all pieces of the bigger picture.  Her act of kindness, her act of unconditional love, gave him the tools he needed to form his very first real friendship, one that still lasts through today.

By the time he reached 3rd grade many things had changed.  We were able to more definitively diagnosis his behavior. He maintained a gluten free diet and many of his symptoms had disappeared.  And, while the school system had been relatively supportive in the past, as the school work increased, and his previous behavior was buried in paperwork, and his new classroom environment became another catalyst.  When my concerns were voiced I was repeatedly told "it must be something at home, it can not be the teacher or the classroom".  Having no where to turn, and no starting point from which to jump, my aunt stepped in.  A former children's advocate, she advocated for him free of charge, taking time off from her current job, reading up on the latest guidelines, and made every meeting to ensure he would get what he needed for education.  Suddenly all my earlier voiced concerns were being heard, aids were placed in his classroom, and during the last two months of school it was finally admitted that maybe it wasn't home, but his classroom placement that was the issue.  Without my aunt's act of kindness, I have no idea where he'd be.

By fourth grade with my aunt's help and a solid IEP, he had been placed in a proper environment for his learning.  An inclusion classroom, a low ratio of students, with a seasoned teacher who had earned her masters in special education.  She was firm but willing to compromise.  She too took the time to learn his language, and she learned quickly how to recognize when he needed a break.  She helped him get his reading to grade level.  She celebrated his success, and communicated his progress with me on a daily basis.   The day his father died, she was home sick. Regardless, she pulled herself out of bed and went in to see him for lunch, just to make sure he was okay. 

When she was told she'd be going to 5th grade, she told me she'd have "never let any other teacher have him".  And, for the second year in a row, she has willingly dealt with his anxiety, panic attacks, frustration, and success.  One particularly frustrating day when he had to write observations within the classroom, he noted that there were wipe boards, kids reading, and that he had to do stupid writing assignments. Sandwiched among his observations, she saw that he had written "I notice that my teacher never gives up on me."  

Her act of kindness has ensured that Youngest has never given up on himself.

All too often when we think of random acts of kindness, we think of strangers doing one time niceties.  The impact of such an act can set forth a ripple of good fortune for days to come, or it could just make someone smile.  But LIVING a life of random kindness, when it's not convenient, not easy, not company policy, those are the acts that can change a life. I don't know where I'd be if these people or any of the others had chosen an easier path, or listened to the professional opinions instead of their hearts.  But I do know that I would not be watching him sink two points at a basketball game.  He would have never had the confidence to run a 5K in 27 minutes or compete for his blue belt in Karate.  He would not find joy in planting sunflowers, or helping a baby bird to safety.  And I definitely would not have just celebrated his eleventh birthday surrounded by real friends, ones that support him and want to be around him, regardless of the the day he's having.

And THAT act of kindness has made it all worthwhile.