tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4219665397843923682024-03-14T01:16:28.453-07:00Five kids, a dog and a blogOur life, quadruplets, autism, Catholic faith, and a dog who needs her own paraproMorris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-24445691631443513992013-09-14T06:10:00.001-07:002013-09-14T06:10:41.396-07:00My mama bear is a bit on the red neck side . . .<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pagedooley/4190336484/">kevin dooley</a> / <a href="http://foter.com/">Foter</a> / <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/">CC BY</a></td></tr>
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***<strong>P C Disclaimer***</strong><br />
<strong>I do not mean to offend anyone ever at all but it may happen sooooo,</strong><br />
<strong>If you live in a trailer park, like trailer parks or aspire to live in a trailer park one day I am sorry if I offend you. But hey, trailer parks are just funny in general aren't they?</strong><br />
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All you mothers out there, have you met your mama bear? She comes in handy. She is the one that comes running when your kid needs help and you don't have time to think and this is a good thing. She can save your kid's life, spare them pain, keep them from getting hurt or taken advantage of. Just as nature intended, MB is an evolutionary masterpiece, oh crap did I just offend creationists with my use of the word evolutionary? There is no way to be expressive and mildly humerous without offending someone . . .<br />
<br />
See how annoying it is to be a people-pleaser? Just saying that makes me want to throw up a little bit or atleast do the gag me sign like I frequently do to my kids when they tell me what stupid cutesy thing some pre teen snotty pants said at school that hurt their feelings that day. People pleasing is for the birds and as I am now in my forties I am thankfully starting to leave it behind but its still hangs around and pops up now and then. Hey guess what? My momma was right when she said over and over to me as I grew up "Everybody doesn't have to like you Bonnie." True mom and I am sure they do not. But seriously, I am not that bad am I? (crickets)<br />
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So I woke up angry and that is unusual for me. I am more of a morning person, coffee helps, but I have always been able to pop up with somewhat of a smile. When I woke up I remembered the dream I just had and it involved a mish mash of events surrounding my daughters at school this week. Aformentioned pre teen snotty pants (PTSP from here out) had done something oh btw there are quite a few of them, and it hurt one of my girls as she often gets hurt by kids that don't understand her unique personality. So I start daydreaming about what I would do and say if only it wouldn't get me arrested. You can't tell off PTSP because it would get you in a heap of trouble. I discovered what my mama bear wanted to do, what she always wants to do involves the bubbling up of just under the surface trailer park- potty mouth, uneducated venomous spew. I never let her out of the cage so she gets p***ed off. But she is most definitely nasty. <br />
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I have dreamed of unleashing her on a teacher or coach here and there but having been a teacher and coach and actually on the receiving end of a REAL LIVE TRASHY momma bear or two, I relent. It doesn't feel good. It isn't Christian. It's tacky and hurtful to people who may or may not deserve it. Make no mistake - she is there inside most of us and she is a bit of a redneck even though I grew up in the suburbs of ATL. I am so grateful to have kind-hearted kids, no they are far from perfect but they would never ever intentionally set someone else up to look foolish in front of her classmates. I know this for a fact because I made it a point to teach them this, you have to.<br />
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Hey, have a great weekend people. I will tuck my MB back in her cage and lock her up tight once again. Probably she will get unleashed on some poor sweet nurse next time I am under anesthesia. Gotta let her vent sometimes right? Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-83380491243089528882013-04-03T18:12:00.000-07:002013-04-03T18:12:28.558-07:00Prayers and ketchup packets<br />
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I have been reading a lot lately. That is not an earth-shattering revelation, I realize. I have been reading a lot about my faith and history and politics (OK just a little here) and religion in general, the Bible, family history all kinds of things really. I felt like I need a kick in the grow-up-improve-yourself-learn-more-about-the world you live in and what you believe pants. I got tired of trying to find the hyphen key (you know how I hate that key.) I also think I have just been away from education too long. I loved college and loved teaching (not necessarily BEING a teacher, just the actual teaching part which is about 20% of the job.)<br />
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So you know how it is when you get to reading this kind of stuff and you think, I should be doing that! or why am I not good at that? And then you're like- crap I stink at everything I have ever done, said or attempted to do or say and I need to just scrap my whole personality and start over. . . such is the dangers of the Internet, pinterest, books, etc. Deep breath.<br />
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I read people's blogs with their flowery articulate prose and think . . . I say things like crap on my blog, no one is ever going to accuse me of being a literary genius. Still, I have something to offer its just written in more of a layman's style. So I was thinking about prayer and how I always pray but my prayers are like those little annoying ketchup packets - I just tear and squirt over and over all day. Pretty shallow shout outs to the Almighty about whatever is on my frontal lobe at the moment. No time for depth. I can't wax poetic to the creator of the universe for several reasons :<br />
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1. Nothing I say is going to impress him as far as beautiful language goes - remember he made well, everything so seriously, He is not impressed by big words.<br />
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2. I am beginning to think my daughter inherited her ADD from me - I can't keep one train of thought for more than a few seconds. I can't cross a room with one task in mind without detouring at the first sight of another task and then arrive on other side of room with it still in my brain. Now, what was I saying?<br />
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3. He already knows what I am thinking so I don't want to bore Him with redundancy. Yes that makes me thoughtful doesn't it? I know some of you keep a prayer list and we tend to ask about the same things over and over so I tend to say "Refer to list - thanks Amen" if I am in a super hurry.<br />
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SIDE NOTE: Don't you moms agree that the invention of those new super-sized ketchup packets at places like CFA are a God-send? No pun intended. You know what I mean if you have small children who like healthy things like french fries - no I never would feed my babies such a thing ahem. I meant all you who do let your kids eat them and they aren't able to get the packets torn with their chubby small fingers so you have to do it like 15 times before you can eat your own fries which are now cold and soggy (but you eat them anyway for some weird reason.) The big packets are the BOMB!<br />
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I guess my point in all this rambling is to encourage you, myself and anyone who has ever wondered about praying or felt guilty for not praying enough or with the right words. He doesn't even need words, just a nod in his direction, just an acknowledgement of His greatness and your feebleness, just a connection that lets you both know that your relationship is important and your connection is still there. I hate to admit this but sometimes when things are going weirdly wrong , which they often do at this house, I just turn my eyes up and say "seriously?" I think that is a prayer that might give Him a chuckle. I have to believe the Lord has the best sense of humor of all.Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-1026933633872225822013-01-30T17:24:00.000-08:002013-01-30T17:24:29.084-08:00We are in the armpit of winterOk so I know I have publicly declared that I don't like complainers a time or two and this will make me look a bit hypocritical but so be it - its my turn. You see I keep most of my complaints building up and up because no matter what you have to say - no one really cares about what irritates you so there is little sense in unloading it on even the most sympathetic friend. <br />
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However, It is January 30th and as far as I am concerned we are in the armpit of winter, my least favorite, most gloomy, farthest away from summer and holidays part of the year and well I pretty much hate it. So from here on out I vow to unleash my complaints upon the world every January 30th. I mean you can't even say at least tomorrow is a new month because there is yet another day in January to endure! Sheesh!<br />
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So be forewarned my litany follows:<br />
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<strong><em><u>I can't stand:</u></em></strong><br />
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1. Drivers who can't stay in their own fricken fracken lane - they drift from side to side and try to take what is yours. Stay in your lane dude!!<br />
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2. Gray days that are humid and go on forever in JANUARY.<br />
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3. When I buy a two liter of a diet soda and its already flat as soon as I open it. Everyone knows diet sodas are only good because the extra carbonation burns your eyes when you drink it and distracts you from the fact that they taste pretty crappy and are chock full of chemicals.<br />
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4. email addresses that use the underscore key. I mean wth? Its hard to find and hard to use and you always end up hitting the hyphen key first because you can't tell the difference between the two!<br />
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5. email addresses that are cutesy or full of self-importance like <a href="mailto:luvmypitbull@xyz.com">luvmypitbull@xyz.com</a> or <a href="mailto:iamskinnyandbeautiful@donthateme.com">iamskinnyandbeautiful@donthateme.com</a> <br />
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6. elementary school homework assignments that make me feel dumb when I am trying to help my kids. Bring me the high school stuff PLEASE!<br />
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7. Blog posts that contain to many exclamation points!!!!!! Not everything is worthy of that much excitement!!!<br />
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8. People who like to rub their youth and athletic ability in your face who are in their 20's and like to do toe touches in your cardio class. So WHAT LADY!? WHEN YOU ARE 41 AND SOMEONE DOES THAT IN FRONT OF YOU WHILE YOU ARE JUST TRYING TO SURVIVE THE CLASS AND MAYBE BURN OFF A CHEESEBURGER - IT WILL P$$ YOU OFF TOO. I would say I can't wait for the day but by then I will be in my 60's so lets not rush things.<br />
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9. Women who over accessorize - you are trying too hard.<br />
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10. Lazy people- and whiny children. <br />
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11. Children with bad manners.<br />
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12. Kids in the neighborhood who are mean to my kids (and also have bad manners.)<br />
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13. Adults with bad manners - please quit picking at your arm acne in front of me or I will hurl. Also, if you and I are trying to get to the same door at the same time - the person coming OUT of the building should go first but in general I step aside no matter which direction I am headed.<br />
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14. People who let their kids play with tablets and nintendoes in church?! Does that make me judgmental??? Don't come whining about why your kids don't go to church anymore as teenagers or adults if you do this.<br />
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15. People who whine about their awesome healthy typical children. Kids are annoying to every parent at some point but some people have actual real problems with their children like depression, drug problems, ADHD, autism or physical handicaps and those parents tend to handle day to day life better with bigger problems to deal with. Perspective - look it up.<br />
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16. People who go to work sick and cough all over everyone - STAY HOME you are not so important that the world will not run without you there for a couple days.<br />
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17. People who see you heading for the short lane at check out and then walk faster to get there before you - seriously??<br />
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18. When neighbor kids come over and smush their dirty hands and faces on the windows in the door that you spent 30 minutes cleaning today.<br />
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19. Blobs of toothpaste on the sink. Wipe. It. UP.<br />
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20. Drawers that are halfway shut with a piece of a t shirt hanging out.<br />
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21. skinny people who dont work out<br />
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22. When my kids suddenly realize I am not in the same room with them and must find me for no reason, no matter where I am in the house, including the bathroom.<br />
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23. People who stand at the only Redbox kiosk and scroll through for 10 minutes trying to decide what they want when there is an obvious line forming. Just flippin pick something man.<br />
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I must quit. I must quit. I need a drink. Have a super sparkly day y'all :)<br />
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Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-77162251523807420592012-12-01T16:08:00.002-08:002012-12-01T16:08:16.608-08:00Dad - A Happy Birthday TributeHappy Birthday Dad- You make 80 look good!<br />
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<strong><u>Dad</u></strong><br />
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The 23rd of November in 1932<br />
A year no one remembers<br />
because no one is older than you!<br />
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80 years have come and gone<br />
like leaves upon the wind<br />
Each day you greet with a smile<br />
for there's always a garden to tend.<br />
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Born into a depression<br />
then 3 sisters from Gil and Sadie<br />
whose tolerance marks them for sainthood<br />
Janet, Mary and Dadie<br />
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The 40's came and brought a new view<br />
people went back to work<br />
we can thank World War II<br />
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First High school then Air Force<br />
as those years flew by<br />
a new dream was born when you wanted to fly.<br />
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Then came a night-<br />
the pinnacle of your existence<br />
To Morocco with Midnight Mass in the distance. :)<br />
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The 50's brought Auburn<br />
and you became legal-<br />
football and beer and yelling War Eagle!<br />
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You moved to Orlando<br />
postcards home you would send<br />
having parties with all of your astronaut friends.<br />
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Then finally you found her<br />
your mustang caught her eye<br />
Her name was Miss Peggy<br />
and you were her guy.<br />
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"Peggy we must have children - to not would be mean.<br />
I must pass along my superior genes!"<br />
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First Becky then Bonnie, Jenny then Jimmy<br />
"Enough!" you told mom "I think four is plenty!"<br />
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So we gather today 80 years later<br />
I am sure I've successfully scared off the waiter<br />
<br />
Paw Paw, Dad, Buck or James<br />
You are someone who is loved<br />
and known by many names.<br />
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There's too many decades <br />
and not enough time<br />
for fitting a life <br />
into words that will rhyme<br />
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So in closing I have<br />
one last thing to say<br />
We love you<br />
War Eagle!<br />
and Happy Birthday!!<br />
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Love, your kids (but especially Bonnie who wrote it :) )Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-33073680911432200192012-10-21T16:47:00.000-07:002012-10-21T16:47:26.346-07:00Stuff my daughter with autism has broken . . Hey there. I am writing this post as a therapeutic count backwards from one hundred so I don't do something stupid post. Today took the cake. My Doodle does irrational things and tends to be destructive for no apparent reason. Especially to items she loves. She will shred her favorite books and take handles off drawers, throw pillows off couches and beds along with blankets or any item she considers out of place in the universe. There is no rhyme or reason. She just does it. Sometimes its funny and sometimes it really p*s*es me OFF. Today is such a day. So here in no particular order is a list of things she has broken in my home:<br />
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1. her favorite books<br />
2. her favorite DVD's<br />
3. All the remote controls in the house. <br />
4. All the Wii remotes<br />
5. The microwave<br />
6. my lap top<br />
7. her lap top<br />
8. the lap top before that<br />
9. the lap top before that (we buy surplus computers from the public school system for this reason.)<br />
10. my kindle fire<br />
11. my kindle fire before that<br />
12. My 3rd Kindle Fire which she THREW OUT THE CAR WINDOW TODAY WHILE I WAS DRIVING. Yes, it was smashed to smithereens.<br />
13. All the blinds in my bedroom. She snaps the ends off and breaks the rods.<br />
14. She throws forks, spoons and my good china in the garbage can and often I don't notice till the garbage is gone.<br />
15. She throws food waiting to be eaten in the trash like pizza or dinner I just cooked, even if she likes it.<br />
16. My last camera (not my awesome new one Betty!! Its under lock and key.)<br />
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I can't explain her tendancy to do this and before you say, "Why do you let her touch those things ?" remember-<br />
This child must be constantly entertained or she will go bizerk. Screaming, yelling, turning the tv on and off constantly. Slamming doors and flipping lights on and off even in the middle of the night. She recently threw a full kitchen size chair over the balcony into the foyer of our house. Luckily no one was hurt. She hasn't killed the dog yet but give it time.<br />
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She has a 5th grade reading level, she is in 4th grade. Has taught herself to read and has taught herself spanish. She can program the DVR like nobody's business. She can work any electronic device or app in the history of the human story. She can't however remember to go the restroom, tell me why she is mad or what she wants most of the time. <br />
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She is smart enough to know how to manipulate people into getting what she wants. Example, if she wants control of the tv she will ask you to get her some tea or milk and when you get up she steals your chair and the remote and doesn't give a hoot about the beverage you nicely brought her.<br />
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I could go on and on but that would be pointless. Anyway, I am going to write Amazon a nice letter and see if they will consider replacing my poor Kindle again. Moral of the story - Autism is expensive. No I am not going to put a PAYPAL donate now button on my blog don't worry!<br />
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Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-61213009303100583952012-06-28T13:44:00.000-07:002012-07-02T05:41:11.546-07:00Its been a while . . .<br />
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Anniversaries, funerals, birthdays are all cause for self reflection. There have been lots of each around here lately. I'm not even sure where to start. For one thing I am trying to decide the direction of this blog I have been ignoring. I either need to abandon it and start fresh with a general direction-autism? multiples? faith? ugg. The problem is it started out as a sort of scrap book/ outlet for my writing and dormant humor and now it is more of a venting/ pseudo wanna be real blogger site. I have so much to say but really not a lot of expertise in the quickly expanding mom blogger world. I know what I like and those blogs have fantastic photography, my camera is just a small Kodak with a broken cord so it is currently out of commission and who wants to read posts without pics? Not many people I think. I will either continue this as a friend blog and start a new directed one or continue in my hodge podge manner. Either way I will be writing more this year as my four year old starts his very first year of preschool. <br />
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Yes we waited for several reasons:<br />
<br />
1. He is my baby and I wasn't ready.<br />
2. Money -unnecessary expense<br />
3. He is smart as a firecracker and didn't need it.<br />
4. He gets plenty of socializing time with siblings and gym nursery<br />
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I just know you were thinking that his lack of 3 year old preschool would damage his psychy and chances of getting into an Ivy League school in 13 years or so. Well fear not he is going to be fine. I always have to remind myself that it is ok to just do things differently than most people. I mean heck we already have. Even if ALL my quad mom friends are doing thus and so, that doesn't mean I am wrong if I don't. Just kidding I don't have any quad mom friends. A handful of triplets moms and twins -yes. Quads - no. We are the only ones in our county for sure and possibly the surrounding area as well. <br />
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We have had a series of untimely passings of family members and friends recently and it really makes you stop and think. I seriously will not live forever. I mean seriously. Each day is one less left in my life. Am I living it intentionally? With a direction in mind or is it a hodge podge of decisions and moments and random events not headed in any direction just like my blog has become? <br />
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I would like to think I live intentionally, not just surviving, not just reacting but evolving and focused on a goal. I need to think about this some more. I want my children's lives to be intentional as well but childhood should be for growing and learning about yourself and the world and making memories to carry with you for the rest of your life. Childhood forms a person for good or for bad, that's why its so important and I am realizing that my quads are now halfway through childhood, being 9.<br />
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(Cue scary music)<br />
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Sigh - too much for me to digest and there are no cool pics for you to look as so I will end for today. Hope you are all having a fantastic summer. Enjoy it, before you know it we will all be in Target shopping for school supplies again btw - secret about that - never buy as many things as the school list asks for. Its inflated just like everything else these days. The years I have they always bring home tons of blank notebooks and paper that was never used. Ciao!<br />
<br />Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-31775583830052677902012-03-13T17:12:00.001-07:002012-03-13T17:28:17.430-07:00Awesome Loganville Photographer - Melissa Brown Photography Cute pics of my kiddos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvflLQdOt5sBfHxM6H2AfmJ3ZPfbLX0PN6ZlFGug79escJPFvoaerz755uI2-H2eRwF02mqcbe-nHU4gZ4iqPeMKZN-MkPpl8pSwHy_x1FJNpWgieypCmiW7WYNQwYG0RqpX0N-SqoEZJ/s1600/Bonnie4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvflLQdOt5sBfHxM6H2AfmJ3ZPfbLX0PN6ZlFGug79escJPFvoaerz755uI2-H2eRwF02mqcbe-nHU4gZ4iqPeMKZN-MkPpl8pSwHy_x1FJNpWgieypCmiW7WYNQwYG0RqpX0N-SqoEZJ/s320/Bonnie4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<strong>Hey there</strong>. I wanted to share my recent experience with a lovely photographer in Loganville who happens to also be a friend of mine from church. Her name is Melissa Brown and she is fantastic to say the least. Let me tell you why I think she's special.<br />
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She took awesome candid and posed photos of my kids.<br />
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All five of them.<br />
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They are smiling.<br />
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They are cute.<br />
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She even managed to handle the three year old with relative ease.<br />
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And my daughter Pauli who has autism.<br />
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Now let me tell you something. Anyone who can get good sweet photos of a special needs kid, an ornery three year old boy, three other siblings and farm animals at the same time is a talented person.<br />
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It does take a bit of finesse to handle special needs kids and Melissa Brown has got it. Just the right amount of patience, kindness and a certain "I don't know what" (Imagine that in french, sounds cooler but I don't know how to spell it.)<br />
Anyway, take a look if your are curious. We took these pictures at the home of Shelley Shellnutt, owner of Country Kids Camp which is super awesome as well. Thanks Shelley!! If you are interested you can find her on Facebook - Melissa (Biedron) Brown Photography. Or just send me a note and I will help you find her. P.S. You can also find Country Kid's Camp on Facebook. Have a great dayMorris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-59957831226876767532012-02-14T08:45:00.000-08:002012-02-14T08:45:50.931-08:00Things I do to stay sane . . .It has been a while since I have done a list post and they are easy and fun so . . .<br />
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Things I do to stay sane when I have SEVEN kids at home on a cold day:<br />
Note- I am babysitting two children in addition to my five because, yeah, I am crazy like that.<br />
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1. One word - IPOD<br />
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2. Candy followed by locking everyone in the backyard till sugar spaze runs out.<br />
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3. Going to my "Happy Place" and envisioning how quiet it is somewhere else in the world like say the top of Kilimanjaro. <br />
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4. Wishing I was sitting on the moon.<br />
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5. Remembering a time when I had no children and how horrible it felt not knowing if I ever would.<br />
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6. Practice being sad imagining "empty nest syndrome" which will not happen for about 10 years.<br />
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P.S. #6 doesn't work<br />
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7. Relive the 36 hours I spent recently in Montego Bay, Jamaica at an adults-only resort. WOW<br />
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8. Locking myself in the laundry room and sitting on the dryer so they can't see my feet under the door. Practice shallow breathing so they can't hear me.<br />
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9. Fake some gastric distress so I have an excuse to stay in the bathroom for long periods of time and read.<br />
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10. Plan date night with Roy that will probably be way in to the future like say after the NEW president is sworn in. Yes. I believe!<br />
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11. Plan next Auburn Girls' trip which will also not be soon enough.<br />
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12. Bake best chocolate chip cookies in the world. Eat. Repeat.<br />
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13. Send annoying texts to my friends, especially Jen who is probably busy at work in the ICU trying to save some one's life right now.<br />
14. Plan to clean entire house but realize I am just fooling myself.<br />
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15. Three words - Words with Friends<br />
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and the number one way I survive a cold day inside with seven child<br />
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16. Write semi-humorous blog post to entertain friends and strangers and make them happier that they are not ME!!<br />
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P.S. Kim if you happen to read this, I promise I am taking excellent care of your offspring :)Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-30827333154961607462012-02-07T15:48:00.000-08:002012-02-07T15:48:26.789-08:00Selective Reduction - My view ( ie - aborting babies in a multiple pregnancy)I am looking out my bedroom window in to the backyard below where my five children are whooping and hollering with joy on our much loved trampoline. Its about 60 degrees on a sunny February afternoon. Spring can sometimes come early in the south, really early and then slap us with a freak March snow storm. <br />
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So I am watching them and as occasional sentimental moms sometimes do, I had a moment. I have them more frequently as they get older because I know these elementary school years are flying by. I will have exactly one year with all five children in the same school. The quads will be in the fifth grade that year and the "baby" will be in kindergarten. <br />
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I had a moment of "what if?" <br />
I looked at each of their laughing smiling faces and call to mind each of their personal gifts and weaknesses. What I love about each of them and what drives me crazy about each of them. <br />
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I think about how nine years ago I sat in three different specialists offices hearing lectures/ recommendations on the "advantages," prudence, of selective reduction also known as abortion. Scared, hormonal, newly pregnant with, at the time, five babies (the quads were quints until one miscarried at 8 weeks,) elated to be pregnant and afraid to breath wrong lest I have yet another miscarriage. Feeling frail and vulnerable and listening to the experts telling me repeatedly that "it will increase the chances of survival for the remaining multiples" or "it really is expensive to raise that many babies" Seriously? Like I am going to weigh the pros and cons based on a cost per baby basis? Statistics of survival a slight maybe, money? Not on your or their lives.<br />
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I respect doctors for their ability to heal and make life or death choices, for researching and developing surgeries, medicines and therapies to make peoples lives better but in this instance my fragile heart had to decide along with my husband if I should allow all the babies growing inside me to live or have a shot at it anyway. I am Catholic by the way so it should have been an instant no to the doctors, but it wasn't, I pondered the consequences of each choice. I questioned the statistics. <br />
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What were my chances of carrying four healthy babies to term with out the reduction? I asked the specialist who routinely performed these procedures. The figure I was given was 75%. I thought that was a pretty darn good number considering there was a 100% chance of my living with guilt and regret if I had gone through with the procedure with or without babies in the end. At the time there was a 25% chance of miscarrying one of all of the babies because of the procedure. The reproductive specialist I was seeing informed me that, though she recommended the procedure, she did a have a quadruplet mother chose to abort two of her babies and end up losing the other two due to the procedure itself. I still think about that mom sometimes. I hope she ended up with a child to hold. I can't imagine living with that guilt.<br />
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So I actually had a flash forward during one of these selective abortion lectures. It was to a day like today, in fact let's say it actually was today - to myself at 40 years old watching my half grown beautiful, smart happy healthy annoying imperfectly perfect children and thinking which ones would it have been? Which ones would be missing had I listened to all that advice? I shudder each time it crosses my mind because I know which two would be missing and I will mostly likely never tell them. I knew this day would come as it has in various forms over the last 9 years. <br />
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All life is precious, leave it in the Father's hands. I know there was a likely possibility that my story would not have had such a fairytale ending and let's be real, we are talking imperfect children here. This is not one of those blogs that waxes poetic on the perfected perfection of my perfect children and my perfect husband and my perfect home. I have various variables and complications they have each brought to my life over the years such as filthy carpets, hand print/crayon decorated walls, huge debt because those little suckers eat A LOT, IEPs for special needs to attend, various medications to purchase for them and for me, lots of tears, lots of frustration, lots of I can't stand this for one more second moments and yet here I am staring at them lovingly out my window, my heart full to bursting because I know I made the right choice. Maybe one of them will be the President of the United States one day or maybe a brilliant scientist who discovers a cure for all infertility thus allowing a new generation of moms to be spared from making this agonizing decision, or maybe they will just turn out to be nice good-hearted people. The world needs those just as much as the former don't you think?<br />
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I know I can barely stand the thought of looking at them wondering how my life would be so different without the two the doctors wanted to "reduce." I remember when my decision to forgo the procedure cemented firmly in my heart - "I worked so hard and prayed so hard to get those guys in there and you are NOT going to take them away from me. Only God has that right." I told my perinatologist that this is what I wanted and I wanted to make sure he was going to give his all to helping me carry the pregnancy as far as possible. He assured me he would and he did a great job. I still think fondly of him today. <br />
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I made sure to take my four healthy babies back to see all the doctors who had encouraged me to reduce, when they were about 6 months old. No longer looking tiny and fragile like preemies, they were happy and alive. I wanted them to see that I made the right decision and to plant a seed of thought so that the next multiple mom they counseled would have the benefit of my evidence that sometimes the best decision wasn't what medical science determined but what a mom's heart tells her.<br />
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P.S. Feel free to view the evidence of my good decision by looking at the blog header above :)<br />
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<em>*** I have a friend who made the decision to reduce her large pregnancy and my heart still aches for her. I respect that she did what she felt was necessary at the time and should she read this I hope she knows I do not judge her or think less of her. In fact I think she is fantastic, I just wish she had never been put in that horrible position.</em>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-49410099116106855862011-12-28T18:34:00.000-08:002011-12-28T18:34:51.500-08:00Days gone by and the loss of a friend <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Pnv3fzEaPw/TvvQ7Ya0tBI/AAAAAAAAAZg/-zQmK1exQcQ/s1600/Shiloh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="547" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6Pnv3fzEaPw/TvvQ7Ya0tBI/AAAAAAAAAZg/-zQmK1exQcQ/s640/Shiloh.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you spot Kristin? I am the third from the right. A short brunette. She's the tall blond.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
I realize I haven't written much this year or at all since this summer. The reason is two fold. One is that I haven't been inspired with anything to share or anything funny to say. The other is that I have been writing or trying to write a new children's book. From what I understand it is a nearly impossible market to break into but I am not going to give up. It will probably just take some years of working on it and figuring out who to know in that world. Wish me luck. <br />
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Several things have happened recently that have gotten me thinking. How much time do we actually get here on Earth? We all say "Oh each day is a gift, Life is short and you never know how much time you will get." But secretly on the inside, don't we all think we'll get about 90 something years? Do you really think your life might be cut short at say 41 like my childhood friend Kristin who died this Christmas morning after a year long painful bout of cancer. The thing was, from what I know which admittedly isn't much we hadn't seen each other in at least 15 years, she was a really healthy, active person. I have been following her Caring Bridge blog for the last year and the way she talked it was like she was taking it all in stride. Not once did she mention how sorry she felt for herself or even that she was scared although I am sure she felt this way at some point.<br />
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Kristin and I, along with another friend Mike had planned to meet up last Christmas when the bad weather blew in and she had to change her travel plans. I wish things had worked out because that was the last chance I had to see her. You just never know when your time will be up. It seems that death can bring people back together as well. When my sister Becky died a few years ago, I heard from people who I hadn't talked to since high school and it was amazing. It made me feel so good to know people still cared after all those years. <br />
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Time goes by so fast, especially since graduating from high school. I remember exactly how I felt that day. How much hope I had for the future, about to embark on a whole new chapter in life. About to become an adult (in numbers maybe but it didn't actual hit my brain until I got my first teaching job and saw people looking at me like I was in fact a grown up and so I decided maybe I needed to act like one too.) I remember all the faces of my friends too but until Facebook came around to the over 30 crowd a few years ago, I had no idea where most of them ended up or who they married, how many kids they had and so on. I will say that is one of the best benefits of Facebook - being able to have some kind of connection with people you have lost touch with.<br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">So here is my tribute to Kristin</span></strong> -<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I remember the first day I met you and I know you remember too. It was on the school bus, in the fourth grade. I had recently moved from Atlanta and it was my first day at a public school. I saw you and thought "I want to be friends with that girl because she has curly hair." You later told me you thought "I want to be friends with that girl because she has feathered hair" Ha ha how shallow we both were and so we sat together at some point and thus a friendship was born based upon our hairstyles, how girl like. After that year we spent time at each others house with in walking distance, my back yard had a creek for exploring and a pasture we could sneak into to pet the horses or sled in during our once a year snow days. </span><span style="font-family: Courier New;">You loved to brag about how you were really from Illinois and not Georgia so you knew more about the cold and the snow than I did. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">I remember that your favorite color was green and you loved cats but I hear you converted to dogs later on. We dove into the world of middle school, Judy Blume and all the drama that ensued. We talked about boys, parents, siblings and teachers. Cheerleading, high school, more boys and often getting into trouble with Becky and Kelly or other parties I won't mention. I remember your first serious boyfriend. Things started to change for all of us when those boys got in the picture didn't they? Remember sitting through all the cold soccer games because of a couple of cute guys? Cheerleading camp, college applications and eventually Auburn! I am glad we converted you! We had different experiences there and kind of lost touch but it was still comforting to have a friend from home nearby. You called me years later and I told you I was engaged. You promised to come to my wedding but then something must have come up because I didn't see you there and now I really regret that you couldn't make it because I never got to see you again. When Facebook caught on you contacted me and I was happy to hear from you. Our lives were very different but I always respected you for your independence and determination. You seem to have become quite the hit in Huntsville and I am so very happy you had so many friends there and such a full happy life. We will miss you Kristin, did you notice I spelled your name right? I also remember how mad it made you when people put an e in where the i goes :) I will pray for you and your family every Christmas and you will never be forgotten. War Eagle friend.</span>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-58478403706563225862011-07-15T05:14:00.000-07:002011-07-15T05:14:59.566-07:00A Moment of Joy. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjauTnPtBWVmVrQ_MzOBJ6LRIWLWkxFYSS0731W7iOWXt9wfg5QLMby3Iv0gwZqvZ6hlE9MNPSlb4-rcmHH77SHsWxA-IpquHlhEJq4UTIxlI0jyIxLTgjd__px21AGLGmmxr3UQRw_PvfL/s1600/shasta_daisy+by+David+Beaulieu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjauTnPtBWVmVrQ_MzOBJ6LRIWLWkxFYSS0731W7iOWXt9wfg5QLMby3Iv0gwZqvZ6hlE9MNPSlb4-rcmHH77SHsWxA-IpquHlhEJq4UTIxlI0jyIxLTgjd__px21AGLGmmxr3UQRw_PvfL/s1600/shasta_daisy+by+David+Beaulieu.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by David Beaulieu</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
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I love those little things that happen, probably everyday, we fail to notice because we have our ipods on too loud or Fox News is on 24/7 or you have say 5 children who inherited a talking gene from there momma. Those little things that let you know there is something else out there. We are not alone. Life is not finite. Are they just wishful thinking or really signs?<br />
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I will keep this brief because talking about it too much seems to cheapen it. It was so simple but gave me immense joy. Mom called to talk to my kids as we had just returned from vacation. Someone handed me the phone and she had something happy to share.<br />
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My father is an avid gardener. He is a hodge-podger. A little of this, a little of that. It doesn't necessarily go together or make sense to an outsider but he grows what he likes when and where he likes it. Flowers, vegetables, herbs here and there tucked around the steep hill outside his mountain home. It keeps him busy and out of mom's hair. He is good at it. It's organized chaos to him. So when a random flower popped up in the middle of his garden that didn't match the rest of his chaos, it didn't seem a big deal but Dad likes to know the different species and why would this one single flower pop up in the middle of his intentionally planted array of other vegetation?<br />
A friend came by and looked at the flower and told them the flower that matched no others in the garden was named -<em> a Becky.</em><br />
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****Note - in case you don't know, my sister's name was Becky. She passed away at age 39, two years ago. <br />
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</div>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-49027805655311808902011-07-02T20:41:00.000-07:002011-07-02T20:41:37.566-07:00The R word. Still?In an age where it seems everyone can "choose" to be offended at the drop of a hat I hesitate to write this post but it needs to be said so I will. <strong>ENOUGH WITH THE R WORD ALREADY</strong>! In the last few months (and twice this week) I have encountered people who are not ready to give up that derogatory and highly offensive slang that we hurled at each other back in the 80's like it was nothing. I am talking about the word <strong><em>retarded</em></strong> or worse - <strong><em>retard</em></strong>.<br />
This is not about being politially correct although it is justified in that sense too. Its about being humane. Its about growing up and its about not trying to cut down someone else by referring to them as a person afflicted with a mental condition or any condition. The real problem is that the victims here don't even know they are being offended. That might cause some to say, "<strong><em>then why does it even matter?" </em></strong> I will tell you why it matters.<br />
It matters to me because when you sit next to me telling someone else that you think its funny to ask your young child "what are you, retarded?" and you don't stop to think that the mother beside you might have a special needs child or granchild then you are clueless. Why do we think its ok to call someone a retard? Why is it ok to continue to use an outdated term in an offensive manner? It broke my heart to hear a priest use the word in that manner during a homily recently and no one said a thing. Including me because I cannot bring myself to be the bad guy even when I should. So I write about it and hope to change someone's mind.<br />
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Each of these incidents happened to me recently and in one case it was a teenager, that one I get. I don't hate that child for calling my gifted son a retard. She is a child, a self absorbed clueless one is my bet but guess why she said it? Because she still hears adults say it! People have stopped saying "That is so GAY!" for the most part so why can't we quit saying something or someone is retarded? People have stopped referring to people as "oriental" (unless your over the age of 75.) So why can't we quit the R word? I can answer that - the offended party can't speak up for themselves! <br />
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The third incident happened yesterday while I was sitting next to an aquaintance whom I previously regarded with a great deal of respect and liked a lot because she's just so darn fun. She won't ever know that her casual comment caused me a great deal of grief or that my opinion of her has taken a drastic downturn. <br />
I have a child with special needs. No she is not technically "retarded" or even "intellectually disabled" though if you observed her you would probably think so (she has autism.) However, you wouldn't know by looking at her that she is supremely bright, she taught herself to read at 3 years old, way before the rest of my typical children. She would classify as "intellectually disabled" on any test that didn't involve Mario Karts or how to program a dvr (both she is genius at.) There is so much more to people than a superficial term, a single word classification of one aspect of the whole person. When someone takes a term originally meant as a description and turns into an insult it makes you think, whose the one with the impaired thinking ability really? I say the one who calls someone retarded in the first place.<br />
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So on behalf of mothers and fathers with sweet little children who are intellectually disabled I beg of you PLEASE stop using the R word. It matters to us. It's not funny at all. Ever. Move on.Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-51000103531810486412011-04-15T15:14:00.000-07:002011-04-15T15:14:04.936-07:00A Becky-shaped void . . .Two Years have past.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKVuOL-gBgMfhGmzQ5xFawVNBhdCW4OHWMPKzI7ifIcYoyoihJUUwnRJgXFcnGbavOB65C1JC5tLRkTqFAkc2eaBIA3ypr-3Qr3F8wnSl21OSmvx83W0z7FsNorLEMbhiNrF_ckgyldM6Y/s1600/Mobile+with+gma+and+gpa.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKVuOL-gBgMfhGmzQ5xFawVNBhdCW4OHWMPKzI7ifIcYoyoihJUUwnRJgXFcnGbavOB65C1JC5tLRkTqFAkc2eaBIA3ypr-3Qr3F8wnSl21OSmvx83W0z7FsNorLEMbhiNrF_ckgyldM6Y/s320/Mobile+with+gma+and+gpa.bmp" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are no words - seriously what would you say anyways?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Whoa Nellie, would you look at that superb fashion sense? I mean does it get any better than the polyester and and sweat pants (with new boots you fortunately can't see.) This photo was taken in the late 70's. . . but I am guessing you figured that out already.<br />
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There are three people in the picture who are no longer with us, two obviously being my Grandma and Grandpa Betancourt and the third being my older sister in the rockin blue sweat suit. I am the much cooler one on the far right.<br />
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I miss them all but my grandparents have been gone for 10 and 20 years and lets face it, they would both be about to turn 101 if they were still here. Not that I wouldn't give anything to still have them around. Miss em and love em always. My grandpa was a bad @** in his time, especially for a short dude. My grandma was hard working, loving and kind and put up with- well- him. To give you an idea of his personality - he used to walk around singing "Oh Lord its hard to be humble, when you're perfect in every way. When you can't wait to look in the mirror, cause you get better lookin' each day." Yes he did.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JNLq35yCeHyCwWYxgLG_oYSb8W-0pj_Jc2eyR3Kbw-DaFWEh8e5YpJ1XhMYRll5rYZgFEgBA5T68UxCpMnZiTMLBwRu3Y22WgA0GYN1omJjoB0ifsM49h3m04X6TRPRh10FDXcFHYNoI/s1600/Halloween+in+the+70%2527s.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JNLq35yCeHyCwWYxgLG_oYSb8W-0pj_Jc2eyR3Kbw-DaFWEh8e5YpJ1XhMYRll5rYZgFEgBA5T68UxCpMnZiTMLBwRu3Y22WgA0GYN1omJjoB0ifsM49h3m04X6TRPRh10FDXcFHYNoI/s320/Halloween+in+the+70%2527s.bmp" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halloween in very cool, unGreen, plastic costumes with masks that will kill you because you can't see out of the sweaty eyeholes</td></tr>
</tbody></table> But the person this post is about is my sister Becky, who passed away two years ago today. I still can't believe she is gone. I still laugh at something and think I need to call her and tell her because she had a great sense of humor and would laugh at everything. I still think of her first when I need an emergency babysitter who will work super cheap. I still want to tell her to get her smack together and have the great life she deserves. I still wish I could turn back time and tell her "Yes, I will drive 30 minutes to come and get you and take you to the post office so you can copy some insurance papers and mail them since your car was in an accident, even though I am 7 months pregnant with my fifth child and I have three kids in one preschool and one in another who will get out at noon." I said no and that was probably the last thing she asked me for help with before she died. I am not sure I will ever forgive myself even though it was a justified no. It was still a no.<br />
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It has been two years and every three weeks since she passed I go on my Blackberry and resave her last voice mail message to me. It was sent about three weeks before the end. It was nothing special and that is what is so great about it. Of course she probably wanted something because she rarely called or returned calls the last year, but it was not a sad message or dramatic, just normal. If I listen to it I can pretend for just a few moments that she is here still. Just 30 minutes away, not an eternity away. Probably at my brother's house because she liked him better than me, no really and I don't blame her. He is more fun than a barrel of monkeys and didn't lecture her as much as I did. I was full of <em><strong>This-is-what-you-need-to-do-to-get-your-life-in-order</strong></em> advice which she never listened to but acted like she did so I would shut the bleep up.<br />
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I just wanted her to be happy. But you can't force someone to be happy. And you can't fix them. Or change them. You can only love them for who they are. All crap included. She accepted mine that's for sure. I wonder if I will ever not feel that empty part of my otherwise joy-filled life. There is a Becky shaped void that will probably go unfilled forever. I am so glad to know she is with our kind and merciful Father, or close to it (sorry, but I am Catholic.)<br />
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She is free. She is free from all of it. All the horrible stuff of the world. The traffic, the noise, pollution, mental illness, drugs, things that smell bad, being overweight and ill-treated for it, anxiety, being used by people she thought were her friends, confusion, disappointment and disillusionment and most of all the self-loathing we all have at times but she lived with in huge segments of her life. Also, she hated mean people and did I mention things that smell bad? In her case that would be cheese. She hated the smell of cheese.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBX8hr1c4ZoJrOL80Gy24qKNRz2vyxzMVCrPSy0XXz582Zqqnvy6EvXn6vHVabpX0y_3-KUC__cAvVrFSpkkl1ftoW5DOFm9xi3AKT6-W8kBLrATzsx_C87d0Tuv7D6jZN_fZ2D1tZsM-/s1600/sunday+night+popcorn+1970%2527s+style.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="244" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPBX8hr1c4ZoJrOL80Gy24qKNRz2vyxzMVCrPSy0XXz582Zqqnvy6EvXn6vHVabpX0y_3-KUC__cAvVrFSpkkl1ftoW5DOFm9xi3AKT6-W8kBLrATzsx_C87d0Tuv7D6jZN_fZ2D1tZsM-/s320/sunday+night+popcorn+1970%2527s+style.bmp" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fab Four doing popcorn and Walt Disney on a Sunday night 70's style</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
If you were here today Beck, I would hug you and sit on the deck drinking beer while you played your guitar. But first I would lock the kids in the house because they would get on my nerves which is why I need the beer and then we would argue about politics and religion and who worked out more this week. We would laugh at some dumb old joke or something Mom said (sorry Mom, but you do say funny things!) and then finally I would let the five out to run in the yard and you would laugh and say "I gotta go now, its tough being single with no responsibilities at home." Or something like that.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPaY2irw5g5UjIsFtIYCMBNcfXEb0S74ZqWFi89OgqnFwfOBQoj-uTxBiCvHUNXyJ0E_53R-JCsvF9Zcymk87nfyPC98GcKtHZ4IOAtHsAgHyJB2PgXWQ7iA30cuCq5OpLK6x_zJ33SOW4/s1600/Becky+guitar.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPaY2irw5g5UjIsFtIYCMBNcfXEb0S74ZqWFi89OgqnFwfOBQoj-uTxBiCvHUNXyJ0E_53R-JCsvF9Zcymk87nfyPC98GcKtHZ4IOAtHsAgHyJB2PgXWQ7iA30cuCq5OpLK6x_zJ33SOW4/s320/Becky+guitar.bmp" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Becky playing guitar - I have no idea who that random guy is?</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For now I will have to be content with your message on my phone or listening to your Cds. At least I have that but it really isn't much. It isn't enough but it doesn't matter. How do you fill the place of a person who was one of kind?</div>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-52760122983924382532011-04-04T10:54:00.000-07:002011-04-04T10:54:03.761-07:00The Hardest Part . . .<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">Sometimes people ask me what the hardest part of having a child with Autism is . . .actually no they don't. Probably because they are worried about upsetting me. </span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> However, everyone who has spent any amount of time around me knows that I like to talk about things-that need-to-be-talked-about-but-people-avoid. People really want to be validated and asking a parent of a child with special needs a question about their child or situation would probably touch them in that way. It would be the rare person that would be offended by a question of this nature - it shows sympathy, interest and an awareness of the other person's difficult situation. It's probably easier for me, being on this side of the fence, to do that however.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Once you are a member of a "club" you feel like you have permission to do and say things that you can't if you are not a member. For example, new mothers of multiples are always hit by a blizzard of comments and questions about their kids and they respond by either being annoyed, flattered (for awhile) or overwhelmed. Being a mom of HOM's (higher order multiples-ie triplets or more), I feel justified in asking questions and when I occasionally get an annoyed expression from "new mom of multiples," I just point out my four same-aged kids on the other side of the playground and get a look of <span style="color: #a64d79;">"Holy cheese Batman! She does know what she's talking about."</span> Ha ha I live for those moments. Smugness in any form irritates me.</span><br />
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<em><strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"> From other people that is.</span></strong></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But back to the point at hand. The hardest part of having a daughter with Autism, for me, is two-fold. Last night I was watching an old movie called <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0056241/">The Miracle Worker</a></span>, about Helen Keller. Being blind and deaf seems insurmountable to most of us. Add onto that no technology, modern therapies or even electricity! When Helen was a child close to the age of my daughter is now - about 7, her teacher Anne Sullivan came to live with her and bring her out of the darkness so to speak. She was locked in a lonely world by failure of her senses. My daughter is locked in a similar world, though her senses work. Honestly, I sympathized with these poor parents who had no idea how to reach this child other than to spoil her. That is so hard. You think to yourself -"well she doesn't get to do what all the other kids do so I will just let her have, do, get away with X, Y, or Z" Things you wouldn't think for your typical kids. I can especially relate to the scene involving meal time where Helen is running around the table stealing peoples' food and eating like an animal. You may remember my <a href="http://bonnieshouseoffun.blogspot.com/2011/01/its-called-autism-have-you-heard-of-it.html"><strong><span style="color: #674ea7;">chicken nugget story</span></strong>.</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">However, the hardest part of our situation, to me, was illustrated in the movie when Helen's teacher was trying desperately to help her make a connection between words and objects. And it finally worked - she ran to her mother and spelled "MOTHER" in her hand and hugged her. I am glad no one was watching me at that moment because I came a little unglued. </span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/lUV65sV8nu0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><span style="font-size: large;">Despite her disabilities she still knew who her mother was, she loved her, she knew her mother loved her and would protect her and take care of her. I was jealous.</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes I have five kids and the other four understand this. But one, does not. She knows I am her mother, she "loves" me in her way. She can't really show it. I have been working with her on how to give a real hug and kiss for a long time and she is starting to do it on her own finally but she would never seek me out for anything other than a need such as thirst, hunger or a visit to the restroom. It hurts. I want her to know that I think about her all the time. That I will protect her with my life. That I am the one she should run to when she is sad, lonely or hurt. If she gets hurt or is scared she just suffers alone. She can't tell me what is wrong and she would just as easily run up to a total stranger and take their hand to guide them to some object she can't reach because its too high. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Can I explain to you how hollow I feel inside when I go to my daughter's class as the room mother and she doesn't even look up when I enter the room? Or when the other kids in her class (yes, all with autism) run to their moms with excited expressions of love even when they don't express it well with words? It's my own little Hell that I have learned to accept but it still hurts, every. single. time. You can't spend all your time sad and Why me-ing though right? So it stings and you try to ignore it because other people aren't comfortable with your pain. I get that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The other part that I find most difficult is when my other children meet milestones that I know she may take years to get to if ever. Let's be honest. She will always live with me. She will probably not go away to college or get married. It doesn't mean she wont be happy and have a good life but it's not what dreamed for her when she was born.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe she realizes this, or not, I hope. But I probably won't ever know. One day soon I will write a post about all the blessings special needs kids can bring into your life. There are many. Parents and teachers of special kids know this well. But not today. Today I am not in that place. Today I am thinking about what isn't going to be and praying desperately to be proven wrong by that very smart girl who is locked in her own world. </span><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #674ea7;">April is Awareness Month</span>. Maybe ask a question of a friend or acquaintance who has a child with autism. </span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="color: #6aa84f;">1 in 110 kids- people. Think about that.</span></span></strong>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-60222086603993417432011-03-21T18:47:00.000-07:002011-03-21T18:47:00.069-07:00My First Baby<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhae3GoKBlpg57dL4ULN2RJXDBn1l1Ai-VD85mIgkthCJaTDvEN1iU1ZSfSJpv8-H1EzDGGHFkOyv3qRHlAkkWupV8jAYhzVhbCOS6J_X5JSXj14L2rYzia_bveCwYsdKKgThKLssa3dDek/s1600/11+wk+sono.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="312" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhae3GoKBlpg57dL4ULN2RJXDBn1l1Ai-VD85mIgkthCJaTDvEN1iU1ZSfSJpv8-H1EzDGGHFkOyv3qRHlAkkWupV8jAYhzVhbCOS6J_X5JSXj14L2rYzia_bveCwYsdKKgThKLssa3dDek/s400/11+wk+sono.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An 11 week ultrasound (not mine.)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It's March. Always, it's been a weird month to me. Vaguely springlike, vaguely warm or maybe not. I do like St. Patrick's day with it's greenness and jolliness. However, I give March credit for preceeding my favorite time of the year, Spring. There is so much to love and be happy about with the approach of Spring. It's like Hope becomes visible in the form of beautiful flowers, skies and warm days rolling by on the way to Summer's freedom (at least when you are eleven.)<br />
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Right now though, I have an uneasiness I can't explain. Its been years since I have been through any kind of depression. When I was younger I always let my emotions and my circumstances dictate whether or not my life was worth living, in my mind atleast. I was always a victim to outside forces, everything was beyond my control. Now, thankfully I have the gift of perspective that grows each year. I have maturity to thank and a deeper faith to lean on. Plus, I have a great life. Really. I can't complain - too much.<br />
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So its March and I am uneasy. Then I remember. March is the month I was due with my very first baby. I was 29. It took my husband and I a year to conceive plus fertility medication. I was cautiously optimistic. We made it to 11 weeks I think. Some of the details have become fuzzy. I do however remember quite distinctly the pain and the change in who I was that took place when I lost that baby. I have since lost three more but the happy ending is that I have 5 healthy kids too. I never would have believed it if you told me I would end up with such a big family.<br />
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That first baby, it turns out, had a strange and rare condition called Tetraploidy. It had four sets of chromosomes. Learning that did bring a slight relief in knowing there wasn't a darn thing I could have done differently to help it along. It was doomed from day one. Isn't it weird? That a body would go through the trouble of responding to a pregnancy test, feeling nauseous, getting a little rounder and all along the baby never even had a heartbeat. Why did it take so long to let me know something wasn't right?<br />
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It really hurt - mentally and physically losing that baby. I think it was a boy. He would be turning 10 right about now. Maybe even today. I don't want to give the impression that I sit around trying to find things to be sad about or that I weep for those babies day in and day out because I don't. I have perspective and joy and too much darn laundry to leave much time for that indulgence. I do however, remember them often, look forward to meeting them and wonder if they know my sister and grandparents who are sharing eternity with them already. I do wonder what they would have looked like, sounded like, how they would have made me smile and cry. Of course then I remember, if they were here -<br />
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I know and love five sweet kids who would not be and my life would be so much different without them in it. That takes away the sadness. There really is a plan.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZ3x1b6E7y5XMQ9sLU210ixlIjtsD9UlIe_ze1WupNWdvfuLv6LpyHl1wM9u6ll9O7CPJ7hiyKe51ApXHJ7bi2LgJtajOxdH0wE6kOfcsmFlaE3LKKS96PIub6swJbDc97TqrAjglfmty/s1600/quads+first+day+kindergarten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZ3x1b6E7y5XMQ9sLU210ixlIjtsD9UlIe_ze1WupNWdvfuLv6LpyHl1wM9u6ll9O7CPJ7hiyKe51ApXHJ7bi2LgJtajOxdH0wE6kOfcsmFlaE3LKKS96PIub6swJbDc97TqrAjglfmty/s400/quads+first+day+kindergarten.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-59719385413877921382011-03-16T11:47:00.000-07:002011-03-16T11:47:07.171-07:00Just when everything is going wrong . . .<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiroKwJRJcuf647WqPh96pMoPTi4Tr3gsfxpYQqTBaNZGKgqHtEJjM2RekHY2S0TCNfPZq2aBh8dnwa_bK8-MvkAzc0H6ohtgcyMlidUcQvhAsJWQBMhd_60Ps1RXuwtX1oqgPYREv8wKtg/s1600/1545981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiroKwJRJcuf647WqPh96pMoPTi4Tr3gsfxpYQqTBaNZGKgqHtEJjM2RekHY2S0TCNfPZq2aBh8dnwa_bK8-MvkAzc0H6ohtgcyMlidUcQvhAsJWQBMhd_60Ps1RXuwtX1oqgPYREv8wKtg/s320/1545981.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from The National Post</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I don't do well with writing unless I have a flash of inspiration and lately they have been sparse. Busy, sick, half crazy and irritated these describe my current situation. But I got one this morning and I would like to share it with you because it was simple and profound as inspirations should be. <br />
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Let me set up the scene for you. I have been sick for 9 days. Really sick like WTH sick. I have blown my nose till my brains came out which may explain the problems I am having. My husband was sick for a month before me and as soon as he got better - wouldn't you know it . . .<br />
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MY kids are all sick. ALL FIVE AT ONCE. On top of that my three year old may have fractured his big toe in a fall and wants to be carried everywhere. You can imagine the wreck my house is in and the state of my fridge, laundry room and mind. When I am not well, we just don't work, the house doesn't work. It's all about survival of the fittest. I have been the sickest for the past week but it looks like I am passing the torch to my oldest son today poor guy. To him the only upside is UNLIMITED POPSICLES!!!!!!<br />
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I have been trying to breath and fight the fever and chills for days. My solution is to take hot baths multiple times. I can't stand the chills. So let me get to the point. It involves my daughter who you see pictured in the dryer below:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLTUc7mhCqBRgH3YCGWqB6KmbtTEm07m9Tu4Nfs68yDQw2thYOLlvSGwerriHsKmymMAH_zFLeXi2847jblNqdl-AxiYajbyMPpL-uwuBj4F80pJAcrHqr5vBsZOB_O00yY3DL5-cU1VD8/s1600/IMG00971%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLTUc7mhCqBRgH3YCGWqB6KmbtTEm07m9Tu4Nfs68yDQw2thYOLlvSGwerriHsKmymMAH_zFLeXi2847jblNqdl-AxiYajbyMPpL-uwuBj4F80pJAcrHqr5vBsZOB_O00yY3DL5-cU1VD8/s320/IMG00971%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yeah, she does this. Its her new cool activity. I especially love that she takes the time to throw all my clean clothes out on the dirty floor, sometimes she even waits until they are actually dry before she dives in. Have you ever lost a kid in your own house? Well after I found her here she succeeded in another recent endeavor which is climbing on top of laundry baskets trying to get the attic cord and pull down the ladder. She got it open and tried to climb, it buckled and she fell and knocked her head on some doorway molding. Never a dull moment here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So all this is going on and I still feel like something you find in my backyard near my obnoxious Golden, Maggie. I get Doodle downstairs crying (her not me, I think.) I proceed to treat the bumped head with an Elmo icepack and of course Doodle being who she is, refuses to cooperate, I stop mid-sentence when trying to explain to her that though what I am doing and what she is going through are uncomfortable and she doesn't understand it - I actually am trying to help her and it will feel better if she will cooperate! Her brain works different than most, having autism that is. She often gets herself into jams and dangers that a typical (Or neurotypical -NT) kid would not. Or maybe they would? But either way, I can't explain it to her in so many words. I just can't So I quit talking and just yelled "TRUST ME!" And then it hit me . . .</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">God does this to me all the time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He just can't explain all of my pain or all of this world's pain in a way that my brain can comprehend. Now by saying that I don't mean He is not capable of doing it, I mean I am not equipped to understand every situation in life especially the more complex and painful ones like why is He letting my 92 year old Granddaddy exit this world in such a slow, painful and sad way? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Why does it seem like the world is going insane with natural disasters right now?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Why do teenagers who don't want babies seem to come by them so damn easy and others of us have to wait 3 years and endure painful tests procedures, medications and miscarriages before we get our babies? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These are big unanswerable questions. For now. But I believe there is a reason. That is my Faith. And every time I come across one of them I will have to remind myself that He is silently pleading with me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> " TRUST ME! I know what's best. It will all work out with a purpose for the good in the end. Even if I can't explain it to you right now in a way you can understand or even need to understand. I love you. Chill out."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Or something to that effect :) Spare prayers for my sick, sick family please! Have a good day and use hand sanitizer!</div>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-71755091518807105422011-01-13T15:22:00.000-08:002011-01-15T04:05:00.863-08:00It's called AUTISM- Have you heard of it????<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPN5fl-o7GIJ0MjOSSNqNLRnZnGRp06PGUIuLTXf6ZAAr_GpAqEOR6-6WpZThBjxV3nFNpsFrtUwawn6hB9hvqcUpFYwfdVc8eqAxmsLUZi9BqD0wXhTMZQ8UuNPgFg1HxUvVYHZvkurvs/s1600/100_3209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPN5fl-o7GIJ0MjOSSNqNLRnZnGRp06PGUIuLTXf6ZAAr_GpAqEOR6-6WpZThBjxV3nFNpsFrtUwawn6hB9hvqcUpFYwfdVc8eqAxmsLUZi9BqD0wXhTMZQ8UuNPgFg1HxUvVYHZvkurvs/s320/100_3209.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
OK, breathe Bonnie . . . <br />
I am used to be being stared at for one of three reasons:<br />
<br />
1. I have five children - not an extremely huge number of kids but definitely at least two more than most families you see in public places.<br />
<br />
2. I have a set of 7 year old quadruplets (that means FOUR) -sorry but people ask me if they are twins all day long. More so when they were babies but now they have grown, people have less interest which is kind of good but still occasionally I am nicely interrogated on my unique family and how they came to be. I am OK with that usually because heck, we are a sight but you learn how to minimize the attention by dressing them differently, putting them in two twin strollers at the mall and walking away from each other. Also the number one rule for avoiding friendly fire is this: AVOID ALL EYE CONTACT. Especially when you are in a hurry and you just want to buy some chicken nuggets and milk and get out. I am pretty southern and try to be polite and smile at everyone so this one is hard for me, but people take it as an invitation to approach you. Sometimes I don't mind at all. I like meeting new people and most are genuinely interested and kind. Some get nosey and start asking questions about fertility and such but still. I don't mind. Unless I am in a hurry so no eye contact.<br />
<br />
3. And the third reason I get stared at is that I am a bombshell, totally hot. So there you have it. NO I am kidding!!! The third reason we get stared at in public is that one of my quads happens to have a moderate case of autism. Not autism like the popular usage referring to quirky kids who speak very well and maybe flap there hands a bit but AUTISM like still wears diapers at night at 7years old, must have hours of therapy and see multiple specialist each week, can't tell you what's wrong when she is crying wildly at 3 am for the third night in a row, bangs her head and chews her lips till they bleed, rarely speaking kind of autism. Don't get me wrong - my daughter is AMAZING, and brilliant. She taught herself to read at 3 years old. Even my son who is in gifted didn't do that. I love her to the depths of my soul and she has made me a better person. Truly. But she does complicate things on a daily basis. Its like having a perpetual toddler in tow. <br />
<br />
OK so now to my point- <br />
I am used to be stared at. Its just human nature, I get that. Most people notice, register and move on: I imaging the conversation in their heads going something like this:<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">"Holy cow! WTH (or WTF! depending) Uh are all those hers? She must have a daycare. I wonder if she is in one of those weird religions who believe in having 20 kids? Wait they all look the same age except for that small wiggly one, they must have some twins in that mix? Why is that one acting strange? She looks the same age and has the same features. Oh I see must be multiples, must be autism, must be a crazy overworked momma!"</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">And they would be right for the most part and they would go back to eating their fries or picking out their toilet paper or other exciting activity. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">So today after a total of one month of kids being stuck at home on the LONGEST CHRISTMAS VACATION IN THE HISTORY OF HUMANITY, we decided to go out in public after taking Doodle to speech therapy. We ventured into an uncrowded Chick fila at 3pm for a very late lunch. There is ice and snow all over the sidewalk and parking lots (hence the month out of school) so I am navigating with one hand on Doodle, three left on their own and my other hand on the bucking bronco that is my high-spirited two year old. We'll call him the bull. Have you ever walked a bull on a leash? No? Well that is best way to describe my little guy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">Oh I forgot to mention whenever I have to take all five anywhere along, which is exceedingly rare, I stop and say a prayer for our safety and my sanity because it is quite difficult really but doable. So I made the sign of the Cross and prayed silently before we entered the restaurant. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">I must preface my story with a side note about Doodle: she has an annoying habit of stealing peoples food. People who unfortunately she doesn't know but happen to have chicken nuggets or fries and therefore she believes are all there to feed her.</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">So I pray, we enter and all my kids immediately turn left to go straight to the play area. I let go of her hand for less than two seconds and when I turn the corner behind her a woman grabs my attention.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">"Excuse me mam, I need to tell you that your daughter just took my son's chicken nugget and walked away"</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">Me: "I am so so sorry, would you like me to buy you some more food?" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">She was about to keep on and I realized -</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><em><strong>She doesn't get it yet, most people figure it out in about two seconds - that my daughter has special needs, that she can't help her odd behavior, that they should just get over it because really ITS JUST A CHICKEN NUGGET! Really this poor woman has her hands full with five small children and doesn't need any grief or judgement from me because she obviously doesn't want her daughter to steal stranger's food, she isn't a bad mom who lets her kids roam fast food joints unsupervised scrounging free food because they are broke and have no morals. She just didn't catch her fast enough to prevent it and well ITS JUST A CHICKEN NUGGET!</strong></em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">Most people would think that but not this lady, not today.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">So I stopped her and looked her in the eye and kindly said "She has autism. She does this sometimes. I am sorry I didn't catch her. Can I buy you some more food.? Her lone child, a grown teenage son, caught on quickly and gave her a look and said "Mom it's fine." </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">She couldn't let it go because, I don't know, maybe I looked like I needed to be taught a lesson or given some unsolicited advice from her vast experience with ONE. GROWN. TYPICAL and POLITE child (wait a minute a typical and polite teenager is an oxymoron but back to the story.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">Her - "She didn't even look me in the eye, she just took it!!" </span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> I am thinking <em><strong>LADY - she doesn't look anyone IN THE EYE! That's part of what autism is!! I am her mother and she won't look me in the eye!</strong></em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">She couldn't let it go. Though she smiled and said "it's OK" After I explained. She had to get a jibe in.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">As I turned to walk away with the bucking bull still in tow she says,<strong> "Maybe you should stay closer to her." </strong>My jaw about dropped.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"> Me being southern, instead of saying what I wanted to, instead of thinking of some cool sting on the spot to put her in her place for being ignorant and hurtful and judgemental and lets just say it STUPID, instead of saying something I would later regret but would be so fulfilling at the moment. I just smiled and said "yea, well it's kind of hard with five."</span><br />
<span style="color: black;"> What I wanted to say was </span><span style="color: red;"><strong> "@$#%$^$#%R$#^%$^# to you and the horse you road in on! You ^#^%#$%$%$&^$%!! " </strong></span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: purple;">I. Should. Stay. Closer. To. Her.</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: black;">Now why didn't I think of that? She's %$^%$ brilliant!</span></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"><strong> </strong>I want to thank you all for sticking out this long, vent. I truly see kindness in strangers' hearts on a daily basis. Understanding, recognition, sometimes empathy and a look that says they have been there, but once in a while someone who has lived under a rock or in a utopia comes along who doesn't know what its like to care for a child with autism or small children at all. If you ever see a situation such as this unfolding before your eyes don't be afraid to step in and offer your understanding to the parent at hand. It will serve as a reminder to those who deal with these situations frequently that not everyone is an ignorant git :)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">Remember - its not the end of the world - its just a chicken nugget. <strong>It's called Autism.</strong> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">**If you've been in a similar situation due to having multiples or a child with special needs feel free to share your story in comments or email me. I would love to hear about it. Then we can stew together!</span><br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Bonnie</span></em></strong>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-25607319088590980212010-12-26T13:39:00.000-08:002010-12-26T13:39:26.504-08:00I have been so slack here!Okay, so I realized I haven't posted since October. The holidays just took over my life even though we kept it simple but what an awesome season it has been, I won't say was until New Years or the Epiphany maybe. By then I will be ready to go on a diet and clean my house for spring. (I am not kidding I love that stuff and only seem capable of doing it when I make New Year's resolutions :) )<br />
<br />
So I am typing on my brand spanking new laptop!!!! I really am. You wouldn't understand how I am in heaven unless you saw the old mismatched hodge podge school surplus castoff computers I have used for the last 3 years. My kids kept popping the keys off and my husband would grumble and fix it. Doodle would eat cheeze its while she surfed for you tube Elmo videos and spill her juice on the keyboard. The screen was frequently smeared with kid prints and other unidentifiable goo. You get the picture - oh and it had a giant old school monitor that didn't match the harddrive with the broken power button, which we had to remove the face of each and every time we wanted to turn it on or off. Phew.<br />
<br />
But yay I have a brand new, all mine, mine, mine computer!!!! I am so excited. I will hopefully be able to blog more in 2011. We had our very first White Christmas ever, it was also my Dad's first; and he is 78 - sorry Dad. The kids have 3 weeks off this year so that will require some creative time filling on my part. I hope to get some pictures on here soon. <br />
Lastly, Roy gave me a Dance Dance Revolution game for wii that I wanted and I spent most of today trying to learn how to play the darn thing. I am actually quite decent at dancing for what that's worth but man I feel a bit spastic on that mat. I am working on getting the feet first and then will add the arms. I figure it will take a year or two! Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-8748398954831337762010-10-20T08:28:00.000-07:002010-10-20T08:28:48.139-07:00Finding God in Autumn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9TT2WfqlZYTFYLYj8ZAtZ2WP11oFAMwb-lKBym6iqJSqGvYoOl_stn_VnZV8ISRox8wnVnuqY_y0ij5oqkPr3h3CSmb5V8rNMtkbzykDXSY7c3e6iq-5Y6PbPRuB3chIRroZAwJunyV4/s1600/autumn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9TT2WfqlZYTFYLYj8ZAtZ2WP11oFAMwb-lKBym6iqJSqGvYoOl_stn_VnZV8ISRox8wnVnuqY_y0ij5oqkPr3h3CSmb5V8rNMtkbzykDXSY7c3e6iq-5Y6PbPRuB3chIRroZAwJunyV4/s400/autumn.jpg" width="275" /></a></div>I am what is commonly referred to as a cradle Catholic,<br />
(ie- since birth) and I am proud of that, though I do concede that converts have the upper hand, generally, when it comes to knowledge of the faith. The rest of us got lazy. I am always searching for God. In my children's faces, in my thoughts, in nature, and in other people's words and actions. Sometimes I find it and sometimes I don't. Sometimes it seems like the harder I try and figure out what God wants from me the less I learn. He really is in the simple and the profound. <br />
<br />
Today I am in the mountains at my parents place. It is absolutely B-E-A-U-tiful this afternoon, to quote a silly Jim Carrey character. I adore the Fall, especially up here. The kids had a Fall break so we decided to dash up here for a couple of days and I am so glad we did. I find it easy to find God in the Autumn in the mountains. <br />
<br />
My parents blessedly allowed me to take a 20 minute walk this morning so I could get a break from the constant needs of five little people who don't sleep all that well away from home, last night being no exception. It was cool and crisp but not too chilly, the leaves are still early in their transformation but still glorious. It was the most quiet I have had in months. It was so pretty and calm that I didn't even notice the constant ringing in my ears (I have tinnitus - joy.)<br />
<br />
As I walked up the mountain road which looked like a cover from a John Denver album, the acorns roll-crunching under my feet. I started thinking about God because its easy to do with out little people screaming for juice boxes, fruit snacks and shoes. It occurred to me that while I know logically He is there with us always whether we choose to see or acknowledge Him, I have a hard time feeling connected the way I want to. But not today, today He is right here in front of me on this road, and beside me and within me. Everyone should get the chance to feel this way. The sunlight was doing a speckled dance through the leaves that cascaded in windfalls gently to the Earth. I know this sounds very Hallmarkish and no I am not trying to win any writing awards I just want to give a true picture of what I experienced because it was so simple and profound at the same time and this is what I came up with -<br />
<br />
God orchestrated all of this morning as he orchestrates all of nature, the universe even. Did he set up a particularly beautiful experience for me at just the moment I walked out the door? No, of course not. It's all majestic because He is the Author, the Illustrator, the Ultimate Creator or everything that has ever existed or ever will including me and the thought that brings me to my knees whenever I get too bogged down with poor little me thoughts is that in His infinite majestic act of All Creation there was minute, or a millisecond when his thoughts and attention created <strong>ME</strong>. <br />
<br />
And He did the same for <strong>You</strong>. Pretty amazing when you think about it that way.Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-69716290514731351752010-09-25T06:00:00.000-07:002010-09-25T06:00:40.662-07:00Finally!! Saturday in the park (actually just my house but still good.) HBOT verdictReferencing catchy old seventies song there and if you are too young to get that then you may find yourself bored with my blog - so be it :) Stick around, you may find something humorous here, everyone welcome !<br />
<br />
OK, so I actually have<strong> <span style="color: #38761d;">5 occupied children</span></strong> at the moment and a husband who has gone hunting so I am in my pj's with coffee and a brain that is awake and actually got 7 STRAIGHT HOURS of SLEEP last night!!!!!!! I still can't believe it! I didn't even have to get up and you know . . .<br />
<br />
Cool! Sorry about all the exclamation points but a woman with newly found sleep + coffee + free time is a happy women. I think there is a logarithmic correlation between caffeine and amount of exclamation points used in a post.<br />
<br />
Back to the topic, I have a short video on the inside of the Hbot chamber to show you what it looks like and how it feels in case you are about to embark on your own similar journey or are just curious if you could stand it. We had to wait about a month to finish our set of 20 dives and did so just this past Thursday. Here it is.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw6r5r6qDbDhATNCzot8j0YebfbLurRBqyohpL-bABSrL52A_lJtEXjPoPt227GzgrHt0XEhy275V6gyEC63w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>That hissing sound you hear is the pressurized oxygen being pumped in to the inflatable chamber.<br />
<br />
As I have said before, I have found I am claustrophobic, mildly so and found I could deal with it through taking Benedryl before each dive, saying the Rosary and generally begging God to get me through it. I had one final episode of panic on the second to last dive which took me by surprise but the Dr. distracted and comforted me with a few tales of other people who had similar experiences but, according to her, were <strong><em>much more annoying than me!</em></strong> (I think she was just being sweet :) )<br />
<br />
My final verdict is a mixed one - sorry if you were hoping for a definitive, miraculous finale but that's life.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: purple;">WOULD I DO IT AGAIN?</span></strong><br />
<br />
- <strong><span style="font-size: large;">Yes</span></strong> if I didn't know what I know now<br />
-<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Yes</span></strong> if God came down and told me to<br />
-<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Yes</strong></span> because I love my daughter SOOOO much<br />
-<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Yes</span></strong> if there was some new development that required a different protocol which wasn't available to me such as update equipment, drugs to knock me out, etc.<br />
-<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Yes</span></strong> if I was financially endowed (I would go for 20 more dives) not that I really want to so <strong>no</strong> don't offer to pay for it - <em><strong><span style="color: #674ea7;">I know you were thinking about it!</span></strong></em><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Yes</span><em> </em></strong></span><span style="color: black;">because I can at least say to myself that I tried everything possible to help her and don't spend the rest of my life wondering -<em> if I had only tried Hbot</em> . . .</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">NO</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">-</span></strong> if I knew what I know now - that it was horribly uncomfortable, time consuming, expensive and only vaguely effective and in that who knows if her gains were made by the actual Hbot or by her natural development and maturation?<br />
<br />
By gains I'd say I have seen an emotional expansion in her, real emotions, real tears that were not caused by physical pain but by feelings of guilt over hurting her baby brother when she accidentally opened the fridge door on him and knocked him to the floor or fear of something she dreaded. And of course that wonderful moment back in July when she said "I love you" to me out of no where for the first time in many years.<br />
<br />
But that's the problem with nearly ALL autism "treatments." Most are <strong>not</strong> scientifically documented and sound due to parents' desperation for any and all possible help they can provide there child and who are therefore quite vulnerable to charlatans and quackery of all types. <strong><span style="color: red;"> By the way, there is an extra hot spot in hell for people who practice this kind of demented money- making in my opinion!</span></strong><br />
<br />
I read something comforting recently about such parents (obviously I include myself in that category) : A book discussing autism therapies said that these parents, were not generally naive and unintelligent but educated and thorough in their research about the different treatments available. True. I actually do consider myself educated and well-researched, just don't ask me for help with anything to do with fixing a car, the stock-market or how to bring about world peace.<br />
<br />
I am sorry this post is so long. I am just giddy with freedom this morning although it will soon end as I am currently allowing my kids to jump on a less than 100% safe trampoline (one side of the net is coming detached but hey, some people don't even use a net on theirs and I figure they must have really good insurance as I have recently discovered <strong><span style="color: blue;">broken little-boy-arms</span></strong> cost TONS of money! Not as a result from the trampoline jumping of course :) It was those darn old monkey bars.<br />
<br />
<strong><u><span style="font-size: large;">On a final note</span></u></strong>: I can't actually say I wouldn't recommend giving Hbot a try for your child - if you are wondering. I really can't. <strong>Why?</strong> Because of the mystery of autism, what causes it, why it is becoming an epidemic, why there is such a wide spectrum of the affected, and a continued and general belief in miracles. For those reasons I will not tell you NOT to try this therapy on your child. Who am I to be the final judge? That said, <u><strong>do not mortgage your future away to do this</strong></u>, NO WAY.<br />
<br />
Peace and God's love to you all <em><strong>always</strong></em>. I need to get out of my pj's :)Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-10473955445171966352010-09-23T19:30:00.000-07:002010-09-25T04:34:49.402-07:00Book Review : " Why God Matters "Welcome to my humble blog - <span style="color: #674ea7;"><u>Five Kids a Dog and a Blog</u></span>. If you are new here my writings are generally about my life with 5 kids, four of them being quadruplets, a daughter with autism and my Catholic faith. Well its a big jumble O' stuff really. I like to have fun and make fun of myself and other things but I will not be making fun of this book because I really liked it.<br />
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Today I am hosting my very first book review! I love to read so when the offer came in my inbox I was intrigued. When I saw the title it was a neat moment of hmm is this a coincidence? I think not. I had seen a blurb about this book somewhere recently and was thinking I would like to read it anyway. Funny how that works out. As I am newly trying to be extra frugal, getting to read a free copy was a nice little perk.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXcvPuzd7ifG9eEtYSUvBbbdENh0OYVSVEXspJq63r_unShsC5oLR2p0AUPOfST4Kf1wkBVN01KaItAXMYAErp644NagwEU5NqvOIt9NpQxSo36JzeROw7POy5jAT_pmnrfPiw2SpCavX7/s1600/timthumb_php.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXcvPuzd7ifG9eEtYSUvBbbdENh0OYVSVEXspJq63r_unShsC5oLR2p0AUPOfST4Kf1wkBVN01KaItAXMYAErp644NagwEU5NqvOIt9NpQxSo36JzeROw7POy5jAT_pmnrfPiw2SpCavX7/s320/timthumb_php.jpg" width="208" /></a></div><br />
The book? Oh I guess I should mention the title! <strong><span style="color: #0b5394;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Why-God-Matters-Recognize-Daily/dp/0982256531/ref=sr_1_1?s=gateway&ie=UTF8&qid=1285414366&sr=8-1"> <span style="color: red;">"Why God Matters - How to recognize him in daily life</span>,</a>"</span></strong> is written by a father/daughter team- Deacon Steve Lubert and his daughter Karina Fabian. I can only imagine that co-authoring a book on faith would have to bring a family closer even if it was hard work. It is published by Tribute Books and is set up in fourteen chapters. Each chapter has an essay on a particular faith issue followed by a short "Life Lesson." The chapters are alternately penned by the deacon and his daughter.<br />
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I am immediately drawn to the familiar voice in the essays, that of a friend almost and I like the Life Lessons for their digestibility. I know that is a strange choice of words for a book but it fits.<br />
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The writing style is quiet, simple and straight forward. It does not lack depth but pulls you into the next chapter by not overwhelming you. A chapter a night would be a good pace if you could hold yourself back, letting the lessons sink in and really finding how they apply to you.<br />
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The book quotes scripture as well as the Catechism of the Catholic Church, however this book appeals to a wide audience , its Christian at the core and as Christians we all believe in and love the same eternal Father, Son and Holy Spirit, no matter how we celebrate.<br />
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There are chapters on a variety of topics and the personal stories were my favorite as they added to the flavor of authenticity. I just love this book because it doesn't make the reader feel stupid or bad about themselves! Everyone has to walk their own faith walk. No one can do it for you. We all may hear the same words in the Bible, at mass or service but our life experiences are different as are the gifts bestowed on us by the Holy Spirit. We truly are individuals created by God for a divine purpose. I'ts up to us to spend our life working with God's grace to fulfill our task set before us. I think this book will be an excellent tool for anyone who is struggling with that questions Why does God matter?<br />
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It is an encouraging book, warm and real and positive. I do recommend "Why God Matters"<br />
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OK, now back to my less mature usual blog rantings - by the end of the weekend and maybe sooner I will post my final installment on my daughter's and my experiences in the Hyperbaric Oxygen chamber. Also, does anyone out there care if I try to monetize my blog with ads? I could use a little income and though this is a hobby I might as well try it see what happens. If it's too annoying I will remove it. Hey, have a great night and I will be back soon.Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-31931406493219922842010-09-13T11:57:00.000-07:002010-09-13T11:57:44.078-07:00Hey! I'm back!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well I guess I took a hiatus for the end of summer/back to school season. I really miss writing here. I don't want to be one of those bloggers who has nothing to say but continues to post anyway :) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Update on Pauli</strong> : We are about to finish our last three dives in the Hyperbaric Chamber and I will give my more definitive opinion on the whole experience at that time. And answer some questions like - would I do it again? Did it really help? So if you're interested look for that at the end of next week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>I am really trying to get my act in gear right now</strong>. I have big plans to get my house cleaned and organized before Christmas (quit yawning) and I need to get on a better schedule at the gym.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have to say, as to the rest of my kids,<strong> SECOND GRADE IS AWESOME SO FAR!</strong> I really feel that they have teachers more suited to their personalities. Teachers with patience, kindness and an appreciation for their differences and strengths. This year we split the quads up a bit more. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is always a big questions with multiples, DO you split them up or keep them together? Thank goodness a law was passed a few years ago to give the parents the right to choose since they know best how their kids function. Thankfully, <strong>differentiation</strong> is becoming a common mindset among educators and lest you scratch your brain at that reference I will explain: In the past ALL multiples were treated like they came out of the same box. <strong><em>"We must split all multiples apart into separate class rooms no matter what their parents say or there will be a crack in the space-time continuum!" </em></strong>Now, we decide because guess what? I know that little Johnny and Jeffy get on each others nerves but little Sissy needs Johnny to help her make friends and shield her from some cruelness directed at her due to her smallness and shy personality, etc. (by the way, not my kids real names!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway, I have Doodle in her same class which is perfect for her with awesome Ms. Andrews for the third year! Her two sisters wanted to stay together and so they are while their brother wanted to try out things on his own and need to be in the FOCUS class anyway so that worked out well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me and the little man are to be found most days at the gym, park and or grocery store. I have joined the crazy coupon world order now and thanks to a couple of websites such as <span style="color: #674ea7;"><strong><a href="http://www.southernsavers.com/">Southern Savers</a></strong></span> we are now saving quite a bit and I have stockpiled my pantry and freezer. I had no clue how much I was really spending and now I have no excuse! Look into it. If I can do the system with my crazy life then anyone can. One day I will conquer freezer cooking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Update on book writing:</strong> I have written, yes written two children's stories and am waiting patiently on my dear busy brother to illustrate them before I send them off to prospective agents. If anyone knows anyone in the business who can offer advice please send them my way. I have a couple other ideas I am working on that have to do with my Pauli and my family in general. Have a great day!! </span>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-32316378293720985462010-08-06T14:07:00.000-07:002010-08-06T14:07:34.351-07:00Our summer in a nutshellWe had a great summer, even though we missed our annual beach vacation but we still had a lot of fun close to home.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghjM0srjdvlci7B0u-F2Vvb887koZgIIYE8Ii3PwLSGw7oAKiRH_kL6U6-kEkTwrMJWOCfvMwXKXauPczoT7uGANORn3tPDEMojGnJJb6-sQIeCzwdBuIZ_UVirpnDR2Tc6FFVmi1cweWl/s1600/100_3494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghjM0srjdvlci7B0u-F2Vvb887koZgIIYE8Ii3PwLSGw7oAKiRH_kL6U6-kEkTwrMJWOCfvMwXKXauPczoT7uGANORn3tPDEMojGnJJb6-sQIeCzwdBuIZ_UVirpnDR2Tc6FFVmi1cweWl/s320/100_3494.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doodle eats a treat</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrkdkzuw43Sb1fgeurx1BL4uEupI3HXWDUyoVVztofNeMXNyv5xKNxxedTZl-vAfbS4rjFdB6er8pgLyAfMgawu5IhyphenhyphenhHv07spwqsLNWgEjG3WFDX2DagC3ZKU5LI1cyziyhRUFhxGBxK/s1600/100_3598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrkdkzuw43Sb1fgeurx1BL4uEupI3HXWDUyoVVztofNeMXNyv5xKNxxedTZl-vAfbS4rjFdB6er8pgLyAfMgawu5IhyphenhyphenhHv07spwqsLNWgEjG3WFDX2DagC3ZKU5LI1cyziyhRUFhxGBxK/s320/100_3598.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy has birthday # ??</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlzrYHxq_Logo3zwFXMZz3_90rs4N8Si6AptjZkD1ZZz0JL1xy0m1SxhDVCM5_0mTH6f0SvSvIWyRK84ppCVJDZawAlJXmxF6dr8FFSyCKOb1ROqly27UX1eAHIWjX81BwgmN7_VLhZGQ/s1600/100_3501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlzrYHxq_Logo3zwFXMZz3_90rs4N8Si6AptjZkD1ZZz0JL1xy0m1SxhDVCM5_0mTH6f0SvSvIWyRK84ppCVJDZawAlJXmxF6dr8FFSyCKOb1ROqly27UX1eAHIWjX81BwgmN7_VLhZGQ/s320/100_3501.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What are you lookin' at?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCF3-WLlEh_CYfX_7Tg6nAegxRWPL7c1etkGdRz3AAeMMAB127WUUmA3rL_YNmrgutQjUmr-XrxyLCbTFG3HqK12tTcmO0aDe7bewLCbu3j9vUCKeftKXHOEcw59_BqPwvVrH0CzPCu2s-/s1600/100_3618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCF3-WLlEh_CYfX_7Tg6nAegxRWPL7c1etkGdRz3AAeMMAB127WUUmA3rL_YNmrgutQjUmr-XrxyLCbTFG3HqK12tTcmO0aDe7bewLCbu3j9vUCKeftKXHOEcw59_BqPwvVrH0CzPCu2s-/s320/100_3618.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mouse has her modeling debut at Princess Camp</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCefVy21P4l22GQPVzAJ32_CoeYhgOYsoFYxuD_QLxBbk0dJlQnUyejt0k_n1E-jwqpb1Eq6iI5lt7PIrK4a9hTNCVDeu3UCgiY9qwQUL-k-kIXfs4WyFhC2vBQ5JLXVuODPbcnheh7Ky/s1600/100_3517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCefVy21P4l22GQPVzAJ32_CoeYhgOYsoFYxuD_QLxBbk0dJlQnUyejt0k_n1E-jwqpb1Eq6iI5lt7PIrK4a9hTNCVDeu3UCgiY9qwQUL-k-kIXfs4WyFhC2vBQ5JLXVuODPbcnheh7Ky/s400/100_3517.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is he cute wearing dessert or what?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXi2_FnN-DLykNnv9c2TZy_JCxmk6Ay_fh1hkiPm4H2ch0FEtMqdMN-OoIAwdtVaCMSCZaFEzAUZQS_xYTfojGVi2TjaU3b1M70FXlFPzFuXkJ_iW9acjCbr0oLb3nDrF_uka86xJ92RR/s1600/100_3603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJXi2_FnN-DLykNnv9c2TZy_JCxmk6Ay_fh1hkiPm4H2ch0FEtMqdMN-OoIAwdtVaCMSCZaFEzAUZQS_xYTfojGVi2TjaU3b1M70FXlFPzFuXkJ_iW9acjCbr0oLb3nDrF_uka86xJ92RR/s320/100_3603.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty cousin Amber and Budgie</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPdQieTIx5n5Z8-vUD3j6eXY5OdK0OS4cW72VEZxrztvtuv3dhP6L6nrRPJQJVRolYfZBAKNZ6jwvpyAZIZTvx5Xb2xOurkcmjDx89kR-MBTI9WMFbL4qE2hHAVxsbxGixw3QXSniW2JKE/s1600/100_3393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPdQieTIx5n5Z8-vUD3j6eXY5OdK0OS4cW72VEZxrztvtuv3dhP6L6nrRPJQJVRolYfZBAKNZ6jwvpyAZIZTvx5Xb2xOurkcmjDx89kR-MBTI9WMFbL4qE2hHAVxsbxGixw3QXSniW2JKE/s320/100_3393.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Probably my favorite picture from the whole summer. Country kids camp was a blast.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjlUzDMycI61bX2emIUYqek4fWhdwBRLxYPhlHmDSntHEc8Yt7FJTftIfS-YEuLb2edL6dIETYFZaSRK_q62on9Dv_gTcvOcvv34W-xq-phJ-PPj-EU87R4PewsVx3xFwr3QQln4AvEcXh/s1600/100_3476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" bx="true" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjlUzDMycI61bX2emIUYqek4fWhdwBRLxYPhlHmDSntHEc8Yt7FJTftIfS-YEuLb2edL6dIETYFZaSRK_q62on9Dv_gTcvOcvv34W-xq-phJ-PPj-EU87R4PewsVx3xFwr3QQln4AvEcXh/s640/100_3476.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cousins at Fourth of July Parade</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-65471138997203214692010-07-25T13:24:00.000-07:002010-07-25T13:24:38.908-07:00Dog Days are upon us<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-ChJe9K1j8rq4ULjPTkbSJwdBqBwhP_akWEfJ8wxcXhH6WIpCZYc2Rf0s_hab7bP19jQX-56GQWDYOTdQaTeefPwcaU1rZ5TsG5fsbQNgzUtc6X8kj7iwLh2x22-fYW9jBo_wDGEOWYU/s1600/dog+days.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-ChJe9K1j8rq4ULjPTkbSJwdBqBwhP_akWEfJ8wxcXhH6WIpCZYc2Rf0s_hab7bP19jQX-56GQWDYOTdQaTeefPwcaU1rZ5TsG5fsbQNgzUtc6X8kj7iwLh2x22-fYW9jBo_wDGEOWYU/s400/dog+days.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Do you know how much I hate this heat?? Not enough to move up north, but still it depresses me in a way that only the cold, dark days of winter can rival. Hmm cold sounds good right about now . . . <br />
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There is not much you can do with five kids when its hot:<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Who is going to invite you over? (No, I am not fishing for invites!! Promise!)<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">You can't ban them to outside play like I remember my mom doing.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">They eat up all the Popsicles you buy in one day.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The dog tears up any type of outdoor plasticky or blow up pool type thing you put out there and when you venture out she breathes her hot sticky breath on you then leaves a coating of saliva and dog hair adhering to your legs.</div><br />
When we go to the play land at McD's inevitably Doodle will steal other people's fries and lick their kids ice cream cones and now that she isn't a cute little toddler, people don't think its so funny anymore although I am expecting you to laugh while reading this so - go ahead :)<br />
Oh and as a Bonus she likes to set off the alarm by trying to open the door that says EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY.<br />
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The local library is smaller than my house with old VHS tapes and an old unsympathetic librarian to match. What are my tax dollars going for??<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRPiR-fDeY0KSgMXbgPKYYZzlUkdvRH3nfRBXSvx9bpbTiJOB7QU9D1ejLPk0walCeBzlt2M3_ioaayqI97F-W-SVJNis2WFBFa51kQHklZwsK22OBYrEwsDhT5iXlPweM6MztxnCe1sR4/s1600/peace+hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRPiR-fDeY0KSgMXbgPKYYZzlUkdvRH3nfRBXSvx9bpbTiJOB7QU9D1ejLPk0walCeBzlt2M3_ioaayqI97F-W-SVJNis2WFBFa51kQHklZwsK22OBYrEwsDhT5iXlPweM6MztxnCe1sR4/s320/peace+hand.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Can you tell I am grumpy? I think I know what set it off too. This morning I went to Mass and during the Sign of Peace or Kiss of Peace where everyone shakes hands and wishes, well, <em>peace</em> to everyone around them, a little dried up lady refused to shake my hand. <strong> Refused</strong>. Now this has happened to me before and I believe the general excuse is not germaphobia but some archaic adherence to Pre -Vatican II tradition. I understand tradition but if it makes someone feel awkward and serves absolutely no purpose in its adherence. <strong> WTH??</strong> NO offense to seniors but it usually is the seniors who <strong>refuse to participate</strong>. Yes I know, I need to get over it. And I will. Promise. I'm just sayin', if I was someone else I think I would shake hands with me. I seem like a nice enough person?? </div><br />
OK so updates on Doodle: She is doing some more talking and slightly more eye contact, she asks for the HBOT at random times by pulling on my arm and taking me to the door saying "<em>Want to boat please!"</em> That's kinda cute.<br />
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It gets so hot in that boat that I am dreading the next dive. I have two coming up this week and maybe three the next. We still have four weeks till school starts. I am not sure my house or brain or body will survive the heat, the extra sugar and carbs (think ice cream and pizza) or the overload of laundry, dirty dishes and bored children. I still like summer but maybe just until the Fourth of July. Well I will check in next week. Until then - <strong>PEACE BE WITH YOU!!</strong>Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-421966539784392368.post-88857646934202632232010-07-21T06:29:00.000-07:002010-07-21T06:30:15.514-07:00Doodle, I do not speak Spanish . . .<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh48uC52hGW_rSgWz3PL7AMZC4KT1ONn-KzCW7fcjEbWTAUylQIpEweajoUlyy0BYuQsw9hfSrv1A81mz8LuLvPvLA_xlpL_sjBZVJWNp4KXD0ZNKy26ZYadXdMcjjRfKGeHYbh0A-sYLI/s1600/100_3255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh48uC52hGW_rSgWz3PL7AMZC4KT1ONn-KzCW7fcjEbWTAUylQIpEweajoUlyy0BYuQsw9hfSrv1A81mz8LuLvPvLA_xlpL_sjBZVJWNp4KXD0ZNKy26ZYadXdMcjjRfKGeHYbh0A-sYLI/s400/100_3255.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
So I have been MIA for a bit for several reasons. My almost 16 year old cousin has been staying with us so we have had fun visiting and doing things a bit out of the norm. I will surely miss her extra help with the kids, having a nearly grown female to talk to and the way she picks on my husband. I have been given a glimpse into the world of raising a teenager but not an accurate one as our conversations are very easy and I don't feel the pressure to make sure she does anything (her mom has covered that very well already as she is turning out to be a lovely young woman - go Katie!)<br />
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I have three daughters so I needed the tutoring! How do you handle the constant attention from admirers of your children? Sheesh, I will need to observe a little more because though I am sure she has a good head on her shoulders and the neighbor boys are probably still goofy and awkward and this point, as my husband pointed out - they won't be for long and he still remembers being a teenage boy. Somehow the thought of raising my two sons into teenagers doesn't scare me nearly as much?<br />
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We have finished 11 dives with 9 to go. I am having to piece days together now as my childcare situation will be less easy with my cousin gone and a husband back to work so instead of every morning it will be 2 or 3 mornings a week. I don't want to post a bunch of nothing so I won't post on days there is nothing to report.<br />
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That said, I remind you that all the things I report are strictly my observations and not scientific evidence of anything. Who knows at this point? Days go by and I don't notice anything and the creeping doubt of <em><strong>Am I Wasting Our Money?</strong></em> sneaks in. Here's a funny update: <br />
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<strong>Doodle has taught herself Spanish.</strong><br />
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Yes, the girl who only talks when she needs something like bed, food or drink and occasionally to <em>go jump trampoline Please!</em><br />
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Now I have suspected for some time that she was doing this. It shouldn't surprise me all that much since she taught herself how to read at age three, before any of her typical siblings learned. That is a funny story for another day. She likes to watch Spanish sesame street, <strong><em><a href="http://archive.sesameworkshop.org/plazasesamo/"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Plaza Sesamo</span></a>. </em></strong>And the girl Googles and You Tubes videos in Spanish and many other languages. I have seen Calliou in French, Disney in Italian, Big Bird in multiple languages playing on my computer screen. <br />
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She switched my blogger account to Romanian for a couple months till I could figure out how to switch it back so I learned a few new words :).<br />
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But-<br />
She started speaking Spanish to me last night.<br />
We were fixing dinner and she was very hungry which means she hangs around in the kitchen peaking into the oven and handing me potholders. So she says "Los Carnitas!" Which I think, is some kind of meat dish, I was making a sausage and vegetable pasta sauce and baking popcorn shrimp but still - she was close and pronounced it correctly!<br />
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Last night as I tucked her in I was tickling her and hugging her and she looked up and said "Amigos! Friends." How sweet is that? I know its just a word but we are talking about a child who said nothing but EEEEEE! her first three years. Well technically she did have about 4 words before the autism kicked in full gear and lost them all. I remember a time when I thought she might never speak and that is the case with many severely affected children so last night was a tiny miracle. I really think there is some area of her brain that is savant like and I can't wait to find out what else she is capable of.<br />
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Please know that many if not most children with autism are bright kids and are NOT mentally retarded or intellectually disabled as was once thought. Some are however, and they need double efforts on the part of their parents, teachers and communities to make there lives comfortable, happy and to reach differing stages of independence and productivity.<br />
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Have a great day Amigos!Morris fivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09449279536127186880noreply@blogger.com2