Well, we gave in. The new game, "Skylanders Giants" has graced our living room mantel. There it sits, mocking me. I can see the glee in the eyes of those animal, robot, witchy things from here. They have taken over. They are the masters of this home, and they know it.
Cody came home from school yesterday, ran in the living room and picked up the controller. No request for snack, no begging for a friend, just that damn game. Later, when two or three friends came over to play, they made a beeline right to the couch. I had to throw skittles in the yard to get them to go out the door. Then I locked it...only way to keep them out, and put the key in my pocket. I sat on the porch to read, and was frightened by what I heard.
Savannah was Lightcore Chill, Cody was Swarm and Cameron was Tree Rex. For all of you uninformed, those are all characters in Skylanders. They were throwing pine cones at each other and telling each other what to say. "Pretend you told The Swarm to kill Tree Rex. Lightcore Chill has super powers that can melt others on contact. The Swarm can't kill me, cause I can kill bees with my fire breath ...." oh, my God...they have taken over my kids bodies also. They have been brain washed. My kids are no more... those damn animal, robot, witchy things have invaded the earth, disguised as a video game. Just take a trip to Walmart. There is Lego Skylanders, stuffed Skylanders, action figure Skylanders...board game Skylanders, toothbrushes, blankets, towels, pajamas, cups, even a kiddy toilet seat. Their goal...to overtake the world, one kid at a time. Parents are helpless to stop this invasion. I swear, these things are like chuckie dolls. When everyone is asleep, they crawl out of the hiding place (in my house, that is a basket over the refrigerator) and are found on the mantel again. Frozen, mocking.
They have managed to snare some adults into their trap also. They program the kids to tempt mom and dad..."you have got to see this...Stump Smash can shoot branches out his butt". The only weapon I have left...candy. I used it to try to steal my kids back from this insidious beast. I was merciless. The good candy...Hersey bars, Reases cups, Twix...SUCCESS!! I was able to pry their eyes off the TV, stretch their claw-like hands, and to talk to a real human, not an animal, robot, witchy thing. It lasted approximately 6 minutes.
Till next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day thinking in my head.
:-)
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Disaster Strikes!
This morning, we had a calamity, a catastrophe, a horrifyingly awful event. My youngest, Cody, broke the Skylanders CD. Yes,you heard me correctly, broke... it... in... half. You can just imagine the drama, the wailing, the threats that came from Cameron. Of course, as usual when something of this magnitude happens, I was upstairs in the shower. Once again, I run/trip/fall down the stairs. (you would think I would have learned by now), in a towel, soap still in my hair. Cody is staring at Cameron like he had lost his mind. I was staring at both of them like they had both lost their minds. Honest truth...Cody's excuse? "They make them out of tape now instead of ear wax so they break easier." I actually got a very small, quick grin from Cameron, as he saw my suppression of laughter. Then, the drama continued.
Skylanders was Cameron's big Christmas present. Of course, all the kids used it, but he knew it was REALLY his. I comforted him like he had lost his best friend. He had to call dad, of course. He had to get all the sympathy he could...and he couldn't wait to see what Cody's punishment would be. Daddy saved the day...Cameron would get a new Skylanders game...and probably upgrade to the Giants version. Great, wonderful, awesome...(in case you missed it..that was sarcasm). Cody would not be able to play anything on the Xbox for two weeks. To a four year old, that might as well be two years. Of course, Cody could not handle this. He thought mom and dad would just use the standard line.."he is just a little kid, he didn't know better". Those days are gone. I caught the ha ha face sent Cameron's way when he thought I wasn't looking. That was his first mistake. The second? Telling Cameron that he would break his DS also, if he didn't let him play his new Skylanders. The boy doesn't have much common sense.
With the disaster diverted, I returned to my shower, almost slipping as I navigated the wet bathroom floor. Can't I have one normal, calm morning? I heard the bathroom door open, and a moment later, Savannah's face was pressed against the shower door. "Hey mom, Cody is putting the star wars game in the Xbox." Great...the tattling begins. Will have to lock up the Xbox games. Of course, first I have to find a lock that Cody can't open. I give up, legs and underarms are not getting shaved today. Chris will just have to deal with the natural look. It is now almost 8:00. We have to leave in 20 minutes. Cody is still in his PJ's. Savannah looks like she put a finger in an electrical socket, and Cameron has a koolaid mustache from last night that looks permanent. I also have not fed them. Pop tarts...can brush hair while Savannah is eating, and with the other hand, scrub Cameron's face with a wet wipe. Any complaining will be met with my standard threat..."Would you rather me use mommy spit?' That shut him up. Cody,of course, refused to get dressed on his own. So, throw him in the car, clothes in the front seat along with finger nail clippers (noticed they were lethal weapons which may not be allowed in school), and belted Cody in. Then I realized I was missing a kid.
Savannah was in her room, putting on eye shadow. What the hell? Another wet wipe later and we were in the car. I turn over the key...and nothing. Good God, what else this morning. I put my head on the steering wheel and was about ready to let loose a really long string of profanities...let me try one more time. Engine caught. Not funny God...really not funny!
Wasn't till I dropped Savannah and Cameron off at school that I could exhale all the way. Of course, looking at the clock, I realized I might be late for Cody's school. Raced to the church, with a few minutes to spare. Looked in the back seat, and ....yup, Cody is still in his PJ's with a DS in his hands.
I think I dressed him in record time. I do believe the director was watching me with disapproval. I could feel her eyes on my back. Oh, well. Finger nails are going to have to wait. Just have to hope he doesn't put someones eye out.
Done...for three hours at least. Oops, already 11:00 Did it really take me an hour to write this? I now have less then one hour to recoup and start again. No Skylanders. Oh, gonna be quite an afternoon.
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day in my head.
Skylanders was Cameron's big Christmas present. Of course, all the kids used it, but he knew it was REALLY his. I comforted him like he had lost his best friend. He had to call dad, of course. He had to get all the sympathy he could...and he couldn't wait to see what Cody's punishment would be. Daddy saved the day...Cameron would get a new Skylanders game...and probably upgrade to the Giants version. Great, wonderful, awesome...(in case you missed it..that was sarcasm). Cody would not be able to play anything on the Xbox for two weeks. To a four year old, that might as well be two years. Of course, Cody could not handle this. He thought mom and dad would just use the standard line.."he is just a little kid, he didn't know better". Those days are gone. I caught the ha ha face sent Cameron's way when he thought I wasn't looking. That was his first mistake. The second? Telling Cameron that he would break his DS also, if he didn't let him play his new Skylanders. The boy doesn't have much common sense.
With the disaster diverted, I returned to my shower, almost slipping as I navigated the wet bathroom floor. Can't I have one normal, calm morning? I heard the bathroom door open, and a moment later, Savannah's face was pressed against the shower door. "Hey mom, Cody is putting the star wars game in the Xbox." Great...the tattling begins. Will have to lock up the Xbox games. Of course, first I have to find a lock that Cody can't open. I give up, legs and underarms are not getting shaved today. Chris will just have to deal with the natural look. It is now almost 8:00. We have to leave in 20 minutes. Cody is still in his PJ's. Savannah looks like she put a finger in an electrical socket, and Cameron has a koolaid mustache from last night that looks permanent. I also have not fed them. Pop tarts...can brush hair while Savannah is eating, and with the other hand, scrub Cameron's face with a wet wipe. Any complaining will be met with my standard threat..."Would you rather me use mommy spit?' That shut him up. Cody,of course, refused to get dressed on his own. So, throw him in the car, clothes in the front seat along with finger nail clippers (noticed they were lethal weapons which may not be allowed in school), and belted Cody in. Then I realized I was missing a kid.
Savannah was in her room, putting on eye shadow. What the hell? Another wet wipe later and we were in the car. I turn over the key...and nothing. Good God, what else this morning. I put my head on the steering wheel and was about ready to let loose a really long string of profanities...let me try one more time. Engine caught. Not funny God...really not funny!
Wasn't till I dropped Savannah and Cameron off at school that I could exhale all the way. Of course, looking at the clock, I realized I might be late for Cody's school. Raced to the church, with a few minutes to spare. Looked in the back seat, and ....yup, Cody is still in his PJ's with a DS in his hands.
I think I dressed him in record time. I do believe the director was watching me with disapproval. I could feel her eyes on my back. Oh, well. Finger nails are going to have to wait. Just have to hope he doesn't put someones eye out.
Done...for three hours at least. Oops, already 11:00 Did it really take me an hour to write this? I now have less then one hour to recoup and start again. No Skylanders. Oh, gonna be quite an afternoon.
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day in my head.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Why...
How do you explain evil to an extremely sensitive ten year old girl? This is a girl who cried for three days when a dog died....not our dog, her Aunts dog. A girl, who when seeing those commercials for adopting a child in a third world country, brings you her piggy bank. A girl who prays for her teachers father, a girl that she knew in her 3rd class, and all the hungry in the world every night.
Earlier this year, Savannah wrote a report on 9-11. I had to approve her research sources because some of the images are quite graphic. From what she saw...she was devastated. She continued to ask questions long after that report was turned in. She knew how many people were killed at each location. She knew about the first responders and how they risked (and lost) their lives for strangers...what the victims looked like and many of their names, where all the planes came from and where they were headed. She knew the type of planes, and how much fuel was on each one. She knew about the Islamic Extremists, and their views on America. This information didn't come from me. I still have trouble speaking about it...she researched on her own. With all her research, she was never able to answer the one question she needed answered. Why?
And for all the information out there....no one has truly answered that question. Not to her satisfaction...nor to mine.
Then came the children. Savannah was crying, not just weeping, but sobbing. Not because she was afraid, but she felt a personal connection with these innocent kids. They were just babies. She, once again, could not understand. I couldn't help her with that either. I looked at Cameron and I saw all those other seven year old children, their mothers, their fathers, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. We cried together. Savannah explained to me that her heart felt broken...and that she was having trouble breathing. I could relate. I was having the same feelings. And once again, Savannah learned all she could about this tragedy. I couldn't even talk about it without crying, and had to ask her to stop with the questions. But unlike 9-11, when Savannah wasn't born yet, this had occurred in her lifetime. It haunted her. She couldn't stop. And yet, she still could not answer her one real question. Why? We can blame it on the lack of mental health...we can blame it on gun laws, we can blame it on the family...but that doesn't answer the one big question..None of those answers are good enough.
Why?
And now...three killed in Boston. Over 140 injured. One of the dead, an eight year old boy. She knew about this before I did. She told me there were two bombs...and they don't know if the person is from this country or some other county. Once again, I see her starting her research. Once again, my child cried.
What happened to the innocence of childhood. I know other generations had their share of tragedies, but this isn't an abstract danger that kids can digest and easily store away. It didn't involve our military, isn't in some country hundreds of miles away...it isn't an attack on the adult world of government. They did not have an "agenda" or part of some whacked out cult. These people, these children, these mothers, fathers, sons and daughters were us.
I need to be able to answer my daughter. So, here is the question, again...Why?
Earlier this year, Savannah wrote a report on 9-11. I had to approve her research sources because some of the images are quite graphic. From what she saw...she was devastated. She continued to ask questions long after that report was turned in. She knew how many people were killed at each location. She knew about the first responders and how they risked (and lost) their lives for strangers...what the victims looked like and many of their names, where all the planes came from and where they were headed. She knew the type of planes, and how much fuel was on each one. She knew about the Islamic Extremists, and their views on America. This information didn't come from me. I still have trouble speaking about it...she researched on her own. With all her research, she was never able to answer the one question she needed answered. Why?
And for all the information out there....no one has truly answered that question. Not to her satisfaction...nor to mine.
Then came the children. Savannah was crying, not just weeping, but sobbing. Not because she was afraid, but she felt a personal connection with these innocent kids. They were just babies. She, once again, could not understand. I couldn't help her with that either. I looked at Cameron and I saw all those other seven year old children, their mothers, their fathers, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. We cried together. Savannah explained to me that her heart felt broken...and that she was having trouble breathing. I could relate. I was having the same feelings. And once again, Savannah learned all she could about this tragedy. I couldn't even talk about it without crying, and had to ask her to stop with the questions. But unlike 9-11, when Savannah wasn't born yet, this had occurred in her lifetime. It haunted her. She couldn't stop. And yet, she still could not answer her one real question. Why? We can blame it on the lack of mental health...we can blame it on gun laws, we can blame it on the family...but that doesn't answer the one big question..None of those answers are good enough.
Why?
And now...three killed in Boston. Over 140 injured. One of the dead, an eight year old boy. She knew about this before I did. She told me there were two bombs...and they don't know if the person is from this country or some other county. Once again, I see her starting her research. Once again, my child cried.
What happened to the innocence of childhood. I know other generations had their share of tragedies, but this isn't an abstract danger that kids can digest and easily store away. It didn't involve our military, isn't in some country hundreds of miles away...it isn't an attack on the adult world of government. They did not have an "agenda" or part of some whacked out cult. These people, these children, these mothers, fathers, sons and daughters were us.
I need to be able to answer my daughter. So, here is the question, again...Why?
Monday, April 15, 2013
Stop Drinking Out of the Dog Bowel
Chris and I have been collecting a list of things we thought we would never say to our kids. I don't recall my mother having to use any of these, but my memory could be faulty. I am going to have to ask her sometime.
I got home this morning a little earlier then usual. In fact, the kids were all still in bed. I think that is a first. I actually got to take a shower without little faces pressed against the shower door. I'm a little worried about Cody though. It doesn't matter that I lock the bathroom door. He can open every lock in my house. Of course, I do believe Lora's youngest son taught him. I just hope they don't become partners in crime. The two of them would never get caught, they are sneaky and way to smart for my own good.
Anyway, I got out of the shower and got all the way downstairs looking forward to some quiet before waking up the kids. Well, surprise!! All the kids were in the kitchen, koolaid on the floor, pancake batter dripping off the counter, overcooked sausage in the microwave and three smiling faces. How in hell did they do all this while I was in the shower? I know I wasn't in there that long. I couldn't get mad, they obviously were proud of their accomplishment. I knew I would regret telling them it would be nice, if just for once, they took care of their own breakfast. I was thinking cereal or something...
After finishing the breakfast of koolaid, raw pancakes, and burnt sausage, the kids went upstairs to get dressed. Cody decided to pick his own clothes instead of using the ones that his dad put out for him. Got to love that kid. He has his sisters sense of style. Red checkered shorts and a blue shirt with sponge bob on it. Oh, and his green socks completed the outfit. Cameron, on the other hand, is very conscious of color and pattern matching. He spends more time picking out an outfit then Savannah does. He already spends more time on his hair. He tells me that he has to look nice because of his girlfriends. Yup, plural. Great...
Savannah came down stairs in jeans and a purple shirt...normal. I miss her old sense of style though. It is a style uniquely her own. I liked the anticipation of wondering what colors or patterns she might put together this time. But I guess fitting in is more important then uniqueness in the fifth grade.
Unfortunately for me, they were ready for school early. Not a good thing around here. Cody started chasing the dog, Cameron started throwing the beanbag chair on top of Savannah and calling her a sister sandwich, and Savannah, after throwing Cameron and the beanbag off, proceeded to hit Cody in the jaw while aiming at Cameron. Once again, I think these kids know when I am tired.
Cody proceeds to kick Cameron in the "privates". For some reason, the boys think this is really funny and are laughing uncontrollable. Savannah is offended that she didn't hurt her brother more then she did and runs upstairs to pout. Cody is my kid who, with his head buried in his DS, fell head first down eight steps landing on a concrete sidewalk...and after shaking himself off, said, "I'm OK." and proceeded to climb into the car. Savannah had to point out that his jeans were ripped and blood was running down his chin. But, try to come at him with a hairbrush, and you would think Freddy Kruegar was climbing out of the toilet. I keep telling him to let me cut his hair, and he wouldn't have to deal with the knots, but he is adamant that he keep all his hair. That is not a fight I feel like fighting. Too many other battles that are more important.
Can't wait for it to be time to go. Finally round up the kids. Another problem. I follow the kids out the door and buckle Cody in. Savannah is sitting on Cameron's lap, trying to get him to move into the back seat. She won't budge, and neither will Cameron. Have to threaten bodily harm....and that doesn't even work. So I move Aaron's booster seat to the back seat so they can both sit in the middle row. Of course, now they are fighting on who can move to the back because to sit next to each other would be pure hell and the ultimate punishment. Good...I think I found a threat that works. I might have to handcuff them together every time they fight.
I hope they have a better day then they did morning...and I hope I can get some sleep.
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day thinking in my head.
- Stop licking the dog.
- No, you can not use the toilet to see if your boat actually floats.
- Don't even think about hitting your brother with the baseball bat!!! Especially down there! It will not get you on Americas Funniest Home Videos.
- I don't think the cat and the pet rats would be friends if we let them play together.
- If there is poop on your shoe, I don't want to smell it.
- Go ahead, try to give the cat a bath.
- Why are there mud pies in my freezer?
- Your underwear can not be used as a hat.
- Stop drinking out of the dog bowel.
- You can not ride to walmart on the roof of the car.
I got home this morning a little earlier then usual. In fact, the kids were all still in bed. I think that is a first. I actually got to take a shower without little faces pressed against the shower door. I'm a little worried about Cody though. It doesn't matter that I lock the bathroom door. He can open every lock in my house. Of course, I do believe Lora's youngest son taught him. I just hope they don't become partners in crime. The two of them would never get caught, they are sneaky and way to smart for my own good.
Anyway, I got out of the shower and got all the way downstairs looking forward to some quiet before waking up the kids. Well, surprise!! All the kids were in the kitchen, koolaid on the floor, pancake batter dripping off the counter, overcooked sausage in the microwave and three smiling faces. How in hell did they do all this while I was in the shower? I know I wasn't in there that long. I couldn't get mad, they obviously were proud of their accomplishment. I knew I would regret telling them it would be nice, if just for once, they took care of their own breakfast. I was thinking cereal or something...
After finishing the breakfast of koolaid, raw pancakes, and burnt sausage, the kids went upstairs to get dressed. Cody decided to pick his own clothes instead of using the ones that his dad put out for him. Got to love that kid. He has his sisters sense of style. Red checkered shorts and a blue shirt with sponge bob on it. Oh, and his green socks completed the outfit. Cameron, on the other hand, is very conscious of color and pattern matching. He spends more time picking out an outfit then Savannah does. He already spends more time on his hair. He tells me that he has to look nice because of his girlfriends. Yup, plural. Great...
Savannah came down stairs in jeans and a purple shirt...normal. I miss her old sense of style though. It is a style uniquely her own. I liked the anticipation of wondering what colors or patterns she might put together this time. But I guess fitting in is more important then uniqueness in the fifth grade.
Unfortunately for me, they were ready for school early. Not a good thing around here. Cody started chasing the dog, Cameron started throwing the beanbag chair on top of Savannah and calling her a sister sandwich, and Savannah, after throwing Cameron and the beanbag off, proceeded to hit Cody in the jaw while aiming at Cameron. Once again, I think these kids know when I am tired.
Cody proceeds to kick Cameron in the "privates". For some reason, the boys think this is really funny and are laughing uncontrollable. Savannah is offended that she didn't hurt her brother more then she did and runs upstairs to pout. Cody is my kid who, with his head buried in his DS, fell head first down eight steps landing on a concrete sidewalk...and after shaking himself off, said, "I'm OK." and proceeded to climb into the car. Savannah had to point out that his jeans were ripped and blood was running down his chin. But, try to come at him with a hairbrush, and you would think Freddy Kruegar was climbing out of the toilet. I keep telling him to let me cut his hair, and he wouldn't have to deal with the knots, but he is adamant that he keep all his hair. That is not a fight I feel like fighting. Too many other battles that are more important.
Can't wait for it to be time to go. Finally round up the kids. Another problem. I follow the kids out the door and buckle Cody in. Savannah is sitting on Cameron's lap, trying to get him to move into the back seat. She won't budge, and neither will Cameron. Have to threaten bodily harm....and that doesn't even work. So I move Aaron's booster seat to the back seat so they can both sit in the middle row. Of course, now they are fighting on who can move to the back because to sit next to each other would be pure hell and the ultimate punishment. Good...I think I found a threat that works. I might have to handcuff them together every time they fight.
I hope they have a better day then they did morning...and I hope I can get some sleep.
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day thinking in my head.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
A day in the life of insanity... mom style!
Home...have so much to do, don't know where to start. Of course I end up running around in circles and getting nothing done...just a whole lot of things started. I have chairs in my garage that need to be painted. I have trim in the living room that only goes around half the room. I have bookshelves (3) that need to be stained, and a garden that is half weeded. Add to that, the garage looks like a bomb went off and all my closets threaten to start an avalanche every time they are opened, and you have a recipe for manic heaven. My brain is buzzing....and I haven't been able to sleep or eat, seems like for days...but I know it hasn't been very long.
I am writing this blog in shifts, cause I can't keep my brain glued on the same damn topic over a few minutes. Just finished the dishes, and Aaron is waiting for me to go jump on the trampoline with him...I am going to get a little of this done first.
Been searching for a topic for today. Have a few ideas, but nothing jumps out at me. So, I thought I would try to give you a taste of today, or at least a few hours as seen from my brain. Should be a slightly frightening thought...
I'm not sure if I slept at all last night. I do remember being on the computer at 1:30, but I don't remember getting into bed. I was in my bed this morning, so at some point I did get there. I start singing on the way to the kids rooms. I feel scattered, bouncy, and numb (the tingly kind). This morning is "Light um Up" by Fall Out Boy. I am not sure whether I am supposed to put quotes around song titles or underline them...hey Lora...let me know, K? SAIL! Anyway, the kids start groaning immediately. But, they are up...with smiles. This is the fun mom, the one who forgets that someone is grounded and doesn't care when the kids eat junk before dinner. The one who cusses sometimes and acts acts more like a kid then an adult. The one who would rather jump on the trampoline then worry about a messy room.
As soon as Cody comes downstairs, I push/pull him into the bathroom. He is excited. Today is wacky hair day at school...and mom is in rare form to comply. Red stripes, enough hair spray to cover all the contestants in the Miss America pageant, 3 ponytails, and braided rat tail later, (yes, i am lost in the 80's somewhere) his hair is complete. Cody is thrilled. Savannah just shakes her head, and Cameron begs me to do his hair the same. Can't do it, because Cameron's hair is too short, but the red stripes are a go. Even Savannah gets in the spirit, with one red strip down the side of her long hair.
Still singing, I make my way to the kitchen...hmmm. Can't decide what to make, so we do pancakes, breakfast taquitos, eggs and bacon. Would have been more, but I ran out of time. Lunches are packed ...with candy in each for a surprise, and by the door. Backpacks are lined up in order. Kids are bouncing off the walls. My mood is very contagious. I already know to look for a tally from Cameron today.
In the car...with the radio turned up loud, we are all singing the latest Taylor Swift song...daughters choice, not mine. Savannah and Cameron become quieter as we get closer to school. Not sure if this is because they don't want to go, or because I am embarrassing them. I turn off the radio as we pull onto the drive . Savannah seems relieved. "Love my babes..Have a good day!" The silence is way too loud.
I talk to Cody the entire way to preschool. The silence is deafening and I have to drown it out. After Cody gets dropped off at his preschool, the radio will be blaring again. The director who helps him out of the car laughs at Cody's hair. Cody skips into the building proudly.
Got three hours....drive by the tattoo place. I want him to work up a picture for my lower back. Damn, doesn't open till 12:00. Maybe Chris will watch the kids tonight so I can drive back up here. I have been texting Chris and Lora often this morning. I think Chris is hoping to get home soon...(he usually loves this mood) and Lora is worried. Hehehe...no worries my Lora!
I assume you probably can guess why my husband likes this mood...but he also knows the drawbacks and has to walk a very fine line. The mood that makes me so fun...and scattered, can turn to rage in an instant. I am, and always have been very good with control...around the kids. Chris is my safe place...and as my safe place, he is my punching bag...both literally and figuratively. He tells me he is up to this role...and thus far, he has not wavered. It helps that he is a big guy, and I can't actually hurt him.
So far, though, no sign of the evil one...I am having trouble keeping my mind on this blog right now...so gonna go take a break.
Home again. Matt is drawing up a picture for me and will call when I can come look at it. Oven on for dinner. Although I'm not hungry, the rest of my clan is. Already have three kids over that are not mine....on a school night. But at this point, as long as they stay out of my way, I don't care. Gotta go finish the flower garden. Tomorrow I'll hit the garage. Maybe tonight I will sleep...but then again, maybe not.
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day thinking in my head
:-0
I am writing this blog in shifts, cause I can't keep my brain glued on the same damn topic over a few minutes. Just finished the dishes, and Aaron is waiting for me to go jump on the trampoline with him...I am going to get a little of this done first.
Been searching for a topic for today. Have a few ideas, but nothing jumps out at me. So, I thought I would try to give you a taste of today, or at least a few hours as seen from my brain. Should be a slightly frightening thought...
I'm not sure if I slept at all last night. I do remember being on the computer at 1:30, but I don't remember getting into bed. I was in my bed this morning, so at some point I did get there. I start singing on the way to the kids rooms. I feel scattered, bouncy, and numb (the tingly kind). This morning is "Light um Up" by Fall Out Boy. I am not sure whether I am supposed to put quotes around song titles or underline them...hey Lora...let me know, K? SAIL! Anyway, the kids start groaning immediately. But, they are up...with smiles. This is the fun mom, the one who forgets that someone is grounded and doesn't care when the kids eat junk before dinner. The one who cusses sometimes and acts acts more like a kid then an adult. The one who would rather jump on the trampoline then worry about a messy room.
As soon as Cody comes downstairs, I push/pull him into the bathroom. He is excited. Today is wacky hair day at school...and mom is in rare form to comply. Red stripes, enough hair spray to cover all the contestants in the Miss America pageant, 3 ponytails, and braided rat tail later, (yes, i am lost in the 80's somewhere) his hair is complete. Cody is thrilled. Savannah just shakes her head, and Cameron begs me to do his hair the same. Can't do it, because Cameron's hair is too short, but the red stripes are a go. Even Savannah gets in the spirit, with one red strip down the side of her long hair.
Still singing, I make my way to the kitchen...hmmm. Can't decide what to make, so we do pancakes, breakfast taquitos, eggs and bacon. Would have been more, but I ran out of time. Lunches are packed ...with candy in each for a surprise, and by the door. Backpacks are lined up in order. Kids are bouncing off the walls. My mood is very contagious. I already know to look for a tally from Cameron today.
In the car...with the radio turned up loud, we are all singing the latest Taylor Swift song...daughters choice, not mine. Savannah and Cameron become quieter as we get closer to school. Not sure if this is because they don't want to go, or because I am embarrassing them. I turn off the radio as we pull onto the drive . Savannah seems relieved. "Love my babes..Have a good day!" The silence is way too loud.
I talk to Cody the entire way to preschool. The silence is deafening and I have to drown it out. After Cody gets dropped off at his preschool, the radio will be blaring again. The director who helps him out of the car laughs at Cody's hair. Cody skips into the building proudly.
Got three hours....drive by the tattoo place. I want him to work up a picture for my lower back. Damn, doesn't open till 12:00. Maybe Chris will watch the kids tonight so I can drive back up here. I have been texting Chris and Lora often this morning. I think Chris is hoping to get home soon...(he usually loves this mood) and Lora is worried. Hehehe...no worries my Lora!
I assume you probably can guess why my husband likes this mood...but he also knows the drawbacks and has to walk a very fine line. The mood that makes me so fun...and scattered, can turn to rage in an instant. I am, and always have been very good with control...around the kids. Chris is my safe place...and as my safe place, he is my punching bag...both literally and figuratively. He tells me he is up to this role...and thus far, he has not wavered. It helps that he is a big guy, and I can't actually hurt him.
So far, though, no sign of the evil one...I am having trouble keeping my mind on this blog right now...so gonna go take a break.
Home again. Matt is drawing up a picture for me and will call when I can come look at it. Oven on for dinner. Although I'm not hungry, the rest of my clan is. Already have three kids over that are not mine....on a school night. But at this point, as long as they stay out of my way, I don't care. Gotta go finish the flower garden. Tomorrow I'll hit the garage. Maybe tonight I will sleep...but then again, maybe not.
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day thinking in my head
:-0
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
My Heart
We all knew them. The "popular" kids in middle and high school. Who am I kidding....we even knew who they were in elementary school. Popularity was, and is, a pretty good indicator of power. In school, power was usual obtained by taking it from someone else. In adulthood, there are ways to gain power through hard work and dedication, although there are still those that will steal it. Why am I on this subject tonight? I didn't have much trouble with bullies when I was growing up. I stuck with the right kids, and laughed when they laughed, agreed when it was expected, and was a good little drone. I look back, and I regret it. Where was my strength, my stubbornness, my uniqueness, and yes, even my anger. Where was my manic rage? Even then I kept it hidden, except from those closest to me.
Now, I understand. Now, it hurts worse then it ever could have then. Because now, it is my heart. My Savannah. Last year, she had many friends. Pretty, plain, giggly or serious, she got along with all of them. She was invited to all the parties, play dates, sleepovers...it all changed in a blink of an eye.
Fifth grade. The girls are snobbish, the boys are cruel. There is talk of makeup, boyfriends, facebook, and rated R movies. Savannah still likes to pretend. She likes to climb trees and even play with barbies. She is a science fanatic. She can tell you five species of beetles and what climate they live in. She can tell you the life cycle of the humble squid. She gets A's in every other class without any effort yet she struggles to get a C in math. Savannah is an original. She has always stuck up for the ones that wouldn't or couldn't stick up for themselves. I had more then one teacher call her "the mommy" of the class. The overweight kid, the one who was just learning English, the one who had a birth mark over her eye, she watched over them, protected them from the "popular" kids.
I volunteer in the school quite often. I see my daughter at lunch, sitting by herself at a long table, while every other kid in her class sits at the table next to her. I see tears fill her eyes as she struggles to keep them from overflowing. I want to shake every one of those kids. I want to go get her, take her home and never bring her back. I want to protect her. I see her in class when the teacher tells them to get a partner. Her eyes hopeful as every other kid is paired up and she ends up alone. The way her face falls and she stares at the floor.
Savannah has awesome teachers, but they have no idea who Savannah is. I wish they could see her as I do. She is brilliant. I am not just a mom who thinks her kid is the greatest. Well, OK, yes I am, but that is not the only reason I say she is brilliant.
In second grade, my husband and I were told that Savannah seemed to drift into space. It was so bad that the teacher had to slap her desk to get her attention...often. When she was told to copy off the board, she got frustrated. No problem with her eyes..we checked. We finally realized Savannah thinks differently. She is an excellent reader, but can not read a sentence and then write it...or even a word. She has to write one letter, look up to get the next letter....and so on. She lost her place constantly. It took forever to copy notes, or even write down assignments. Combine that with her attention issues, she struggled every day. She was a C student.
No one wanted to help. "C is an average grade." I was told, " Not everyone can get all A's". I kept pushing. I saw Savannah memorize word after word of science manuals, history textbooks on high school levels. I saw her figure things out in her head that I couldn't begin to understand. I heard her vocabulary, and marveled at how she liked to learn new words from the dictionary. Finally, the school system agreed to test her. She met with a specialist every day for a week, one on one.
When I went to the meeting to get the results I was told, according to the evaluation, she had an IQ of 132. I was not surprised. I actually thought it was higher, but the test administrator noted that he had to keep redirecting her. Everyone else...well, they were amazed. "Wow...there is a problem. This child should not be getting C's." Oh, really....hmmmm, could have sworn I've been saying that for two years.
What does this have to do with her getting left behind...to being ostracized, and shunned? It is simple,..she is different. In a world where we try to look like others, talk like others...dress like others...Savannah is her own person. She organized her own food drive, sent her birthday money to save endangered animals. Adopted a child in Africa. She isn't interested in clothes, boys, or movies.
If she wants to wear pink leggings with a red and blue dress with a monkey on the front, then she will. She is cocky, headstrong, sure of herself ....until she gets to school. Then she becomes smaller somehow. My gorgeous girl, with her flowing hair and killer smile, looks plain and dull. I almost don't recognize her...
She has an IEP plan. (Individualized Education Plan) The teachers don't keep this confidential, so everyone knows there is "something wrong with her". She does not have to fill in bubble sheets because her eyes don't track correctly. She also is given copies of notes in every class...after she tries to take her own. She sits apart from the others during test taking because she can get distracted very easily. A bouncing leg, a clicked pen, and she will completely zone.
I am her biggest cheerleader. I try to make up for the heartache at school. She is spoiled. I admit it. I can't seem to get the image of my little girl, eyes filled with tears all alone at the lunch table, out of my mind.
The school counselor started a "Book Club". When my daughter came home with a permission form to join this book club, her exact words were..."mom, the guidance counselor started a club for the really bizarre kids who have no friends. I was invited to join".
I was FURIOUS!
So, now it's the victim that needs the intervention? I never would have let Savannah join such a ridiculous club, except she begged.... it got her out of sitting at that empty lunch table one day a week. I would really like to know where that guidance counselor came up with this idea. "Lets teach these strange kids to act like all the others...to be good little drones so they will blend in. We should instruct the weird children to say, "That's bullying! Stop bullying me or I will tell the teacher!". Anybody else think that's going to work? Why aren't we concentrating on the ones causing the pain. Where is the club for the "kids who kill the spirit of their classmates". Lets just give the "popular" ones another reason to think that being different makes you weird or less deserving of common respect.
I see these kids...these cruel children, and I know what the "experts" would say. "The bullies are usually those that have been bullied themselves...they are compensating for feelings of inadequacy." I think that is...bull shit. I think that most of these kids, (there is always exceptions)...are mean and hateful. They pick because its fun to see someone cry. I think these kids have something missing in their genetic makeup. I think, even at this young age, these kids enjoy power. They enjoy being on top, especially if it puts others beneath them. I know that I shouldn't judge children this way, but if it was your kid with the blank face and liquid eyes, I promise, you would understand.
At home, Savannah is stubborn, strong and confident. She talks fast, runs fast, and has a fast temper, and just as fast, tears. If she is interested in something, you can't tear her away....if not, there is no amount of reward, or threat, that will get her do as you want. She is almost as stubborn as I am. Thank Goodness I have had more practice, so I still win, but its not an easy contest.
I am afraid...very afraid, that my child will have to cope with bipolar disorder as I do. I gave her my brown eyes, my pug nose, my ADD. I pray I didn't give her that also. I fear the worst. Most mothers would be thrilled that their little girls are just like them...It is one of my greatest fears.
I wish, every moment, that I could make things better for my little girl...but I can't. I can only continue to tell her...and myself, that one day, she will actually earn her power. Then, NO ONE will be able to take it from her!
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day in my head.
Now, I understand. Now, it hurts worse then it ever could have then. Because now, it is my heart. My Savannah. Last year, she had many friends. Pretty, plain, giggly or serious, she got along with all of them. She was invited to all the parties, play dates, sleepovers...it all changed in a blink of an eye.
Fifth grade. The girls are snobbish, the boys are cruel. There is talk of makeup, boyfriends, facebook, and rated R movies. Savannah still likes to pretend. She likes to climb trees and even play with barbies. She is a science fanatic. She can tell you five species of beetles and what climate they live in. She can tell you the life cycle of the humble squid. She gets A's in every other class without any effort yet she struggles to get a C in math. Savannah is an original. She has always stuck up for the ones that wouldn't or couldn't stick up for themselves. I had more then one teacher call her "the mommy" of the class. The overweight kid, the one who was just learning English, the one who had a birth mark over her eye, she watched over them, protected them from the "popular" kids.
I volunteer in the school quite often. I see my daughter at lunch, sitting by herself at a long table, while every other kid in her class sits at the table next to her. I see tears fill her eyes as she struggles to keep them from overflowing. I want to shake every one of those kids. I want to go get her, take her home and never bring her back. I want to protect her. I see her in class when the teacher tells them to get a partner. Her eyes hopeful as every other kid is paired up and she ends up alone. The way her face falls and she stares at the floor.
Savannah has awesome teachers, but they have no idea who Savannah is. I wish they could see her as I do. She is brilliant. I am not just a mom who thinks her kid is the greatest. Well, OK, yes I am, but that is not the only reason I say she is brilliant.
In second grade, my husband and I were told that Savannah seemed to drift into space. It was so bad that the teacher had to slap her desk to get her attention...often. When she was told to copy off the board, she got frustrated. No problem with her eyes..we checked. We finally realized Savannah thinks differently. She is an excellent reader, but can not read a sentence and then write it...or even a word. She has to write one letter, look up to get the next letter....and so on. She lost her place constantly. It took forever to copy notes, or even write down assignments. Combine that with her attention issues, she struggled every day. She was a C student.
No one wanted to help. "C is an average grade." I was told, " Not everyone can get all A's". I kept pushing. I saw Savannah memorize word after word of science manuals, history textbooks on high school levels. I saw her figure things out in her head that I couldn't begin to understand. I heard her vocabulary, and marveled at how she liked to learn new words from the dictionary. Finally, the school system agreed to test her. She met with a specialist every day for a week, one on one.
When I went to the meeting to get the results I was told, according to the evaluation, she had an IQ of 132. I was not surprised. I actually thought it was higher, but the test administrator noted that he had to keep redirecting her. Everyone else...well, they were amazed. "Wow...there is a problem. This child should not be getting C's." Oh, really....hmmmm, could have sworn I've been saying that for two years.
What does this have to do with her getting left behind...to being ostracized, and shunned? It is simple,..she is different. In a world where we try to look like others, talk like others...dress like others...Savannah is her own person. She organized her own food drive, sent her birthday money to save endangered animals. Adopted a child in Africa. She isn't interested in clothes, boys, or movies.
If she wants to wear pink leggings with a red and blue dress with a monkey on the front, then she will. She is cocky, headstrong, sure of herself ....until she gets to school. Then she becomes smaller somehow. My gorgeous girl, with her flowing hair and killer smile, looks plain and dull. I almost don't recognize her...
She has an IEP plan. (Individualized Education Plan) The teachers don't keep this confidential, so everyone knows there is "something wrong with her". She does not have to fill in bubble sheets because her eyes don't track correctly. She also is given copies of notes in every class...after she tries to take her own. She sits apart from the others during test taking because she can get distracted very easily. A bouncing leg, a clicked pen, and she will completely zone.
I am her biggest cheerleader. I try to make up for the heartache at school. She is spoiled. I admit it. I can't seem to get the image of my little girl, eyes filled with tears all alone at the lunch table, out of my mind.
The school counselor started a "Book Club". When my daughter came home with a permission form to join this book club, her exact words were..."mom, the guidance counselor started a club for the really bizarre kids who have no friends. I was invited to join".
I was FURIOUS!
So, now it's the victim that needs the intervention? I never would have let Savannah join such a ridiculous club, except she begged.... it got her out of sitting at that empty lunch table one day a week. I would really like to know where that guidance counselor came up with this idea. "Lets teach these strange kids to act like all the others...to be good little drones so they will blend in. We should instruct the weird children to say, "That's bullying! Stop bullying me or I will tell the teacher!". Anybody else think that's going to work? Why aren't we concentrating on the ones causing the pain. Where is the club for the "kids who kill the spirit of their classmates". Lets just give the "popular" ones another reason to think that being different makes you weird or less deserving of common respect.
I see these kids...these cruel children, and I know what the "experts" would say. "The bullies are usually those that have been bullied themselves...they are compensating for feelings of inadequacy." I think that is...bull shit. I think that most of these kids, (there is always exceptions)...are mean and hateful. They pick because its fun to see someone cry. I think these kids have something missing in their genetic makeup. I think, even at this young age, these kids enjoy power. They enjoy being on top, especially if it puts others beneath them. I know that I shouldn't judge children this way, but if it was your kid with the blank face and liquid eyes, I promise, you would understand.
At home, Savannah is stubborn, strong and confident. She talks fast, runs fast, and has a fast temper, and just as fast, tears. If she is interested in something, you can't tear her away....if not, there is no amount of reward, or threat, that will get her do as you want. She is almost as stubborn as I am. Thank Goodness I have had more practice, so I still win, but its not an easy contest.
I am afraid...very afraid, that my child will have to cope with bipolar disorder as I do. I gave her my brown eyes, my pug nose, my ADD. I pray I didn't give her that also. I fear the worst. Most mothers would be thrilled that their little girls are just like them...It is one of my greatest fears.
I wish, every moment, that I could make things better for my little girl...but I can't. I can only continue to tell her...and myself, that one day, she will actually earn her power. Then, NO ONE will be able to take it from her!
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day in my head.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Asking for a Miracle...
Back from work...kids safety to their prospective schools. I should be sleeping, but I can't. Mind just won't give in. So, here I go again.
I have mentioned I am a nurse but I didn't expand on that very much. I work in a dialysis center with the nocturnal program. Fourteen people come in to our unit three days a week, climb into bed, and we (myself and two awesome patient care technicians) stick them with VERY large needles...then they are expected to go to sleep. Their blood is pulled out of their body, run through a machine, and an artificial kidney (called a dialyzer) cleans their blood and returns it to their body... constantly, for eight hours!
That is a very simplified version of it. My patients can suffer cramps..you know the kind that make you jump out of bed screaming at night. Think about that happening while stuck in a bed, with needles in your arm, having to stay still. Patient with renal failure are prone to infections, can suffer from nausea, low blood pressure, congestive heart failure, blood clots, blood loss....in short...it's not a good time! My patients spend about 10 hours with me or Julie, (the nurse that works Tuesday's) three nights a week. Obviously, that is a lot of time together. I get to know them well, their families, their friends, their habits, (good and bad) and their life.
I love my job. Hate the hours...but love my job. I love being able to get to know my patients. Many become like family. I like being able to plan education, follow medications, and monitor labs. I can help get each patient what he or she needs, whether that be medication, food, help with diet, depression, or compliance with their treatment. I like having time to sit and talk to my patients. I like being able to make a plan and it not just be a piece of paper the state will look for when they come to inspect.
But I hate...I hate the fact that my patients don't get better. The best I can hope for is a transplant, but only one in five of my patients qualify for one. That means, for most of them, dialysis is forever. I used to have nightmares about being on a machine for eight hours. I am slightly claustrophobic, so the thought of being chained to a chair or bed by needles... it scares the hell out of me.
I knew Mr. Scomb for many years. He was a retired pastor. He always had a smile, story, or joke for the other patients. The young patients listened to him, cared what he thought of them, even those who had no religous beliefs. An eighteen year old young man told me he had to quit smoking because Mr. Scomb was worried about him and he didn't want to let him down. He made the frightening, and for some devastating, news of dialysis a little easier to swallow for many new patients. He was on the transplant list, but made himself inactive so he could attend his son's wedding without fear of being called at the wrong time and ruining his son's big day. He was so happy to be able to be at that wedding! His family meant everything to him.
I was told he had a heart attack...at home... in his sleep....with his family. Mr. Scomb made me a better nurse. He told a story to many of the new patients on dialysis. I'm sure the story has been told before, a little different here and there, with the same idea, but for some reason, it meant more coming from him.
In the little town of Saratoona (could be any town), it had rained for days. The river that ran through the town was flooding it's banks and putting the town in danger. The rains fell and the flood waters rose. The town was evacuated. Everyone left without a fight, except Tom. Tom was a very devout Christian. He told everyone if they had faith in God, HE would save them. The others just looked at him with pity. The flood waters rose and soon they were up to the top of his front steps. A sheriff in a pontoon boat paddled up to his front door. The sheriff told Tom that the flood waters were expected to rise even higher. He begged the man to get in the boat. Tom refused. He told the sherriff to have faith. With faith, God would save him. The sheriff shook his head and continued on.
A few hours later, the flood waters were up to the second story of Tom's house. He was sitting in a rocking chair on his second story porch reading a book as the red cross volunteers steered up to his porch in a speed boat. "Sir, you need to get in. The flood waters are expected to cover all of these houses. You will drown." Still, Tom stuck to his faith. He smiled and told them, again, faith would get him through. They would see. The volunteers realized they could not make him go...so they left him, with sadness and regret.
Wasn't even an hour later and the flood waters were up to the top of the house. Tom sat on the top of his chimney, still calm and serene. A helicopter flew over and dropped down a rope ladder. The coast guard yelled at him to grab on and they would pull him to safety. Tom still refused, but the smile was a little shaky this time. He took a deep breath and yelled up to them, " My God is Awesome! He will save me." The coast guard had other people who needed to be rescued and could not continue to hover over Tom's house. They had to leave. All of them bowed their heads. They were sure that they were going to be the last ones to see Tom alive.
Just over an hour later, the flood waters covered Tom's house. Tom could not swim. As he was sinking in the turbulent waters, he became angry. "How could God abandon me! I had more faith then anyone. None of them had faith, but me!"
When Tom arrived at Heaven's gates, he had one thing on his mind. God himself came to the gates to great him. Tom bowed his head.
"I know what you want to ask me, Tom." God told him. " I never abandoned you!"
" Yes, yes you did. I waited for a miracle and still I died."
"Tom, my precious child, who do you think directed the sheriff, the volunteers and the coast guard to you?"
I was told this story by Mr. Scomb. He was a wonderful man. I had asked him how he could remain so happy and encouraging to others, when in his situation. His answer? "This is my lifeboat. It may not be the answer I wanted. But it is the answer God gave me. Without it, I would die." I learned a lot from Mr. Scomb.
My disorder is lifelong. It is sometimes tough. In fact, sometimes it is complete hell. Instead of being chained to a chair with needles in my arms...I am chained in my own mind. The good part, I too have a lifeboat. My family, my friends and support from the most unexpected places. I think of Mr. Scomb often. Often with a tear, but even more often, with a smile.
I was going to try to do a funny blog today, but for some reason, I felt someone needed to hear this. I hope Mr. Scomb doesn't mind.
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day thinking in my head.
Angel
I have mentioned I am a nurse but I didn't expand on that very much. I work in a dialysis center with the nocturnal program. Fourteen people come in to our unit three days a week, climb into bed, and we (myself and two awesome patient care technicians) stick them with VERY large needles...then they are expected to go to sleep. Their blood is pulled out of their body, run through a machine, and an artificial kidney (called a dialyzer) cleans their blood and returns it to their body... constantly, for eight hours!
That is a very simplified version of it. My patients can suffer cramps..you know the kind that make you jump out of bed screaming at night. Think about that happening while stuck in a bed, with needles in your arm, having to stay still. Patient with renal failure are prone to infections, can suffer from nausea, low blood pressure, congestive heart failure, blood clots, blood loss....in short...it's not a good time! My patients spend about 10 hours with me or Julie, (the nurse that works Tuesday's) three nights a week. Obviously, that is a lot of time together. I get to know them well, their families, their friends, their habits, (good and bad) and their life.
I love my job. Hate the hours...but love my job. I love being able to get to know my patients. Many become like family. I like being able to plan education, follow medications, and monitor labs. I can help get each patient what he or she needs, whether that be medication, food, help with diet, depression, or compliance with their treatment. I like having time to sit and talk to my patients. I like being able to make a plan and it not just be a piece of paper the state will look for when they come to inspect.
But I hate...I hate the fact that my patients don't get better. The best I can hope for is a transplant, but only one in five of my patients qualify for one. That means, for most of them, dialysis is forever. I used to have nightmares about being on a machine for eight hours. I am slightly claustrophobic, so the thought of being chained to a chair or bed by needles... it scares the hell out of me.
I knew Mr. Scomb for many years. He was a retired pastor. He always had a smile, story, or joke for the other patients. The young patients listened to him, cared what he thought of them, even those who had no religous beliefs. An eighteen year old young man told me he had to quit smoking because Mr. Scomb was worried about him and he didn't want to let him down. He made the frightening, and for some devastating, news of dialysis a little easier to swallow for many new patients. He was on the transplant list, but made himself inactive so he could attend his son's wedding without fear of being called at the wrong time and ruining his son's big day. He was so happy to be able to be at that wedding! His family meant everything to him.
I was told he had a heart attack...at home... in his sleep....with his family. Mr. Scomb made me a better nurse. He told a story to many of the new patients on dialysis. I'm sure the story has been told before, a little different here and there, with the same idea, but for some reason, it meant more coming from him.
In the little town of Saratoona (could be any town), it had rained for days. The river that ran through the town was flooding it's banks and putting the town in danger. The rains fell and the flood waters rose. The town was evacuated. Everyone left without a fight, except Tom. Tom was a very devout Christian. He told everyone if they had faith in God, HE would save them. The others just looked at him with pity. The flood waters rose and soon they were up to the top of his front steps. A sheriff in a pontoon boat paddled up to his front door. The sheriff told Tom that the flood waters were expected to rise even higher. He begged the man to get in the boat. Tom refused. He told the sherriff to have faith. With faith, God would save him. The sheriff shook his head and continued on.
A few hours later, the flood waters were up to the second story of Tom's house. He was sitting in a rocking chair on his second story porch reading a book as the red cross volunteers steered up to his porch in a speed boat. "Sir, you need to get in. The flood waters are expected to cover all of these houses. You will drown." Still, Tom stuck to his faith. He smiled and told them, again, faith would get him through. They would see. The volunteers realized they could not make him go...so they left him, with sadness and regret.
Wasn't even an hour later and the flood waters were up to the top of the house. Tom sat on the top of his chimney, still calm and serene. A helicopter flew over and dropped down a rope ladder. The coast guard yelled at him to grab on and they would pull him to safety. Tom still refused, but the smile was a little shaky this time. He took a deep breath and yelled up to them, " My God is Awesome! He will save me." The coast guard had other people who needed to be rescued and could not continue to hover over Tom's house. They had to leave. All of them bowed their heads. They were sure that they were going to be the last ones to see Tom alive.
Just over an hour later, the flood waters covered Tom's house. Tom could not swim. As he was sinking in the turbulent waters, he became angry. "How could God abandon me! I had more faith then anyone. None of them had faith, but me!"
When Tom arrived at Heaven's gates, he had one thing on his mind. God himself came to the gates to great him. Tom bowed his head.
"I know what you want to ask me, Tom." God told him. " I never abandoned you!"
" Yes, yes you did. I waited for a miracle and still I died."
"Tom, my precious child, who do you think directed the sheriff, the volunteers and the coast guard to you?"
I was told this story by Mr. Scomb. He was a wonderful man. I had asked him how he could remain so happy and encouraging to others, when in his situation. His answer? "This is my lifeboat. It may not be the answer I wanted. But it is the answer God gave me. Without it, I would die." I learned a lot from Mr. Scomb.
My disorder is lifelong. It is sometimes tough. In fact, sometimes it is complete hell. Instead of being chained to a chair with needles in my arms...I am chained in my own mind. The good part, I too have a lifeboat. My family, my friends and support from the most unexpected places. I think of Mr. Scomb often. Often with a tear, but even more often, with a smile.
I was going to try to do a funny blog today, but for some reason, I felt someone needed to hear this. I hope Mr. Scomb doesn't mind.
Til next time,
Don't worry about walking in my shoes,
Just try a day thinking in my head.
Angel
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