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Sunday, June 26, 2011

Grandparents are Great


My kids don't get to see their grandparents a whole heck of a lot.

My Mom lives a couple hours away. Fred's parents, sadly, have both passed. My Dad and stepmother live like, 11 hours away.

Fortunately for us, the latter just paid us a visit. They made the long drive out and spent some good quality time with us'ns. Quality time including:

Gifting, and then playing, lots of that lawn ladder game (ladder ball? ladder toss?).
Playing a couple of awesome family board games.
Taking the kids out for pizza.
Helping out with chauffering to dentist appointments, dropping my car off to the mechanics, running out for groceries, picking up eggs from the farm down the road.
Going for walks.
Slippin' the kids all some cash.
Heaping compliments on us all.
Taking some of the kids on a fun local tour.
Watching the kids while Fred and I went out for our anniversary.




For me, it was great not only to spend time with them, but to be afforded some new perspective. Sometimes in the thick of our chaotic lives, I fail to notice the positives. But with their visit, I got to see my children through their eyes.

I got to hear that they saw leaps-and-bounds improvements in James' behavior and melding with the family. Got to beam with pride as they gushed over the delicious dinner the children made when Fred and I went out. I was honored to see how impressed they were with some of the intelligent and creative answers the kids came up with during the board games.

So PawPaw and Granny Caggy, I thank you. For your help, for your perspective, for your fun and games. And the lots of love and laughs.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

History of a Romance


Year 1 Love at first sight. Well. Since we had been in classes together for six years, and had worked side by side for several months at the movie theatre, perhaps not "at first sight". But instantaneous, light-switch-flipped love, how 'bout that? As we gazed at each other over the shoulders of our respective prom dates.

Year 2 Adjust to the whole long distance romance thing. We attended colleges several hours apart from each other.

Year 3 "Will you marry me?" Maybe not on bended knee on a mountaintop with a 4kt diamond, but a simple college student's ring presented without fanfare in my college dorm.





Year 4 The love letters continued to pile up as we wrote to each other several times a week. In the days before the myriad options for how you wanted to contact a person, we were relegated to love letters and Friday night phone calls. We saw each other only a handful of times during the school year, but made up for it during the summers.

Year 5 First comes love, then comes marriage. We finally tied the knot five years and a month from when we began going together. I had at long last finished college and he had both finished college and gotten through his first year of med school.




Year 6 Time to play grownups with our first apartment, a one bedroom 2nd floor unit in East Brunswick, NJ. Mr., Mrs, dog and cat.

Year 7 I worked at my job as an Occupational Therapist, plus a little moonlighting, while he continued his studies at medical school, practicing his stitches on our hand-me-down couch.


Year 8 Medical school cap and gown time! And we loaded up the truck and we moved to Delaware.

Year 9 Fred started his residency, I started my new job, and our friends moved in with us. Our friends, plus their two little children, their newborn baby, and their Great Dane. Good times, good times.....

Year 10 We never found out what our landlord was doing with the rent money we paid him, but it wasn't paying the mortgage. Came home to a sheriff's auction sign in the front yard and so we moved again, to an old farmhouse in MD.

Year 11 An old farmhouse needs a horse to go along with it, and I was happy to oblige.

Year 12 Our first child, our son Patrick, was born. We were spanked hard as we entered the world of parenthood.

Year 13 Fred graduated his residency program as chief resident, and began his fellowship in Trauma and Critical Care.

Year 14 When he was all done being a good fellow, he took a job with this hospital where he did his residency. No moving required.



Year 15 We moved into our first boughten house just weeks before our 2nd child, our daughter Rosie, was born.

Year 16 Marked our 10 year anniversary. "Ten years and never had a fight".


Year 17 Two wasn't enough. One girl, one boy wasn't enough. We had our third child, our son Daniel. We were officailly outnumbered.

Year 18 This boughten house I mentioned? It was a 250 year old farmhouse on 11 1/2 acres. We (meaning I) continued to pour animals into the house, the barn, the fields. We (meaning I) added goats, sheep, ponies, and a pig to the property. For ambience.

Year 19 Kept busy fixing up the old house, mending fences, caring for critters, burying old pets.

Year 20 Kept busy wiping noses, wiping bottoms, changing diapers, cutting sandwiches into fun shapes, arranging playdates, tending boo-boos, nursing babies, learning to function on a 1/2 hour of sleep, and cleaning up after Hurricane Children on a daily basis.

Year 21 Apparently three wasn't enough. Two boys and one girl wasn't enough. We adopted Bella, who turned six one month after arriving in America from Kazakhstan.

Year 22 Apparently four wasn't enough either. We began hosting exchange students. Enter Milly from Taiwan, who spent her junior year in high school living with our crazy family. She also got to move with us as we loaded up the trucks again and moved to our bigger house on a smaller property. Fred laughed nervously and said, "You're not planning on filling up those extra bedrooms, are you?"


Year 23 Exit Milly, enter Eun Hae and Felice, from South Korea and Hong Kong, respectively.

Year 24 Took a year off from adding students to our family, but worked on building up the animal headcount once again.

Year 25 Oh what the heck, I'll take another. Enter Nadya from Germany.


Year 26 Two empty bedrooms means two more kids. We adopted James and Julie, also from Kazakhstan, and when they came home to us they were 10 and nearly 14.

Year 27 OK, no more exchange students. But let's host a Fresh Air Fund kid. A little boy from the inner city to stay with us for a week in the summer.

Year 28 Has it really been 28 years together and 23 years of marriage? Looking back I can see that since we started this romance we've lived in six places, starting in Fred's Dad's attic and ending in our current seven bedroom home. We have cared for countless critters and have 42 currently. We have hosted four exchange students and one Fresh Air Fund child. We have added three kids to our family by birth and three by adoption. We have weathered the deaths of beloved pets. The births and adoptions of our children. We have lived through times with no money and times of comfort. We have attended the funerals of grandparents, of siblings, of parents.

We have sometimes faced adversity head on, rowing our lifeboat sitting shoulder to shoulder, but there were also times we sat at opposite ends of the lifeboat, scarcely looking at each other as we weathered the storm.
But through it all we've grown stronger, closer, more in tune with each other than we ever would have thought possible when we were first gazing at each other over the shoulders of our prom dates that night so many, many years ago.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Training Pippin

Daniel and I started training his pony Pippin to ride and it's been going supremely well.










Here's Pipp checking out the saddle.









Saddle on the back. No big deal.










Tying up the girth knot. Mine are the only boys I know that already know how to tie a tie without needing a lesson. Girth knot is same thing as a tie knot, so they've btdt..











Pippin seems to be thinking there's an overly large fly on his back.









Believe it or not, this is only the second time Daniel (or anyone for that matter) has been on Pippin's back. Does he get the coveted BPYA (Best Pony of the Year Award) or what?








A little pettin and scritch-scratchin' when all is said and done.








Doesn't look like Pippin is holding any grudges.








Another hard day's work done.....

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Gratitude

Had an IEP meeting for Bella last week.

And I have to say, it left me flooded with emotion.

This is a little girl that started off in life pretty disadvantaged. Mother drank while she was pregnant, leaving my little girl dealing with problems of the Fetal Alcohol Spectrum sort. As in, very low IQ, significant learning disability, speech disorder, reading disorder, distractible, the list goes on.

Then she was abandoned. Police found her when she was just a toddler, and took her to the hospital, where she stayed for nearly two years. From there she went on to the orphanage, where she remained for the next two years. No one there expected much from her because they couldn't understand her garbled speech and they felt she wasn't the brightest crayon in the box.
The adults didn't give her much attention.
The kids didn't give her much attention.

Couple years later, we fetched her outa there and brought her to America, where she promptly started Kindergarten.

Her teacher didn't really know what to do with her.
For the next couple years, her teachers didn't really know what to do with her.

But she got ESL services and speech therapy and Reading Assist. They worked with her best they could. She kinda-sorta repeated 1st grade ("Transitional 1st" and then regular 1st). But the child struggled.

A 504 plan was written up, and accomodations made for her disabilities. An IEP was started. She was put into classrooms with instructional aides. She attended summer school (sorry, "Extended School Year"). All these things have helped.

But this year has been her best yet. This year she had a PCA (Personal Care Ass't) who followed her from room to room now that Bella's in middle school. She has helped her keep her schedule and her papers organized. She has helped her learn how to study effectively. And along with her amazing teachers, she has helped improve her reading, her math level, her writing.


She has helped her become a middle school student. A middle school student who has a locker, and knows her schedule, and talks and laughs with her friends, who has joined clubs and does her homework, studies for tests, has crushes, and doodles on the corners of her book covers.

And I sat in this meeting, at a small round table on a little chair, and I watched and listened as this group of 8 - 10 men and women told me all about how Bella is doing in history and science. About how she has learned to branch out with her writing to include so much more than the four or five topics she used to write about. I watched their faces glow with emotion as they talked about how special she is, how sweet, how kind, how helpful and compassionate to others.

Suddenly I felt the warmth of tears in my eyes as I remembered my little girl's beginnings.
Castaway.
No one to care for her.
No one to notice her special gifts.
No one to try to lift her up and challenge her.
No one to love her.

And I looked around this table at these people in her life.
People that truly cared about her and would find a way to teach her. Find a way to help her to be successful, to help her learn to navigate through life.

And with the tears stinging my eyes, I interrupted the meeting.
I tumbled out some words of thanks and gratitude for what they have done for my daughter. For doing their jobs so well, certainly, but most importantly, for caring. For seeing in her what I see, and cherishing that.

I don't think I did a very good job at expressing my thanks, and I quickly let them get back on track at going through the sheaf of papers we all had before us.

But as I sat quietly listening, I thought to myself,
Who would have thought that this little castaway girl that no one noticed would have all these people sitting at a small round table on little chairs, all talking about their goals and plans. All sharing with each other stories of what she said or did that showed how very special she is. All in love with this tiny girl, with the multitude of problems, that no one noticed....


R.I.P. Houdini

Fred had his work party yesterday. Lovely day. Kids playing in the pool, folks eating, drinking, laughing, talking about summer plans.

At one point I was looking out to where we had thrown the spent corn cobs and watermelon rinds and noticed there were only five goats munching happily, when there should have been six.

Where was Houdini?

As is probably obvious from his name, he is is our resident escape artist. From the time he was born, he has always managed to get out of whatever enclosure he was in.

So my immediate thought was that he got himself out of where he was supposed to be and into somewhere off limits and then couldn't get back. So I went searching for him, fearing he was stuck somewhere. I looked in all the usual places to no avail. Finally thought to look in the bottom of the kids' play ship in the pasture and found him down in the hull. Dead.

Poor little guy. He was a funny goat. Not as people-friendly as some of our others, and the polar opposite of his twin brother Ozzy who is cute, friendly, and jet-black. Houdini was bigger, anti-social and snow-white. But funny.

True to his magical nature, he left me left scratching my head over how he died. Only about 4 1/2 years old, he was the picture of health, fat and happy. Coat looked good, eating well, up to date on shots and wormings. Only thing I could figure is that two nights before he died, the barn doors got broken, and I know some of the goats got out of the barn and into the workshop. No grain this time of year for him to overload on. No rat poison or anything of that nature.

But....

I've been working a lot on the hen house. When I get done working, I make sure I always take all my tools and supplies out of the barn and put them away into the workshop. So I'm wondering ... maybe he ate some nails? Could have punctured his stomach or intestines. There were no outward signs of anything, like a struggle with a dog or something.

And I've seen goats eat all kinds of things. Tin cans, spider webs, string, paper, my shirt as I'm wearing it. It's always kind of tickled me to see what-all they would consume.

But this time, not so funny.

So goodbye Houdini. Hope you're up in goat heaven, eating delectable weeds and things to your heart's content. We'll miss you ....





Here's Houdini with his Mama, when he was about 5 or 6 months old.















Here he is with his twin brother Ozzy.

(Summer) Break of Insanity

Just 3 1/2 school days remain.

Then they will be ....
released.

[Twitch]

I used to love summer break.

And I'm not just talkin' about my own distant childhood. I mean I truly and thoroughly enjoyed when my kids were home the entirety of the summer.

The last few years I've been clinging to my old phrases like a child clutching a security blanket.

I could hear the words coming out of my mouth:
"I love summers" I'd say.
"No alarm clocks. No after school activities. No homework, no projects to oversee. No papers to sign, no field trips to chaperone. Just endless days stretching together. Warm sun, the pool, the beach, fireflies, watermelon...."

All spoken while wearing the grin of a simpleton.

But nowadays

[twitch]

when I begin to think of my kids being home
all day
every day


[tremble]

my teeth begin to rattle ever so slightly, and a thin stream of drool leaks from the corner of my mouth.



Oh there are plenty of good times. Many a Norman Rockwell-worthy picture of my kids riding bikes, drawing chalk pictures on the driveway, playing basketball, fishing in our pond, swimming in the pool, laughing with friends. Eating corn on the cob, watermelon. Picking cherries from our trees then gobbling them down and spittin' the pits.

But then there are...

the dark times.

The times they bicker. They whine. They yell and fight and glare. They make faces, argue about whose turn it is to do what, whose turn it is to sit where, who ate their last water ice, whose drank the last of the iced tea and didn't make more.

She's wearing my shirt, he pushed me, she smells bad, are you ever planning to wash your hair, it's my turn to ride shotgun/to pick the radio station/to have a friend come with us to the movies. He broke my goggles, he rode my bike without asking, she's sitting in my spot, she had a friend over last time, it's my turn, it's mine it's mine it's mine.

[cower in corner and suck thumb while eyes glaze over]



And I know nothing really works. Suzy Sunshine Mom makes an appearance for a while with grand ideas about arts and crafts, daytrips and pool games.
But then she blows it with her sing-songy motivational team-building speeches for a cooperative work-together attitude for all the pool-cleaning, weed-pulling, house-cleaning, grass-mowing things on the to-do list.



Then the whining kicks in and Nurse Ratchet Mom moves in. She tries to control the situation with her steel glint, her even tone, her drama-free temperament that is never shaken.






But the kids beat her the hell out of our house and on her heels storms in Roseanne Barr, screaming at the kids, commanding them, out-whining them.









I like Roseanne.

Forget Nanny 9-1-1, who's got a direct line to Roseanne? Mary, my celebrity sister? Do any of your people know any of her people? I would even be tempted to trade in my invitation to see Mr. Clooney at the premier if I could get Roseanne to move in with us for a couple weeks to whip my little b@#*&^ into shape.

D-R-A-M-A-T-I-C

I was playing Scrabble with Rosie and Julie last night.

What should have been some nice, relaxing quiet time with a couple of my girls was anything but.

At any given time I had at least three people asking me something, telling me something, complaining about someone. The puppy was running around willy-nilly and I was trying to keep an eye on her so she didn't pee, chew, eat our little dog Cindy or get out the door.

I also had an eye on the clock b/c I needed to go pick up my oldest from a party, and oh yeah, there was dinner.

About the third round of the game I found myself yelling at a good two or three of the kids simultaneously to "JUST BE NICE TO EACH OTHER!"

It was right about that time Rosie played her word.

Dramatic.

No, I'm not painting the scene here, people, that was the word she played. Dramatic.

That sucker was worth 28 points when you figured all the double word and triple letters and what-not, and then she got a 50 point bonus for using all seven of her letters.

78 points!

About that time I looked up at the clock and said, "Well, whaddya know, time to leave to get Patrick."

We did resume the game when we got home.

Guess who won?

Smarty pants.


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