For more great photos, head over to Sarcastic Mom's spot.
Trick-Or-Treat
Normally we're scrambling to get costumes done in time for trick-or-treating around here, but this year we outdid ourselves. We didn't even tell the kids we were going out tonight until they got home from school.
Micah has seventy bajillion costumes that he's been wearing daily for a month. Tonight he chose to go as a nudist. No, seriously. He wouldn't even let me put a Pull-Up on him. And then he thought better of it and donned a poodle skirt. It rode as low as Michael Phelps' streamlined, award-winning speedo. The boy takes cross dressing to all new lows.
Sam suggested that I make Micah a pair of scrubs, so I cut down a pair that Sam no longer wore. Micah approved. This is good because that nudist look would have gotten cold through the course of the evening. Plus it's always a bonus not to be arrested for indecent exposure while trick-or-treating.
Micah immediately got a pen and put in the pocket of his scrub top, because that's what Daddy does when he goes to work.
The kids made out like bandits. Every kid does, you know. We hit a trunk-or-treat before going around to friends' houses. And remember the family who gave canned goods last year? One better. Margarine sticks. Stellar. Oh, the sweet and gooey baked goods I can make with those things. Like pumpkin muffins with chocolate chips.
Unexpectedly
After fighting with Children's Hospital for a week over surgery scheduling to put in Micah's 7th set of ear tubes, I got a call this morning that it could happen. That was nice. It only took 9 phone calls over the course of 4 days to make it happen. I am nothing if not persistent.
The local ENT said that they needed to check his heart and lungs to determine his state of health before the surgery could happen, and could I bring him in today at 12:30? They were sorry for the inconvenience. Really though, it wasn't. I was thrilled to comply. And not to have to drive to Pittsburgh for it.
The staff at the local ENT just adore Micah. It's his DS that they are in love with, actually. This makes me smile deep down in my heart. As we were leaving, another of their favorite patients came in. She's 27 years ahead of Micah, but she's walking our path. I was thrilled to make her acquaintance.
Her mother instantly recognized Micah, even though we'd never met. Her daughter had been to the x-ray department and met Sam several times before, and Micah looks a wee bit like his father. And then we proceeded to talk. About how blessed we are as parents of these children who don't hold grudges. About how difficult it is on occasion to live with a disability. About doctors and family and special programs. It was like meeting an old friend.
Parenting a child with Downs is a denominating factor unlike any I've ever seen. Parents of two year olds will chat over the Terrible Two stage, and feel a connection. I know, I've been there. But parents of kids with DS are like family. It matters not that we've never met before, we all know exactly what it's like walking in these shoes. We have our different variations, but we're family. We're there to help. We're there to encourage. We're there to give a hug. We're simply there.
It's one of the biggest blessings of being Micah's mom. The extended family is simply amazing.
The Best Christmas Gift Ever
So now that the cat is out of the bag about our upcoming Disney trip, let's discuss it for a moment, shall we?
I was at Disney twice in my life. The first time I was there was when I was 19 years old and our family was in Florida visiting my future brother-in-law from hell. Since we were on his turf, he was in charge. We were naive and trusted that he'd do right by us. We had no idea how much of a stupid idea THAT was. Live and learn, and boy-howdy did we ever. Do you know how much I remember from that trip? The villages at Epcot. That's it. I'd have to look at pictures to see what else we did. I have suspicions that we did Disney and Epcot in one day if that tells you anything.
The only other time I was at Disney was 12 years ago when Becky was 2 and Josh was 6 months old. We were visiting Sam's brother in LA and the entire family (yes, the ENTIRE family - MIL and FIL included) decided it would be such a fun idea to visit the park between Christmas and New Year's. That was just as big a mistake as going with BILFH. Just thinking about the crowds will still send me into a fetal position in a corner of my closet. We rode one ride - and that was during the parade. It was that insane. I remember fighting crowds, and the evening parade. That's it.
I'm seriously looking forward to this trip. So are the kids.
We get to go during one of the slowest weeks of the year, it'll be decorated for Christmas, and the kids will be awed sufficiently. I cannot wait to share the magic with them, and see the looks on their faces, and live Disney through their eyes.
But it's more than that.
The Sunshine Foundation has their own Village outside the Disney parks. With Micah being a rare exception, most of the children there are terminally ill. Sam and I have had a very small glimpse into this world through our visits to Children's Hospital, but our kids have been blissfully shielded. Our children, thankfully, have tender hearts. They can appreciate health in themselves when they see that basic right deprived in someone else. They can cry for the child who doesn't get the chance to graduate high school. And because of Micah, they're not afraid to reach out to someone else and make a connection, if that connection will make someone else feel a little more special.
I'm thinking that this year at Christmas, when we're back from a glorious Disney vacation, our kids will realize that we are incredibly blessed. That we don't need gifts heaped under our tree, because we have each other. That we don't need things to make us happy, because we are healthy.
I'm thinking it won't be Disney's magic that will make our holidays shine this year. It'll be the magic that we encounter at the Village, in all the smiling faces of the Bravest Kids on Earth.
The Reason Behind the Insanity
It appears that I need to clarify some things from yesterday's post. We are not the family that starts projects and finishes them, thereby having a brand new house and yard every other year. We are, instead, the King and Queen of Unfinished Projects. And from the comments that I got, we are not alone in our kingdom.
There is a reason why I started tearing out the carpet in the living room even though the laundry room is now sitting in my hallway and will not get finished in the near (or maybe distant) future. It's a good one, too.
While we were sitting poolside in North Carolina last month, I got a phone call from the Sunshine Foundation. Micah was granted a wish, and they're sending us to Disney.
I think I SQUEEEEEEEd right there on the phone.
So here's the thing. I love decorating for Christmas. It generally takes me about 2 weeks to get all the crazy installed, and I start the day after Thanksgiving. We'll be flying out the Monday after that esteemed holiday, and will be gone for a week. That leaves me very little time (and I can guarantee there will be little inclination) once we return. This means that I will be forced to decorate for Christmas in early November. My arm has been sufficiently twisted.
Our carpet, as mentioned many long months ago, is a dead and rotting entity in the living room. It's embarrassing to say the least. Even my sister felt the need to comment on the horrendous condition of the flooring. THAT's bad.
I'm not keen on entertaining for the holidays with something dead and rotting in my house. So it stands to reason, then, that replacing the carpet before the holidays would make sense. And actually getting the new flooring laid before I set up two fully decorated trees in the living room would also make sense.
See how that works? Give yourself a deadline. I'm hoping that this little project of mine keeps rolling right along because things need to happen. Christmas is about to break loose all over this house and I need a living room floor beneath it all.
You might want to occasionally stop in to see if one of us is dead. I have never nagged the husband over anything in 17 years of marriage. It's not my way. I will get this done even if nagging will happen. It might get ugly. But the floor will at least look good.
Just Keeping It Real
When an extended family member passes away, you find yourself inheriting an upright freezer. This is good because we wanted it.
If you inherit an upright freezer but have no place to put it, it will sit in your dining room for a month, and your foyer for two months, before you finally decide that it could possibly coexist peacefully with the washer and dryer in the mud room.
If you remove the shelves to place the upright freezer in that space, you will begin to wonder where to place those shelves, and start eyeballing the useless counter top that was shoved in the corner when you built.
Just as you are about to rip out the useless counter top, you wonder aloud about where the dryer will vent when you replace it sometime in the future.
Your wife will tell you that she just sold a horse and has money to replace the dryer now. You will then go buy a new dryer because you are tired of the old one burning random articles of clothing.
You will realize that the new dryer will fit into the useless counter top space and will now be forced to move electrical outlets and vent holes to accommodate it.
You will come home from work the next day and find your wife and son pulling up the living room carpet.
You will turn around and go work in your garage because you want nothing to do with another project.
The Small Things
Micah and I had lunch at Subway. We shared a footlong. I got extra onions on his half, because the boy loves onions. He picked them off and ate them plain.
Micah spent his meal vacillating between concentrating on his food, and people watching. The man that came in and went to the restroom before ordering definitely broke protocol. He deserved to be growled at. The lady with the Farrah Fawcett hair garnered a wide smile, and he had to pat my arm to direct my gaze in her direction. He missed nothing.
I spent the meal watching Micah.
We parked behind the speech therapy building and walked up through the parking lot. Micah discovered the joys of fallen leaves. They crunch when you step on them. They are glorious to kick. They are the best for shuffling through. He slowed his pace to extend the fun.
I slowed so that I could walk just behind him, watching.
Because he missed school the day before, Micah insisted on standing in the driveway waiting for the van to come for ten full minutes this morning before finally deciding that it might be alright to wait inside where it was warmer. For a boy who fought school for three long years, this made me smile from the inside out.
I waited patiently in the cold with him, listening to him talk about things and watching him make elaborate hand gestures.
Sometimes it's the small things that make the biggest impact. Sometimes seeing the world through the eyes of a child is the best way to see it. Sometimes I need to learn from my children how to live life to the fullest.
The Weekly Medical Status
I had an inspiration today. It doesn't happen often, so I figured that I should probably write it down. Micah needs blood work done yearly to check his thyroid and other various things. I haven't had that done yet this year. Mostly because it's not fun. It takes Sam and I and two nurses to hold him still enough for the best phlebotomist to draw blood. We've learned to ask for the best. One year the nightmare so bad that we'll never forget to request who's working even before we drive to the hospital. I won't go into detail, but let's just say that both arms were exhausted, toes were bled, and blood clotted before they were done.
So anyway - the inspiration. With Micah's ear tubes needing to be placed again, I'm thinking that surely they can draw blood while he's sedated. It would be so much easier for the tech, the parents, and the patient. Also for the people in the waiting room who have to listen to the screaming of a small child. That cant' be easy, either. I will be checking into that posthaste. I'm not sure who to check with, but I'll check regardless. I also won't take no for an answer because in my mind, it's just not an option.
Fear me. I am Micah's mom. Or something like that.
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Becky has been in pain for a few days, having difficulty sleeping, and downing Advil like candy. Three points to the one who guessed that her cyst is bleeding out. The gyno appointment confirmed just that. He gave us a prescription of Vicodin for pain management, and I'm thinking that we may start selling those on the street to help finance the upcoming holidays.
Too bad I have scruples.
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I read recently (okay, it was in email, but it still counts) that in addition to the regular flu-avoiding tactics of hand washing and coughing into your elbow, there are other things that can be done that a lot of people don't know about. The thing is, the flu germs are incubated in your airways for up to 2 days before they sprout into a full-blown virus. Simple things like frequent and/or hard nose blowing can dislodge germs from the nose, and gargling and/or drinking hot liquids can kill off or wash down germs from the trachea to the stomach where they can't grow, but die.
This actually explains a lot. During the winter months I tend to drink hot tea like it's a life sustaining substance. And I am a chronic nose blower. Don't even get me started on this. It annoys the heck out of me, but it's the truth. I blow my nose. It's who I am. I'm also the one in the family that usually manages to avoid getting sick while caring for everyone else who is.
And now that I've actually said that out loud, I'll probably be sick all winter. Jinx.
I'm thinking Starbucks should start touting this information. Hot liquids? Hello? Starbucks could be single handedly warding off the flu this season. They should pay me for that piece of marketing advice. In coffee. Or peppermint mochas.
I Even Managed to Mess Up Being a SAHM
I had a vet appointment and an ENT appointment scheduled in conjunction with each other in the afternoon, which left the morning wide open to actually clean and sew. Except that Luke complained over the weekend of his brand-new braces being loose and stabby. An emergency orthodontic appointment seemed to be in order because loose braces can't be doing their job and I'll be darned if I sold my firstborn to pay for braces that aren't going to straighten teeth.
While waiting for the ortho to open, I sat down to print a shipping label so that I could mail that shirt I would be getting done today. The printer is schizophrenic and is having an off day. There was no printing of labels, so I spent the next fifteen minutes arguing with PayPal shipping that I really didn't print the label and that I do need reimbursed for the money they took out of my account. I won. I think. The transaction is currently pending.
I got through to the ortho who said to come in right away, so I did. Or at least I tried. The heavy frost (have I mentioned that we're in the grip of a winter freeze here?) didn't thaw off the van for some reason (no heater, isn't that just grand?) and I couldn't find an ice scraper for the life of me. I tried a broom (don't tell Sam) but that didn't work well. I resorted to my old standby of tossing hot water on the frosty windows.
The ortho said there is nothing wrong with the braces. All that for naught.
I've realized that the orthodontist's office is the meet-and-greet of the county. It's like Wal-Mart that way. Today I met a friend that I hadn't seen in a few years and we chatted extensively. She's always been a working mom, and was telling me the story of her scratched cornea and how she had to take a week off work because she couldn't see to read or drive or function in society. She said by Day 2 of house arrest she was bored out of her mind and wondered what stay at home moms do with their time.
I tried not to glare at her.
I did question myself, though, on where I went wrong. Why do I not have tons of free time, being a stay at home mom and all? Why am I not bored with my life after two days, much less two years, of the kids being in school and me being home alone all day?
I have managed to mess up being a stay at home mom. That takes some talent right there. *sigh*
And The Numbers Keep Climbing
Remember last week how we were at the ENT, and I decided to change to the local practice? I wish I'd done that years ago when the thought first occurred to us.
Mental note: those thoughts that occasionally occur to you need to be acted upon. That's why they occur.
New Dr. ENT was incredibly patient with Micah. New Dr. ENT's staff worshipped the ground the uncooperative boy trod upon. New Dr. ENT was able to clean out his ears (while a new record of 4 people held him down) and it was determined that his ear tubes are out. This is rather shocking news, actually. Mostly because I am aware of when his tubes are out. His hearing is impaired.
Has that sunk in with you yet? I'll give you a minute.
His tubes are out, and he can hear just as good as when his tubes are in. Earth shattering excitement here, people.
New Dr. ENT suggested that we wait a month to determine if he'll fill with fluid and monitor his hearing before making any decisions on whether or not to replace the tubes. New Dr. ENT is a wise, wise woman indeed, and I wholeheartedly concurred.
Except.
(Those always exist, don't they?)
Except that small fact that we'll be flying in just over a month and what if he's fluid-filled while flying? Wouldn't that be anywhere from uncomfortable to painful? (The answer was Yes.) So it was determined that Set of Tubes #7 be installed within the next month. Sometimes the boy just can't catch a break. And yet, all we do is well thought out and in his best interests.
Maybe next time. Maybe there will never have to be a Set of Tubes #8. I'll probably have difficulty wearing gloves this winter because I'll be walking around with my fingers crossed for the next few months.
Men Never Go Through These Things
There's a reason why it's been 5 years since my last OB/GYN appointment. Procrastination. Plus, it's something that's easy to procrastinate about.
First off, the entire office staff changed in the past 5 years except for Dr. Hawaii (who is super cute but has a very strong opinion that having boys is so much better than having girls because in today's world you don't have to worry about boys in their teen years. Um, yeh, okay then.) and the receptionist named Breezy. Other than those, all new. Weird.
And now they ask that you fill out a 23-screen questionnaire online before going in to the office. This takes no less than one hour and several phone calls to ask your mother at what age grandpa was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and if that's what he really died from or was it a bleeding ulcer? They also seem to be super concerned whether or not you're on recreational drugs and if you think you need help. I'm guessing that not many people will be honest with questions like that. And when did the gynie doc become a therapist?
They take your picture with a web cam while you're standing at the receptionist's window. It's for their files. Or maybe for a police report if you checked yes to the recreational drugs question. This is an awkward position to find yourself in because you've just come in from thirty degree weather (seriously - there was SNOW on the cars outside) and you weren't wearing a coat because you're stupid that way and you're frigid with red blotches on your face and your hair is windblown and you have no idea if fixing it would help or not, and would that just make you look vain? So you stand there pretending that you're not getting your picture taken by a handheld webcam from across the desk, knowing that the angle from a sitting level to a standing level will not be flattering no matter what you do but you make a feeble attempt to stretch your neck out anyway to camouflage the second chin. And then you realize that you're totally posing and feel like an idiot. I'm so glad that I didn't see the picture and probably never will. I have strong suspicions that the staff just keeps these on file to laugh at during slow times.
Yeh, that was traumatic for me. I was also distracted by the school closings flashing on the television due to the impending snow storm and wondering what the heck I'd do if Micah was released early. His school wasn't listed, so I was safe from that worry.
When I finally got to the point where it was just me and the paper blanket, I realized that I had chocolate on the butt of my jeans. Micah was eating chocolate chip cookies the night before and must have chosen to wipe his hands off. How I didn't notice that when I put them on again this morning is beyond me. And thank goodness I chose to wear the huge, baggy sweatshirt instead of the shorter one. I walked around the rest of the day with that thing pulled down as far as it would go. I'm not sure if that was a better look than chocolate bottom or not, but it's the one that I chose.
I stopped in to have lunch with Sam because he was just across the street, but he was terribly busy with sick and injured patients, so after chatting for a few minutes I left my lunch for him and left. He did, however, ask how the appointment went. Let me just state for the record that when we were dating and I had my very first gynie visit, I came home about three levels of traumatized and wrote him a letter (it was 18 years ago, people) saying that when, in the future, I go for a gynie visit, he should be so considerate as to have dinner made for me and the house picked up because it's that bad. That's never happened, by the way. And now he asks how the appointment goes as if I was at the candy store instead of having my whereabouts violated.
I can't believe that I left him my lunch. I'm such a schmuck.
The good news is that the scales at the doctor's office weighed me 5 pounds less than mine at home, and that was fully clothed with shoes on. That means theirs measured me roughly 8-9 pounds less. That right there is enough to make me forget everything else. But not enough to be super excited about going next year.
Saturday Shots are Back This Week
It was a beautiful, beautiful October day.
And then it snowed. In October. Stupid weather.
Motherhood is Synonomous with Amnesia
I once read a scientific study that said that women lose brain cells while giving birth. The labor I had with the first child alone should have left me completely brainless. I'm grateful for anything that I have left. That also might explain why we have four children.
My first pregnancy was my worst. To say that it was unpleasant is an understatement. I hugged that porcelain god in the bathroom way more than I care to remember. And the labor. Dear Lord, please forgive me for the cruelty I put that poor intern through while I suffered 17 hours of back labor. I was clearly out of my mind with pain and can't be held responsible for my actions. And I meant every word I uttered through the pregnancy of never having any more children. EVER. And I meant it while screaming them through the labor and delivery. That lasted right up until I looked into the face of my newborn daughter, and I swear the third thing I said was "we'll have more."
Boom! Just like that I forgot about nine months of sheer misery and seventeen hours of the worst pain known to mankind. It was erased from my mind, and I went on to birth three more children. Two of them without any medication at all. That right there can only be attributed to dead brain cells.
When those babies were growing up way too fast, I forgot that I wanted them to be little for as long as possible and attempted to make them grow up sooner by spoon feeding them. I also forgot that spoon feeding ranks right under potty training on the list of things I hate doing with the kids.
Even after a baby had a pooplosion up the back of it's shirts in public, I would still forget to check the diaper bag on occasion to be sure that all the essentials were there, and I would venture forth into imminent disaster because of my memory lapse. I once had to purchase a new outfit for myself, complete with bra, when Micah barfed up formula down the front of my wool sweater at the mall. But I guess packing myself extra clothes never was part of the routine. See how easily I forget?
When the kids pushed me to the edge of my sanity and I invented creative punishments for them, somehow I could never remember that a week without television was a greater punishment for myself than it was for them. Listening to a week's worth of whining and griping and begging probably killed off even more brain cells, which is why I was stupid enough to do it all over again in a few months.
And even now, when my baby is 6 (where DID the time go? Can it really be?) I am still suffering from brain cell loss. Micah is an early riser just like all the other kids have been. Sleeping in means not seeing numbers starting with 6 on my alarm clock. And yet, after fourteen years of parenting early risers, I cannot remember to go to bed at a decent hour. Being perpetually sleep deprived does nothing to help regrow brain cells.
Can brain cells grow back?
Who Is This Boy?
Micah must have missed that everyone with Downs is so loving gene. The boy is just too busy to take the time to dole out hugs and kisses. And if you think you'll sneak in some snuggle time, he's onto you in about 3.8 seconds and he turns it into a wrestle-fest. The boy loves to wrestle. He doesn't need an invitation.
When he sees grandparents, he'll be all excited, his face will light up, he'll raise a hand in greeting, and then he'll rethink what he's doing and his head will drop while he shuffles past them hurriedly. One just can't take the chance that a grandma or pappy will *gasp* kiss him. Yeh, the horrors. And what's worse is a hug. What if they never put him down? What if they carry him off and take him home with them? What if he never sees mommy again?!
Seriously, that's how it goes down.
And yet, just this weekend at church, he ran up to grandma and gave her a big bear hug. She loved it, and I stood there pretending not to be amazed. He came to his senses before too long and wiggled away so that he could run off and be embarrassed in peace.
Tonight at Wal-Mart he saw a girl from church. He ran up and gave her a hug.
Who the heck is this boy? And will I have to start watching him around girls now? Because there's a little girl in his class who just plain loves everyone and doles out kisses like candy. I may have to watch her and Micah a little closer in the future.
And I've Reached My Tolerance Level on THAT Point
Today I finally got tired of driving to Pittsburgh for ENT appointments and added a local ENT to the long, long list of doctors on Team Micah. They will check the status of his ear tubes for me roughly every 6 weeks or so, and we will have the tubes replaced at Children's when the need arises. I'm grateful that they are willing to do this for me, and grateful that I have effectively saved two hundred barrels of oil while shaving off the two hour commute every other month. I'm also grateful to be doctoring locally where people are blessed with a few ounces of common sense.
The swine flu is starting to grate on my nerves. Call me crazy, but I'm not sure that the nation has a grip on reality anymore. The medical community has said that the swine flu is just another variation of the regular flu. When someone has the swine flu, the symptoms range anywhere from a cold to the flu. People die from the flu every year, just like people die from injuries, car accidents, heart attacks and everything else. The swine flu is a new strain of an old malady. It's not the worst thing that has hit America since the small pox.
My husband works in the medical field. I know these things.
So why is everyone in a panic? Why can't we go about our normal lives? Why do I now have to fill out a questionnaire at Children's asking if any of us have had a fever or cold symptoms in the last 24 hours? Why am I issued a mask if I check yes to either of the above? Why do they think Micah would let a mask on if he was issued one?
Although, in the interest of not looking panicky, the paper did clearly state that if you were issued a mask they are assuming that you did NOT have the swine flu, but just exhibiting swine-flu-like symptoms. Generous of them, don't you think?
With cold and flu season coming on, I can't imagine anyone will be immune from wearing The Mask. I, for one, will probably refuse. Mostly because it would be pointless for me to wear one if Micah isn't. And there is no chance on this side of eternity that Micah will wear one. I wonder what they'll do when the refusal is made. That would be interesting.
Thank goodness our small town isn't completely freaked yet. Someone needs a healthy dose of common sense.
Things We Learned Recently
**If a lizard dies, you suddenly become a lizard rescue center. (No, we don't know why he died, and yes, there were many tears.) Weirdly enough (or not so weirdly - I have strong suspicions that Josh has been praying about this) we were offered leopard geckos (Josh's very fave lizard ever) by two different people. This is good, because now Luke is the proud owner of one of them, and this makes him a very happy camper.
** Leopard geckos are NOT bearded dragons. One word: ewwwww.
**Sweater dresses are the most fun fall fashion that I've seen, but they are not created equally. Nor are they for the average mother of four. (Hello, saggy belly and additional padding.) I have found, however, that with perseverance you can find one that not only flatters but also falls into my low-budget criteria. Also, the mirrors in dressing rooms are so much more flattering than my mirrors at home. I think those mirrors are paid on commission.
** Knee socks with skirts are weird animals. While it invokes the whole school girl image (for better and worse), it's also quite fashionable now. And much like the sweater dress, not everyone is cut out to sport the latest fashion. Also, if you leave the house in a skort and flats because you were cleaning like a madwoman and were hot, and the temperature outside is barely sixty degrees, you will be forced to buy kneesocks at Wal-Mart to get through the day without freezing your leghairs off. Your husband will mock you when you stop in for lunch. You will then continue to wear them the rest of the day just to show him who's really who. Your knees will wonder what they ever did to you to be subjected to frigid temps for extended periods of time while unprotected from the elements. You will give your new kneesocks to your daughter at the end of the day.
**Verizon has great coverage in our area and therefore is a keeper as far as the cell phones go, but the business is running a scam to garner your entire paycheck one way AND another. Restocking fees are bogus. Not telling you about them when they tell you that you have 30 days to make returns or exchanges is deceptive. Charging you $35 for an exchange is infuriating. And that's the tip of the ice burg.
**Staff scheduling is not for the faint of heart. Those in charge of such things in the working world have my utmost respect, and pity. Why do people feel the need to tell you as they show up that they will only be able to put in a half shift? Advance notice, anyone? Hello? Thank goodness the corn maze is only for one month. I'd seriously injure someone if I had to deal with this on a permanent basis.
** If your house is fifteen kinds of trashed, people will flock to it and pretend not to be appalled even though you've had zero notice of their arrival.
** Your husband's idea of cleaning up and your idea of cleaning up are not the same. This is just one of the many subtle differences between men and women.
** Having a house full of teens is easy entertaining, but expensive to feed. Yoi.
**After having your house converged upon for too many years and too many reasons, you reach a point where you don't really care if people pretend not to be appalled and are just grateful that nobody died in the wake of the family's natural disaster that obviously blew through. You also hope that you have friends that are willing to look you in the eye the next day after being nearly eaten alive by the disgust that is in the bathroom.
** Sleep is good. Very good.
Food Makes Him Happy. Very Happy.
We went out to eat over the weekend at a buffet. Or butt-fey, as the family is so fond of calling them. Micah's idea of heaven on earth is eating at a buffet. The boy lives to eat, and by golly, there's food there as far as the eye can see. He gets a plate full of salad. And then one with meat. And one with veggies. And he can't eat any of these without ice cream to dip things in. Yes, he dips lettuce in ice cream. And green beans. And anything else that he thinks of. One just can't eat at a buffet without ice cream to dip something in. And he has no less than three plates in front of him at any given time. For real.
On his thirteenth trip to the salad bar (just trying to get his money's worth, and one piece of lettuce at a time helps with that) I found the onion slices. The boy discovered onion slices at CiCi's one day and it's been a love affair ever since. The boy loves lettuce. He eats it raw. The boy loves green beans. The boy loves chicken. The boy loves food. But nothing is as wonderful as onion slices. Micah clapped when I put onion slices on his plate.
He clapped. For onion rings.
And then he dipped them in ice cream.
Eating with Micah is a culinary adventure like nothing else. And now you know why eating a chewed up onion on my hot dog isn't really a big deal. I have a stomach of iron.
Fun Facts
Our family all have sweatshirts with T21 on them. I wear mine ALL. THE. TIME. Besides being super comfy, it's the go-to shirt for educating the masses. There are a lot of people who ask me what it means, and I get to tell them. It stands for Trisomy 21 - the medical term for Down syndrome. October is Downs awareness month, and I try to wear my comfy sweatshirt everywhere I go. Truly, people must get tired of seeing it. But that's alright with me because I'll never get tired of championing my son's cause.
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You know what I worry about on occasion? Teeth. Micah's teeth, to be specific. At 6.5 years old and has yet to get a loose tooth. I get brave every now and then and put my fingers in his mouth to check because how else would I know? I just envision that whole scenario to be a nightmare. The sore tooth, his love of eating everything non-stop all day long, the sore tooth... I'm also envisioning anesthesia and extractions involved because the boy won't sit in a dentist's chair to even have a look-see inside the cavity of his mouth.
Fun times ahead, my friends. Fun times. Let's just hope that I'm exaggerating things a wee bit in my mind.
The slow loss of teeth isn't really uncommon for someone with DS, nor for someone in our family. They say teething patterns are hereditary. Sam was a late bloomer as far as teeth were concerned, and the kids have all taken after him. They've all sported weird eruption patterns as well. Becky was my fave - she got her top corner teeth first, on the days before and after Halloween. Daughter, thy name is Vampire.
Micah has some weird teeth going on in his mouth, and while it's par for the course with Down syndrome, it's not overly noticeable. The kid has his sister's fangs. Only when she got her other teeth in, her fangs were no longer noticeable. Micah's definitely are. They're considerably longer than the rest of his teeth. I'm really wondering what he'll look like when his permanent teeth are in, and hoping that braces aren't a necessity for the boy because that would not be my idea of a good time either.
Thank goodness we have a dentist who sees a number of patients with DS and has considerable experience with it. And thank goodness our dentist isn't one to panic nor raid my pocketbook and insist that we do everything that we can to keep him in business. So far, he's good with Micah not really (okay, not at all) brusing his teeth, he's good with Micah's tooth grinding (and strangely, after 18 months, so are we - it's amazing what you can grow accustomed to when you have zero choice) and won't prescribe an insert unless he's wearing down his teeth - which he's not, and he's good with getting bit on occasion (Micah drew blood several times) to check out the overall health of the mouth. Our dentist is a keeper. Unfortunately, he doesn't doctor at Children's, so if an extraction under anesthesia is involved, he probably won't be.
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And here's another fun tidbit of information. Most individuals with Downs have smaller airways (trachea, mouth cavity, ear canals, sinus passages) which not only cause a world of fun times at the ENT (hello, 6 sets of ear tubes, I'm looking at you) but cause a bit of problems when the kids are under anesthesia. Intubation is almost a given. Couple that with the fact that anesthesia slows the heart, and all things heart-related freak doctors out when working with DS patients, and you've got a recipe for impending disaster.
I know that any time anyone is put under anesthesia there are risks. I'm just saying that, according to Children's Hosptial, those risks are greater in individuals with Down syndrome. Just about time we'd convinced ourselves that we could get ear tubes placed at our local hospital by a local surgeon (of whom we've heard great and glorious things), we heard the policy from Children's Hospital that they will only place ear tubes for those with DS at the main campus and not any of their branches. Their reasoning: there are too many things that could go wrong. Well that just makes me feel warm and fuzzy all over.
So we'll continue doctoring at Children's any time anesthesia is involved. And continue praying as he's in surgery. Because really, that's all that we can do. Well, that, and double up on procedures when we can. Multi-tasking is the way to go.
The Price of a Date
First of all, I have to give a shout-out to my readers for killing the fruit flies. You guys rock. That vinegar/water/dish soap in a dish trick is attracting the little things like, well, flies. AND THEY'RE DEAD. I love looking into that little dish every now and then and seeing their dead bodies floating around. It warms the cockles of my heart.
Now on to the story of the day.
Sam was invited to an award banquet last night because he was given an award at work. Nothing spectacular, he just managed to be there for 5 years without quitting. Go, Sam! We got a sitter for the kids (thanks, Mom!) and went out for the evening. Actually, it was more like 2 hours because it was at the local ski resort which is just minutes up the road. (No, we don't ski. Ironic, I know.)
I came home, put Micah to bed, and spent the rest of the evening curled up in bed with a book. Upon waking this morning, I was appalled.
The craft bag for the kids at the corn maze has been sitting on the floor in the kitchen since last Saturday. Micah got into it. There are balloons, craft sticks, and pipe cleaners everywhere. In the dog kennel, on the shelves, under the computer stand, and on the kitchen table kind of everywhere.
The tennis balls and golf balls got together and had a party. All. Over. The. House. We have no less than several dozen of each variety. While they were kicked to the far corners of rooms and reposed quietly under tables and couches, the fact remains that they were rolling rampantly at one point.
The video games that have sat collecting dust for months (seriously, MONTHS) were haphazardly shoved back into their hiding place under the end table. I know they were gotten out because there are wires sticking out like that end table is going to blow if I place a book on it. It didn't look like that before last evening.
There was a sleeping bag in the living room.
The last three remaining cupcakes (there were twice that before I left) have finger/tongue prints in the frosting. I don't recommend you eat them, we'll save those for the boys.
The couch was used as a jungle gym. I know this because the blanket that I keep permanently thrown over the gaping hole in the leather where the dog decided to snack was askew. I am anal about keeping that blanket looking Marthesque because someone might feel the need to straighten it and then would see a gaping hole in the leather of my sofa.
This was in addition to the normal toy/video mess that is always jiving at our place.
This happened in TWO HOURS. And I know for a fact that Micah was the one who did 99.2% of it all. I don't even have to ask. What ails that child? He knows better than to do half that stuff, and yet because I'm gone and grandma is here, he thinks it's fair game to get into everything and trash the place?
It's no wonder that we take him with us when we go out for date night. The boy. OOOOHHHHHHH the boy.
Thanks again, Mom. You deserve a nap today.
Embarrassment Is A Way of Life
Becky was talking to a friend recently about the angst of the teenage world. Said friend is a bit embarrassed by her family at times. Their vehicle broke down and until it gets repaired, they're driving a vintage Beatermobile, which in all honesty, looks good at least. With a little pimping it could be one sweet ride. Said friend doesn't care, and tries to hide when her mother picks her up from school.
Oh, the horrors.
(I haven't shown you a picture of our very own Barfmobile, named specifically for the stellar paint job that is puke green with chunks. Seriously. Awesome doesn't begin to cover it. And that's just the outside. I DID share a picture with Laski, who was in disbelief that a car could be so bad, and come to think of it I haven't heard from her since then.)
Said friend has a little brother this is Micah's best friend, which is a little scary to be honest. This little boy wanted to wear a Darth Vader mask into the grocery store the other day. His sister was mortified.
Becky laughed.
When Becky relayed this information to me, I realized first of all that we have a very well adjusted and down to earth daughter. Second, I realized that after six years of Micah, we've become conditioned to just about anything. A Darth Vader mask would be a welcome change for once.
Remember that time Micah mooned an entire restaurant, packed to the gills, on Father's Day? We do.
Or how about the time he pulled off his diaper in Wal-Mart and I bought him underpants and put them on him right there in the aisle?
Or our everyday life when Micah just uses the great outdoors as a potty?
Or how about the fact that the kid spits his chewed up food onto my plate during mealtime?
There's always the time that Micah wore red boots to round up the ponies. JUST red boots.
And think of all the times that Micah is just plain LOUD while in public. Loud enough to be a beacon to call the family together when they wander off. (Yes, we do use our son as a bullhorn. We're just taking advantage of super powers when we see them.)
Yeh, I'll take a Darth Vader mask any day. That would be a walk in the park compared to living with Micah.
Flexion Control
The kids and I were shopping the other day. Somehow, shopping brings out family togetherness and bonding amongst us like nothing else can. Except when it doesn't.
We were talking, the kids and I, about the fun of the upcoming holiday season. (You can always get excited about Christmas, no matter what month of the year it is.) We were talking about the fun we would have, and the places we would go, and the things that we would do. And how awesome it would be. We do love the holiday season around here.
In the midst of all our holiday planning and discussion, Luke said, "I need to learn to flex my butt muscles so that I can fart louder."
That brought an instant and temporary halt to all discussions. I'm not sure that I even want to attempt to understand that statement.
Job Worth
Since I quit the working world eons ago when I was 9 months pregnant with my firstborn, Mondays have been the start of a quiet week. If by quiet you mean taking care of a newborn, then a toddler, then a toddler and a newborn, then four kids, a kennel full of dogs, and a business.
I'm telling you, there are definitely days when I know it would be easier to work than deal with the running of the house. I'm not complaining, mind you. I've chosen this profession and I love it. I just find it ironic how everyone thinks the grass is always greener, you know? Those in the working world long to stay home, and those who are house-bound long to get out.
Everyone always complains what a busy, crazy, tiring day they had. It doesn't matter if they've worked at the sewage plant, at the law firm, or stayed at home with the kids. And we all think that surely someone else's job is easier than our own.
Everyone puts in more hours than they're originally slated for. I do think that moms have the upper hand in this one though. It's a 24/7 job, and call is every single night. Some moms have a willing husband to help with evening hours or night shift, and that's a bonus.
Nobody is appreciated for what they do. Not the McDonald's drive-through cashier, not the mailman, and not the mom.
Everyone has days when you work like a dog and get absolutely nothing done. Everyone hates those.
Everyone garners a paycheck. Some more than others, and sometimes not always in relation to how hard one has worked. Stay at home moms earn one, too. Theirs is in sticky kisses and bear hugs. While it's nothing that you can buy groceries with, it's enough to make you get up and do it all over again the next day.
My job rocks.
It's All About Location, Location, Location
So we've had a particularly nasty outbreak of fruit flies a while back, and quite frankly, I'm tired of them. They don't seem to care that they've worn out their welcome, and just party on like it's 1987. In an effort to frustrate them into moving on, I even placed the bananas in the refrigerator last week.
I've heard that bananas in the fridge will keep longer. I also heard that bananas in the fridge will brown, but it's just the skin and not the actual fruit (which keeps longer). I have always been afraid to try this because I have kids. You know how it is.
Yes, honey, the banana has a brown spot. If you cut it out, the rest of the banana is good.
And yet, the kids won't believe a word that you say because their brain is all "but the banana is brown" and then the banana sits there and really does rot and I have to throw it away. I get peeved when I throw food away. This generally is coupled with an inquisition on who wasted food and why. My kids love when I do that.
But because of the fruit flies, I put the bananas in the fridge. It was dicey, I know. I was taking the chance of having to throw out a whole bunch of bananas, but I figured if push came to shove, we'd be having banana bread for breakfast.
Two days passed. Nobody ate a banana. If I mentioned it, the kids would balk like a dog at the vet. And then someone had the brilliant idea to ask me why bananas were in the fridge and I had the opportunity to tell them that even though the skin was brown, the banana itself was still fresh and good.
Each kid had to try this theory for themselves. Huh, mom was right. And I'll be darned if I didn't see at least two kids eat a banana daily until they were all gone.
Maybe I should change the location of foods more frequently and make up weird reasons why. I'll bet I'd never waste food again.
Weekly Winners
Naptime
Banquet Bouquet
Breakfast
Game Face
Not the best picture, but brotherly love is an elusive thing to capture on film.
He got to play with his sister's bass. Now he's sure that it's his.
For more Weekly Winners, click over to Lotus's site.
Teachable Moments
I found this to be highly enlightening, and a bit of a tear jerker. As the parent of a "normal" kid, it's probably nigh unto impossible to understand the sentiment. As the parent of a child who's been told that certain things will probably never happen, it's nothing short of a miracle.
And yet, Kelly says it best when she says, "my family just treated me normal, and expected me to do what everyone else was doing."
We're Aware. We're Very Aware.
I still find it amazing that despite being pregnant several times before, the idea that I could have a child with a birth defect never occurred to me. Ever.
And then it did.
We now rank among those 1 in 740 families who are blessed to live with Down syndrome.
There aren't words to convey what this means.
There are smiles.
And milestones celebrated with abandon because they mean so much more because of delays and handicaps.
There is love. Unconditionally. Always.
There is happiness. Drank from sheer love of life. Daily.
There is no judging.
There is innocence.
There is joyful abandon in living.
I strive to be more like my child.
I have determined to make others aware of how wonderful life could be. I have chosen to champion for my son any time that I get the chance.
October is Down syndrome awareness month. It'll be no different than any other month for us. We're aware. And we're so very, very glad that we are.
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