Day 18: Tails We'll Try Again

Michaela has had a weird couple of days. Absence seizures up to whazoo. Then plenty of the Wham Bang grand mal types when she's sleeping. This can sometimes leave her brain in a state of perpetual......perpetual-ness. Repetition. Continuous continuing.

Broken record syndrome.

Yesterday, it was some strange arm flapping, air guitar-ish type movements. Constantly. Over and over. And she seemed to like it. At least, she laughed when she did it. But then it appeared to overcome her, and she couldn't stop. So she'd walk around in circles, stopping avery 15 seconds or so to jam to the Santana in her head. Her poor arms looked like they would fall off after an hour long set.

Today, it's the word "Hi." It has taken me all day to figure out that she can't say much else. Other times when this has happened, Chris and I thought that she was just liking to say the word. Or that she forgot the response we gave her. But today.....today I figured out what's going on:

Oral aphasia.

She's responding to me, communicating with me, but only capable of using the word "Hi" (or the 2-3 other phrases that pop out intermittantly).

I was WONDERING why sometimes when she would come up to me and say "Hi", she would be to the point of tears....

I wasn't GETTING IT.

I wasn't reading between the lines.

Not that some of it ISN'T mindless repetition. I'm sure it's a bit of that as well. She's just saying hi too often for it to be communication all the time. But the times she would come up to me--addressing me, engaging me--it's those times where I'm thinking she's bogged down by the broken link in her brain. Because, if I hit the right answer, or ask the question she's dying for me to ask her, her whole face will light up and she'll blurt out "YAH!"

And poor thing, you'd think she was going to cry with joy when we finally respond correctly. She'll even hug us like we're leaving forever.

And I just figured this out.

***

Yesterday, she was playing Santana.....

Today, she's living it.....

Everytime I try to talk to you
I get tongue-tied
Turns out that everything I say to you
Comes out wrong and never comes out right

"Why Don't You and I" by Carlos Santana

Poor Boo. Always a roadblock. And sometimes, there's not even a road.

Day 17: Paying Extra For My Entrance Into The Asylum

Beautiful Saturday.

Took the kids out yard sale-ing.

Kids got hungry.

Went to McDonald's.

Treated them all to Happy Meals.

5 stupid, dinky toys.

Cheap plastic donkeys that all say: "Shrek!", "Are we there yet?", "Peek-a-Boo!"




Over, and over, and over, and over, and over, ad infinitum.




Kids are estatic.

Mom is testing the beds at the funny farm.

Day 16: What's Wrong With Your Browser?

Whaddya mean, you didn't see my post yesterday?

Did you even check?

Are you sure you had the right URL? Cuz, ya know, one little letter off and you're looking at a completely different site.

Cuz, see, the internet can be kinda tricky....kinda elusive....kinda

forgotten?

((Ahem))

So, uh.....

How 'bout them Red Sox! Go Sox! Go.....Boston.....uh.....

Sheesh. Can't a girl get a break around here?

Day 15: Tag! I'm It!

Thanks to Jeni, I don't have to come up with something spectacular to say today!

She tagged me, and I'm more than happy to oblige. I'm supposed to tell you 8 things about myself; some random facts and/or habits. Hmmmm.....

1. I like puzzles. Specifically, those with Charles Wysocki prints on them. Can't say I like too many others. I don't like hard puzzles, because to me, puzzles should be fun and relaxing. The Wysocki ones are so busy, that it's relatively simple to put together a 1000 piecer. I've been doing them since I was a kid, and still do them with Chris when we have the chance. I have two that I framed, hanging in my bedroom.

2. I bite my nails. A terrible habit in one sense, but definately one of the more benign ones to have. I always seem to gnaw on them during a good book. And overall, I just can't stand to have my nails longer than the edge of my finger. I always end up poking the kids with them!

3. I can't handle watching people kiss. Don't ask me WHY, because I really don't know the answer, but for some reason, I get that "butterfly feeling" when people are kissing. I don't generally watch the wedding kiss. I turn away if I even THINK people are going to kiss in front of me. It doesn't gross me out or anything, but I think I just feel like I'm watching something that's "too private." Or something like that. I just don't know why I feel that way. I'm probably killing myself by owning up to it on here. Now everyone is going to try to kiss in front of me!

4. I have the bad habit of throwing things away. Some people are compulsive hoarders, and I am a compulsive giver...to the trash can, that is. Or the dishwasher. Or the laundry basket. If you come over, and don't HOLD your can of Coke, then it is free fodder for getting moved, put in the fridge, or the garbage. I can't stand clutter, and so, I live by this motto: "If it doesn't have a home, either make one quickly or get rid of it!" I actually have a garbage bin for stuff that I might want later (it only gets emptied every once in a while). This is a really bad habit that I'm working on----very hard!

5. I love reading, but have a hard time finding stuff TO read. I'm pretty picky about what I like. No romance (see #3). No sci-fi. No fantasy. Very little fiction. I mostly like true stories, or very plausible fiction (not easy to find, I dare say). Some modern biographies too. That's probably why I like blogging so much. Reading a blog is reading a true story, and that's my favorite stuff to read. Coincidentally, ever since I was a child, I've liked to read true stories about children. My favorite was "Children's Hospital' because it made me cry and cheer. I never thought I'd be living out my own version of that book.

6. One of my habits is to ask questions. I can't say whether this is good or bad. Probably a little of both. Sometimes, it works out very well for me to be so inquisitive. Other times.....not so much. I'm generally the one asking the ONE question that everyone wants to ask, but won't. My nickname at church is, "The Question Box." Thankfully, I've not only learned to ASK questions, but to live with the ANSWER I get. Can't say I've always been so good at that!

7. I feel I am very good at business. My parents have taught me a lot about how to handle billing issues, creditors, money, and the like. I am not as good as my teachers yet, but I feel very confident when it comes to business deals. I don't think I would've been able to mentally take care of all of the ins and outs of Michaela's medical/insurance/disability issues without this ability. I take business transactions very seriously, and I expect the other party(-ies) to act the same. If not, then I have NO PROBLEM calling them on it. Business is business!

8. "Hello, my name is Kelly, and I am addicted to chocolate."
"Hi, Kelly."
Sometimes, I wish my chocolate habit was more of a dark chocolate habit (because it's healthier for you), but either way, it's really a bad one to have when you're looking to lose weight in the near future. I prefer my chocolate with nuts. Any kind of nut is fine. No caramel, please. Peanut butter is welcome in all instances. Cherries with chocolate? No problem, just leave them there on the counter. Chocolate coffee? Oh, you shouldn't have! Yup, it's a pretty bad habit. I DO pride myself on having at least a little bit of control in that area, though. I got a bag of mini Reese Cups for Christmas, and I'm still not finished the bag. Pretty good, huh?

Well, that's that. Don't start the kissing, please. We ARE taking chocolate donations, however.



Here's my tagged bloggers: Dana, Chrystal, Tesia, Kayla, Josh, Poppi, Nicky, and Reba. You can refer to this post for the rules (underlined up top). Have fun gang! Can't wait to see your answers!

Day 14: You Can't Say I Don't Know Myself

Like I said, I'm better today.

Is it really that bad? Am I just blowing things out of proportion? Maybe I'm hormonal. That's probably it. Or......maybe I just have bad days every now and then like everyone else, eh?

But I'm not a negative person. I'm definately a "glass half-full" kinda gal. Yesterday's post is SO out of the ordinary for me. I hope y'all can tell that. Now, I even feel bad. Like, I shouldn't really vent at all (unrealistic?). I keep reading that post to make sure I wasn't having a pity party. If I was then it's coming down---I just don't like giving that impression. I don't pity myself. I don't pity Boo. I don't sit around wishing she was something she's not, and I don't begrudge my place in this life.

It just gets hard sometimes, that's all.

That's all I'm sayin'.

***

I know it's normal to have hard days. And even Dana, her teacher, deals with Michaela's little ideosyncracies on a day to day basis---she's KNOWS what my hard days are like. All the teachers in her class do. Like Chris and I tell each other when we vent, "You're preaching to the choir, Honey!" I'm sure Jeni, and Jen, and Evan's Mom, and Thimbelle, and Mete, and all the other "special needs" bloggy Moms have had days just like mine.

And, if I really think about it, so has Mitchi, and Heather, and Denna, and Jules, and Reba, and the other "regular needs" (which can get flat out overwhelming too, right?) bloggy Moms out there.

Raising children is just that way. You have your good days and your bad.

Oh, but you guys are right! The good days WAY outnumber the bad. I know that. I know that.

I guess I just needed a good crying jag yesterday. Know what I mean? Thanks for the shoulder, guys.

AND the prayers.

Y'all are the best.

Day 13: Bad Day

I'm irritated.

You know, it really stinks when you have a special needs child, and you know they need you, and you know they need you in a special way, but you're sooooo exasperated with them, that you can hardly function.

I know that sounds bad. I know that sounds wrong.

But it's reality.

Sometimes, I'm just so downright aggravated with Michaela and all the things she can't do (or things she DOES), that I have to be away from her.

I hate it. I really do.

I'd rather be some kind of super Mom that can have the utmost patience in every circumstance, every time, no matter how many times I have to repeat myself to her. Or, no matter how many times she ignores me, wants to have her way, or downright disobeys me.

You wanna know what it's like? It's like having a child in the terrible twos.

Who doesn't grow out of it.

***

I don't know why, but for some reason, Michaela has been overwhelming the last week or so. She talks constantly. She consistently says, "Huh?" EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. she's told to do something. Even though she can hear us. Without fail, she will tell us what she wants to do, instead of doing what she's told.

I don't raise children like this. I don't give my kids lots of opportunities to do what they're told. They have been trained to obey, or face the consequences. If I say "go," they say "where?" When I tell them to hush, they hush. Temper tantrums are NEVER allowed. Telling us "no" is NEVER allowed.

But Michaela does all that and more.

And I can't treat her the same. That's obvious. But she's NOT two. She's almost 10. She's as big as ten. Yet, her mind is at two. And it's pretty terrible to have a 65 pound 2-year-old who won't obey without a huge production. Two-year-olds get disciplined, then go on their merry way. Michaela pouts, and cries (melodramatic like) and tries to do what she wants. I can't just pick her up and move her to another room like I would with a young child. I can't just stick her in a playpen either! (Oh, how I wish sometimes!!)

***

Today, she talked non-stop. That in itself is mind-numbing. Sometimes, my mind gets so overwhelmed with her incessant chatter and repetition, that all I can do is laugh. Laugh till I cry. Because she can't help herself, and I can't turn her off. If she has her head on something, it's stuck and won't go away. For hours even. There's nothing I can say or do to change her mind sometimes. And so I tell her to hush. But that's useless. So I send her to her room. But her attention span is so short, that she quickly forgets why she's in there. So I give her another toy to play with....same result.

And then I get stern with her. Mean even. Trying to elicit the response I'm looking for (obedience? hello?). Nope. If I try to punish her, she gets her feelings hurt something awful. Like she has no clue what she did that was so bad. Apologizing to me for the longest time.

And you know what? It probably WASN'T all that bad. All I did was tell her to hush, and she wouldn't listen. Why is that so bad? She probably couldn't even hush if she wanted to. But after hours of it, I can't STAND it anymore. I can't function. I'm to the point of tears.

I try to be understanding. I try to talk her through the things I want her to do. I try to be patient. But I'm human. And I have my breaking point. I have my limit.

I'm not supermom.

I'm just "regular mom".......

.....and days like these make me wish I had a regular kid.

Blasphemy, I know. Oh well. Special needs is not a bed of roses.

If it is, then I must not have a "green thumb."





(ok, so I'm venting. welcome to my online diary. come back tomorrow. i'm sure i'll be fine.)

Day 12: And I Just Like To Eat Them....

Check this out. Perty cool.

But makes me think that some artists aren't what you call, "starving."

Day 11: Cheese!

Since my Mom and Dad are in town, I decided that I wanted to get pictures taken. Professional pictures. It's been four and a half years since we've had family pictures taken....

...that's BEFORE Libbigail! I have DOUBLE the number of kids now!

Yeah. Pretty pitiful. I know.

I'm not sure why, but the thought of my parents coming just seemed to make me want to get them done. I think I liked the idea of having them in the pictures. I wanted some shots of them with the kids. We also got shots with just the kids, just Chris and I, and my favorite:

Me and my Mom and the girls.

See, 10 years ago, for Mother's Day, Mom and I had our picture taken together. I was pregnant with Michaela at the time, and it was my first official Mother's Day.

So I thought it was neat to get our pictures AGAIN for Mother's Day. This time, with 3 generations. As another gift for Mom.

(And before you get your hopes up, no, I'm not going to post it here. I'm too self-conscience of pictures of myself!)

We got some cute pictures all in all. Here's a couple of the best of them:

The gang with their Grammy and Grandpa

The Kidlettes

And I'll tell ya....you should see the hoops the camera people jumped in order to get the shots to come out! Working with 6 kids, for a total of 10 people is NOT easy. Kudos to Portrait Innovations!

Day 10: Blame It On The Brain

I forgot to post yesterday.

I had a pretty bad headache, and could do nothing but go to sleep when I normally write.

But here's a complimentary pic---just to sooth your feelings......

Day 9: Mom And Dad

They drove over 1200 miles to come see us, and they arrived today.

My Mom and Dad are some of the best parents in the world. They raised me right, and taught me what I needed to know to make it on my own. And yet, even now, being a married woman for over 10 years, they still share, give, help and spoil me.

I hope, I pray, that when I'm the parent of grown children, I will be able to be as wonderful to my kids as my parents are to me (and my siblings). I know I will definately TRY, because they have led by example, and so I know HOW to make my grown children happy (even before they're grown), just from seeing how my Mom and Dad treat me---how that makes me feel.

"Special," "Loved," "Cared For"........ the rest can't quite be put into words.

They're just really awesome people :)

Day 8: My Gift, My Time, My Sacrifice

THIS is why I homeschool......

And THIS reason too......






But most of all, I think I just like my kids.

Why would I want them gone all the time?

This is my gift to them: to be their Mom 24/7, to be their teacher, to give my time, to sacrifice my present "freedom," to keep them close.

To train them in the way they should go.

I homeschool my kids. It's my labor of love.

Day 7: Mistaken Identity

I find it a pretty interesting concept that I saw this building


And thought it was one of two things (because I could only see the LARGE print):

1. A new fitness center
2. A new church


I was strongly leaning towards #2. But turns out, it's actually a movie theater.

***

I've since come to two specific conclusions:

1. Americans are fat (the author included), and therefore, gyms are spending big bucks on marketing themselves, and making their place look big on frills and worth the money. Which would lead me to entertain the thought that the Rave Cinema could be a workout club.

2. Americans aren't as interested in the "seperation of church and state" anymore.....Or, in this case, the seperation of church and "the world." Because there ARE churches out there that call themselves such unchurchy things, like "Rave," and they market heavily to reach the masses---using every trick in the book to get people in the door. Which would lead me to entertain the thought that the Rave Cinema could be a new church.


This case of "mistaken identity" doesn't bother me so much when it comes to the gym, but I'm thinking the church idea...........well, that's pretty sad.

...............in my humble opinion.

Day 6: Blowing Steam Out My Ears

It's VBS season here.

At our church, it's more affectionately called just "Bible School." I am the project leader for the "junior" aged children, otherwise known as "pre-teen", ages 10-12. I think you can already see where I'm going with this.....

Unlike a lot of VBS programs, ours runs a full 10 days. It is completely homegrown, as opposed to the programs we did when I was a child. Those were pre-packaged kits, if you will. They always had catchy names like "Fun in the Son," "Savior Safari,"or something along those lines. And when I was a "junior" (as we call that age), I was DOING VBS, not attending it. So, working in my congregation's version of Vacation Bible School is quite a change of pace for me.

Like I said, it's homegrown, which means the projects are also that way. The juniors and the older teens only put together one project for the entire program. So it has to take more than a day or two to make. And as the leader in the project department, I have to come up with a project that pre-teens would like to work with and take home.

Both the girls............AND the boys.

And therein lies the rub.

As a female, I am naturally pulled in the direction of projects that have a more girlie side to them: baskets, candles, pottery. Yet, the tomboy side of me tries to keep the process fair and so I work hard to keep it all balanced and enjoyable for the male set.

But sometimes, that's so hard.

10-12 year old males are generally not considered crafty. Yet, I've gotten a few of them to work hard and not sling paint and mod podge all over the room.

Because, that's what they really WANT to do.

Sigh.

***

So, in my efforts to find the perfect project, the perfectly bipartisan project, I often end up completely frustrated. Spent. Worn out. Exhausted. It seems as though every craft store in town has ganged up on me to NOT carry the one item that will put the finishing touches on the craft. And usually, it's that one thing that makes it acceptably boyish. Hence, without it, we couldn't really do the project at all, without leaving the males in the cold.

Because, let's be honest: it's not HARD to find butterflies, flowers, and ribbon paper for papier mache boxes, is it? But go ahead, I DARE you to find paper with footballs, tractors, or race cars. You think it's there? HA! So did I! Go ahead! Try to find them! They're NOT THERE!

ARG!

Oh, but they WILL be AFTER Bible School is over. I assure you. Those craft stores have it in for me. (No offense Mitchi)

***

Today, I put the project together for the first time. It came out nice. I'm hoping that the boys will take to it. It's not as boyishy as I wish it would be, but they can't blame me for not trying. Maybe if they don't like it enough, they can give it to their Mom.

Or their sister.....

***

Here's last years project: marble magnets on a hanging metal plate....

A girlie one....

....and something to suit the boys.

Stay tuned to see what we're doing this year.

Day 5: Baby Toes

Gotta love 'em.....
Gotta kiss 'em.....

Day 4: This Funny Bone Ain't So Funny

My arm hurts.

Don't ask me "why," because I have no clue why it hurts. Or "when," since I don't remember ever hurting it. All I know is, last night when I was getting ready for bed, my elbow started hurting. Around where your "funny bone" is. Dull and achy pain, like when your fingers swell. That dull ache quickly turned into a sharp pain when I moved in certain ways. And later, the ache crept down my arm, affecting those muscles and the hand.

In case you didn't know, it's hard to be an effective Mom, when you're arm is all-but-useless.

And strangely enough, the arm in question is my left arm. NOT my dominant arm. So, how I hurt an arm I don't use as much is beyond me. And even stranger, is the fact that seemingly un-arm-related type movements are killer on a bum arm. Like, bending over, for example. I can attest to the fact that the muscles that run through your arm DO contract (for some unknown reason) when you're bending over. Even if you hold your arm slack. Yup, that elbow just feels like it has to be part of the action. I know this now.

Sooo, I'm trying to get done what I have to, even though it hurts. But just like I did with the toe, I asked my pastor to pray that it would get better quickly, and I trust that it will. I just have to be creative between now and then. So I can actually get something accomplished while Chris is at work tomorrow.

Good thing I like being creative!

Day 3: Eggin'

Here's a set of pictures I neglected to post back in the "unbloggy" days of April. As you can see, only a couple of my kids got any good camera time! The two oldest boys were in a different area, and really didn't need help like Michaela and Asher did. They all enjoy the thrill of the hunt, though :)

Day 2: The End of An Era

Gabe's been transferred. To another room. To another bed. So I can get some sleep. So he can get some sleep.

It's the end of an era. The end of baby cradles.

I'm not sure how to feel about this.

Day 1: Magical Erasure

My Mom and Dad are coming to visit next week. Which means I'm on a whirlwind to get things nice in and OUT if my house again (you know it's true, Mom!).

They have agreed to stay in our pop-up camper. Our house is a taaaad bit too small for comfortable company, but I really didn't like the idea of them going to another town to stay in a hotel. So the camper is kind of "middle ground": not a hotel, but not cramped, and generally comfortable.

Unfortunately, the aforementioned camper was looking somewhat....shall we say....moldy? Not real mold, mind you, but that harmless green stuff that grows on vinyl. You know, what your patio furniture looks like after a couple of years of living outdside?

Yeah, thaaaaat. IE: not pretty.

So, I got a good tip from a fellow camper on how to spiff up Crusty the Camper....
And all I have to say is......

Wow.

Wowie.

Double Wow.

These things WORK.

I have scrubbed the camper before. I'm talking s.c.r.u.b.b.e.d. This time, I wiped it clean.

Wiped.

I'll take wiping over scrubbing anyday.

Goodbye Crusty! Helloooooooo Pristine the Pop-up!

A Day Here, A Month There....

And little do we realize how much the blog gets neglected!

And I had such aspirations of doing better! Yet, I've posted LESS! Ack.......

There's a blog I read where the author didn't post for like 2 or 3 months straight. And like her, I'm feeling pretty bad about it. Probably because I WANT to keep a journal of my life, and also because I know people are waiting to hear from me.

She decided to post for 30 days straight. Every day. And she's done it.

Hmmmmm......I may just need to do that. To be able to get back in the saddle again.......

I'm Losing It, You Guys

I took a test today to see if my "dialect" was more Yankee or Southern. And according to the test, I'm "barely Yankee."

Me? Barely Yankee?

How strange!

The weird thing about the test was this: I took it the first time, seeing the options for each question, and trying to answer it the way I've always known. And yet, this born and raised Yank came out only BARELY Northern!

Then, I went and took the test again, this time answering in ways that I would NOW that I've lived in Alabama for 6 years. (For example, in the past, I would've addressed a crowd as "You guys" or "You all." Now, I say "y'all" quite frequently.)

And it said I was 97% Dixie. It asked if General Lee was my father!


So, the synopsis is this: You can be born anywhere in the country, but if you live in the South for any length of time, you WILL talk like a redneck.

I'm walkin', talkin' proof, y'all.