Faggots on the Third Floor

Bonding

2011-02-26T12:15:00.000-05:00

I'm writing this here... because I posted it somewhere where a mother was scared and confused and sad because she hadn't bonded with her baby and she thought something was wrong with her. It's a story I don't share that often, because even now I'm a tad bit ashamed of it. It's different, but I still worry people will judge me for it or think less of me as a parent. But... it was someone else telling me something fairly similar that made me realize that how I felt was okay and, gasp, even NORMAL. So, when I've told other parents this, normally semi-privately, many have expressed gratitude that someone finally validated their feelings and shared something like this.

It might be a hard read. It was a hard experience. I hope my wife doesn't kill me for posting this, I haven't even told her some of it, but she lived it, so she must know. And I hope she can surely attest that it's done a complete 180 and that Sam is my darling.

Here is what I wrote...

Also, my second child was FOUR MONTHS OLD before I actually loved him. I was ambivalent about having a second child, and he was a very VERY difficult baby. I adored my first child with an intensity that borders on addiction, and I couldn't imagine replicating that. Everyone told me I would. So when it didn't happen, I thought that obviously something was wrong with one of us. And since i loved Charlie so much, then it must be Sam that's defective. EVERYONE told me that I would love my children the same, and I didn't.
It wasn't until another mother (of 3) told me that she loved her second child more than the other two, that I started to step back and look at things. I will NEVER love Sam like Charlie because Sam ISN'T Charlie. Charlie was my first, Charlie is much like me, I nursed Charlie (yes, non-bio moms can nurse), but Sam refused to nurse even from his bio-mommy (months of feeding therapy and lactation consultants finally just became pumping... so he got the milk, but rarely the boob), Charlie had a severe illness that put him in the hospital frequently, and I was always the one doing overnights. My bond with Charlie was forged through pain and fear in many way (I spent a lot of the first two years of his life worrying he was about to die). I was also the SAHM when Charlie was born but we switched when Sam was born. So there were strikes against me but I was so convinced, because EVERYONE had told me that once he was born, all my doubts would disappear and I would adore him just as much as the first, that something was horribly wrong. If moms had been HONEST that bonding ISN'T automatic, that sometimes it takes days or months, I would have beat myself up a lot less and would have loved him sooner I think. But our lives, Sam and I, were miserable for quite some time. You could have taken any other child and replaced him and I wouldn't have really cared. I was willing to put the kid up for adoption, I was that detached from him. But I CARED for him. I went through the motions. I fed and changed and rocked and swaddled and sang. But once, shortly before the tipping point, I left him on our bed to scream because it was at that exact moment that I realized why people shake babies, and I knew that I was not capable of caring for him at that moment. I called my sister hysterical, convinced that I hated this child and would never love him. Eventually, I went and picked him up because LOGIC told me that I had to comfort him and calm him, but it wasn't LOVE driving that. Love didn't drive his care from me for months.
Do I sound like a callous bitch? Probably. But when I finally began to talk about this, I realized it's a LOT more common than people realize, because women are so ashamed to admit it, convinced other people will think they're monsters or bad mothers. I wasn't a bad mother to Sam, I was a detached mother. He was always warm and clean and well fed, I cared for him, I just couldn't nurture him.
So, what happened? Well, when I had my epiphany that my children ARE NOT THE SAME PEOPLE and therefore I will never, ever love them exactly the same, it was like a floodgate opened and I realized I DID love Sam, but I was holding it back because since it wasn't what everyone claimed it would be, it was inferior. It was like having two favorite books, loving them both for completely different reasons but not loving one more than the other.
Sam is now 2y3m and I adore him. I love both my children, equally and unequally. I love Charlie more than Sam and Sam more than Charlie. I can't imagine my life without him. He's amazing and perfect and fabulous. It happened, in time. But there is no timeline and for some people it might never happen. That doesn't make you a bad person or a bad mother.

At the end of the day, love is a verb. Love is an action. If you are providing for your child and meeting her needs and not being cruel to her, you've got more on a lot of parents. It's okay not to bond immediately, it doesn't mean it will never happen. Just because a marriage wasn't " love at first sight" doesn't mean it can't be "till death do us part."

The babies they used to be

2011-02-20T20:00:00.001-05:00

DSC09349
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Sam was just shy of 2 weeks old here

Is this thing on

2011-01-03T15:30:00.001-05:00

Well, is it?

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

letter from a five year old

2010-12-04T01:46:00.001-05:00

Dear mommy, I love you very much. But in a long long time you are going to die. I'll take care of sam.

I am thankful...

2010-11-26T06:28:00.000-05:00

That my mortgage is too high, because I have the means to pay it.
That my job is stressful, because it provides steady pay.
That I have a car payment, because I can afford a car.
That my child has a chronic health condition, because I have access to extraordinary care for him.
That my wife bitches at me for leaving my dishes in the living room, because I know how much she loves me.
That my mother in law constantly nags, because she has the best of intentions.
That I am overweight, because I have an abundance of food at my disposal.
That I hate taking my kid on Tower of Terror, because I have the means to take him to Disney World.
That my father has become a recluse with his partner, because he finally fell in love again.
That I hate the country in which I live, because I am allowed to say that I hate my country.
That I own too many books, because books are not banned.
That my children have too many toys, because we can provide them with all their material wishes.
That sitting causes me pain, because I am not on my feel all day.
That my child never stops talking, because my child can speak, and I can hear him.
That I spend too much time on the internet, because I have people to talk to.
That my cat pukes on the living room rug, because I know the love of a pet.
That I have enemies, because it means I stand up for myself.
That I can never stop thinking, because I have access to knowledge.
That I cannot get married to my partner, because I cannot be stoned for being gay.
That Florida has another republican governor, because we were allowed to vote on our leadership.
That I am in constant pain, because I have options to control it.
That I don't believe in god, because there is no state mandated religion.

I am thankful... that I have problems, challenges, worries, fears... because I don't have an every day fight for survival, or a life dictated by others, or the fear or persecution, or a hunger I cannot fill, or a child I cannot care for, or a family that doesn't care.

Yes, I am thankful for my problems. Because I have such abundance that I can focus on the trivial things in life.

Grow up, bitchy children

2010-10-08T18:11:00.002-04:00

Fiscal year 2011 is upon us. Hello FY '11!
Today, we had our monthly department meeting. Seeing as how I am in the finance department, FY '11 is relevant to us, moreso than most departments in the hospital. We collect it, we spend it, all the money in that hospital filters through one of us at some point.

So, department director was going over some changes to our benefits, as well as the overall financial health of the organization. Which is... struggling.

There are only 26 independent children's hospitals in the US, and two in FL. Many "children's hospitals" are actually a children's department of an adult hospital. That doesn't make them better or worse, but it makes them more solvent. Adult hospitals have medicare funding, and medicare is a cash cow. Children's hospitals don't get medicare. What's worse, they get medicaid. Medicaid reimbursement, while fine for inpatient (not great, but not too horrible), is horrible for outpatient. Medicaid reimbursement does not even cover the cost of care.

Our hospital is now 73% medicaid funded. 73%. Which means, on average, we're LOSING money on 73% of patients. The remaining 27% have to carry the hospital. Except, most insurances now have high patient share of costs, much of which we write off to charity. So, the money coming in ain't great, and the money going out is severe, especially since we just built this new billion dollar facility.

So, where am I going with this? The hospital is in the red. For the first time ever. It will get better come January (significantly better, most likely). But, for now, we need to tighten our belts.

So, what does that mean for us, come CY 2011?
They've decided to offer domestic partner benefits to same sex couples and their children. Not required by law.
They've decided to extend coverage to dependent children under the age of 26, not required by law (the hospital is self funded, self funded establishments are exempt from the new federal requirement)
They've decided to cover all preventive care at 100% (versus $20 copay as we previously had)
They've kept the allowance to have our health care done FOR FREE if we stay within our own hospital.
They've kept our deductible at only $350/year (per person OR family)
They've kept our coinsurance at 10% for in OR out of network
They've kept us referral and authorization free
They've added free OB care, including physician fees for the birth

Keep in mind that this is a self funded hospital. They're not writing Humana a $20k check every month for an insurance free for all. They're paying every penny of our health care costs.

They've also-
Kept the 2k/semester tuition reimbursement
Kept our 10 hour/pay period PTO
Kept multiple employee incentive programs
Increased employee recognition and appreciation programs
Kept a FULLY FUNDED pension plan
Continued 100% matching into our 403(b) (like a 401(k) for non-profits)
Kept a significant scholarship funding for employees and their children
Not laid off a single worker
Not cut anyone's hours
Kept a management team that actually gives a shit

So, what have they done to try to close the financial gap?

They've reduced merit increases from 4% to 3%
They've raised our (obscenely low) health insurance premiums by $3/pay period.

That's it.

And the chickens can do nothing but BITCH BITCH BITCH at that 1% and $3.

Really?

I wish I could slap them and show them the benefit plans of "comparable" establishments in this area. This hospital pays on the low side of average, but the benefits are astoundingly fabulous.

And people are going to cry about a 3% raise instead of 4%? When most of the country won't get raises, but will get double digit premium increases and $3k deductibles?

I'm astounded by the greed of people.

The Pilgrimage

2010-08-10T21:55:00.000-04:00

Pull up a chair, folks, 'cos this is gonna be long.

I was up until ~3am on Thursday talking to Chex (thanks, girl, you kept me sane) and had to be up ~5:30, so didn't get any sleep but it didn't matter. Thursday I was frantic. Panicking. Completely out of my element. Wasn't gonna get on the plane nope not gonna do it you can't make me. AJ kicked me out at the curb at the airport, didn't even take me inside.
I was jumpy and an idiot, and the dog picked up on it. If anyone has doubts that animals sense/respond to human emotion, they would only have needed to see her that morning. She was still good, still did everything she was supposed to do, but I could tell she was panicking in response to MY panic. That only made me feel worse.
I was so panicked that, while being swabbed at security (I have extra yummy screenings, because of the dog and implanted and external metal), I briefly wondered if mentioning a bomb would get me out of it. In jail, sure, but in jail in FLORIDA. Common sense prevailed.
Got to the gate, and the flight was delayed. First by half an hour, then an hour, then longer. Finally, my 8:30 flight took off ~9:50. My pilot must have been on something or there must have been a wicked tailwind, because we landed only ~45 minutes late.
Got over to the rental car place, and they were out of economy. No big deal. But then out of midsize. I don't do compact but I knew I would be doing a lot of driving, so I asked. No compact. My only choice was full size or luxury. Luxury in Detroit, BTW, is a Chevy Impala. I find this humorous. So, I took the Impala, owing to SAB and an AUX input. Bonus! My car had THREE miles on it when I picked it up. It was a brand new baby!
So, I got on the road to Flint. My in laws let me borrow their GPS for the trip and :love:. Wow. It got me everywhere I needed to be, even on fire roads in northern MI where I couldn't even get cell reception.
Well, when I got to the cemetery, I asked for a map (it's huge) and then drove to her area. I knew which one it was immediately, because she is buried between both sets of her grandparents and there were three side by side plots with fresh flowers. I sat in the car looking at it for about five minutes before finally getting up and walking over.
I still don't know about my reaction. I sat there, I laid down for a bit, I attempted to say some things but gave up. I talked to the dog. Took a picture of the headstone and just sat mostly. Then, to prove what a heartless shit I am, as I sat 6 feet above the remains of the woman who birthed and loved me, I wondered why it never occurred to me to check if I had roaming charges and I called T-Mobile to find out. Who does something like that? So I silently berated myself for caring so little.
I hung out for a bit longer, then said my good byes and left.
There's nothing there. I knew there wouldn't be, but now I know. I've been as an adult, on my own terms, and there is nothing. I'm okay with that. I wish there were something, but I can't create feelings. I can't make myself remember or love or grieve.
I left the cemetery and called my aunt Kathy and made plans to meet. We had dinner and I enjoyed her company. We sat around chatting for a few hours at Red Robin (which is advertised heavily in my area but the nearest one is 4+ hours away, so I had to go). Finally I had to make her leave, because I had to still drive 3 hours north and it was already after 8.
Went to Target, bought some pop and dog bones and a bag of cookies, and hit the road upstate.
I was horrified by the state of the roads in MI. I understand that the state is in major economic turmoil, but wow. I have never seen such disrepair on public roads.
I drove and drove and drove and realized that I am *such* a city girl. Shit closes! Close to half the businesses in this area are open until at least midnight, and many of them 24 hours, so being unable to find a gas station that was open was new to me! My uncle Tom is very rural, but found him with the trusty GPS.
Thursday and Friday night I spent with Tom and family. They were the ones I really wanted to see and I enjoyed being with them. Thursday night we were up really late and their daughter's BF was smoking heavily. I was in serious pain by the end of the evening and by morning my throat was on fire. I was going to leave that night, even mentioned it (stupid me), but stayed anyway. Glad I did, really. Friday we went tubing down the river and it was a blast. Just chilling, chatting, enjoying. I loved it. I left them around 11 on Saturday.
Saturday was spent with Randy and Maureen. Technically his name is David, and I'm trying to make myself call him David after years of Randy. We went boating, went to see his property which was pure heaven. I would have pitched camp right then and been happy for the rest of time. Went home for a good dinner and some friends came over and invited us to come to their place for the campfire later, and s'mores! I looove s'mores. I get them once a year on our annual thanksgiving camping trip and I will eat them solid for three days. So we went, great time. Played games, chatted, ate, hung around the fire. There was a teacher there and we talked shop. I haven't done that in a long time! We finally went home when we were falling asleep at the fire.
Sunday morning we had breakfast, and another teacher stopped in on her run and we ended up going on and on and on. Also a big animal lover and we really hit it off. She took Inge on her jog which let me pack up and they both loved it. Then we headed out, and I drove my aunt back to her place.
After dropping off Maureen, I went and had lunch with Nancy. This was the part I was really dreading. The lunch was, I dunno. There is a serial killer in Flint, BTW. The place we had lunch was where he had dumped his victim, only the night before. Had i known this, I would have asked for Taco Bell. But the lunch was nice enough. Strained, for sure. I guess there is just too much muchness between us. I bought lunch, and she said she was willing. I bought it anyway. She can barely keep her lights on, and frankly I felt like I would have a "debt" to her, even if it was only $30. Kathy met us midmeal, and we chatted for a bit, then I was on my way. I've closed the door with Nancy. I can't imagine I'll really want to see her again.
So, I left and was on my way to see monzogary! Heather answered the door and she was much smaller than I expected. But the girls both attacked me within minutes. Her husband was there and he is a really cool guy. He showed me his pet projects and toys and rolled his eyes when we talked car seats. We had dinner and then went to Meijer. I had never been to or heard of Meijer but saw one from the interstate and knew it was something I wanted in my life. :D I loved it! In the craft section, I mentioned I really wanted to know how to crochet or knit. She does both and offered to teach me. I wanted to buy some gear then but knew they wouldn't let me take the metal back on the plane.
So we went home, played around for a bit, put the girls to bed, and started on our project. We had so much fun. She is a really cool gal and it was awesome just chatting and yarning. At 3am her husband came upstairs and looked at us both like we were insane and said we woke him up stomping around. Uhh... we hadn't moved from the table in hours! But we then realized how late it was and that it was time for sleep.
Monday morning I woke up and said goodbye to my hosts and new friends. The girls wanted to keep Ingrid. EVERYONE wanted to keep Ingrid, everywhere I went!
So on my drive back to Detroit, I tried to kind of think on the past few days. Didn't really work. I didn't stop for the frozen strawberry lemonade that I'd seen billboards for every 19 feet because I was late heading out. I ended up having plenty of time, but still didn't want to push it. Construction everywhere, and again those roads. Glad I had the GPS because I was constantly being rerouted.
Dropped off the rental car and headed to the airport. In Detroit I was *really* heavily searched. Way more than Tampa. But it was okay. I was calm this time, so dog was fine. She slept the entire plane ride home.
I'm happy to be home and glad I went. I'm sure I'll continue to process and chew for awhile, but my pilgrimage is complete and I'm at peace. I didn't find what I was looking for, because what I was looking for doesn't exist. That's something I'll live with, and I'm okay with that. I'm a little sad thinking that that was it, the only time I'll ever be at the grave, but it's good. There is nothing there, there never was and never can be. It's just the remainder of a person that once was and won't come again. That's fine.

So, if you made it all the way through that, bravo! I've done something major in my life story, and I am definitely glad that I did it and can move on from whatever weight it had on me in the past.

My kid is awesome

2010-07-31T12:38:00.002-04:00

We've recently had a death in the family, and Charlie has been asking loads of questions about death even before Al died. So we were talking yesterday and I told him about Al, and how his body was broken and he died. And Charlie says "but the secret never dies." I asked him what he meant, and he said we have a body and a secret, and before you die you give part of your secret to everyone that loves you and they keep it for you even after your body dies.

He's so cool.

Uh, disregard

2010-07-11T21:07:00.003-04:00

That was supposed to go in an email to a person, not an email to my blog. Please don't bombard the guy with calls because I put him phone number on the web.

You buried my mother WHERE?!?

2010-07-08T08:47:00.001-04:00

Last night I was looking for the phone number of the cemetery where my mother is buried. I needed to get their hours before I made my travel plans. I googled "Fint Memorial Park" and chose to click on the below link. Because, well, that's the cemetery, right?

Wrongo!

http://www.flintmemorialpark.com/

Super cow

2010-07-06T20:42:00.002-04:00

We went to Chick-Fil-A tonight and they had a "paint your own cow" station set up. Charlie painted her "super duper cow" but it wasn't dry by the time we needed to go. So, I put it in a plastic baggy generously provided by the restaurant.
Later in the car, he was very mad at me. "Mama, what did you DO to my cow?!" he shrieked at me. "Now he's not super duper" he moped. "He's super loser. You made my cow a super loser."

WHERE did he hear that? He has continued to go on at me about how now his cow is a super loser, and it's all my fault.

A hairy situation

2010-07-05T02:37:00.002-04:00

About 6 weeks ago, Charlie got his first haircut. Today, he wanted it done again. And is already asking to do it next time. He gets the smallest amount each time, but he loves going to the Main Street Barber Shop in Magic Kingdom. I don't think I'll ever be able ro leave MK again without getting his hair cut. As of now it's about 2 inches below his shoulder, compared with just above his hips only 2 months ago!

Zoom Zoom

2010-07-02T08:47:00.001-04:00

So, we've somehow ended up with two new cars within a 2 month span. How did this happen, you might ask? Well, my intense hatred for my Subaru Forester was no secret. So, when the money was right and the deal on the table and a killer interest rate presenting itself, I lost my shirt on the thing and traded it. Got much more than I owed, of course, but that's not saying much since I didn't owe anywhere near KBB.

I got a Mazda 5, which is what I wanted when I bought the Forester. Love it. Nice for car seats, good gas mileage, REAR AIR. Kids like it, all is well.

This weekend, AJ's van gets pissed off at us. What we originally thought would be a very costly repair turned into likely a pretty minor repair, but the wheels were already turning. After telling her that there was no way I was putting big money into it, we'd just take a loss on the trade, she immediately got "new car eyes" and looked around.

No one makes minivans!

Okay, so Toyota and Chrysler and Kia and Honda make minivans. Kia and Chrysler are shit, Toyota has been a bit too damaged recently for me to be truly comfortable, and we hated the Honda when we had one (plus I'd never spend that much on a van). So, gotta look elsewhere. 3 row crossovers are "the norm" because that's what people want, apparently.

So, back to the Mazda dealership! She made up her mind, I don't even bother trying to change it. Too big, too expensive, but it's what she wanted. Oh well. Now the boys are rolling in style in a CX-9. They're lovin' the big backseat and roll down windows. I'm lovin' the immense amount of debt I've taken on in the past six weeks.

Zoom Zoom.

Surfing dude

2010-06-22T17:00:00.001-04:00

NSB 2010 397
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

I can't take it anymore!

2010-05-17T21:29:00.001-04:00

IMG_5884
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

I have no clue what he was doing here

Charlie's first haircut

2010-05-16T14:45:00.001-04:00

IMG_6056
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Roughly 3 inches, done at Magic Kingdom. He loved it and wants to do it again.

Improvised sun visor

2010-05-11T13:23:00.001-04:00

IMG_5651
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Smart boy protects his eyes

Backseat storytelling

2010-05-05T20:57:00.001-04:00

Yesterday we were driving home from dinner, and Charlie is in the back planning a mission. He was naming off all the things he needs for his mission... milk, a yo-yo, helmet, cheese, mickey mouse cards, a playhouse. He yelled at me to "grab that stop sign!" as we're driving. I asked him why he needed all that.

"In case I fall off a clit."

I was too shocked to respond at first. In a minute, I asked again. He, again, told me it was in case he falls off a clit. I had to ask him what a clit was, and he goes on to tell me about the girl who fell on "slippy rocks" and fell off the clit. I Shouldn't Be Alive is his *favorite* show. So I realized... he was talking about falling off a CLIFF (which is a real danger in Florida, ya know).

And there you have the toddler mispronunciation of the day.

Even in dreams, I have my standards

2010-04-26T12:20:00.001-04:00

I had the most bizarre series of dreams last night. It was like I was channel surfing through my head... I'd dream about something for a few minutes (or hours, I don't really know, since I'm not too good at telling time while I'm sleeping) and then move on to the next. At least a dozen different scenes that I can remember.

There was me building a house out of itemized bills from the hospital, then playing baseball with grapefruits but refusing to bat because I didn't want to waste the food. Then I was showering with a stranger and demanding he keep to his side of the shower and not look at, touch, or talk to me. After that I dreamed I was buying slaves and taking them home and educating them and being nice to them, while trying to convince all the other plantation owners that I beat them viciously. Then I was having an affair with my dad's ex-girlfriend. Then I was reading Schindler's Ark to an old man (who I think was AJ's grandfather) and using it to prove to him "see, your life isn't all that bad now is it?" Then I was having lunch with my MIL and our friend Debbie, and we were having a long conversation about putting the boys in Catholic school (rest assured, NOT going to happen). Then Pam (MIL) brought out lunch. Hot dogs.

Let me take a moment to advise that there are two foods absolutely banned in my home, off limits to my children, and that I will never touch. Hot dogs and bologna. It is well known not to offer either to my kids. So here I am in this dream, and Pam gives me a hot dog. And, it's like in this dream hot dogs are my fav thing ever and I was thrilled to get it.

But my subconscious was protecting me. Because just as I was about to put mayonnaise on it (and, for the record, mayonnaise is my greatest fear in life. I am TERRIFIED of it), I woke up. 3 am. I wasn't in pain, I didn't have to pee, nothing happened to wake me. I just woke myself to avoid eating the mayo slathered hot dog.

I am so proud of my brain.

Being a boy

2010-04-24T19:38:00.001-04:00

Charlie has mentioned a few times, very sadly, that he is a boy and people think he is a girl. I've told him each time that some people think boys cannot or should not have long hair, so some people think he's a girl because his hair is long. It makes him very upset, because he wants people to know he is a boy, but he LOVES his long hair.

He'll tell me occasionally that he wants it cut, and then change his mind. We had it trimmed last year and it upset him greatly, I am not rehashing that. If his hair gets cut, it will be HIS choice. All the way around.

Tonight, I showed him some hairstyles on the internet that are still long, but not quite as "little girl" looking. He got very sad and angry and said no, he wants his hair long and it's his hair and I can't cut it. And that is true, I would not ever have it cut unless he wanted it done. And he doesn't, at all. But he also wants people to know he is a boy.

Frankly, I can't see how or why people think he is a girl once they LOOK at him. He is all boy. His mannerisms, his voice, his actions, his clothing. He is boy to the bone. He just has long hair and he wants it long. He knows that that makes people think he is a girl, he would rather be called a girl than cut his hair.

Any suggestions? Any better way I can explain it to him? People will still think he's a girl, I'm sure, since they're narrow minded twits. Even now I can explicitly state it, over and over again, that he's a boy, and people still call him a girl. Sometimes people will even say "really? are you sure?" No asswipe, I'm not sure.

I don't think he is scared of getting it cut. He knows it won't hurt, it'll grow back, etc. He just likes it like it is and I am NOT going to override his personal choice about his body just to satisfy a stupid cultural expectation. I don't cut kids to suit society, regardless of how insignificant some people might think the cut is. So, cutting his hair is out of the question at this point. I just want to somehow help him understand and be more confident and know that he IS a boy, even if people try to tell him otherwise.

A tribute to Gaston (my last placed and most loved rescue)

2010-03-19T22:04:00.001-04:00

Before Charlie was born, we were very active in dog rescue, 90% great danes. In mid-late 2004, we rescued two dogs from a producer in northern florida. A white female named Belle, and a merle male named Scooby. The female had been bred into the ground (and you should never breed a white dane anyway) and in fact was euthanized about a week after we got her because she was still bleeding (10 weeks PP) and was infected. The male, surprisingly, had been neutered.

We renamed him Gaston, and I fell in love with him. HARD. I LOVED this dog. I had had dozens of danes, and loved them all, but I LOVED Gaston. He was everything a dog could be. He was beautiful as well. Stood ~37 inches at the shoulder and just over 200 pounds. His ears had been cropped (which I hate) but at least they had been cropped cleanly and correctly and nicely taped, so they were a perfect crop. He was gorgeous. He was a merle, which wasn't (and still is not) an accepted color, but other than that he was a perfect example of a GD. I fell hard for this dog.

He, unfortunately, had his issues. He was scared of bedrooms. He was terrified of a leash. Whenever I would pick up a leash, he would cower and urinate. Anyone who has ever rescued a dog knows what that means. He hated having his feet touched, he was extremely nervous of loud voices, and he was very submissive. I knew he would need a very special touch. But that was okay.

I always took a GD with me when we did a home study, so people could really see what this breed was. I normally took Splash (our dane), but she was a pretty puny example (barely 100 pounds). I got a call to do a home study close to our house, and I decided to take Gaston. It was for a childless couple with a pit bull named Joe.

They clicked with Gaston, and he with them. They were amazing dog owners. Joe had the life any dog would dream of living. Doggie daycare everyday, home cooked meals, sleeping on the foot of the bed. I knew they liked Gaston, and I steeled myself for the phone call that they wanted him. They had expressed interest in a harlequin male named Quinto, but I knew they were going to want my Gaz. I decided I could let him go, but only to them.

They took him about a week later, and his journey to the center of their world began. He was pampered, coddled, loved, respected, understood, tolerated, nurtured... he was everything to them. Joe and Gaston meant the world to these people. All of his idiosyncrasies, they tolerated. All of his behavior issues, they corrected. All of his fears, they worked around. He peed in the house one day, and Christian ran at him to try and get him outside. Bad idea. Gaz freaked, and ran up the stairs, still peeing. Over the bed, peeing. Back down the stairs, peeing. Up on the couch, peeing. While many people would have been livid, they simply cleaned it up and rubbed his head.

Stephanie drove a purple Mini Cooper convertible, with an enormous dane riding shotgun. When he couldn't go to daycare for whatever reason, they hired someone to come to the house 3 times during an 8 hour workday, just to be with him. If he was sick, they cooked for him. He never got over his fear of having his feet touched, and they willingly and lovingly paid to have him sedated every time it needed to be done.

The last year has been tough on him. Despite regular acupuncture and laser treatments, he was what he was- an almost 8 year old great dane. So on Saturday, a crowd gathered at the house to say goodbye to a much loved and adored dog, one that was so well known in the neighborhood and loved by everyone who met him. He got all his favorite foods and a general commotion. On Sunday, his vet came to the house and he peacefully crossed from this world to the next.

Gaston was the last dog we placed. Audrey got pregnant with Charlie shortly afterward, and we decided that doing large breed rescue with children in the home was not wise. It was fitting that the dog I loved so much, the only foster dog that I have really and truly loved, was the one to end our run. I loved that animal desperately. His family loved him more than any dog should be loved. He had a beautiful life. He came from a horrid beginning, and landed in the lap of luxury and in the hearts of two of the finest dog owners I have ever known. I've always missed and loved him, but never once regretted giving him to them.

Farewell, beloved Gaston. Thank you for the love you gave us, and the happy memories.

Who me?

2010-03-11T21:24:00.001-05:00

Who me?
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Who knew a yellow M&M could play music?

2010-02-17T21:09:00.003-05:00

IMG_3849
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Ingrid

2010-02-17T21:09:00.001-05:00

Ingrid
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

And she's MY baby, got it? Mine. Not Sam's. Not Audrey's. Not Charlie's. MINE. Even if I have to make everyone else poke her with sticks, she is going to love ME dammit! Memememememe!!

(Yes, I am somewhat bitter that our other dog doesn't really seem to care if I spontaneously combust, as long as he can be with mommy)

Concerned look

2010-01-31T21:31:00.001-05:00

IMG_2790
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Just take it next door

2010-01-30T12:56:00.002-05:00

My neighbors' oldest daughter died this week. Very sad, no question. They're torn up, understandably. She'd been lost to them for about 6 months, caught in her own stupid teenager self destructive world. She actually "formally" died yesterday, but she was dead on Tuesday, they just kept her going until the family could all get here.

Then, after their daughter died, they left the hospital and promptly got into a car wreck, SLAMMED by an old woman at a stop light. Right back into the hospital they go... mom, dad, grandma, oldest brother. Most injuries minor, all but grandma home now.

So we've been tending to them, taking them food, checked on them a few times last night to make sure they were okay physically. We've taken a few deliveries for them... flowers, food, the usual.

Flower delivery guy just knocked on the door. "Hi, I've got something for , but the note says to leave it with you."

Huh? Now I have no problem, none whatsoever, accepting their deliveries. It's what neighbors do, and I am completely fine with that. Bring whatever you want (though the person that dropped by with three trays worth of cold cuts kinda put us in a bind space-wise... needed to rearrange the fridge to make that work). I was just a little shocked someone actually included in the delivery instructions to bring it to us... BY NAME.

A great quandary

2010-01-18T13:16:00.001-05:00

My joints are dead. I've had orthopaedic issues for one day short of forever, so failing joints are not a surpise for me. The fact that they are all failing NOW is kinda a surprise. A pretty shitty, painful, expensive surprise at that.

The left knee is priority number one right now. The right knee, which equally fucked, is not painful. Don't ask me why, I can't tell you. But my right knee, which I can dislocate at will and turn in circles and hyperextend horribly (as I can with all my joints, fear not), does not hurt. So I'm leaving it alone for now.

The left knee MUST be corrected. I can't even fully extend it right now when walking because if I do, it'll hyperextend something fierce and then buckle and OW!!!

My left should is also shit. My right should, again, is just as loose but not as painful. And then my wrists. Both wrists hurt, both are horribly loose, but the left hurts the worst.

Must fix the left knee. At all costs, I have to get this knee corrected. That's not all that hard to do. Anyone with a scalpel and working knowledge of the lyrics of Dem Bones is qualified. I'm still just waiting, waiting, waiting to schedule that MRI. This morning walking into the ER and demanding one is sounding pretty darn good.

But when I fix the knee, then what? How am I supposed to get around? I can't use crutches. I can't do several of the physical therapy exercises required for my shoulder because it'll blow out a wrist. Some of the shit for my wrist will kill my shoulder. Then there are knee exercises that will fuck with my hips. So... am i supposed to just amble around in a wheelchair? Yeah, that'll be top notch for my shoulder. I can't pick up my children without dislcoating it, but pushing a wheelchair will be no problem.

Good lessons for life

2010-01-14T09:24:00.001-05:00

There are lots of free internet based mail programs. Gmail, yahoo, hotmail, excite. Gmail happens to be the best, but others will do in a pinch.

They're free. Easy to get. A few minutes of your time and voila, a new email address!

This completely and unequivocally obliterates the need for you to apply for a job and list trukrluvr69@xxx.com as your email address. It really, really does. In this tight (zing!) job market, you want to be as perfect as possible. Somehow I think that email address just kinda taints the entire app, don't you?

(Yes, I was just reading a job app with that as the email address. People, people...)

2010-01-04T21:18:00.001-05:00

IMG_2651
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

His hair looks so long in this picture. It's not really *that* long.

BOYS!

2010-01-04T10:31:00.000-05:00

Cousins, Cousins- here come the boys

Bedlam, Mayhem, noise noise noise

(there's an entire song... Charlie loves it. Story of my life right now! Thanks Tom Chapin!)

Z and T arrived yesterday for a two week stay with us while their parents rip out plumbing and flooring. I've long told AJ I want four boys. No girls, just four boys. Now I realize how right I was. I LOVE having four boys! I love having them all here. Now, if I could only figure out how to go back and change the ages. I suppose I should just go adopt a few three year olds.

Charlie's having a blast playing with his cousins. Sam knows that he's missing out on something but isn't sure what, so he just watches them and laughs. This morning they all woke up just before I was supposed to leave for work, so I got to see them all briefly. Sam and T playing at the train table, Charlie and Z playing tag with the dog (poor dog).

Now, they've spent the night before, and a whole weekend once, but never two weeks. So we need to figure out how to not make every day a party. I can't do pizzas and movies and dinner out every night and Chuck E Cheese every day. How do you do monotony with four kids four and under?

I'll make sure to take lots of pictures of my clan!

Photographic evidence

2009-12-27T15:23:00.001-05:00

IMG_2486
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

There were none to be had at TRU or Wal-Mart... but deep in the recesses of the camping section at our local Target, high on a shelf in a battered box, rested the lone survivor of the holiday bike rush. And it was still Buzz Lightyear. Someone somewhere likes us.

And this is why you don't wait until this last minute...

2009-12-24T13:16:00.001-05:00

My dad bought Charlie a bike for Christmas. Rather, WE bought him a bike, delivered it to my dad, and he reimbursed us. Therefore, he gets to present it on Christmas morning. And assemble it.

Mind you, we did this over a month ago.

He tries to put it together today, and finds that many of the pieces are missing. Because someone bought it and returned it and didn't include the pieces.

So, Charlie has no bike for tomorrow. To make things mroe interesting... my father wants ME to come get the broken bike, return it, and then bring him another bike to assemble. He wants ME to do this. Today. I'm at work right now, and have Christmas Eve dinner at 4. He is at home, presumably doing nothing, and has nothing planned for the evening. Thanks, dad.

So, I'm trying not to be pissed at him. Because he's had it for a month and could have discovered this weeks ago when TRU still had bikes (I called every one in the area, there are no bikes left period, much less the 12" Toy Story bike he picked).

So, AJ's gonna run to Target when I get home and see if they have anything. Otherwise, Charlie will be sans bike tomorrow morning. The bike he knows he's getting.

My plan now is to give him his new bike helmet and tell him that since he's such a big boy now, he gets to pick out his own bike, and Papa will take him to TRU next week to pick whichever bike he wants. I just hope he goes for it.

Cinderella's Castle

2009-12-16T12:43:00.001-05:00

Cinderella's Castle
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

It was worth the entire trip just to see this. Pictures could never do it justice, it was gorgeous.

How could they lose with such cute cheerleaders?

2009-12-08T07:17:00.001-05:00

IMG_1091
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

My boys, sporting their "Papa's alligator head" gear.

Help me!!

2009-12-05T22:32:00.001-05:00

IMG_0949
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Sam gets caught in a tire. Poor Sam.

Baby blues

2009-12-01T21:16:00.001-05:00

11-26 599
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Thanksgiving morning, out on the swings.

Year old Charlie

2009-11-17T11:57:00.001-05:00

100_7628
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Sam is just a week shy of a year old. I'll take some comparison shots, but this is Charlie at a year old. Way more hair, WAY bigger (by about 3 inches and 8 pounds). Sam is a tiny bald man

That's some pretty heavy Duggar hatred there...

2009-11-16T20:48:00.004-05:00

If a TV show is unrated, our cable company tells you all the horrible things that can happen to it. So Dinosaur Train has explicit language and Sesame Street has nudity. I understand. It saddens me at times to learn that Super Why has violence and rape, but I get over it. Most of the time I don't even read it.

But this one is too damn funny.

Typed directly from my cable box (as in, I am looking at it right now). The description of an episode of the Duggar show-

The Wilsons visit the Duggars to experience Sexual Conduct, Brief Nudity, Full Nudity, Mild Violence, Adult Language, Adult Content, Rape, and Mature Subject Matter.

I knew they were out there, but that... wow. They invite people over to witness it?

There is a baby in there, I promise

2009-11-16T20:48:00.001-05:00

DSC03187
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

That Recaro side impact protection strikes again. I can't even SEE my kid when he's in that thing.

Remember this?

2009-11-13T12:22:00.001-05:00

100_5334
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

And that was on a good day... :(

Okay Charlie, which way do you kick it?

2009-11-13T12:15:00.001-05:00

Part one
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Actually, he's pointing the wrong way... oh well.

I love you, big brother

2009-11-07T07:46:00.001-05:00

DSC02965
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

I caught this totally by accident. I love it!

I prefer to discuss these things in person, thankyouverymuch

2009-11-06T16:07:00.001-05:00

So, I'm looking for a new primary care doctor. Well, not a NEW PCP, exactly. A PCP in general. I haven't had one in... well, I'm trying to be better about these things.

So, I get on my trusty insurance website to find an INN provider (which really doesn't matter, since the benefits are identical), that is a general or family practice provider, and start calling around. Remember, I'm searching for general practice. This becomes important later in our tale. I really prefer to see an ARNP over a doctor any day. In fact, I don't think I've seen a doctor for general stuff in 10+ years. Surgeon, sure, but day to day physicals and what not I always see the NP. So I'm calling, and it's my first question everywhere "Do you have an NP on staff?" A shocking number of clinics said no. Really? Is there an NP shortage somewhere? Why on earth would they not employ NPs? Well, since I'm having NO luck, I figured I'd try some female DOs, that's better than nothing, I guess.

So, my first female DO, I call and still ask if they have NPs on staff. It goes as follows.

Me- Do you have an NP on staff?

Her, slowly and skeptically and a little bit quiet- Well...Who... are you?

Me, taken aback- Uh, a prospective patient

Her, slowly again- Do you have hemorrhoids?

Me, shocked and a bit baffled- Noo...

Her- We're only accepting patients with hemorrhoids at this time.

Me- Umm... (scrolls to the side of the website, where it does indeed state family practice) isn't she a PCP?

Her- Yes, but she only accepts patients with hemorrhoids.

Me- O-kay then. Well, thanks!

Really? WTF? Only accepting patients with hemorrhoids? What does THAT mean? What kind of GP will only see people with hemorrhoids? So, what if I have strep throat, or the flu, of need a chest x-ray? What if I have a lump in my breast, or need antibiotics? She's gonna make me bend over and disrobe every time so she can check my butt?

I... I just don't understand.

How do children know these things?

2009-11-05T21:11:00.001-05:00

Warning- you will cry.

If you don't, you're a savage, heartless beast and I think you are beyond hope.

Notes Left Behind

Naptime

2009-11-01T22:07:00.001-05:00

DSC02784
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

I told Charlie to go get ready for bed. Five minutes later, this is where I found him...

Ent he purdy?

2009-11-01T21:52:00.001-05:00

Fidget
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Le pup

Last night at Target

2009-10-29T21:52:00.003-04:00

A 60+ year old woman was behind us in line.

All she bought..

Was a pack of gum,
a bottle of Sunny D,
and a tube of generic KY Jelly.

Girlfriend was gonna get her some minty fresh lovin', that's for sure!

Budding communicator

2009-10-22T09:58:00.001-04:00

Sam will not drink from a sip cup. He's been able to work a straw since about 7 months old, and can also drink from a regular cup if we hold it But sip cups, it seems, are beneath him. "Oh mother, do not make me suck that hunk of plastic with Dora on it. It's so childish."

We've tried 'em all. Nuby, Avent, SIGG, Klean Kanteen, Playtex (which seemed to please him for about 6 days), Safe Sippy, Munchkin... just about anything. Nope, no sip cups for Sam. Charlie, at age 4, would love to still use a sip cup (he gets one at bed, otherwise a regular cup or SIGG for him).

So, Sam's liquids primarily come from a bottle. He's not real particular on those, whatever has a nipple and is warm. He's breastfed, never had formula, but he did get BM from a bottle for months before he could coordinate his suck/swallow/breathe thing. Now, it's occasionally BM but mostly Kefir or drinkable yogurt. Or just water. But whatever it is, even water, it must be warm.

He looooves his ba. Loves it. Well, like every baby I imagine.

We've recently overhauled our entire house. New furniture, new cabinetry in the kitchen, new fridge (ooohhh). We moved the microwave to a cart, so it's within Sam's reach. We also now have a bottom freezer, so there is a handlebar on it just perfect for him to grab (really, he thinks we got this fridge just for him). What the hell does this have to do with anything, you ask?

This morning, Sam was hanging on the freezer bar, banging on the fridge, screaming "ba!" He would then crawl over to the microwave, bang on it, and scream "ma!" Then back to the fridge to repeat the whole scene.

And, just like that, Sam learns that he can communicate his needs in words and gestures. And a little dictator is born.

Baby love

2009-10-20T12:00:00.001-04:00

Okay, first I was defensive, and then thought some more… does anyone actually believe that I don't love Sam? Really? Surely this is a fluke, and not a widespread thought process.

I've made no secret of the fact that I did not want another child. I also did not want a tempurpedic bed but guess what we sleep on? Also, I'm not fond of living in Florida.

So, we have a second child, and it did take me time to warm up to him. Why, you may wonder?

Because of the idea that I must love my children exactly the same. Because I must pay them the same thoughts, the same feelings, the same everything. Because I must treat them identically at all times, because if I love one like this, I must love the other like this. But then, finally, I realized that is a crock of shit. I do NOT love my children the same because they are NOT the same. They're different people, every atom of their beings. Every cell of their DNA, every hair on their head, every thought they ever have. They are different. They are not equal, they are equivalent. Therefore, I do not love them equally; I love them equivalently. I love them both with every fiber of my being. But that is different.

I have a different bond with Charlie than with Sam, how could I not? I had him for 3+ years more than I have had Sam. I had him alone and never had to place him on the back burner to tend to the more pressing needs of another child. He was the world and never had to share that spotlight. Anyone who says that they have given their second child the exact same everything as the first is lying. It's not possible, unless the first died or moved away before the second was born. Beyond that, Charlie and I share a bond borne of a lot of pain and fear. Thankfully, I have never had to hold Sam down for a doctor to hurt him. I've never had to pray that he would pass out so the pain would be over. I've never spent nights and days and hours in a hospital holding his small body and willing every breath into him, unwilling and unable to sleep myself because of the belief, however flawed, that he only continues to live by my sheer willpower. I've never spent an hour of Sam's life worrying that he would die. And that created a bond with Charlie that can never be replicated.

There were months that I didn't feel bonded with Sam at all. I went through the motions of caring for him. I fed him and changed him and clothed him and rocked him and bathed him and read to him. I correctly installed the best car seat I could buy, I picked up little toys that I thought he would like. I took his pictures and laughed when he did something silly. I loved him, but I wasn't in love with him. And most of this comes from the idea that I HAD to love him with the EXACT same ferocity and strength and depth and width and height and cubic dimensions as I love Charlie- that if it wasn't the exact same, it was nothing. It was only when I let go of that, when it was pointed out to me that I will never love them the same because they will never be the same, that I began to bond with Sam. And it was then that I realized that he had been mine, and I his, all along. I just didn't know it because I was looking for the devotion that William claims I must have. I don't.

I love Sam just like Sam. I love him for everything he is and will be and isn't and will never be. I love him for his personality and his strengths and weaknesses and everything about him. I don't love him for a single reason I love Charlie, because he's not Charlie. Charlie is so much like me, Sam isn't. Sam is, in every little pore of his body, so much like AJ. Which explains why the two of them are so tight. Charlie is go lucky and slap happy and light hearted. Sam is serious and methodical and yes, a little bit grumpy. They are just different, and I realize and accept and LOVE that about them.

Sam is my son, just the same as Charlie. He deserves everything I can give him, as does Charlie. He deserves to feel welcome in my arms and my heart, and I know that he does. He screams and cries for me every day when I leave, big real tears and calls "mama" until I think my heart will collapse. Charlie, on the other hand, gives me a wave of the hand and goes back to his whatever he's doing. When I get home, Charlie enthusiastically greets me and wants to show me whatever he has done, but it is Sam that almost pulls down my pants trying to climb me, shouting at me to pick him up and burying his head into my neck as soon as he gets there. I don't believe an unloved child is capable of that.

So please, just because I ADMIT that I don't take as many pictures of him, or that he wears mostly hand me downs, or because he got solid food a little earlier than we might have liked, or because he has to be a bit more patient than Charlie was (because, ya know, Charlie was the only kid), don't assume that I don't love him with everything I have and for everything that he is.

I do not, and will not ever, love my children the same. That would mean loving them the way *I* want/need to love them. Instead, I love them custom tailored to their unique individual souls. I love them for the different people they are, which is, I believe, exactly how *they* want/need to be loved.

Oops

2009-10-19T09:14:00.001-04:00

Anyone who has more than one kid knows that, as much as you love the second one, he still plays second fiddle to the first. A walk into our house with the shrine of Charlie and 1 or 2 pictures of Sam hastily placed will prove this. Oh, and he's never been to a studio (though, to be fair, our friend was running the studio and gave us everything at cost when Charlie was young, no way we could have afforded it otherwise). Well, we love him, we do. Especially in the morning when he's snuggly.

So, it's finally cold here. It won't last, but we'll have a few glorious wonderful days. Last night was in the high 40s which doesn't sound cold on paper, but mix that with our high humidity (and contrast it to 80+ last weekend) and yeah, it's cold.

Now, Charlie was born in August and was mega rotund. His first winter he probably fit into 6-9 months, but by his second winter he was solidly into 2T. Sammy was born in November and is very tiny. Okay, he's average, but he's tiny compared to Charlie. And short and skinny, whereas Charlie was long and fat. You know where this is going, right?

So for second kid, you've got lots of hand me downs and you buy some things that are cute or that he'll like, but mostly he gets brother's old clothes, right?

Yesterday we went out with our friend Jess, visiting from OR (and oh how we miss them!) and put Sammy in a oh so cute little sleeper that AJ had bought just Saturday morning. Last night, I went to get him ready for bed. It went kinda like this...

Me- Where are Sam's warm clothes?

AJ- Bottom drawer, right hand side

Me- Uh... is that it?

AJ- Yes

Me- Uh...

So I find myself ghetto rigging a pair of 2t sweatpants and a 24 month hoodie, trying to keep my baby warm. Yep, that's right folks, Sam has no winter clothes.

How in hell did we miss THAT?

Finally...

2009-10-16T18:48:00.001-04:00

DSC02425
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

He's been begging to play soccer... begging. He barely made the age cutoff for the league we put him in. He's the smallest and by far the youngest (he's barely four, all the other kids are five except for one six year old). His first practice was last night, he had soooo much fun.

Banner

2009-10-07T21:42:00.001-04:00

Will someone make me a new banner? Puh-leaze? Pretty pretty please? I used to know how to do this stuff... I used to know how to make cool things happen. I made banners for other people. I made my sidebar do neat stuff. But I don't have the skills or time anymore. But the pics of Charlie are almost 2 years old, and nothing of Sam. I just want updated pictures.

Anyone?

Do I take the boy?

2009-10-07T14:35:00.000-04:00

Should have thought to ask here before now.

Charlie is starting soccer in a few weeks. The first "team meeting" is tonight. That's all we were told- date, time, location. Nothing else. No number to call for clarification. But one question that I just don't know the answer to... Am I supposed to take Charlie?

If I take him and he shouldn't be there, he's bored and I'm embarrassed. If I DON'T take him and he should be there, he misses out and I'm embarrassed. I hate social settings to begin with and I am already dreading this meeting to the point of wanting to foist it off on my father. But I won't, I'll do it.

But am I supposed to take him or not?

My dad sold his boat.

2009-10-06T20:35:00.002-04:00

Sold. His boat. Sold it. His boat. Sold it. As in, someone gave him money, he gave them his boat.
His boat. He sold it.

It's not a surprise... after all, *I* posted the ad. But... I didn't think he'd go through with it. But he did. Sold it. Gone poof. No more boat. Sold it.

My dad has had a boat almost my entire life... he's had this boat for 12-13 years. We lived on this boat at one point.

It's not really practical for him anymore. He lives 5 minutes from the marina, he doesn't need a live-aboard anymore. He's slept on it twice in the past year (as in, really taking a trip sleeping on it, not just passing out after a game). He pays $500/month in marina fees to keep it. He's putting 2-3k/year into repairs. It costs $100 in gas just to fire the thing up for a dinner cruise.

He's better off with a smaller (significantly smaller) bowrider. Something he can trailer. Something that doesn't cost a fortune to operate. Really, this boat was loved at one point but its time has passed.

But he sold his boat. Sold it. Gone. Poof. Sold his boat. I can't seem to wrap my mind around this. My dad no longer has a boat. And, okay, I'm no longer a yacht club brat. We can't go hang out at the clubhouse anymore, can't go down to the pool. But, beyond that, my dad SOLD HIS BOAT!

Gah.

The miraculous survival of a Rat

2009-10-05T10:52:00.001-04:00

I have crabs.

Really, I do. Hermit crabs. They started as a lark, because Charlie wanted them so badly. We bought a few at the beach 2 years ago. Now, we didn't get the little coke can sized "cage" for them. We actually drove into town and bought a 10 gallon aquarium for them, with appropriate substrate and toys. Charlie named them Lightning McQueen and Mater. Does this surprise you?

When we got home, we decided the 10 gal was big enough, so we bought them a 20 gal long. We also got another crab. Charlie named him Sheriff Basketball.

Then Mater died. I got another crab to replace him before Charlie knew. Funny thing about crabs... they constantly change shells, so it's easy to spare your child the heartbreak of a dead pet, since you never really know what they look like anyway. Yeah, it's a lie, and fat men come down chimneys as well.

We got a few more crabs, eventually up to 7 (Lightning McQueen, the new Mater, Sheriff Basbetball, Dragon, Dinosaur, Ratatouille, and Pumpkin Superman). We also moved them to a 50 gal viquarium with a freshwarter waterfall and salt water pool. Two moulting trays, trees, a climbing wall, driftwood jungle gym, and live vegetation. Hey, don't say I don't take care of my crabs! Pumpkin Superman (our giant crab, he was giant), died about 3 months ago, so we're back down to six. I know who Rat and McQueen are, but the other four I don't know. They're all the same size and share shells (Rat is very small, McQueen very big, so we can tell them apart from the rest).

Roughly 7 weeks ago, we dipped them for mites. This involves several rounds of submerging them in tepid water, over and over, until all the mites come out. It's fairly stressful, but necessary. We unmited them all. The next day, Rat was out of his shell. Just, out. A hermit crab NEVER comes out of his shell and stays out. He moves to a new shell, unless he is moulting, which is done underground. he was on top, just out. I put a shell right beside him and he went back in. He moped for a day or two, lost two legs, and then died. He was our smallest, sweetest, cutest, and by far favorite crab.

I wanted to keep his shell, so Charlie wouldn't know he had died. I went outside and tried to dump him. He didn't come out. Now, had I had half my mental faculties then this should have been my GIGANTIC RED FLAG. Of course, it wasn't. So I grabbed a little leg and tugged. Off popped the leg, in went the dead crab. Poor little Rat, whose leg I had just popped off, retreated further into his shell. Queue "evil crab killing monster" music.

I immediately put him in the tank and waited for him to die. Of course he would die, he was now down to his big claw and one leg (to be fair, once a crab drops more than 2 legs within a few hours, death is almost always imminent. So he would have died without me thankyouverymuch). He crawled around for a day or two and didn't die. We put him in the iso tank with water and food and waited. He buried himself.

Now, it's possible for crabs to regrow a leg during a moult. But it normally takes 2-3 moults to grow one back, and that's ONE. He had to regrow 5 legs and his small claw. No way. But, we kept him moist and waited.

And waited.

Finally, yesterday, we saw action in the dirt. We'd continued to maintain the iso tank, but I was sure he was already dead even though he never smelled. But yesterday, he came out.

After 6 weeks moulting (for a crab his size, the moult should have taken 5-6 days), he was the proud new owner of a teeny tiny new small claw and 5 brand new shiny pink legs. He not only LIVED, he regrew EVERY leg AND his claw.

We popped him in the standard cage in the food bowl and he went to town. As of this morning he's back to happy crab life. I'm so glad he made it because he really is our favorite crab. I'm just shocked that he lived through that. It's damn near impossible for a crab to grow all those legs back at one time, and live through the shock of losing them. Especially since I pulled one of them off! But he did, feisty little thing. He's my tiny miracle rat.

Checking out the new seat

2009-09-23T06:30:00.001-04:00

DSC02306
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Safety 1st Complete Air. Decent, but not superb. Certainly not worth the $250 price tag.
But the kid sure is cute!

Do you hear that sound?

2009-09-18T22:40:00.000-04:00

It's the sound of my poor mama heart breaking :(

Charlie told us tonight that he wanted to sleep in his own room. He wants to share a room with Sam and both of them sleep together. He wants his own room and his own bed.

I was soooo happy because for the last two nights Sam has come to bed with us (falling asleep in his crib but coming to us and staying the night after first feed). I thought we finally were going to get our family back on track and into bed together where we all belong. And then Charlie drops this bombshell. He wants his own bed in his own room with Sammy.

So, we moved them tonight. We didn't want to use the whole big bedroom just for their beds, so we moved them into the den and left the playroom intact. Of course, now our 24x14 bedroom is ginormous and waywayway too big for just our bed. So we're probably gonna move into the playroom and put the playroom back out in our room (which once upon a time was the original goal).

Both of my babies are asleep in their own beds in their own room. And I have to sleep alone tonight for the first time since the day he was born. I really can't comprehend sleeping without him in my bed. I'm addicted to my kid.

I know it has to be in his time and his pace and I know if he asked he was ready. But I'm not ready. Worse yet, I know with almost absolutely certainty that he's going to wean now.

I wanted him in my bed until HE decided he was done. I was just kinda hoping that would be middle school

Too many commercials

2009-09-15T21:31:00.003-04:00

Charlie doesn't watch much TV... about half an hour a day, unless he's sick or we're on a long car ride and then he can watch a movie. Right now he really likes Max and Ruby. I like that they are in ten minute increments.

Last week, he told me there was a new show he wanted to watch. Wait for it...

My kid wants to watch...

"All new dinosaur train followed by curious george weekdays!"

Yep, the whole thing. He wants to watch that. Can anyone tell me what channel that happens to be on?

ETA- I know what channel dinosaur train is on, I taped it for him the other day. I was just giggline by the fact that he thinks it is called "all new dinosaur train followed by curious george weekdays." He was mad at me when it WASN'T follow by CG because I only taped DT. oops.

So if you found your dream house...

2009-09-12T22:58:00.002-04:00

Say you found your dream house. Dream house. DREAM house. Let me emphasize the dream part, eh? This house is like a chocolate covered orgasm on the beach in the middle of a Golden Girls marathon. It will allow four generations of your family to live together which is something they all want very much. It is the most fabulous house in the history of fabulous houses. It's not this house, but the intention is the same.

It needs ~150k worth of work to overhaul it and bring it out of the sixties. Some minor repair stuff but mostly heavy duty remodeling (including converting the garage in the guest house to a bedroom). It's on the market for $800k and has been for over 500 days. You offer 600 and the owner (er, the son of the recently deceased owner) refuses to take less than 700k for it.

And if you really scraped and pulled it together and scaled down the repairs/remodel and ate beans for a few months and sold a kidney, you could come up with the extra 100k.

Would you do it?

Want a great seat, cheap?

2009-09-03T20:30:00.003-04:00

The True Fit is among my all time favorites. It's truly a fabulous amazing seat and I can't say enough good things about it. My only complaint is the short/shallow crotch strap. Without that, it is, in my opinion, possibly the best all-around convertible seat ever made. I'm considering buying another for Sam, but I want the ARB which is consierably more expensive (and, IMO, still well worth it).

Anyway, today's woot is the True Fit convertible car seat. If you've ever trusted me on car seats (and you know you have), then trust me one more time. For most kids, this is *the* seat. You'd be hard-pressed to find many significant issues with it (though I will list the top two, the only two IMO. Short/shallow crotch strap and difficult to reach harness adjuster when RF in many vehicles). It's just... it's fabulous.

And today only, until 11:59 PM, it's yours for only $104. And that, my friend, is a steal. http://kids.woot.com/ (I was thrilled to get it for $160).

Oh, I hate that cover, but hey... you might like it.

Sam's first lollipop

2009-09-01T20:54:00.001-04:00

Sam's first lollipop
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Bad bad mommies...

Ah, vacation

2009-08-20T08:34:00.001-04:00

I have always been extravagant for Charlie's birthdays. It's important and special and I want him to know that and feel that. Regardless of cost, we take him away for his birthday and focus solely on celebrating him and making him happy. We intend to do the same for Sam.

Having just returned from 3 days at Disney World in a swank hotel eating $100 meals (love that dining plan!) to celebrate Charlie's fourth birthday, we come to the decision of what to do for Sam's.

Since we loved the Disney weekend so much (even in the middle of August), we decided another Disney, this time for five nights. Got a different hotel, signed up for the dining again (three meals, two snacks per day), got a great deal. All said and done, right around $1500 (tips not included). The boys, I think, will love it.

But then I got to thinking about going on a cruise instead. That's what we did for Charlie's second birthday, and he had a blast, as did we. We've always cruise Royal Caribbean and been very happy. But the boys, I think, would love a Disney cruise. So I can get a 4 night Disney cruise for about the same price as the five night Disney stay. Or I could get an 8 night Royal Caribbean cruise. Uh, 8 is better than 4 for the same price. Not sure if I'll have the PTO, though. But I might.

But cost aside, because it's really a wholly secondary issue, I can't decide what to do. A cruise is less stressful and certainly more enjoyable for the adults, but Disney World is so much fun for the kids (and in early November will be tolerable weather). A cruise you just play and eat and sleep. No worries. At WDW we've got to plan and schedule meals, drive from here to there to everywhere, try to get the kids back to the hotel for naps. More stressful, by far. But, I think, just a bit more magical for the little people. Now, I could do a Disney cruise for a "best of both worlds" situation, but I don't know that I really want to do a Disney cruise....

So, what should we do?

My kid taught himself how babies are made... EEK!

2009-08-18T09:54:00.001-04:00

Charlie wanted a sister so badly when Sam was born. He still wants a sister. He cries about it. Hang his head and make real tears and say "I'll never get my baby sister." While I would prefer all boys for me, I kinda want the next one to be a girl for his sanity.

We're not having one right now, but probably start trying within the year. Charlie, of course, wants one now.

So last night, he was telling me it was time to have another baby. He said that I need to get "special seeds" to put in mommy's belly to make her baby. I asked him where I should get the special seeds.

"From my penis bag."

Jaw, meet floor.

So, beyond the fact that the kid thinks he is going to father his sibling (which only happens in Alabama and parts of West Virginia), he knows the basic mechanics of human conception. Which he taught himself.

Sure, I've told him that women have eggs and men have sperm and sperm is like a special seed that helps a mommy grow a baby. And once, when he squealed in delight at the discovery of "little balls" in his penis bag (his term), I told him that they were testicles. I'm sure I probably told him that testicles make sperm, I know I told him about testosterone (and a 3 year old trying to say testosterone- so cute).

So, he might have been given the pieces of the puzzle, months apart and months ago, but yesterday he put them together. On his own. And he's only been four for a week, so he probably knew when he was three. And what kind of three year old can figure that out on his own?

My four year old son (and, probably my then three year old son), knows how babies are made. Clear as day he tells me to take the seeds from his penis bag and put them in mommy's belly to make a baby. What kind of kid can figure that out on his own?

I'm doomed.

Of course he nurses

2009-08-13T21:39:00.002-04:00

Why on earth wouldn't he? He's a child, a young child at that. Nursing is an activity that provides him physical and mental comfort and important health benefits.
We are very child-led parents, and that includes weaning as well. He'll do it on his time, at his pace, when he decides it's no longer right for him. He's been given two willing mothers, and he'll take advantage of that as long as he needs to, as will Sam. Charlie self-weaned from AJ right around his second birthday. No fighting, no bribing, no tears. Just decided one night that it was over. He'll do the same with me, when the time comes. If it's next week, next year, or 2 years from now, that's fine.
I don't dictate an age when he's no longer my baby, no longer deserving of something important to him, no longer able to be comforted. He's never "too old" for anything. He is today only one day older than he was yesterday. How could I decide that yesterday it was okay, but today it isn't? That's pure idiocy and a cop-out, not effective or acceptable in my world.

Four years ago, I would not have believed I would be nursing a four year old. Actually, I never planned to nurse him at all, it just happened. I let it grow into a mutually beneficial relationship. I'm happy I did, it's been wonderful for both of us. But I can't say that it's okay for a 1 year old and not okay for a 2 year old. Where does black end and white begin? How can I dictate a timeline?

Also keep in mind that Charlie's immune system doesn't function normally. Breastfeeding provides him with the antibodies he needs to stay healthy. He was very sick for two years, while getting milk from two women. Imagine how sick he would have been if we'd given him formula instead. He's a human child, he gets human food. Human food is milk. It gives his under-functioning immune system the assistance it needs to remain healthy. Heck, I'd probably continue to give him pumped milk long after he'd stopped taking it from the source. It's healthy, he needs it.

It has nothing to do with being dependent, being a baby, being spoiled, being helpless. It's not a weakness or discipline issue. He can nurse and do his own laundry (only a small and closed mind would have trouble reconciling that). He can sleep with a teddy bear and go to second grade. He can be rocked to sleep and play soccer. Being allowed to mature, grow, and change at his own pace is not holding him back or keeping him a baby; it's allowing him to make the choices that affect his own life in his own time.

4 years

2009-08-11T14:50:00.001-04:00

Four years ago, my world was turned upside down and inside out and ripped stem to stern and filled with more love, joy, and overwhelming everythingness than I could have imagined. A fat, squirmy baby boy, all mine. 11 lbs 7oz of love lump. The sweetest, happiest, most easygoing baby alive.

That little baby is now 42 pounds, 41 inches. Still happy, sweet, and easygoing. Still a cuddly little love lump. Still my baby. But now my baby is a big boy.

He wants to go to school, he told us to move his bed into his room (but the one trial night he realized he still wanted to be in our bed), he only nurses at night now, and sometimes not even then. He does his laundry, cleans his toys, puts the dog out. He's trying to grow up, and I'm trying to let him.

Happy birthday, baby angel. Thank you for choosing me.

Yes, that's, uh... friendly

2009-08-09T09:45:00.001-04:00

We have this church down the road from us that always has something bizarre on their sign. What I saw today was weird even for them, though...

"Jesus empties your soul so he can move in."

Yeah, what a way to promote the big JC. As a dementor.

A cure in search of a disease

2009-08-06T20:33:00.004-04:00

I saw this slideshow quite some time ago, then lost the link. I recently found it again and it's just my favorite piece of information on the topic, because it is so well cited and so well informed and shows the idiocy that allows this to continue.

Throughout the years, circumcision has been "proven" to prevent, cure, and or treat; wet dreams, masturbation, syphilis, epilepsy, spinal paralysis, bedwetting, scoliosis, incontinence, clubfoot, vision problems, crossed eyes, blindness, deafness, mental retardation, rape, interracial sex, tuberculosis, penile cancer, prostate cancer, all venereal disease, oral cancer, cervical cancer, mental illness, bladder and rectal cancer, urinary tract infections, AIDS (this has been around since 1986, folks, and yet AIDS continues to spread), and group B strep, among others.

Is it any wonder that it now "cures" HIV?

As it always has been, it remains a cure in search of a disease. And ignorant, vengeful people to carry out this punishment on the innocent.

Just read it. It's worth a few minutes of your time.

Medical timeline

My mom died today

2009-08-05T12:26:00.001-04:00

Not today today of course. Today a long long time ago. It still catches me by surprise every year when it comes along.

She died 8-5, and was buried 8-11. When AJ was pregnant with Charlie and so overdue, I absolutely forbade this child to be born on the fifth. I simply would not allow it to happen. I couldn't handle that. So he waited. He waited until 8-11. He came into this world exactly 20 years to the day from my mother's final goodbye. The beginning and the end.

It took some time before I realized this, and the opportunity it afforded me. I never knew my mother. She got sick when I was an infant, and was in and out of the hospital for a few years before finally admitting defeat and dropping her weapons. For most in my family, the world stopped spinning. For me, a small child, things went on. I remember my dad telling me she died. I remember where I was sitting, what he was wearing, what his exact words were. I remember him being upset, but the words meaning nothing. I remember asking when she was coming home.

The date of her death didn't affect me so much. So mama didn't come home from the hospital that night, that wasn't unusual. Daddy was crying, nothing new in that.

But the day of her funeral, I remember. In vivid detail. The color of the room, the flowers, the casket. The leukemia that had ravaged her body for nearly three years had left its mark, and it was a closed casket by her request. I remember my mama being in a box. I remember being scared, and confused, and wanting mama to come out of the box. She never did. That day, they put my mama in the ground. That day, I realized she was never coming home. That day, my childhood shattered and I was left to somehow navigate the world as a motherless child. That day, the world cracked.

Twenty years later, I again waited for the world to stop turning. I waited not for someone to be lowered into the abyss, but to be removed from it. That day I didn't lose a mother, I became one. And in doing so, I found her. I held him, so new and perfect, and finally felt, for the first time in my life, loved by my mother. I felt it shake me so hard that I didn't know if I could recover from it. My tiny, perfect child was everything to me that I was to her. And holding him, breathing him, realizing that my entire life had been spent waiting for him, I realized how much she must have hurt. Because she left me. She had to go, to separate herself from her child, to send her child off into a world that she would no longer be a part of. And now that I understood what it was like to love someone so completely, I realized I could never understand what it would be like to lose that person. To watch them walk out a door, happy and smiling, and realize that I would never see their face again.

That night I stayed up, never taking my eyes off of Charlie. I memorized him in every respect. I stretched myself in this new role, his mother. And I felt her, for the first time in my conscious life, I felt her surround me and love me. All the love I put into him, I felt flow back into me. Love that had always been there, that I couldn't access because I couldn't remember. My son brought it back to me.

Exactly twenty years stretch between the first time I said goodbye, to the first time I said hello. Twenty years between the time I lost my mother and the time I became one. Twenty years from my greatest loss, to my greatest gift. Twenty years from the end of her time as a mother, to the beginning of mine.

24 years ago, my mother died. 4 years ago, my son was born. A day that had meant nothing but sadness to my family now had great happiness to fill it. I truly believe that, on that night, she let go of him and sent him to me. As late as he was, as long as we waited, something bigger was holding him back. My mama was giving her last hug, holding on as long as she could, before letting me know she was still around.

Sure, I'll hire her...

2009-08-03T19:52:00.002-04:00

A 2.7? Why wouldn't someone "pounce" on a applicant with her credentials!? A 2.7?! That's almost average!

(Yes, I realize a 2.0 is considered average by most standards... but if someone cannot keep above a 3.0 in a tight job market in an oversupplied field of work, then they plain don't deserve the job they want).

http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/08/03/new.york.jobless.graduate/index.html

NEW YORK (CNN) -- A recent college graduate is suing her alma mater for $72,000 -- the full cost of her tuition and then some -- because she cannot find a job.

Trina Thompson has sued her alma mater, Monroe College of New York.

Trina Thompson, 27, of the Bronx, graduated from New York's Monroe College in April with a bachelor of business administration degree in information technology.

On July 24, she filed suit against the college in Bronx Supreme Court, alleging that Monroe's "Office of Career Advancement did not help me with a full-time job placement. I am also suing them because of the stress I have been going through."

The college responded that it offers job-search support to all its students.

In her complaint, Thompson says she seeks $70,000 in reimbursement for her tuition and $2,000 to compensate for the stress of her three-month job search.

As Thompson sees it, any reasonable employer would pounce on an applicant with her academic credentials, which include a 2.7 grade-point average and a solid attendance record. But Monroe's career-services department has put forth insufficient effort to help her secure employment, she claims.

"They're supposed to say, 'I got this student, her attendance is good, her GPA is all right -- can you interview this person?' They're not doing that," she said.

Don't Miss
Read the court filing (pdf)
Thompson said she has fulfilled her end of the job-search bargain, peppering companies listed on Monroe's e-recruiting site with cover letters, résumés and phone calls. But no more than two employers have responded to her outreach, and those leads have borne no fruit.

Her complaint adds, "The office of career advancement information technology counselor did not make sure their Monroe e-recruiting clients call their graduates that recently finished college for an interview to get a job placement. They have not tried hard enough to help me."

She suggested that Monroe's Office of Career Advancement shows preferential treatment to students with excellent grades. "They favor more toward students that got a 4.0. They help them more out with the job placement," she said.

Monroe College released a statement saying that "while it is clear that no college, especially in this economy, can guarantee employment, Monroe College remains committed to working with all its students, including Ms. Thompson, who graduated only three months ago, to prepare them for careers and to support them during their job search."

Thompson says she has not hired an attorney to represent her because she cannot afford one. When she filed her complaint, she also filed a "poor person order," which exempts her from filing fees associated with the lawsuit.

Asked whether she would advise other college graduates facing job woes to sue their alma maters, Thompson said yes.

"It doesn't make any sense: They went to school for four years, and then they come out working at McDonald's and Payless. That's not what they planned."

Yes, because everyone is exactly where they planned they'd be in their first year of college.

Beach baby

2009-07-15T22:49:00.001-04:00

DSC01986
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

As you can tell, he was miserable the whole time

Just like daddy

2009-07-13T23:08:00.003-04:00

In case you've ever wondered, a quarter does fit inside a 3 yo's foreskin. And mom laughing and then telling him to get it out does NOT work.

What should I expect from a kid with a sperm bank for a father? He's figured out how to play with his junk and make money pop out.

Violation?

2009-07-12T19:22:00.002-04:00

So it's been asked, many times before, why I feel the way I do about cutting my child's hair. For those that know me well, it comes as no surprise why I feel the way that I do.
The "my" in my children denotes the legal and ethical responsibility that I have to them. It does not in any way permit me ownership over them or their bodies, and does not allow me to arbitrarily decide what parts of their body, however "insignificant," that they get to keep.

Hair does not damage children. It does not in and of itself cause them discomfort or health risk. Hair, left alone, is just hair. Fingernails, left alone, cause pain and inconvenience, so fingernails get cut. Hair, properly cared for, is just there.

I do not feel that it is my right to remove things from my child. Most people realize and understand that, holistically, this is how I view the body. I don't cut off their genitals, I don't poke holes in their ears, I don't draw on them with needles, I don't scar their bodies. I don't cut their hair.

Is this to say that I feel hair cutting parents are cruel, indifferent child abusers? Not in the least. Because unlike piercing ears or removing the end of the penis, a haircut really does involve no physical pain and the hair will continue to grow. A haircut, no matter how drastic, is not permanent. So it doesn't bother me to see kids get their haircut. It bothers me for people to assume a boy must have short hair and a girl must have long, because that is no different than a boy must play with guns and a girl must play with dolls. Gender stereotyping doesn't happen in my household. But for people who chose to cut their kids' hair, for whatever reason, it doesn't bother me.

I don't cut things off of my children. I leave their bodies whole and leave them with the ability and the right to make those choices for themselves.

So why did we get his hair cut? Because the ends were frazzled. They were damaged and tangly and scraggly. It made his hair healthier to remove the dead, damaged ends. He was a part of the decision, he watched Ben get his hair cut, cut Jessie's hair and even a piece of Carolyn's. He understood that it would only be a little off the ends, that his hair would still be long (and blonde, he was very concerned about that), and he watched in a mirror the whole time. He didn't get upset until people started making a big deal over it, but that is who he is. His personality is to be bothered when he is the center of attention. But he was on board with the process and we didn't force him to do it. Highly different then tying him down and cutting things, for sure. But for me it was a break, or rather a detour, from what I feel about a child's right to his or her own body. Yes, hair will always grow back and there is no pain involved, which is why I'm accepting of the situation (or the choices of other parents to cut their kids' hair). It's just sooner than I would have liked it to be done because he is not at this point in time able to make fully conscious, aware decisions. I would have liked for it to be done at a time when he was able to ask for it himself.

It will never be truly cut, unless it reaches a point where it is causing him discomfort or true annoyance (because, at that time, it would not longer be a benign nothing, but a problem that needs to be rectified), unless he asks for it done. And it would need to be a conscious, aware decision that he makes with the maturity of a child who knows what is involved (that it can't be put back on, that it will feel and look very different, etc). But knowing him, and how much he loves his hair, I doubt that time will ever come.

3y11m... Charlie's first haircut

2009-07-11T20:05:00.004-04:00

Well, not really a cut, barely even a trim. I wouldn't classify this as a legitimate cut.

No, you don't get before and after pictures. Not yet anyway. I have no after pictures, and even if I did I don't know where the camera is. And even if I did I don't know where the software CD is for the camera and I got a new computer so I can't upload them to my computer. And I don't want to mess with AJ's computer.

So yes, Charlie got his hair cut. And I hated doing it and I felt guilty about it and still do. It's not really any different. Just the ends in the back. I thought about an inch normally but looking at the clippings it's closer to 1/2 inch. I think it really looks like a girl style now, because it's level across the back instead of jagged and uneven like it was. But the ends were frizzy and frayed, and our family friend who is a stylist was at the beach with us and had her kit. He was totally fine during it, but got really upset after. So then I got upset and cried because he was SO heartbroken. He was angry at us, with damn good reason. After about an hour he was still so upset over it I took the bag to Carolyn and had her put the hair back on. Yeah, I lied to him, but he's happy now. And, newsflash, I also bring the Christmas presents and the Easter basket.

So he still has very long surfer boy hair, and now the ends are a little healthier. It went against my parenting and personal ideals and I'm having an issue with feeling like I violated him, but what's done is done. He's still super cute, though.

Banner and other layout nonsense

2009-07-08T09:37:00.003-04:00

I used to keep my blog really cool looking. I knew a fair amount of HTML at one time. Alas, I have slipped. Those pictures in my banner are nearly two years old. I need new pictures, like yesterday. But I don't have the time or knowledge anymore to make a new banner.

Can someone make me a cool banner? I'll give you lots of cute pictures of my cute kids. I'll even mention your coolness in my super cool blog.

My blog used to be super cool. Then I started working for The Firm and stopped updating often. Then I let it slip slowly into an abyss that I can't seem to find my way out of, but I'm trying. But maybe a fresh new look would help. I need to do the overall layout (maybe I should finally upgrade to the "new" one-touch editing that Blogger rolled out over a year ago?), but mostly I need a new banner.

So, if you don't mind payment in good thoughts and car seat advice, could you make me a banner? Email me and let me know what you need.

Michael Jackson's children

2009-07-07T22:25:00.003-04:00

So, by now I'm pretty sure everyone that knows anyone that has internet access or any form of TV/radio contact knows that Michael Jackson is dead. Long live the king of... whatever he was. So was Thriller a movie, or a song, or a book, or what?

Much has been made of his unfortunately named children. Is there enough money? Did they see him dead? Are they really his kids? Do they even exist at all? Who will they live with? Well I'd like to take up the cause of that last question and the pathetic piece of shit that is Debbie Rowe.

Okay, I get that she only birthed the first two children. I get that she only has legal rights (uh, maybe?) to the first two children. But there IS a third child. Remember him? We all saw him dangling over a porch railing. Now, he might not be her crotchfruit, but he IS a child. And he IS the younger sibling of the first two. And, in my world, siblings belong together.

I can't believe the cold heartedness that would cause someone to seek custody of two children and separate them from the third. What happens to poor little Blanket? You only want the ones you sold? Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, they might remember the third kid and wonder where he went?

Siblings belong together. We're not talking about 9 kids being parceled out to aunts and uncles with kids of their own. We're talking about three children, well provided for, going to a childless woman. Good jesus, the first and third have the same name even, she won't have to be bothered with remembering anything new.

Now, whether she would be a fit parent or not is irrelevant at this point. She became unfit (at least in my opinion, which is the only one that matters, at least on my blog) the moment she decided it was okay to shatter the remaining family these children had left, by separating siblings. If she wanted the first two, whether she had a legal right to the thid or not, she should have petitioned for all three. She should have been motherly enough to declare that these children belong WITH each other and TO each other. She should have been willing to open her home to her children AND their siblings. Because being a parent means putting your kids first. She should have put their right to an intact family (as intact as it can be from here on out) over her desire to only ~~profit from~~ be burdened with the first two.

If my sister or SIL were to die, and her husband have more children down the line, then those kids would be part of my family as well. And if their father died and someone needed to take the children, we would want ALL of them. Annabelle and her new siblings, Zachary and Tristan and their new siblings (but good god, I hope Mike never breeds again). And if the new wife wanted them, then by all means they would stay. Because keeping siblings together is the best possible outcome when a parent dies. They shouldn't be split.

And for that reason and that reason alone, I don't think Debbie Rowe should ever get those children~~'s money~~. Give them to the persob who wants ALL of them.

Cute carseat pic

2009-06-30T22:56:00.001-04:00

DSC01716
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

I want to change him into another seat, he won't go for it. He loves his Marathon.

I want one

2009-06-27T23:29:00.002-04:00

Now, I am historically not a fan of Dorel (Cosco, Safety 1st, Eddie Bauer). They're previously made low quality, high recall, difficult to use items. But in the past year they've been improving a great deal, and I've had my eye on them.

Well now... wow.

http://airprotect.safety1st.com/index.php

First off, rear facing to 40 pounds. Yes, forty pounds. Charlie is just barely over that (and, actually, he varies enough day to day that he might occasionally be under it). Charlie has been forward facing for nearly two years, because he outgrew everything else. This seat would have taken him rear facing to 3.5 years old, and Charlie is a big kid. Most kids would probably make it to 4 years old rear facing in this seat. That's HUGE.

But, then we've got those air cushions. Now, Britax is trying something similar, but their attempt is, IMO, a total gimmick. The Safety 1st seat seems truly innovative and amazing. And the crash tests they show on the website are pretty impressive. I'm damn near sold.

Now, the price point, at $250, is a bit steep. Seeing as how Graco recently released a 40 pound RF seat (MyRide 65, lamest name in the history of lameness) for ~$160, Dorel is pushing it. But they've routinely sold the Alpha Omega/Eddie Bauer 3n1 nightmare for $180-$200, so $250 for this seat isn't that out of line and I am sure people would pay it. I would happily pay $400 for a great car seat, but I am not the standard consumer.

And, it comes in orange. ORANGE. I recently bought an orange seat, but I kinda wish I'd known about this one at the time.

No real review, of course, because I haven't gotten my hands on it yet. But from what I see, I'm really liking it.

A better day, by far

2009-06-26T16:57:00.003-04:00

I had to take the whole day off for the water heater guy who ended up not showing until after eleven.

First order of business- Sammy is home, safe and sound. The crack is slightly over half an inch, but he's showing no ill effects. He doesn't even have a bruise. Charlie bruises if you stare at him too hard, Sam can have a baseball sized lump and a broken bone, and no discoloration. Aj had to take him to the pediatrician within four hours. Huh? I could understand the next day, but four hours? And then not again for a week. Heidi said he can do whatever he wants, just keep some tylenol in him for what, one would assume, must be a killer headache.

New water heater, yay! Of course, they don't make them small enough to fit in that closet anymore. So we can't really close the closet door easily, but it'll do. I'm sure it's not the most efficient one on the market, but it's gotta be better than the last one. We didn't pay for it, so I'm not complaining too much.

So, we survived the excitement. Charlie is happy to have his brother home, Sam is (I guess) happy to be home, I had a shower. Charlie scored a Leapster, 3 games, and a Horton Hears a Who DVD, as well as 3 ICEEs. Mommy appears to be okay as well.

At least this day will be OVER in an hour*

2009-06-25T22:59:00.001-04:00

* GMT-5

First off, my baby is in the hospital right now. Yes, my baby. My little baby. My tiny, sweet, perfect little baby is in the hospital. With a skull fracture.
How did this happen you ask? Hell if I know. Audrey was changing his diaper, and he was on the changing table strapped in and she was holding him. Her hand was on him as he fell. And our changing table (which we rarely use) is in the only spot in our house that has tile. So he fell 3.5 feet onto concrete, flat on his head.
So I just get a phone call, baby screaming, Audrey stating she's bringing Sam to the hospital. So I told my boss I had to leave and went over to the ER to wait. She pulled up about 10 minutes later and the first thing I notice is my baby rear facing in front of an airbag. And of course I yelled at her which I shouldn't have, but all I could think (and, unfortunately, I said) "well, if they were in an accident, we wouldn't even have to worry about this because he'd be dead." Yes, I've apologized.
So, he had a CT while I took Charlie for lunch. I got back, and we were both thinking we'd be on our way. Till Flora comes in, the PA for the neurosurgeon. And she introduces herself as the PA for the neurosurgeon. And, while I know logically that a neurosurgeon would be consulted for a skull fracture, it freaked me out big time. But, she said he had a fairly significant fracture, needs to stay overnight, needs a full skeletal x-ray, social services needs to get involved...
AJ goes home to get overnight stuff and take Charlie to my dad's house, I stayed there with him. Social services arrives, goes through the typical "infant with a skull fracture" interview, I feel confident that she knew we didn't bash his skull in. She has a baby born same day, so she was asking me all about what Sam does motor-skills wise. X-ray came in to take him and I didn't want to let him go because he was sleeping and I didn't want more radiation and the social worker was standing there stating she didn't need it for her report (it was mostly to check for signs of previous abuse). Well, I let them take him.

Alright, so after we got Sam upstairs and checked in, I went back to work for an hourish. Then went and got Charlie from my dad, and took him to Target and bought him a Leapster. He was so upset, and it had certainly been traumatizing for him because he was right there when it happened. I wanted to make him happy, I knew he wanted a Leapster (thanks, Julie), so I got him one and a few games. Come home for jammies for Sam (AJ totally spaced on bringing clothes for the baby) and I can't park in the driveway because there is a wild angry swarm of hornets in my garden. AJ found this out from the mailman who got stung twice yesterday and now won't deliver our mail without proof of extermination. Come inside, get everything, head back out with a kid who hasn't eaten, hasn't napped, and smeared toothpase in his hair. Oh, and he insisted on wearing jammies and no underpants.

I got back to the hospital and my in laws were there. Visited, then AJ and Charlie went downstairs for dinner while I stayed with angel. Yabber with the nurse who informs me that Sam can't sleep with AJ which I know is gonna cause a fight sometime tonight, and they're getting a roommate as well. And there is no bathroom in that room. I promise. No toilet even.

So I bring Charlie home, crying that he wants brother. I get him inside and tell him he can play for a few minutes. Then we hear this noise and he asked me what it was. It was coming from our only closet, and the only thing in our only closet is our water heater, manufactured in 1971. So I opened the closet, and yes, that sound is running water, in case you were wondering. Well, I don't know what the hell to do. AJ would, of course. See, AJ comes from a family of doers. I come from a family of payers. Her parents fix things, my parents pay other people to fix things. So, AJ could have fixed it, but she's at the hospital with our baby with a skull fracture. I called her dad, he can't do much for me over the phone. So I walked to my neighbor (he's an a/c repairman and the nicest guy ever). His front yard smells like something died, and his wife answered and all I said was "I need Larry and a wrench." She laughed at me and sent him out. He came over and cut the circuit, managed to turn it off, and got a hose hooked up to drain it. The hose that has been sitting under my coffee table for 8 months. The hose that was intended for Sam's water birth. I've been meaning to get rid of that thing, good thing I didn't. AJ called the power company (we knew it was on its way out, so we bought the $3/month insurance on it about 5 months ago) and they said they could be out tomorrow. Wellll... the ring on the bottom is rotted out and the seal on the top won't close. I'm pumping this scalding hot water into the tub with the intent to add some cold water and bathe my kid at some point. Well, it ain't gonna work, so the only thing we could do was cut the main. So, I filled up a pitcher and now I have no water. The power company guy will be out tomorrow to replace it.

So I go to put my baby to bed, my big baby, and you've never heard pain until you've heard a 3 year old cry out for his brother. Crazy with grief and fear and promising he'll be good if I bring Sammy back. I showed him a video of Sam on my phone thinking it would help, all he did was rub the screen and cry "sammy... I want brother... sammy... please come home brother." It took over half an hour to get him to sleep, just kept crying out for brother.

So here I am, eating ice cream and wanting a shower. I can't go to work tomorrow and I have NO PTO to spare (vacation) but oh well. I gotta get the water heater fixed, I gotta take care of Charlie. He was supposed to go to my dad but now that I have to wait here for them to do the water heater, I might as well not go at all.

So, that's my day. And the dog just pooped on the floor. I can't even flush it. Ah hell, I forgot I can't flush the toilets. Great.

Tubular

2009-06-20T13:23:00.005-04:00

Sam has had half a dozen ear infections in four months. He's been on abx for the past month, three different oral before moving to injections, and still wouldn't go away. Ruptured eardrums, 40% hearing loss, and non-stop screaming screaming screaming. Won't sleep, won't be happy.

So... we consented. I was SO against it. I hate ear tubes. But... my kid was miserable. So, Thursday he had the tubes put in. He raged for hours afterward, he must have felt like an adult dropping acid. But Thursday night he slept through the night. Friday night he woke up a few times to eat but went back to sleep (versus before, when he would wake up screaming every hour).

So, my baby has been surgically modified. I don't like it, but it's done. It appears to be working so far. His hearing should return to normal or slightly sub-normal (there is scarring) and for now he appears happier.

Pretty baby

2009-06-10T22:30:00.001-04:00

Crazy boy
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Getting ready to jump in the pool.

And then he did what? Fascinating!

2009-06-10T22:28:00.001-04:00

Really?
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Charlie's telling Sam a story about "the train driver got trashed and Harry Potter fell off the train"

I don't believe he was using the word "trashed" in context. At least, I hope not.

Hi

2009-06-02T21:55:00.001-04:00

DSC01042
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Dimples!

Growing up

2009-05-27T10:32:00.001-04:00

Last weekend we spent with Cathy and Beth and their beautiful daughter Hannah. The kids had a blast together, conquering Disney World one mickey shaped waffle at a time. Hannah was precious. Sweet, sassy, smart, and absolutely adorable. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and so much baby pudge. Squishy cheeks and arms and just that delicious baby pudge. Charlie was such a fat baby, with tons of baby pudge. I knew he'd thinned out over the past year, but until seeing him next to Hannah I didn't really realize by how much. Putting the two of them next to each other, it was exceedinlgly obvious. Hannah, at 2y11m, still looked like a baby. Charlie, at 3y9m, looked like a little boy. It broke my heart a little bit, actually. She'll lose her baby fat shortly, Charlie still had it at her age. Her moms won't even notice. It'll just happen, like it did with Charlie. And next time they visit and see Hannah next to Sam, they'll realize that this outwardly visible vestige of babyhood has gone at some point, without them even realizing it.

My baby doesn't look like a baby anymore. He looks like a kid.

Charlie used to love WonderPets. It was his favorite show for over a year. Linny, Tuck, and Ming Ming were our good little friends. I still remember how shocked I was when I discovered that Linny was a female.

Monday, he asked to watch TV. I saw we had a new WP taped, so I started it.

"No, mama. I don't want WonderPets. That's a baby show. It's Sammy's show."

A baby show. It's a baby show. And with that, he declares that he is no longer a baby. He doesn't have his baby fat anymore, he doesn't want his baby show. He's growing up.

It's not fair.

How big is Sammy?

2009-05-23T15:48:00.001-04:00

DSC00957
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Or, baby stick-up.

Am I raising a fairy?

2009-05-23T15:47:00.001-04:00

DSC00971
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

I have no background story for this picture. Don't ask.

Doctor =/= God

2009-05-22T20:22:00.004-04:00

Care suggested I write about this. Oh boy can I write about this.

So, recently we've got the boy who is missing, and mom who is wanted for arrest, all to avoid chemotherapy. Boy has 90% chance of being cured says doctors.

Boy has 10% of dying.

Now, doing math, it seems only logical that boy should have chemo. 90% is nothing to sneeze at. Unless you're in the 10%. That 10% didn't get there by pessimism. That 10% got there by thousands of children going through hell and not coming out the other end. 10% of children who, presumably, were willing and compliant. 10% of parents who willingly handed their most precious creations to the doctor gods that promised a cure. 10% of children who endured burning chemicals, bleeding mouth sores, hair loss, nausea, lethargy, cravings, fear, pain, and medicalized torture. 10% of children fighting for that 90% survival rate. 10% of children who lost. 10% of children who spent their final weeks, months, and years on this earth in pain and terror. 10% of children who didn't go home. 10% of children who died of a "highly curable" disease.

For those 10% of children, there is 10% of parents. 10% of parents who hold their child down for tests. 10% of parents who explain through tears that the pain is for the best. 10% of parents who endure sleepless nights worrying. 10% of parents who bankrupt themselves with medical bills. 10% of parents who try to save some of the locks as the fall out on the pillow. 10% of mothers and fathers who can do nothing but sit and watch while their child slips away. 10% of parents who have to face the end of the world and somehow wake up the next day. 10% of parents who have to plan a funeral. 10% of parents who have to watch their child's body lowered into the ground. 10% of parents who bury their soul along with their child and wait decades for their bodies to catch up.

10% doesn't seem so insignificant anymore, does it?

Now, let's determine when it's worth it. It's worth it when truth is presented and consequences weighed and all parties consenting. When the parents, and child, see that 90% at the end of the wall of fire and decide that it's worth walking through the flames for the chance to grab it.

And let's talk about when it's not worth it. When the parents have researched and determined it's not in the child's best interest. When the child is old enough to make decisions and decides not to do it. When the patient is non-compliant. When the family is willing to go on the lam to protect the child from the doctor gods.

I gave my child to the doctor gods for nearly two years. I traveled all over the state to fall at their feet. I presented my beautiful son and his broken body to the power of those that knew more, knew better, than I did. I gave everything I had in the quest to heal my world. I would have done anything, said anything, been anything, given anything, to fix him. I would have carved my own skin off my body if it would help. I would have given him to the doctor gods and died myself in order to cure him.

I learned about IgA and IgE levels, I learned of diseases like Wiskott-Aldrich and Hermansky-Pudlak syndrome. I pored over studies of platelets. I researched drugs and treatments. I searched for siblings, and found them, and still had no answers.

I told the doctor gods that the drugs made it worse. I told the doctor gods that I really thought it was his immune system, not his skin. I told the doctor gods about the bruising and the bleeding.

I sat in the ER and was told my son had leukemia. Then it was Wiskott-Aldrich syndrome. Then it was possible Job syndrome. Within days of leukemia, I was begging to go back to it. The highly curable disease that killed my mother I at least knew about. People understood leukemia. Never would I think that a mother would pray for her child to have leukemia. I prayed to a god I didn't even believe in to please make it so simple.

I finally began stepping back from the doctor gods. I had long since made the decision not to vaccinate our child. I knew that vaccination was a spotty science, and given his current immune status, it was not something we were willing to even entertain. But one doctor kept pushing a particular vaccine. A highly reactive vaccine. He could never give us a reason why, other than he wanted to see how he would react. My child. My precious human child. And instead of driving to PetSmart for a little white mouse (not that I approve of experimenting on mice, in fact, I actually don't), he decided my little white child would do just as well. We refused, several times, and were issued an ultimatum: do the vaccine or leave the practice. We picked up his records 3 days later.

We went to another doctor god. One fresh out of med school. Fresh. Like, hadn't even made the first loan payment fresh. But there was something about her. She wasn't a doctor god yet. She was barely a doctor. But she remembered that obscure little disease in the lower left hand corner of page 493. And with one blood test, she had her teeth in it. And she got it. With one test. And she confirmed to us that had we listened to the first doctor god, the one who had used my precious angel as his own blood supply for two years, he could have died from the vaccine. At best, he would have wound up in the hospital, very ill.

We no longer bow to the doctor gods. We use them in our quest to heal our child. We benefit from their knowledge, experience, compassion, and skills. We value their input as we decide what is best for our child. But we no longer present his body for their manipulation.

I know my child. I know every curve of his body, every beat of his heart, every strand of his hair. I know how he likes his bananas peeled, how he likes his lotion applied, how he likes his back rubbed, what songs and stories he wants at bedtime. I know every every scrape and bump, every stitch, every test, every trip to the hospital. Every drug, every reaction. I know him. I know everything a human can know about another. And that is something no doctor could ever know.

I make health decisions for my child. I advocate for him every moment, every day. I seek out every option. I give my soul to the journey of healing his body of this defect. I make his world safe. And I protect him from the doctor gods.

There is also the situation in which people feel it is part of the plan. I have a friend with a severely 'damaged' child. Born at home, all was perfect with the birth. But the child was born not breathing. Midwife called the ambulance immediately and began trying to revive the baby (and I will stop here and state that this would have happened in a hospital anyway, as something happened during her journey through the birth canal, and no hospital could have stopped that). The mother states that she felt the entire time the MW was calling the hospital that this was wrong. She want to stop her. She states to this day that her biggest regret is letting the midwife call the ambulance. She felt that her child was destined for that brief frame of time, those moments between her birth and death. She messed with the plan, she changed things. And her child lived. Lived a short, brutal, painful, horrible existence.

Until someone faces the serious illness and possible death of their child, they know nothing. Until a parent sits there staring at their greatest love and joy and contemplates life without that joy, until they have to swallow their pain and decide how to proceed with the ultimate life or death of all they care about, then they know nothing. Until they have held that fire in their hand and had to set it to the side or walk right through it, then they are in no position to judge or dictate how a parent handles the treatment of a critically ill child. Even if there is a 90% cure. 90% leaves a very battered, pained, destroyed 10% on the other end.

Many people, doctors and others, know what is best for a child like Charlie. Know how best to care for a child like Charlie. Can make better decisions for a child like Charlie. No one, nowhere in the world, knows what is best for Charlie. No one but his mother and I. We are the only people alive who can care for Charlie. For the person and body he is. And we make these decisions for him. And we agonize over them, but we ultimately decide if he can make it through the fire or will perish in the flames.

*Charlie is our child, mine and AJ's. We make decisions for him together. However, I am writing about my experiences and thoughts, therefore "I" and "my child" are used. Rest assured, I do not dominate his health care life and I make no decisions on my own.

Stupid people on CL

2009-05-22T16:56:00.001-04:00

I get that everyone wants a bargain. I understand that people who buy from CL intend to do a little bargaining. I understand that I probably won't get my listed price. So I price it more than what I want, since people would rather pay $100 from $130 than $100 firm. Because they have small brains.

Anyway, I get all that. But why, really, why... when I post something for less than half the original price (and by less than half I mean nearly $300 less, and it's a hoppin' item that people covet and it flies off the shevles) would someone then offer me $200 less than my asking price. Really? $200 off is your first attempt? I don't even feel like blessing that with a response. So you do believe this item, which you could buy new for $650 (plus tax!), should be yours for the bargain price of $125? Because you really want it? Wow.

No, you can't have it. Boo hoo for you. Offer me a little closer to the asking price, and we might talk.

(this was more shocking than when I tried to sell a NIB Britax Frontier for $200, and was offered $75 because "I really need that seat for my son." Um, no.)

(Yes, I routinely sell things on CL. Car seats mostly. I buy them, play for awhile, review, learn, and then have to get rid of them. So it's not unusual for me to sell a 3 month old seat for 1/2 or less retail. But dude, don't try to undercut it even more when you know you're already getting a bargain)

Give me something to write about

2009-05-22T08:44:00.001-04:00

My blog used to be so popular, so funny, so well read. I've gotten into a rut lately and want out but I can't think of anything comical/offensive/informative/cute/bizarre enough to write about.

So, someone give me a topic. Any topic. The reproductive habits of a sea slug if you must. I promise I'll write you a great blog about it.

Cool dude

2009-05-15T07:10:00.001-04:00

DSC00793
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Pray for my sole

2009-05-14T10:48:00.001-04:00

I think my favorite shoes might be dead.

I've glued the black rubber sole back on a few times, but mostly just peeling around the edge. AJ keeps telling me to replace them but my feet are so big that it's hard to find comfortable shoes for a reasonable price. These tennies are about 4-5 years old. I another almost identical pair (look the same, except they have silver accents instead of blue), but those are men v women and the arch is just ever so slightly different. Those are comfortable, but not as comfortable as these. These are perfect.

Well, today half the back ripped off. The sole, that is. I put it back on with envelope glue (the only thing I have at my disposal) and it's not really working. Gonna try super glue again when I get home.

My sole is in danger. Please, please, pray for my sole.

Birthday is booked

2009-05-12T22:12:00.001-04:00

7 days, 6 nights at WDW for Charlie's birthday trip. On site, with all dining included. I have to call in three weeks to book dining, it goes fast. But I can only book 100 days in advance.

I have no clue what we're going to do there for so long. But at least we can go slowly, sleep frequently, and eat heartily.

He'll love it. My big almost four year old boy.

By the way, I've got a kidney for sale if anyone is interested. Very clean, barely used.

The moment you become an adult

2009-05-09T12:11:00.003-04:00

A friend of mine is trying to get pregnant. I'm very excited to see her have a baby and be a mommy. We were talking about work last night and she wants to transfer to my hospital. I was extoling the virtues, and I got to the on-site subsidized day care.

"Subsidized day care?!" she half shrieks, half gasps. A dreamy look came over her face and she kind of squeaked a bit at the prospect.

And I had to tell her... this is the moment. The moment you will always remember. At this exact moment, when you drooled over subsidized day care, this moment you became an adult.

Now I just need to get her to come!

$380

2009-05-04T11:32:00.001-04:00

A happy boy
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

That's the cost of Disney passes. Per person. For one year. With a Florida resident dicount.

And moments like this make it so so worth it.

Anyone wanna go to Cozumel with me?

2009-05-01T13:15:00.001-04:00

I'm sure hotels are dirt cheap right about now... we can probably live like princes for a pittance.

In case you are worried about your health, visit this site. It will answer all your questions and let you know if it's okay to book a 5 day/4 night stay with rental and flight for $129/pp double occupancy.*

*(okay, I totally made that up, but I bet they exist!)

SVU

2009-04-29T08:39:00.001-04:00

Wow, can you think of a more implausible story line? I haven't ventured over to MDC, I want to... I so want to... I just want to see the carnage.

I like the show, even last night's episode was entertaining. But talk about scare tactics and outright mistruths. Eh, I'm still skipping vaccines thankyouverymuch.

I see a very expensive and time consuming habit forming in my family

2009-04-26T20:29:00.001-04:00

Did I ever give anyone this idea that Disney was close to my house? Because, well, it's probably closer than YOUR house. It's certainly not an extreme hardship. It's not so much that we have to get a hotel somewhere in the middle. But it's not exactly hop in the car for a quick trip.

So, we went back to Disney yesterday. My neighbors were telling me about this GREAT hotel just minutes from Disney. "Super nice rooms" and "a great breakfast" and it was really cheap. Cool!

Remind me to never listen to my neighbors again.

It was clean...ish. I mean, I didn't fear scabies or anything. But I will never stay there again. We left the MK after 11 (bad bad parents we are) and got there about midnight. Why so long? Because they were doing construction on the road leading from Disney from 11pm-3am. Uh, the park closes at 11pm. Couldn't they have put that off another hour instead of closing down three lanes in the middle of the mass exodus. But, that's another gripe.

So, we were in the hotel for about 8 hours. Long enough to brush our teeth and watch part of SVU (one thing I love about America, Law and Order is on 28 hours a day. You can ALWAYS find an episode of L&O. It's just one of those small comforts). So it was fine. But I'll never stay there again.

My cousin and her daughter met us there today (they have passes as well, but they're only about 45 minutes away) and we all had a blast. Fabulous.

But... I think we might be addicted. Already. I didn't want to go to DW. I didn't want to do it. I think, deep down, I knew this would happen. I think we need a 12-step program. It's bad. I can see myself burning all my PTO and blowing my savings on hotels and staying there all the time. Wow.

But it's soooo much fun. And charlie loves it. And, uh, it's for him. We sacrifice ourselves to give him this bit of happiness. We do.

What do you mean you don't believe me?

Most annoying statement ever

2009-04-24T10:34:00.001-04:00

"I'm a Christian"

Specifically, "By the way, I'm a Christian."

Is there ever any situation in life where that disclaimer is warranted? Unless asking specifically what a person's religion is, what is the purpose of them saying that.

"I hate everyone. By the way, I'm a Christian."

"Well, I'm a Christian, so I think you deserve to burn."

"I don't agree with abortion. By the way, I'm a Christian."

"As a Christian, I think you're evil."

Is it just an excuse not to take responsibility for their own thoughts and actions? Oops, I couldn't help it, I'm a Christian and all.

Really, I'm not taking issue with someone being a Christian (or at least pretending). But why announce it at every turn? Especially when they're using it as a preface for an argument or unpopular/unkind/unfair statement? And "by the way?" Really? Is that necessary?

It seems that people only call it into the covnersation as a crutch to say something mean or judgmental. Rarely is it "as a Christian, I think everyone should be treated with love and respect." or something along that line. And people who are truly Christians, the ones with a capital C, is there a reason to announce it? Isn't your religion between yourself and your god? What is the reason to tell everyone, at any opportunity? Especially 3 minutes before something hateful comes out of your mouth?

What I woke up to this morning

2009-04-23T10:49:00.001-04:00

I woke up this morning, and Charlie was crying. He's been sick for a few days, so this is nothing that surprised me. I asked what he needed, he said "I wanna go to Virginia." Huh? I told him to go back to sleep, he started crying again saying "Please take me to Virginia to make me warm and comfy."

Sooo... apparently at 5am my child was desperate to be in Virginia, where it is "warm and comfy." At breakfast he again asked to go to VA, and settled for (his statement), "We'll just go on Saturday. Actually, it would be better to do it Wednesday."

There are some things money can't buy... for everything else, there are tax returns

2009-04-19T20:00:00.001-04:00

New best friend
Originally uploaded by splashandwally.

Suckered into the gimmick of "free on your birthday," we ventured over to WDW last week. Great fun was had. Charlie, however, had to turn the puppy dog eyes on me and tell me he wants Disney to be "a lifestyle choice." What was I to do? $760 later, we are proud owners of yearly passes (that's for ONE year, folks. One. I pay less than that for two years of the Busch theme parks).