Dylan and Morgan almost 6 years ago!! 
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Something More....
This is an article i stumbled upon a few years ago, and it really hit home for me, and i re read it whenever i am getting frustrated, and feel sorry for my self or my child, or i just want to give up and quit fighting. I thought it was a good one to share.
Some Mothers Get Babies With Something More
Lori Borgman
Columnist and Speaker
My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what she wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer mothers have given throughout the pages of time. She says it doesn't matter whether it's a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten toes.
Of course, that's what she says. That's what mothers have always said.
Mothers lie.
Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more. Every mother wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin. Every mother wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly.
Every mother wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57, column two). Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by the billions. She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class. Call it greed if you want, but we mothers want what we want.
Some mothers get babies with something more.
Some mothers get babies with conditions they can't pronounce, a spine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palette that didn't close. Most of those mothers can remember the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of the walls in the small, suffocating room where the doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like recess in the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it knocked the wind clean out of you.
Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her for a well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear the brunt of devastating news. It can't be possible! That doesn't run in our family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime?
I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of seeing finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing; it's a wondrous thing. The athletes appear as specimens without flaw - rippling muscles with nary an ounce of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and limbs working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote bag, rustles through the contents and pulls out an inhaler.
As I've told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy after a third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echocardiogram, there's no such thing as a perfect body. Every body will bear something at some time or another. Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, medication or surgery. The health problems our children have experienced have been minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great admiration the mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they do it.
Frankly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child in and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, track medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear.
I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionally questioned if God is on strike. I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy pieces like this one -- saluting you, painting you as hero and saint, when you know you're ordinary. You snap, you bark, you bite. You didn't volunteer for this, you didn't jump up and down in the motherhood line yelling, "Choose me, God. Choose me! I've got what it takes."
You're a woman who doesn't have time to step back and put things in perspective, so, please, let me do it for you. From where I sit, you're way ahead of the pack. You've developed the strength of a draft horse while holding onto the delicacy of a daffodil. You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July, carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule. You can be warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require, intense and aggressive the next.
You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I pass at the mall. You're the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and my sister-in-law. You're a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, and got something more. You're a wonder.
Some Mothers Get Babies With Something More
Lori Borgman
Columnist and Speaker
My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what she wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer mothers have given throughout the pages of time. She says it doesn't matter whether it's a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten toes.
Of course, that's what she says. That's what mothers have always said.
Mothers lie.
Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more. Every mother wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin. Every mother wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly.
Every mother wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57, column two). Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by the billions. She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class. Call it greed if you want, but we mothers want what we want.
Some mothers get babies with something more.
Some mothers get babies with conditions they can't pronounce, a spine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palette that didn't close. Most of those mothers can remember the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of the walls in the small, suffocating room where the doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like recess in the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it knocked the wind clean out of you.
Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her for a well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear the brunt of devastating news. It can't be possible! That doesn't run in our family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime?
I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of seeing finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing; it's a wondrous thing. The athletes appear as specimens without flaw - rippling muscles with nary an ounce of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and limbs working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote bag, rustles through the contents and pulls out an inhaler.
As I've told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy after a third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echocardiogram, there's no such thing as a perfect body. Every body will bear something at some time or another. Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, medication or surgery. The health problems our children have experienced have been minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great admiration the mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they do it.
Frankly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child in and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, track medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear.
I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionally questioned if God is on strike. I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy pieces like this one -- saluting you, painting you as hero and saint, when you know you're ordinary. You snap, you bark, you bite. You didn't volunteer for this, you didn't jump up and down in the motherhood line yelling, "Choose me, God. Choose me! I've got what it takes."
You're a woman who doesn't have time to step back and put things in perspective, so, please, let me do it for you. From where I sit, you're way ahead of the pack. You've developed the strength of a draft horse while holding onto the delicacy of a daffodil. You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July, carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule. You can be warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require, intense and aggressive the next.
You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I pass at the mall. You're the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and my sister-in-law. You're a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, and got something more. You're a wonder.
Dentist
I very much dislike my teeth right now!! I can't believe how much its costs to fix your teeth!!
Its my fault i know. I put off going to the dentist for the past 8 years, but i felt that since i had no cavities for the first 18 years of my life, why would i start now.
Here is the thing, having 4 children in six years seems to have robbed my body of some much need calcium, so that along with the fact that i drink a lot of coke (well used to, i have cut way back) has done a # on my teeth.
So last year i finally found a dentist that i LOVE!! She is very sweet and caring and i don't feel quite as terrified to go to the dentist when i see her. So after getting some teeth pulled, several sets of x-rays and 9 months later, i finally get told what the damage is going to be. Its not good.....like 8-10 thousand not good.....
I have learned my lesson, my children will have regular dentist visits from now on, i will not let them follow my bad example.
Its my fault i know. I put off going to the dentist for the past 8 years, but i felt that since i had no cavities for the first 18 years of my life, why would i start now.
Here is the thing, having 4 children in six years seems to have robbed my body of some much need calcium, so that along with the fact that i drink a lot of coke (well used to, i have cut way back) has done a # on my teeth.
So last year i finally found a dentist that i LOVE!! She is very sweet and caring and i don't feel quite as terrified to go to the dentist when i see her. So after getting some teeth pulled, several sets of x-rays and 9 months later, i finally get told what the damage is going to be. Its not good.....like 8-10 thousand not good.....
I have learned my lesson, my children will have regular dentist visits from now on, i will not let them follow my bad example.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Nostalgia
It seems like just yesterday that my summers were busy with baton lessons, tee-ball and swimming at the pool every afternoon. Now i get to watch Morgan play tee-ball and talk about the exciting time she had at the pool that day. Wed. night was parents night and i was able to watch Morgan play, it just seems crazy to think that not so long ago that was me playing, in that same softball field and at one time i am sure i was on the green team. Does this mean i am getting old? |
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
4th of July
This year for the 4th we did something different, my entire family was together up at Okaboji, something that has not happened in several years...it was nice, and somewhat crazy:)
We spent the forth boating and skiing....glad to say that after four kids i can still ski. I really was not sure if i still could and was slightly afraid of hurting myself!!
Friday night Brian and I and the kids found a dock to sit on and watch the fireworks. They were cool and the kids enjoyed them. I did enjoy them myself but was actually really glad when they were finished. We were sitting on a floating dock and i was getting a little sick. Sad to say, but i don't think i could ever handle going on a cruize!
Saturday we took the kids to the beach. Morgan and Dylan just loved playing in the water, and i have to give the credit because it was COLD! Logan hates the water and was perfectly content to just play in the sand. We tried everything we could think of to get him to go in the water...even bribery (i know good parents we are !) but nothing was making him budge.
Sunday we were ready to come home, the weekend had been fun but exhausting! The drive home was even entertaining as about 10 miles from home the sky let loose and we got dumped on. I was following Brian who was pulling the camper...i could not see ANYTHING!! Lots of cars were pulling over, but we kept going, i don't think i have ever been so glad to see Alton:)
Here it goes....
So as if i don't have enough to do, i decided to try having a blog. I feel that life goes by so fast so why not keep a journal of it!
So be prepared for stories of my crazy, yet adorable kids and my crazy and sometimes adorable husband:)
So be prepared for stories of my crazy, yet adorable kids and my crazy and sometimes adorable husband:)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)