Today is Tuesday, November 6, 2012. It is also election day. To commemorate this occasion, I have decided to write an open letter to ALL politicians based on many opinions that I have gathered, and the opinion that I hold myself.
Dear politicians that represent us as Americans,
Today, November 6, is Election Day, and I will be going to the polls to vote. I feel that this is my civic duty as an American, and also as a woman because of the fight that my predecessors endured to guarantee this right to me. While I will be voting, I will not be voting for neither Mitt Romney or President Obama. I will be exercising my right to vote by writing in the candidate that I believe will get this country moving in the right direction. Sadly, it is not either major party candidate. After weeks of watching friends' posts on Facebook, listening to passing conversations that people are having about the election, and speaking to friends and neighbors, I am not the only person that believes both candidates are wrong for America. We are caught in a "lesser of two evils" situation, and we as Americans, are not happy about it.
I have also heard many friends express the opinion that they aren't even going to waste their time voting. The reasons range from they don't believe that either candidate represents them to them feeling that the Electoral College really decides the election. After discussing this with numerous people, I will say that the most common reason that people are not going to the polls is that they believe that politicians are liars. They lie to get into the positions of power, they abuse their titles, and they do not care about Americans. Many of the people believe that politics and our government have become a joke.
I am 30 years old and I have always paid attention to politics. It saddens me to see so many young people giving up on their country because of politicians that abuse their elected positions. In the state of Pennsylvania, our lawmakers were unable to pass a budget, but still received their base salaries of $82,000, as well as all of the money spent on pensions and health coverage. All of this while school funding (pre-K through 12th, as well as post-secondary institutions) and transportation improvements (which this state freaking needs) were slashed. With this coming from you, the politicians, that have been elected on the promises that you will make our state, as well as America, a better place. No wonder young Americans think you are a joke.
Another thing that I have noticed is the inability for many to cross party lines. Our Republican run House of Representatives has promised numerous times to stall bills that our Democratic president has created in favor of their Republican version of the same bill. Why not work together to come to a compromise? Both sides are so unbelievably stubborn and unable to work together that nothing is getting done. Why not listen to the American people and work toward what they want instead of having a pissing contest with each other? Not everything in life is black or white (or should I say red or blue).
The final point that I would like to make to all politicians out there is that I believe many of you have forgotten the meaning and points made in the United States Constitution and Bill of Rights, as well as decisions by the Supreme Court that enforce these rights. We are guaranteed the right to bear arms, so please limit your gun control laws. We are guaranteed the right to privacy, so please understand that also includes the right to decide what I do with my body without government interference. We are guaranteed the absolute freedom of religion, and in order for the right to be guaranteed to all citizens, church and state must be separate and no specific religion must be endorsed by our governmental leaders (I REALLY think that many politicians have forgotten this little tidbit). Finally, I am guaranteed the freedom of speech, which means I am able to write you this letter to tell you what an absolutely horrid job you (most of you, Dem or Rep) are doing with this country.
While I know I am one person with an opinion that many others will not share, I felt that you as politicians should know that I still believe there are a few of you out there that honestly care about the Constitution and the Bill of Rights that our forefathers wrote to protect the rights and liberties of the good people of this country. I will continue to research and listen during every election so that I many be able to find you and vote for you, even if I am told by everyone that I am throwing my vote away on a write-in that I know will not win. I have faith in this country and I will continue to exercise my right to vote at every opportunity possible, even if people say that it isn't going to make a difference.
Sincerely,
The Feral Mommy
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
The Patients Are Running the Asylum
It is said that on All Hallow's Eve, the veil between the living and the dead is at it's thinnest. I completely believe it because I am almost certain that my children have been possessed by some kind of monsters or demons today. And we are supposed to drag them around and have them beg for candy to add to the sugar high? Hell no. NOT. FREAKING. HAPPENING.
So far my youngest has colored all over himself and the couch (that I just cleaned) with pink highlighter, and then ripped his diaper off and peed in the Yard Sale Box. I'd say the value of the items in there has pretty much depreciated about as far as it can go without them being set on fire. Instead of helping contain the insanity that is my toddler, Tink has been feeding it to him with a shovel.
"Let's kick the ball!" (She forgot to add, "into Mom's jade plants!")
"Wanna play with the horsey?" ("And swing it around until we wipe out half of the items on the desk?")
I think there is some kind of exchange of words that takes place in a frequency that can only be heard by other children that are in hellfire mode. They plot out the attack, morph into little evil, sanity-sucking monsters and berate their parents with shot after shot until we are left a quivering mass on the bathroom floor, all the while listening to the little scratching of fingernails on the door, trying to get in and finish the job. I hear that sound in my nightmares sometimes.
Normally I would discipline and time out until I exorcised the demons and my wonderful children returned. Today is not normal. Mommy is handing control of the asylum over to the patients. I am going to finish dinner, confiscate the remote and watch and episode of "Parenthood" on Netflix, and fantasize about how wonderful it would be to solve all of our problems in an hour.
About that time Daddy should be home to deal with it, and Mommy can have a cocktail.
So far my youngest has colored all over himself and the couch (that I just cleaned) with pink highlighter, and then ripped his diaper off and peed in the Yard Sale Box. I'd say the value of the items in there has pretty much depreciated about as far as it can go without them being set on fire. Instead of helping contain the insanity that is my toddler, Tink has been feeding it to him with a shovel.
"Let's kick the ball!" (She forgot to add, "into Mom's jade plants!")
"Wanna play with the horsey?" ("And swing it around until we wipe out half of the items on the desk?")
I think there is some kind of exchange of words that takes place in a frequency that can only be heard by other children that are in hellfire mode. They plot out the attack, morph into little evil, sanity-sucking monsters and berate their parents with shot after shot until we are left a quivering mass on the bathroom floor, all the while listening to the little scratching of fingernails on the door, trying to get in and finish the job. I hear that sound in my nightmares sometimes.
Normally I would discipline and time out until I exorcised the demons and my wonderful children returned. Today is not normal. Mommy is handing control of the asylum over to the patients. I am going to finish dinner, confiscate the remote and watch and episode of "Parenthood" on Netflix, and fantasize about how wonderful it would be to solve all of our problems in an hour.
About that time Daddy should be home to deal with it, and Mommy can have a cocktail.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Frankenstorm
For those of you that don't know, I live on an island (okay, it's more like a peninsula) along the Susquehanna River. It's a quiet little neighborhood nestled along the river, with beautiful views and soil so fertile it grows tomatoes from the seeds of rotten ones that you ask your kid to throw in the compost bin, but in his laziness, he just tosses them into the garden. Sounds perfect, huh? I thought the same thing until last September when we met our first Isle of Que flooding.
Apparently with living on an island along the river comes flooding. We found this out when Hurricane Irene tore up the East Coast and was followed by Tropical Storm Lee, that just shuffled along, dumping inches and inches of rain all over the state of Pennsylvania. We went from expecting it to get up to our doors, but not into the house to getting a call from our landlord telling us that we might have 4 feet of water on our first floor. Shit. Shit. Shit.
With having no flood insurance, we started moving everything that we could carry upstairs and putting everything else up as high as we could get it. We woke up early the next morning to continue the process and were joined by Big Daddy's friend and my mom and sister. The water was rising slowly so Big Daddy, my mom and BD's friend took our car and the kayaks out to the storage area. In the half hour that they were gone, the water rose two feet and went from just covering our sidewalk to lapping at our door stoop, threatening to come in. I was alone in the house with Nutt, Evel and Trid (my 13 y.o. sister), and I had to get them to safety. I gave them each a life jacket, grabbed Nutt and we started wading through the foot and a half of river that was now covering our sidewalk. We made it to the alley at the mid-point of our block and to higher ground, but that was the most terrifying 10 minutes of my life. To say that water rises quickly is an understatement. In the half hour that it took Big Daddy, the water came up so quickly that my mom almost lost her SUV and if we didn't have the lift on the Suburban (which I had previously called stupid and unnecessary), we would have lost it along with the camper that was about to become our home for the next seven weeks. To say I had a stressful day would be an understatement.
Side note here: IF YOU ARE TOLD TO EVACUATE, GET THE HELL OUT. Stuff is just stuff. There will be people around to give you new stuff. Trust me, I know. I cannot begin to tell you how terrified I was while trying to get those kids through the water, and I would have never forgiven myself if something would have happened to any of them. I did A LOT of bargaining with God during this time. Hindsight is 20/20. Just. Get. Out.
Anyway, we wound up with 25 inches of water on our first floor. We lost our bedroom set, a desk, the kitchen table set and a few other things (like the hot tub that we had just installed and never got to use). We gained mud. So much effing mud. And flood mud smells so different than regular earthy mud. This is a bitter, acrid stink that clings to everything it touches. It is mud that is mixed with oil and gasoline and anything else that it washed over and picked up along the way. And there were inches of it in my freaking house and it was touching all of my stuff. I felt so dirty and violated.
With the arrival of mud came the worst part...the cleaning. I hate cleaning more than almost anything, especially mopping the floors. We mopped, we hosed, we squeegeed and there was STILL MUD. EVERYWHERE. To this day (a year later), I still find it when I'm cleaning. This stuff is oil based and nasty. We ripped all of the carpet out and replaced the drywall from 36 inches down, but I still catch a whiff every now and then and my stomach feels like I had one too many shots of tequila. I flood is something I would not wish on my worst enemy and definitely not something I had ever hoped to do again. That is why we bought a new house. A house that was supposed to be ours on October 26, but had a shit tank too close to the drinking water for us to get the loan. A house that should now be our on November 9, which is a week too late to avoid Frankenstorm.
Effing Frankenstorm. Apparently this monster is shaping up to be a doosie. Hurricane Sandy is going to meet up with a storm coming down from the north and cause all kinds of havoc on the East Coast. It's a slow moving storm that is going to hang around for about a week and offer up gale force winds, possibly snow and torrential downpours of rain. Lots and lots of freaking rain. What I've learned from Tropical Storm Lee is that slow moving storms with rain are the ones that brings flooding. Lots and lots of flooding. Shit. Shit. Shit. Again.
The thing that is really getting to me is the anticipation. I just want it to get here so we can get it over with. Let it rain, let it snow, but please God, do not let it flood. For the sake of my (and my family's) sanity, do not make me have to buy all new underwear again because the flood mud got it's hand all over the ones I already own. While we have flood insurance this time around, I don't think I can handle living in a camper with my older kids and the wiser posteriors they've gained since last year. So I will sit and twiddle my thumbs and try not to freak out until this monster gimps up on us. What I wouldn't give for an angry mob with burning torches to send this bastard back to Hell right about now.
Apparently with living on an island along the river comes flooding. We found this out when Hurricane Irene tore up the East Coast and was followed by Tropical Storm Lee, that just shuffled along, dumping inches and inches of rain all over the state of Pennsylvania. We went from expecting it to get up to our doors, but not into the house to getting a call from our landlord telling us that we might have 4 feet of water on our first floor. Shit. Shit. Shit.
With having no flood insurance, we started moving everything that we could carry upstairs and putting everything else up as high as we could get it. We woke up early the next morning to continue the process and were joined by Big Daddy's friend and my mom and sister. The water was rising slowly so Big Daddy, my mom and BD's friend took our car and the kayaks out to the storage area. In the half hour that they were gone, the water rose two feet and went from just covering our sidewalk to lapping at our door stoop, threatening to come in. I was alone in the house with Nutt, Evel and Trid (my 13 y.o. sister), and I had to get them to safety. I gave them each a life jacket, grabbed Nutt and we started wading through the foot and a half of river that was now covering our sidewalk. We made it to the alley at the mid-point of our block and to higher ground, but that was the most terrifying 10 minutes of my life. To say that water rises quickly is an understatement. In the half hour that it took Big Daddy, the water came up so quickly that my mom almost lost her SUV and if we didn't have the lift on the Suburban (which I had previously called stupid and unnecessary), we would have lost it along with the camper that was about to become our home for the next seven weeks. To say I had a stressful day would be an understatement.
 |
| The last shot of our little house before we left. Helpless is the only word to describe it. |
Anyway, we wound up with 25 inches of water on our first floor. We lost our bedroom set, a desk, the kitchen table set and a few other things (like the hot tub that we had just installed and never got to use). We gained mud. So much effing mud. And flood mud smells so different than regular earthy mud. This is a bitter, acrid stink that clings to everything it touches. It is mud that is mixed with oil and gasoline and anything else that it washed over and picked up along the way. And there were inches of it in my freaking house and it was touching all of my stuff. I felt so dirty and violated.
 |
| The carpet was blue 72 hours earlier. |
 |
| Found the hot tub in a farmer's field about a half mile from our house. It's still there is anyone wants it. |
With the arrival of mud came the worst part...the cleaning. I hate cleaning more than almost anything, especially mopping the floors. We mopped, we hosed, we squeegeed and there was STILL MUD. EVERYWHERE. To this day (a year later), I still find it when I'm cleaning. This stuff is oil based and nasty. We ripped all of the carpet out and replaced the drywall from 36 inches down, but I still catch a whiff every now and then and my stomach feels like I had one too many shots of tequila. I flood is something I would not wish on my worst enemy and definitely not something I had ever hoped to do again. That is why we bought a new house. A house that was supposed to be ours on October 26, but had a shit tank too close to the drinking water for us to get the loan. A house that should now be our on November 9, which is a week too late to avoid Frankenstorm.
 |
| My thoughts on cleaning. Give me a Natty Light and leave me the Hell alone. |
 |
| The items that people lost. The dumpster in front of our house filled up so it wound up piling up on our sidewalk. |
The thing that is really getting to me is the anticipation. I just want it to get here so we can get it over with. Let it rain, let it snow, but please God, do not let it flood. For the sake of my (and my family's) sanity, do not make me have to buy all new underwear again because the flood mud got it's hand all over the ones I already own. While we have flood insurance this time around, I don't think I can handle living in a camper with my older kids and the wiser posteriors they've gained since last year. So I will sit and twiddle my thumbs and try not to freak out until this monster gimps up on us. What I wouldn't give for an angry mob with burning torches to send this bastard back to Hell right about now.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
No Critics?
I know that I have not always been the nicest person when it comes to my views on others: I think elderly people are dangerous when operating any kind of motorized vehicle (shopping carts included), I cannot stand to see overweight kids eating fast food and I loathe litterbugs to the point that I've followed one across a parking lot to hand her the candy bar wrapper she tossed on the ground. But the one place that I have never been judgmental is the gym. I don't care if you are 10 or 100 pounds overweight (or not overweight at all)...if you took the initiative to go to a gym to get yourself into better shape, I will commend you on your efforts (plus the gym policy kind of forbids me from being critical of others). So imagine my surprise when two snarky bitches were critical of ME (for the second time) this morning.
We'll call these girls Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Asshat (TD and TA, respectively). TD and TA are regulars in the gym that I attend, so I have never questioned their motives. Sure, I see them walking 1.5 miles per hour on the treadmill down the row from me so they can chat and play Angry Birds on their phones, but I've never questioned it because they are still doing laps around everyone that is at home in bed. I've also never said anything when they sit on the machines before, between and after their reps to gossip about TA's ex and his new girlfriend (who also attends the same gym at approximately the same time in the morning as TD, TA and myself).
I've seen these girls laughing at bigger people on treadmills and whispering about older people lifting weights. I've even seen them talking about me. Not once, but twice. I have no idea why. Maybe it's the sweat that is dripping out of every single pore on my body or the occasional grunt that slips out when I'm on my 11th or 12th rep. I don't really know, but it bothers me. I am there to exercise and get in shape, not to gossip with one of my friends about people that are in worse shape than me, which by the way, BOTH of these girls are. If I walk out of the gym looking just as pretty as I did when I walked in, then I didn't work hard enough.
So today I said something. I asked if there was a problem. They both kind of looked at me and rolled their eyes. I just smiled sweetly and told them that since there was no problem, maybe the needed to ask me something, like for exercise pointers (I believe my exact words were something along the lines of, "Maybe I can show you how to stop gossiping and exercise?"). I got the look of death, more eye rolls and two very bitchy answers of, "No thanks." I shrugged and walked away. I can only imagine what was said as I headed over to the big girl machines. I'm currently waiting for my phone to ring to tell me that my workout card has been revoked.
Even if it is, I think I made the right decision. To go to a gym to sit around and laugh at people that are trying to better themselves says to me that you are unhappy with yourself. Maybe if you weren't so miserable, your ex wouldn't be with the cute little blonde that sweats just as much as me when she is at the gym. Maybe if you actually busted your ass a little, you might look a bit more like that cute little blonde. But to sit around and make jokes about other people while you are taking up machines that these people use to benefit themselves is a waste of time and money. Trade your high horse for an exercise bike and USE IT. I will not be ashamed for doing what that place was created for, and I will not be pressured into being uncomfortable by two little crones that don't understand that high school is over. Most importantly, go sell bitchy somewhere else, we're all stocked up here.
Am I the only one experiencing this in adulthood, too???
We'll call these girls Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Asshat (TD and TA, respectively). TD and TA are regulars in the gym that I attend, so I have never questioned their motives. Sure, I see them walking 1.5 miles per hour on the treadmill down the row from me so they can chat and play Angry Birds on their phones, but I've never questioned it because they are still doing laps around everyone that is at home in bed. I've also never said anything when they sit on the machines before, between and after their reps to gossip about TA's ex and his new girlfriend (who also attends the same gym at approximately the same time in the morning as TD, TA and myself).
I've seen these girls laughing at bigger people on treadmills and whispering about older people lifting weights. I've even seen them talking about me. Not once, but twice. I have no idea why. Maybe it's the sweat that is dripping out of every single pore on my body or the occasional grunt that slips out when I'm on my 11th or 12th rep. I don't really know, but it bothers me. I am there to exercise and get in shape, not to gossip with one of my friends about people that are in worse shape than me, which by the way, BOTH of these girls are. If I walk out of the gym looking just as pretty as I did when I walked in, then I didn't work hard enough.
So today I said something. I asked if there was a problem. They both kind of looked at me and rolled their eyes. I just smiled sweetly and told them that since there was no problem, maybe the needed to ask me something, like for exercise pointers (I believe my exact words were something along the lines of, "Maybe I can show you how to stop gossiping and exercise?"). I got the look of death, more eye rolls and two very bitchy answers of, "No thanks." I shrugged and walked away. I can only imagine what was said as I headed over to the big girl machines. I'm currently waiting for my phone to ring to tell me that my workout card has been revoked.
Even if it is, I think I made the right decision. To go to a gym to sit around and laugh at people that are trying to better themselves says to me that you are unhappy with yourself. Maybe if you weren't so miserable, your ex wouldn't be with the cute little blonde that sweats just as much as me when she is at the gym. Maybe if you actually busted your ass a little, you might look a bit more like that cute little blonde. But to sit around and make jokes about other people while you are taking up machines that these people use to benefit themselves is a waste of time and money. Trade your high horse for an exercise bike and USE IT. I will not be ashamed for doing what that place was created for, and I will not be pressured into being uncomfortable by two little crones that don't understand that high school is over. Most importantly, go sell bitchy somewhere else, we're all stocked up here.
Am I the only one experiencing this in adulthood, too???
Monday, October 22, 2012
Please Vote!
It's time to shamelessly plug my cousin's kids. They've entered into a Halloween contest in the hopes of winning an iPad 2 or a 4 pack of tickets to a local haunted attraction. Please take a minute to go vote for them and pass this on. They've had a really rough year after their father was killed in a work accident. Any little bit of sunshine would really help them. Thanks everyone! Please remember to pass this link on to anyone and everyone!
Thursday, October 18, 2012
So To Speak
I haven't written in a while because my life has been generally uneventful, yet absolutely chaotic at the same time, but today, I need to pour out my heart. Overwhelmed does not begin to cover it.
Today was Nutt's one year pre-evaluation for speech therapy. He has been working with an amazing woman named Angela since we realized last October that he was behind on his verbal skills. No mama, no dada...he wasn't even saying 'no' (which was the first word spoken by my oldest, and is still his favorite). Our rep from Early Intervention helped us find Angela and she has really helped to pluck little tiny words out of the brain and mouth of our little guy. I thought he was coming along great.
After asking me every question on a three page (front and back) questionnaire, Angela determined that Zayden is running about the same as an 18-month-old would be with his speech. He turned two in August. I was shocked. The reasoning is that other than me, no one has a clue what this little jabber-jaw is saying. I hear "drawing" while Angela hears "fowin." I hear "brush" while Angela hears "buh" (which is apparently the same thing she hears when he says "bye," "book," and "ball").
Even with all of the progress I thought we had made, Nutt is still almost a year behind other kids his age. I see my BFF's son (who is about 3 months younger than Nutt), and it is glaringly obvious that he is more verbally advanced than our little guy. I watch him repeat new words on command, while Nutt just stares at us when we try. I watch him tell his family "I love you" while Nutt just demands that we change the "buh" channel ("buh" apparently means TV, too). I've even come to realize that Nutt is further behind with his speech than Evel was at his age, which led to speech therapy later and a hellish stutter that he still has to consciously control whenever he is nervous or upset.
But Angela is confident that we will get him talking (in a language that all can understand) in no time. She said that delays are common in kids that have been diagnosed with facial palsy, and that there are techniques we can use once he gets a little older to get him talking. There is also a plateau between 24-30 months, which is where he is right now. She gave me a list of things to try with him this week, and went on her way to help other kids like Nutt.
This gave me time to think. Couple that with PMS, and it's a very slippery slope right into me becoming a basket case about my child's inability to pick up on the cuss words that I use on a daily basis (which Evel also had no problem doing). Are my genes defective and that's why both of my kids didn't talk until well after two years old? Is he just being stubborn or is it something physical that is preventing him from talking? There were tons of questions that swirled around in my head.
But the one that kept nagging at me, the one that I push away every time I think about it, kept coming back to me. What if he wouldn't have been diagnosed with Moebius Syndrome when he was born? What if he would have been "perfect?"
Even typing that rips a flood of tears out of my eyes. Of course, I think that my son is perfect and no, I would never trade him for a kid that closes both of his eyes when he cries. I just wonder if we would be going through speech therapy. I can't imagine that we would have ever visited a pediatric neurologist or learned how to get fluorescein out of clothing. We wouldn't have spent hours doing research about how to protect a baby's eyes from wind and I know for damn sure I would have chosen a vehicle based on factors other than Pennsylvania's window tint law.
We also wouldn't have to worry about our son being picked on by kids that don't understand his diagnosis, and that don't see what an awesome, funny, adorable little cheeseball he really is once you get to know him. And am I supposed to send a note on picture day asking that the school photographer turn him the opposite direction from how they usually photograph the kids so we can get his "good side," or would that just single him out even more? Will the school allow him to carry his eye drops with him or we he have to go to the nurse's office every time his eye gets dried out? What if he still can't talk "right" by the time he starts school AND half of his face doesn't move? What if the school doesn't help if he gets bullied? How will Big Daddy afford my bail money if I have to pay the principal a visit?
All of this stuff lurks in my mind at all times. My biggest fear is that these bullies that don't even exist yet will steal the little half a smile that we are lucky enough to have. I worry that he'll find it easier to just stop laughing in the hopes that people might not notice that he doesn't smile the same way as everyone else. Nutt is such a fun-loving kid, and to think that someone might snuff out that happy little spirit makes my stomach do flips. He deserves his carefree childhood. Every kid does.
Sometimes I feel guilty worrying so much about Nutt because of all of the kids out there that have serious health complications. I fee like my worries pale in comparison to that of a mother who has to constantly monitor her child to make sure their trach tube doesn't come out while he or she is sleeping or a dad that has to make sure his child gets her epilepsy meds so she doesn't have a seizure. My worries seem like the end of the world to me sometimes, but what about the people that are begging our creator to keep their child alive for just one more day? They deserve to give me a kick in the ass and tell me that I should appreciate everything that is right with my son, and to stop dwelling on everything that is wrong. And they are right.
So yes, I wonder how would life be different if everything was perfect. I honestly don't know. But I do know that this is the life I have been given, and I also know that I am thankful for it. I am thankful for my kids and my husband and every minute that I get to spend worrying about them. I am thankful for the people that I have met through Nutt's Moebius Syndrome diagnosis, and I am thankful to be able to call these people my friends. I am thankful for the strength that I didn't know I had until a little baby peered at me with an eye that didn't close. I am also thankful that just two short years after the day that we all realized something wasn't right, we now have a bubbly, rambunctious toddler that couldn't be more perfect.
So I will try to take deep breaths, let everything come naturally and try to remember that if it wasn't for the rain, we would never be able to follow the rainbows that lead us to our pots of gold.
Today was Nutt's one year pre-evaluation for speech therapy. He has been working with an amazing woman named Angela since we realized last October that he was behind on his verbal skills. No mama, no dada...he wasn't even saying 'no' (which was the first word spoken by my oldest, and is still his favorite). Our rep from Early Intervention helped us find Angela and she has really helped to pluck little tiny words out of the brain and mouth of our little guy. I thought he was coming along great.
After asking me every question on a three page (front and back) questionnaire, Angela determined that Zayden is running about the same as an 18-month-old would be with his speech. He turned two in August. I was shocked. The reasoning is that other than me, no one has a clue what this little jabber-jaw is saying. I hear "drawing" while Angela hears "fowin." I hear "brush" while Angela hears "buh" (which is apparently the same thing she hears when he says "bye," "book," and "ball").
Even with all of the progress I thought we had made, Nutt is still almost a year behind other kids his age. I see my BFF's son (who is about 3 months younger than Nutt), and it is glaringly obvious that he is more verbally advanced than our little guy. I watch him repeat new words on command, while Nutt just stares at us when we try. I watch him tell his family "I love you" while Nutt just demands that we change the "buh" channel ("buh" apparently means TV, too). I've even come to realize that Nutt is further behind with his speech than Evel was at his age, which led to speech therapy later and a hellish stutter that he still has to consciously control whenever he is nervous or upset.
But Angela is confident that we will get him talking (in a language that all can understand) in no time. She said that delays are common in kids that have been diagnosed with facial palsy, and that there are techniques we can use once he gets a little older to get him talking. There is also a plateau between 24-30 months, which is where he is right now. She gave me a list of things to try with him this week, and went on her way to help other kids like Nutt.
This gave me time to think. Couple that with PMS, and it's a very slippery slope right into me becoming a basket case about my child's inability to pick up on the cuss words that I use on a daily basis (which Evel also had no problem doing). Are my genes defective and that's why both of my kids didn't talk until well after two years old? Is he just being stubborn or is it something physical that is preventing him from talking? There were tons of questions that swirled around in my head.
But the one that kept nagging at me, the one that I push away every time I think about it, kept coming back to me. What if he wouldn't have been diagnosed with Moebius Syndrome when he was born? What if he would have been "perfect?"
 |
| The day we left the NICU. I don't even recognize this baby anymore. |
Even typing that rips a flood of tears out of my eyes. Of course, I think that my son is perfect and no, I would never trade him for a kid that closes both of his eyes when he cries. I just wonder if we would be going through speech therapy. I can't imagine that we would have ever visited a pediatric neurologist or learned how to get fluorescein out of clothing. We wouldn't have spent hours doing research about how to protect a baby's eyes from wind and I know for damn sure I would have chosen a vehicle based on factors other than Pennsylvania's window tint law.
We also wouldn't have to worry about our son being picked on by kids that don't understand his diagnosis, and that don't see what an awesome, funny, adorable little cheeseball he really is once you get to know him. And am I supposed to send a note on picture day asking that the school photographer turn him the opposite direction from how they usually photograph the kids so we can get his "good side," or would that just single him out even more? Will the school allow him to carry his eye drops with him or we he have to go to the nurse's office every time his eye gets dried out? What if he still can't talk "right" by the time he starts school AND half of his face doesn't move? What if the school doesn't help if he gets bullied? How will Big Daddy afford my bail money if I have to pay the principal a visit?
 |
| Big Daddy and his Xerox copy |
Sometimes I feel guilty worrying so much about Nutt because of all of the kids out there that have serious health complications. I fee like my worries pale in comparison to that of a mother who has to constantly monitor her child to make sure their trach tube doesn't come out while he or she is sleeping or a dad that has to make sure his child gets her epilepsy meds so she doesn't have a seizure. My worries seem like the end of the world to me sometimes, but what about the people that are begging our creator to keep their child alive for just one more day? They deserve to give me a kick in the ass and tell me that I should appreciate everything that is right with my son, and to stop dwelling on everything that is wrong. And they are right.
 |
| 18-month-old picture of our little future Nittany Lion |
So yes, I wonder how would life be different if everything was perfect. I honestly don't know. But I do know that this is the life I have been given, and I also know that I am thankful for it. I am thankful for my kids and my husband and every minute that I get to spend worrying about them. I am thankful for the people that I have met through Nutt's Moebius Syndrome diagnosis, and I am thankful to be able to call these people my friends. I am thankful for the strength that I didn't know I had until a little baby peered at me with an eye that didn't close. I am also thankful that just two short years after the day that we all realized something wasn't right, we now have a bubbly, rambunctious toddler that couldn't be more perfect.
So I will try to take deep breaths, let everything come naturally and try to remember that if it wasn't for the rain, we would never be able to follow the rainbows that lead us to our pots of gold.
 |
| The doctor made a huge deal about this because you can see Nutt smiling...on his paralyzed side, which would have never been able to move because of the missing nerve. Irony at its best. |
 |
| The first smile. October 16, 2010. Funny the things people take for granted. |
 |
| The first Moebius Syndrome Awareness Day (1/14/11) |
 |
| Cheesers! |
 |
| Head to the Moebius Syndrome conference! |
 |
| Merry Christmas from a little Nutt! |
 |
| Two years old already. Where did the time go? |
Monday, September 3, 2012
Halloween Apothecary Jars Tutorial
 |
| Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble (for my husband because I think these will be staying out all year) |
My latest project? Apothecary jars for Halloween. I was inspired by a post that I found on Pinterest. It offered some really great ideas on how to make your own jars, but you had to buy the labels from her store. I like to challenge myself to see how many things from my house I can use to do my crafts, so I used my Open Office Writer program, a font that I found, and the lovely Google search tool to come up with some really great labels (which I am not including because I don't want to take profits from the woman that inspired this project. Go to her Etsy store and buy hers designs if you don't think you can make them. She has many beautiful items for sale).
All I did to make the labels was download the font (on my FREE Open Office Writer program), Google search "vintage frames" and right click and save the ones that I wanted, add some text boxes with the words to the center of the frame (again using Open Office Writer) and print them out. I know you can do this with Word, also, but I honestly have no idea how. I also used a website to get the wording for some of the spells on the labels. I'm pretty sure most of the spells on that site are made up by teenage girls with too much time on their hands, so the jars should be pretty safe to make without worrying about really cursing someone.
After printing the labels, I wanted an aged look to the white paper. To remedy this, I whipped up a cup of instant coffee, soaked some up with a paper towel and blotted the label paper with it. After it dried, I cut out the labels and glued them on to the jars. In hindsight, I wish I would have let them dry and repeated the process because they were quite as brown as I wanted them to be. After the glue dried, I went over them with some decopage glue (homemade, of course) so I could set them outside for decor and not have to worry about them getting wet.
To make the paper toppers for the jars, I just crumpled up some coffee filters (one for each jar) and stuffed them into the coffee that I had leftover from making the labels. I let them soak for a minute, then removed them and let them dry in the sun. I'll talk about attaching them after the individual jar tutorials.
Anywho, after I got all of that figured out, I finally got to the fun part (okay, I'm lame. Making the labels was just as fun for me). I had to decide what I wanted to stuff in my jars. My goal was to use the least amount of purchased materials as possible. To get the jars, I raided the fridge and used some old canning jars that my aunt had given to me. I also know that some friends that made the same project posted a request for jars in their Freecycle groups and got a TON of responses.
To get the materials for inside, I raided the entire house: the craft closet, my kids' bedrooms, the garden that was overgrown with weeds. Anywhere I thought I could find anything to stuff in a jar, I went there.
So how did I make out? With the exception of buying a cantaloupe (which we eat anyway), I didn't spend a penny. I was surprised at the amount of stuff I had lying around that could be used to do this project. Shredded black felt for the bat wool, weeds from the garden for Dragon's Breath and old silk flowers for the Love Spell. It all came together nicely and the jars look great. Below are some pictures and the instructions for the way I made my jars. With minimal money and effort, anyone can easily add these to their Halloween decor! (Definitely my kind of project)
DRAGON'S BREATH
 |
| "Fire in the air, fire on the ground. I use the fire that cannot be found. It comes out of my mouth in a blow. To people around me, my fire will show. (Cheesy, but whatever). |
 |
| I went the nature route since I imagine that not many dragon's lived in captivity. |
WOOL OF BAT
 |
| My husband asked if we could shear bats to make sweaters. |
TRUTH SERUM
 |
| "For ye who asks, the truth revealed. Open hearts, secrets revealed" (Kind wish I would have gone with "secrets spilled") |
 |
| Have fun tricking anyone into drinking this muck |
I had no clue what to do with this one. I had seen a suggestion to use pancake syrup, but I was worried about it leaking while it was being stored. My son suggested mixing some kind of greenish/brown concoction that would look like slime. I wound up mixing brown sugar (yes, I know, still sticky), water and two drops of green food coloring. There is a nice hint of brown that you can't see in the picture that gives it the look of some kind of sewer water. Gross, but I guess that is what we were going for.
WITCH'S BREW
 |
| Type O+, Extra Clotted |
I'm not sure if witches drink blood, but that is the route that I went. We had a bottle of fake blood from a previous Halloween that the kids kept using to make giant messes, so I figured I would dump it in here to get it out of their reach forever. To give the illusion of clots, I plopped a few globs of Vaseline in there. I would have used plain gelatin instead, but I didn't have any on hand. The Vaseline definitely gave it a clumpy look, but I couldn't really get it to show up in the picture.
EAR OF TROLL
 |
| "Yay, I call ye forth, Trantor!" (I love Ernest Scared Stupid. One of my favorite Halloween movies) |
 |
| I wonder how badly this would smell if I opened it after Halloween? |
This was one of my favorites. The original post with the labels for sale suggested using a cantaloupe skin that had been sitting in a compost heap for a while. Since we haven't opened our compost bin in a month or so, and I could see a nice stream of liquid flowing out weekend before last, I decided to dry my own. I bought a cantaloupe from Giant (on sale for $1.49), cut it in half and then cut each half into quarters so they resembled ears. After I scooped out all of the flesh, I baked them on a cookie sheet at 250 degrees for about 2 hours. They weren't quite dry, but the little bit of remaining flesh was easy to peel out. I peeled it as good as I possibly could and then popped them back in for another hour. They were pretty crunchy and "ear-like" by the time they were done.
Another suggestion on the original post was to use orange or avocado skins that have been dried. That may be easier than using a cantaloupe skin, but WOW these things look creepy!
LOVE SPELL
 |
| "Let the on that drinks this wine shower me with a love divine. Sweet love potion no. 9, make this love forever mine." *Must be sealed with a kiss* |
 |
| I used the Victoria's Secret Love Spell be my inspiration for this one |
I also loved making this one. I found the spell on the website mentioned above and added it to the label. Since the only thing I could not find in my entire house was glitter, I wound up using a tube of purple glitter glue that I found at the bottom of my daughter's toy box and some silver glittery fabric paint to get the shimmer that I needed. I added them to a bowl (or you could just add the glitter that every other family has lying around) and mixed it with enough water to fill the jar. I added some purple gel food coloring from the neon collection and whisked it until it got to the color that I wanted (it was a little milky since the glitter fabric paint had some opaqueness in it). I then snipped petals from old silk flowers I had leftover from a garden party hat project, dug up some confetti I bought for another project and pulled a few strands of silver tinsel out of the Christmas craft bin and put them in the jar. I poured the purple glitter water over the stuff in the jar, shook it up and VIOLA! I had the perfect love spell.
HEX NO. 23
 |
| With this knot, to me you're tied And Only for me shall you grow. Another's bed you will never lay Stray you shall never go. If a vixen tempts your truth And you decide to roam Limp and flaccid you shall be Until you come back home. |
 |
| The lucky guy that's been cursed to have a non-working man part. |
 |
| This stick was meant to resemble a you-know-what. Tee hee. |
I made this one out of the blue after finding an "impotence spell" on the spell website. It was an awful rhyme that I rewrote to be not quite as awful. Hopefully people will get a chuckle. I tried to go with something phallic to resemble the item being binded in the spell. I wrapped a stick with black felt, red ribbon and a branch from a briar bush. I also tied a lock of hair (cut from an old doll) into the bunch. I added a set of old cufflinks to an organza bag I received as a wedding favor, a printed picture of the "couple" (that I found randomly in a Google search) and some plants (a butterfly bush clipping and some spiky holly leaves). I guess that is all of the ingredients needed to keep a penis from ever rising again.
EYE OF NEWT
 |
| BEFORE the oil spill |
This one was by far the easiest (or so I thought). I threw some coriander and black peppercorns into a jar, sprinkled them with paprika and poured in some canola oil. Shake and that's pretty much it. The paprika clung to the bottom and made it look like it had been sitting for a while and it also changed the color of the oil to a murky brownish/yellow. Thinking that I would prevent leaks, I attempted to glue the jar lid shut with a hot glue gun. DO NOT FREAKING DO TRY THAT! I wound up screwing up the track for the lid and it leaks all over if it is tilted. Maybe you can try regular craft glue or something, but DO NOT hot glue it. Looks like this one is now a permanent decoration in our house because I am terrified to put it in storage.
MERMAID HAIR
 |
| Ocean Goddesses, Far and Near Listen Now, Please Lend Me Your Ear My Wish is Simple As You Will See: To Become a Mermaid of the Sea |
 |
| I hope you have a lot of freaking yarn or a smaller jar |
This was another that was inspired by the original post. Instead of using twine, I used a very brightly colored, tie-dyed yarn that I had leftover from another project. My step-daughter and I pulled it apart into little frays and tossed it in the jar. I figured that mermaids might have pretty multi-colored hair to match their tails so it worked well. We threw in a couple of seashells that we had leftover from a beach excursion and called it a day. I might suggest filling the bottom quarter to half of the jar with sand because we used A LOT of yarn to fill this jar (a quart canning jar). It kept settling and we would have to add more. It has even settled more since we first made it so I think I will open it and add some sand before next Halloween.
NIGHTMARE DUST
 |
| The first jar I made. Can you tell or what? |
 |
| WARNING: Do Not Open Until After Darkness Sets! |
I'll start off by saying that I am not completely happy with how this one turned out and I think I may redo it. It was my first one and I was sort of feeling my way through the project at this time. To do it, I took baking soda and dyed it with purple food coloring. I then took Epson salt (since glitter is non-existent around here) and dusted the inside of a smoked out candle jar with it. I poured the purple stuff in and called it a day. I was hoping that the salt would look like sugar, but it wound up absorbing the purple food coloring and it just looks crusty on the inside of the jar. I am thinking some kind of black lead dust (or crushed up black chalk), glitter (once I decided to break down and spring for the $2.49 pack at Walmart) and a few of the silver confetti stars I have leftover would look much more like something used to conjure up a nightmare or two. We'll see how much more I feel like doing before Halloween.
So that is all of them. With the exception of the Nightmare Dust, I am very happy with the way that they turned out. They even gave me some family quality time in that my kids were actually enthusiastic about helping me make the stuffing of a few of them. I hope that after reading, you decide to make some of your own. They are cheap (my total cost was $1.49 for the cantaloupe since I recycled and repurposed everything else), they are easy and they look really great sitting around for Halloween. Use them as part of a centerpiece for a costume party, use them to spookify a bookshelf or sit them outside next to a cauldron. But don't be surprised at the amount of people that stop to ogle your goodies and give you compliments.
Now, as promised, I will explain the paper toppers. After the coffee filters dried, I spread some hot glue on the top of the jar lids and stuck the topper on it. I pressed it down with a pot holder (since it is called hot glue and you can really feel it through the thin little coffee filter) and held for a few seconds until it was set. I then took a rubber band and put it over the lid so it rested under the lip of the jar lid. I used raffia (that I rescued from the neighbor's junk pile during spring cleaning) to make ties around the rubber band to hide it. I doubled it on some, made bows or just knotted it. You can use twine or ribbon or even long weeds that you find in your overgrown garden. The possibilities are endless.
Now, as promised, I will explain the paper toppers. After the coffee filters dried, I spread some hot glue on the top of the jar lids and stuck the topper on it. I pressed it down with a pot holder (since it is called hot glue and you can really feel it through the thin little coffee filter) and held for a few seconds until it was set. I then took a rubber band and put it over the lid so it rested under the lip of the jar lid. I used raffia (that I rescued from the neighbor's junk pile during spring cleaning) to make ties around the rubber band to hide it. I doubled it on some, made bows or just knotted it. You can use twine or ribbon or even long weeds that you find in your overgrown garden. The possibilities are endless.
I hope you enjoyed the ideas and you are inspired to make your own Halloween apothecary jars!
 |
| I also recycled some cocktail mixer jars and added them to my display. |
 |
| I threw in the skeleton bride and groom that topped our wedding cake because I couldn't bear to put it away until after Halloween. |
 |
| The little stone tart warmer on the right of the picture? I found that next to the raffia that my neighbor gave me on clean-up day. |
 |
| The entire collection...so far. |
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Here Comes Peter Cottontail...
 |
| And there goes sleeping peacefully EVER again! Sorry Nutt and Tink. We'll try to help foot those future therapy bills. |
And we wonder why our children want to sleep with their nightlights on until they're 25? Who in their right mind would even dream to create this monstrosity, let alone SPEND MONEY to buy it? And who at the Fort Hunter Park Events Society ever said it was okay for someone to show up wearing a costume that should never have seen the light of day?
So many questions and I cannot come up with any logical answers!
But on a good note, Nutt didn't scream and try to claw his way out of my arms like he did when he met Jolly Old Kris Kringle. Leave it up to my kid to find comfort in that which is terrifying.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
DIY: Warm Cocoa Vanilla Brown Sugar Body Scrub
Like most of us, I have been sucked into Pinterest. Usually, I just sit around pinning various ideas for things that I am going to do "someday." Well my friends, TODAY is that day!
I originally found this idea through Bath.Body.DIY and I decided it seemed easy enough for my first attempt at homemade spa products (plus I had everything that I needed to make it).
After about 10 minutes I had the finished product and I must say, it scrubs like the expensive stuff that you buy in the stores and the smell is FANTASTIC. I even went out on a limb and added some cocoa (which is rich in the antioxidants in the flavanol family) for some bonus skin pampering.
So here it is...my recipe for Warm Cocoa Vanilla Brown Sugar Body Scrub!
What you'll need:
I originally found this idea through Bath.Body.DIY and I decided it seemed easy enough for my first attempt at homemade spa products (plus I had everything that I needed to make it).
After about 10 minutes I had the finished product and I must say, it scrubs like the expensive stuff that you buy in the stores and the smell is FANTASTIC. I even went out on a limb and added some cocoa (which is rich in the antioxidants in the flavanol family) for some bonus skin pampering.
So here it is...my recipe for Warm Cocoa Vanilla Brown Sugar Body Scrub!
What you'll need:
- 1 1/4 cup brown sugar
- 1/2 c coconut oil
- 1/4 cup cocoa powder (the unsweetened baking kind)
- 10 drops vanilla essential oil (I used roughly 1/2 teaspoon)
- Glass jar with lid (for storing)
 | |
| Yes, it's vanilla extract in the picture. I realized that I had the wrong ingredient when I re-read the instructions. |
Step One:
 | ||
| Measure out 1 1/4 cups brown sugar and dump into medium mixing bowl. You may all point and laugh at my broken "1 cup" measure while you're at it. |
STEP 2:
 | ||
| Measure out 1/2 c coconut oil. I microwave the jar (without lid) for 30 seconds so I could scoop it out with less resistance. When I got the 1/2 cup filled, I nuked it for another 30 seconds so it was in it's liquid form. Add this to your brown sugar mixture. |
STEP 3:
 | |
| Measure out your vanilla oil. 10 drops came out to roughly 1/2 teaspoon. Add this to the sugar/oil mixture. |
STEP 4:
 | |
| Mix it all up taking care to distribute the vanilla evenly. It will be slightly soupy when finished. |
STEP 5:
 |
| Measure out your cocoa. I only used 1/8 cup (like the picture) at first but then I decided to go back and add another 1/8 cup. Viva la Chocolate! |
STEP 6:
 | |
| Mix it all up again and enjoy that heavenly scent! |
STEP 7:
 |
| I forgot to turn my picture, but here is the finished product. It makes about half of a 32 oz salsa jar. Also, a word of warning: SCRUB MAY MAKE THE TUB SLIPPERY DUE TO THE OILS! USE WITH CAUTION! |
I'm wondering how long it will take for one of my kids to ask me why I have poop in a jar in the bathroom.
I hope you like it and decide to make your own. Please, let me know how it turns out!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)