learning things.

*******

Even if one is not a fan of advice, the giving or receiving, some things are too important not to pass on to an expectant first time mother:

*******
When you see a giant chalk penis drawn on the playground parking lot?

Before taking a picture of it (as if you wouldn't take a picture of it), do a quick scan of your surroundings to be sure that your five year old's preschool friend isn't standing behind you. 

With her grandmother.

*******
The blooming of tiger lilies is a highly anticipated event.

And one cannot resist allowing excited five year old to pick "Just one please!!??"

Much squeaking and squealing as sweet girl carefully selects the perfect specimen, gazes lovingly at it as she brings it to her nose, and bursts into tears as her prize;

"Doesn't smell like tiger!!!!"

*******

One should be able to allow a nine year old to get himself dressed.

One might want to appraise child's outfit before letting him out the door.

On picture day.

He might be placed in the front row.

With his pants noticeably on backwards.

*******

Fancy FM system for Deaf child will allow him to hear the wearer anywhere the wearer goes.

The wearer may want to turn device off while going to the bathroom;

"Yup.  Mommy going potty.  I hear her.  Mom!!  You fart??!!"

*******

Five years old has a wicked imagination. 

Sticks and mud become culinary delights;

"Horse poop and tittlers" is pretend delicious. 

Coining phrases is endless fun;

"Tight as a squirrel's butt!" 

It is not always necessary to ask for explanation.

"Rufies" is the best name for an imaginary puppy.
 
And making up words will never get old;

"Mom!  I made up a new word!  You want to hear it?"

"Of course!"

"Fukkah!"

*******

C25K With The Bitches

Left on Justine.

'Something filled up my heart with nothing
 Someone told me not to cry...'

Nice old couple on the right. I think he's losing his shit.  Always cleaning the garage that seems ever more cluttered.  But nice that he keeps busy.

Young couple on the left.  They moved in a couple years ago.  Have had two children since.  We share a fence with them.  I've never laid eyes on the woman. Fucking weirdo.

Houses moving past faster.  Children playing. Swimmers swimming.  Planters planting. Mowers mowing.

'With my lighnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am goin' to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.'

"Begin running."

Left on Maureen.  She is my favorite.  Gently sloping downhill. I can pretend it is easy with Maureen.

'I wheeled around because I didn't hear what you had said
And saw you dancing with Elihu
Up on Leemor's bed'

"Begin walking."

Hmm.  I could have kept going.

I could wimp out and hang a right on Linda.  But stick with Maureen til she ends.

"Begin running."

Head up. Shoulders back. Eyes fixed on the horizon.  Funny how as my spine is being violently compressed with each punishing step, I manage to feel so tall.

'Stars hide your fires,
And these here are my desires
And I will give them up to you this time around
And so, I'll be found
with my steak stuck in this ground
Marking its territory of this newly impassioned soul
hide your fires,
these are my desires'

"Begin walking."

Thank fuck.  Maureen is in a mood today.

Past Nancy.

"Begin running."

OK. So this barely resembles running.  It isn't fast.  It isn't pretty.  But it isn't walking.

'Some come to laugh their past away
Some come to make it just one more day
Whichever way your pleasure tends
If you plant ice you're gonna harvest the wind'

Right on Justine. Avenue this time. Not Road. Seriously, who names TWO roads in the same neighborhood Justine?  Know what? Justine is a whore. Pretty sure anyone named Justine has banged the football team under the bleachers.

Mostly I hate Justine for her curves.  She is all uphill.  And my shitty timing always has me running up her.

I'm still waiting to get high by the way.  I feel  the fire of a thousand suns burning in my chest. Trachea reduced to the diameter of a coffee straw. Leg muscles are quivering gelatinous masses.

Really. To those who think this is getting high?  I had way more fun than you in college.

'The world as I see it is a remarkable place.'

Sweet old lady walking sweet little dog acknowledges my effort;

"You're doing great!"

*gasp* "This Sucks!" *gasp*

I hack out a lung for her pup to munch on.

"Begin walking."

If I were home on my nice eliptical machine in my nice basement; I'd have called it quits by now. But all the way in the back corner of  the neighborhood, I've no choice but to haul my ass back home.

'You are the eagle, you are the lark
You are the world and you're remarkable'

Past Dorothy on the left.  Dorothy. Who would name a kid Dorothy? She was probably with Justine under those bleachers. In the 1940's

"Begin running."

'My heart like a kick drum!'

A heart attacked wrapped in a stroke wrapped in an aneuyrism is what this feels like. And this is somehow good for me? 

Amazingly it is.

I do hate every. fucking. step.

But.

It prevents mother nature from bitch slapping me with a monthly migraine.  It dimishes homicidal tendencies.  It increases patience.  It sleeps great.

So.

Thanks bitches.

See you in the morning.


*******

Soundtrack:

"Wake Up" - Arcade Fire
"Sample in a Jar" - Phish
"Roll Away Your Stone" - Mumford and Sons
"Franklin's Tower" - Grateful Dead
"The World As I see it" - Jason Mraz
"Kick Drum Heart" - The Avett Brothers

Bad Words Movie Review: The Avengers

Al took Owen to see it as soon as it came out.  I got stuck home with a sick Bea.

I was displeased.

Luckily, the weather has been total shit for the past week (really, I wish I had a dick so I could tell the fucking weather to Suck It) and lacking anything better to do, dragged the kids to see it this past weekend.

I was very pleased.

Under Owen's influence, I've become quite the Super Hero movie aficionado.

I dig cool effects, evil dudes, and the good guy always winning.

The Avengers of course delivers on all these counts.

But it also delivers something of far greater importance.

Hotness.

So. Much. Hotness.

Thor:

The Chippendale physique usually doesn't do it for me.

But:


                                    I'd like two tickets to the gun show please.


                    
                                             Ack that's a sweet face, no?

Oh, and he's loyal and brave and honorable and all that crap too.



Loki:

Thor's evil sort of  brother.



I wanted to think he was hot. I really did.  So I googled him a bit and found the actor to be on the effeminate side. 

So I googled more to see if  he's gay.  I was so hoping he was.

Cause I can't find an effeminate straight guy hot. 

Sorry Loki.


Steve Rogers/Captain America:

Here's one for the gays:

                  
                                                       Isn't he pretty?
Maybe too pretty.

However,

              
                                          You're welcome ladies and gays.

 I did appreciate the gratuitous ass shots.

And his 1940's aww shucks innocence is fucking adorable.


Black Widow:

Speaking of gratuitous ass shots.

Aplenty.
                                     

I must say I felt robbed in the boob department.  Girlfriend's got fabulous tits.

                             
                                   Those things just scream 'motorboat' don't they?


Those puppies didn't get any screen time all covered up and squished into that tight black jumpsuit as they were.

If I were Scar Jo's boobs I'd totally fire my agent.


Tony Stark/Iron Man:


                                        I've got nothing to add to this hotness.

I loved that he wore that Black Sabbath shirt throughout the entire movie.

I would have loved it more if I got to see him sans shirt.

He's arguably the hottest man on the planet right?

Perhaps...

Bruce Banner/The Hulk

 
                            The frumpy wrinkled suit is now a huge turn on for me.

The unassuming, soft spoken, scruffy faced, scientist geek turned giant green smashing machine stole the hotness show for me.

And?

He got naked.

Naked is my favorite.

I couldn't find a naked pic.

                 Fully clothed and fuckhawt. 

Fucking Hawkeye;

                 
                                                     He ain't got no alibi.

He's not here for his hotness.  'Cause he's not hot.

In case you haven't heard, some hearing impaired kid complained that there were no super heroes who wore hearing aids, so Marvel created 'Blue Ear' ; a super hero who wears blue hearing aids.

Why does this annoy the shit out of me?

Because this character Hawkeye is mostly deaf.  Which is why his eyesight is so keen giving him crazy good archery skills.  This detail is never mentioned in the movie. In fact, fucking Hawkeye appears to hear just fine.

Seriously though. Shooting arrows at 747 sized flying alien ship thingies?  REALLY?

Ugh.

Must. Cleanse. Palate.

      
                                                          Sandwich anyone?

He's Always Been A Super Hero. Now He's Got New Powers. #SNRyan

Getting used to life with the FM system around here.

It's crazy. Crazy good.

But strange.

For the past almost nine years, I've been in a constant state of hyper awareness of every little sound around me, and around Owen.

Because his hearing aids amplify EVERYTHING; cars driving by, a fan in the window, the dog barking, Bea's Leapster, the radio in the kitchen, more than one voice speaking.  Any noise in Owen's proximity interferes with his access to spoken language.

When the FM is on, the wearer's voice cuts through all that noise and sends their  words right into his head.

I'm in the process of retraining myself.  I no longer assume that he's missing what I'm saying. My routine of finding him, getting his attention, reminding him to look at my face, speaking and signing as simply as I can to get my point across, and then verifying that he's understood is less necessary.

I'm in the kitchen and he is upstairs in his room.  Supper is ready.

"Owen? Wash your hands and come down for supper ok?"  In a normal speaking voice.

"I hear you!!!  I'm coming!!!"

Holy. Shit.

We're at the craft store.  He's looking at coloring books. Bea and I are a few aisles away.  It's time to leave.

"Owen?  Pick a book.  It's time to go."  As if he were standing right next to me.

"I hear you!  Ok Mom!!"

Seriously.

So. Fucking. Cool.

He's got superhuman hearing.

And he's super happy about it.

But he's still a Deaf kid at heart.  Because when he's done.  He's done.

"Mom?  Time to turn off FM.  I'm all done hearing today."

I fucking LOVE that he chooses to turn off.  To go quiet.

And a little jealous.

How cool would that be?  To turn down the volume on the world?

Would be fucking awesome.

Life can be too damn loud. It makes me cranky.

This morning;  TV on, Owen playing his DS, I'm attempting a conversation with Al, and Bea's little voice never stops.  Do five year olds ever stop talking?  For a second?  No they don't.

Ryan knows.  And he bought me a present.

Good luck getting anything accomplished today ladies, what with thoughts of Ryan practicing tactile sign on you.

*swoon*

*thud*

Check out Sunday and the gang and see what else Ryan is up to.

With Better Use Of My Oral Skills #SNRyan

Even with his hearing aids, Owen misses most conversations that occur around him.

For example:

Chatting at the dinner table?  He tunes out until he picks up an interesting snippet and then demands to be filled in on what he'd missed.  Which I then give to him in a mish mash of words and sign in fucked up semi ASL syntax.

Talk in the car?  We're not allowed to speak in the car, 'cause he can't hear us. We all just put up with the music played LOUDLY enough for him to hear it.  Thank goodness he has good taste.  His current favorite is Adele.

Sitting around the living room?  The TV is LOUD, and he's struggling to listen while reading the captions.  If anyone dares speak, he tells them to stop.  Or if he is curious, will turn the TV off and wait to be caught up on what he missed.

It can be exhausting keeping him in the loop.

And also?  His English SUCKS.

Without the luxury of listening in on everyday conversations around him, he's not learned enough English. He speaks in a funky English/ASL hodgepodge which his speech therapist brought to me as a serious concern.

What could possibly give him more access to spoken language?

A personal FM system.

To the tune of thousands of dollars.  Which I don't have.

So I started making calls to get help paying for it.

And before I was forced to use my other mad oral skills, the unthinkable happened; A mysterious benefactor offered to purchase the system.

Owen's hearing aid provider was shocked and elated for us.  And a little freaked out as Owen is a special case for her.  She doesn't treat children. Only old people. She took Owen on as a favor to his audiologist.

She took her time learning about different systems.  Attended a hearing aid convention and met with Phonak.

And yesterday we got it.

Apologies for lack of video evidence, but the look on Owen's face when Dr. Julie put on the transmitter, left the room and spoke to Owen?

He turned bright red and his face split into a painfully huge smile.

Continued goofy grinning as we drove home listening to his girl sing to him like he'd never heard before.

This morning he asked Bea to wear it.  We figured out how to attach it to the iPod, and his DS, and the TV.

He asked if the dog could wear it.

Talking to Bea in the kitchen this morning, Owen came running in from the playroom asking when we were going to the playground.  'Cause he'd heard us.

So from now on, I'm going to look like this:

Sexy eh?

Well Ryan thinks it is:

Joining Sunday and the gang once again!!!  Go see what else our boyfriend is up to.

Nope. Not Sorry.

A month or so ago, I'd brought the kids to an indoor pool.  I was waiting outside the stalls in the changing room as the kids got dressed when a girl, 12 years old or so, walked up to me and grabbed my hand.

A nanosecond was all it took to see the specialness of this girl.

She held my hand in one of hers and waved in my face with the other.  And smiled.

I signed/said 'Hello'. Guessing that she wasn't verbal and thinking my non verbal communication skills couldn't hurt.

She held on and smiled.

I complimented her on her pretty flowered bathing suit.

She pumped my hand a few times and continued her smiling.

Her mother appeared after 30 seconds of this.  I signed/said to the girl that it was nice to meet her.  She smiled back.

Her mother hung her head;

"I'm sorry."

"Oh god no. Have fun swimming!"

I really wanted to chase after the woman. And hug her.  And beg her to never apologize again for her sweet girl who just wanted to smile and say hi.

This past Spring break, I thought about this woman a few times. 

Because I'm not sorry.

Hey Mommies and Kids sitting behind us at the kiddie concert at the Library;

Yes, I was aware that the front row is usually reserved for the smallest children.  But Owen can't hear very well.  So being in the front, where he can see the musicians is where he had the best chance of enjoying the show.

I'm not sorry if we were distracting.

When the drums and guitar started up, Owen's face lit up.  He does love music.  But when the fedora wearing sideburned cutie started singing, Owen's face fell, and my eyes filled up.

The acoustics in the place were shit.  The lyrics lost to Owen.

So instead of letting him give up, I offered to interpret for him.  He shook his head no. So I started to interpret anyway.  And he let me.  And watched intently as I struggled to hear the words and put them on my hands.

Right in the front of the room.

I'm not sorry if we obstructed your view of the band.

I'm not sorry at all if you had to answer a squillion questions from your kids.

Not sorry even a little bit.

Hey people sitting behind us at the movie on Sunday;

Owen doesn't get to see his school friends outside of school very often.  So we were all thrilled when his friend Jay joined us to see 'Chimpanzee' on Sunday.

I didn't know it was Jay's first time in a movie theater.  Even I was surprised when the movie started up and Jay yelled and covered his ears.

I can't imagine what that loudness sounded  like through his cochlear implants.

I'm not sorry that Jay spoke loudly and signed largely through the entire movie.

He couldn't hear the narrator well enough to follow the story, so relied on me to fill him in.

I'm not sorry if you missed some of the action because our arms and hands were all over the place.

I'm not a wee bit sorry if we had a negative impact on your movie experience.

Jay is going to join us for the highly anticipated 'Avengers' movie in May.

I'm already brushing up on my Superhero signs.

And I'm already not sorry for being in your fucking way.

Gay Best Friend Special Needs Ryan

This morning, Owen and I are headed into Children's hospital for a Cardiology check up.  His medical history demands a periodical EKG and Echo cardiogram. 

So.  Off we go.

We love going there.  For me, it is going back to our first home as a family.  We'll visit the ICU in hopes some of the nurses who cared for him are still there. We'll check in with the floor where he spent his last six weeks.

I'll buy him a treat in the gift shop. We'll have lunch in the cafeteria.

I'll think back to the 101 days we spent there after he was born.

Al had gone to work after two weeks, needing to feel useful in a helpless situation.

So, aside from the odd visitor, I sat all day every day; alone.

Crossword puzzle books piled up around me.  Skanky magazines too.  I chatted with the nurses.  And other parents sometimes. 

I looked forward to meal times.  And pumping breast milk.  Anything to fill the hours.

You know what I really wanted during those long lonely days? What I pined away for?

Yup.

A gay best friend.

Somebody to jab with my elbow as a hot young surgeon walked by.

Somebody to snicker with about the trailor trash parents.

Somebody with whom to snark about the bitchy receptionist.

Somebody to make fun of me while I attached my pathetic boobies to the ridiculous industrial strength pumping contraption.

Thank goodness Ryan is free tomorrow.  And is such a fine actor.

He's agreed to play the role of Gay Statler to my Waldorf.

We're going to have so much fun.

I cheated this week and didn't use Sunday's Ryan photo.  When I saw this one it just screamed gay Ryan.

Go see what the rest of the gang is doing with Ryan.

D-Bag Rag.

Within any group of people, I always assume that I'm the biggest jerk.

So it surprised me a couple years ago, when Owen's friends' Mommies said they were skipping classmate Jay's birthday party because his mother is so hard to take.

She really is. 

But it isn't Jay's fault. So for the past two years, Owen has been the ONLY kid at Jay's party.  The only one.

This past weekend was Jay's party. 

And I managed to not tell Jay's mother off.

I told his grandmother off instead. 

About so many things.  Like their school using 'Too much sign language'.  Seriously. She's angry about this. I did ask her if she was aware of the educational model which the school follows.  She was not.

Also making her angry is Jay's speech. Which I think is fantastic for a kid who was denied any form of communication until he was THREE years old. 

There was more. A lot more. I sort of lost it on her.

But. In my defense, I'm fairly certain she is too stupid to realize she was being told off.

Because after I finished with her?

She had me interpret for Jay.


*******

So. I refer to Owen as Deaf Kid all the time.  And his friends are the 'Pack of Deaf kids'.

'Cause that's what they are.

And people think I'm a jerk;

"Awwwww, come on. That's not nice."

Which just cracks me up.

A couple weeks ago, Owen was home sick.  I emailed his Deaf teacher.  She emailed back;

"There are eight Deaf kids out with the same thing!"

I love jerks.

*******

Friend Sally gave Bea a bag of shoes that her daughter Mya had outgrown.

Bea's favorite pair are sweet strappy pink sandals which she was wearing the other day when Sally picked her up for a play date.

Mya threw a little fit about the sandals, whining and crying about wanting them back and it's no fair and so on...

Sally; "Mya, please stop.  They don't fit you any more. And you don't want to make Bea feel bad do you?"

Bea;  "I don't feel bad."

Ha.

*******

I finally caved.

After two months of watching Al fondle his own nightly, I caved.

And got myself an iPhone. Of course I fucking love the thing.

Though I do miss those cute little Blackberry buttons.

One teensy complaint; I wasn't allowed to simply grab a song from my iTunes and make it my ring tone.

And I'm quite attached to my ring tone.

So my first order of business was finding an app that would give me back my ring tone.

'Cause it's the best ring tone ever:






Right?

Right.

Deaf Kid Party Re-cap and Special Needs Ryan

So. I was in for quite the surprise last week when I met with the Deaf kid mommies.

I was not prepared for a group of snarky, foul mouthed bitches, who cannot imagine depriving their Deaf kids ASL, and who LOVE Owen's school.

Seriously.  Was so much fucking fun. 

They needed very little guidance from me.  They knew what their kids need and how to get it.  They all expressed feeling very lucky that this school exists and that their kids get to attend.

I was able to tell them one thing they didn't know;  that the kids all go to weekly (and more often if needed) counseling with a Deaf mentor whose purpose is to teach the kids how to be Deaf in a Hearing world.

I showed them this that Owen had brought home;

Which they loved.  As do I.

*******

Owen's birthday party was Saturday.

It was madness, but pizza making, pinata bashing, cake eating, general merry making, all went off without a hitch.

 Pinata being smashed with Thor's Hammer.  Of course.

Friend Katie signed 'Happy Birthday' song per my request.  She's awesome.

He's like the least expressive kid ever right?

*******

Deaf kids talking/signing around table while eating.


Deaf kid Billy says/signs to Deaf kid Ricky;

"What she say?"

Deaf kid Ricky looks pissed, signs/says/snaps back;

"I don't know! I'm Deaf!"

Billy's mom and I thought this was hysterical.

*******

Apparently Bea felt out of place amongst all of Owen's Deaf friends.

So, she grabbed a pair of Owen's old ear molds and popped them in her ears.

And showed off her hearing aids to all the kids.

And the next day, she wouldn't leave the house without her hearing aids.

So damn cute.

*******

Owen went through a phase of wanting pink and purple ear molds.  With sparkles.  I may have allowed it if Al hadn't threatened divorce.

I know Ryan would still be fuckhawt, even if he were to sport some sparkly ear molds.

 I didn't manage to get this up yesterday.  Go see what Sunday and the gang did with Ryan.

9

Birthday.

Today.

ASL Crusade With Special Needs Ryan Gosling.

I killed this horse long ago, I know.

Deaf kids need ASL.

For some, that horse is alive and kicking.

This morning, I'm at Owen's school, speaking to the Early Intervention group at the school director's request. This is a group of parents with Deaf kids under age three, who are still considering all the educational options for their children.

I don't know where these parents stand, how much they know about Deaf culture and the Deaf community.

I don't know how 'normal' they want their children to be.

I do know that my job today is to sell them on ASL.

A  friend sent me this, which I've printed up and will give to the group;


I am an Oral success.

At around two and a half years old, I started talking.I started to learn to read at four years old.
Today I can (if I so choose), order a hamburger at McDonald’s without having to repeat myself.
I can speak to family, friends, and strangers, and they can understand me without problems.
I can call my children to dinner from another room, or sing them a good night song.
I can lipread with fairly good accuracy, and in a one-to-one situation, I can usually handle myself well.
I came to think of myself as a “Hearing person that cannot hear.”
This, you call a success.


Despite my speech, I still cannot hear.
In a group conversation of two or more, I usually find myself lost within five minutes.
I’d rather be alone with a book than with non-signing people at dinner or at a big family gathering.
This, you call a success?


I am a mainstreaming success.
Without the help of an interpreter, note-taker, or any support services, I attended public schools and got good grades.
I progressed at grade level, and learned to read well beyond my age and grade level.
I eventually got a Ph.D. from a major Hearing university.
This, you call a success.


In the “mainstream,” I always felt alone.


For thirteen years, I could count the number of my “friends” on one hand, and still have fingers left over.
These friends were themselves the “misfits” and “outcasts” who could not gain friendships with the “in group.”
I was bullied, shunned, and quietly ignored by both the “cool kids” and the “not so cool” kids.
I was pushed to the brink of a mental breakdown. One day, I stabbed one of my “friends” with a pencil – not because he’d done something bad to me, but because it was what I really wanted to do to those “other kids.”
I got labeled “emotionally disturbed.”
This, you call a success?


I am an ASL success.
I went to a school for the Deaf.
I learned to sign.
I was in school plays, on sports teams, and involved in student government.
Today, I teach Hearing students at a major Hearing university.
I own my own house and two cars.
I am married and have two children.
I cannot count the number of my friends on my fingers and toes, because I don’t have enough fingers and toes.
Some of my friends are Hearing; most are Deaf.
I no longer dread sitting at a table when I am surrounded by people who sign.
With ASL, I feel alone no longer.
This, you call a failure.

by Donald Grushkin

I love that.

Most, no, almost ALL of the Deaf people I've encountered online and in real life, who WEREN'T given ASL as children, consider it a mistake, and had to struggle to learn as teenagers or adults.


I'm a little nerved up about doing this.  Because I do feel so strongly about it, and I don't know if I'm going to face any strong feelings in the opposite direction.  I don't deal with conflict very well.

I'm probably going to fucking cry at some point.

Which is where my dear friend Ryan comes in.

Oh Ryan. That is very sweet of you.  But just so you know; the though of you nekkid will do precious little to calm me, or any female, down. 

Oh fuck it.  Let's go. You're coming with me.

See what else Ryan is up to in the Special Needs community with Sunday and the gang.

I Wouldn't REALLY Kill A Puppy.

So. I gave in and joined Pinterest. Just to see what all the fuss is about.

How annoyed was I when I received the RULES and saw that they include NO NUDITY?

Hipsters are no fun.

But.  I couldn't wait to pin this:

*******

Speaking of old ladies.

My friend and co-worker loaned her Kindle to an eighty-something year old lady at work, because she wanted to read The Hunger Games.

Old lady had lost her page and when I went to help her find her place, I saw something curious on the home page list of books;

'50 Shades of Grey'

Which is absolute filth. Smut even.  Like smutty smut.  I know. I've read it.

I gasped and texted friend immediately, wondering how I didn't know what a dirty dirty girl she is.

She isn't.

She didn't buy the book.

The old lady did.

*******

Speaking of dirty thoughts:




I'd kill a puppy if I could be that banjo for 5 minutes.

*******

Speaking of killing things, and hotness:

She's silly hot.

I'm waiting to see The Hunger Games until this Sunday.  I don't do crowds, and there's a theater near here that serves food and alcohol while you enjoy the movie.

And I have a pregnant sister to drive my drunk ass home.

*******

Speaking of silliness.

While Owen was perusing the interwebs, he found the trailer for the new Spiderman movie.

And he commenced a little Owen-style freak out, involving plenty of self talk about the characters in the movie all being played by different actors.

"Look.  He different. They all different ok?  Don't get worried."

I can't stand the cuteness with the asking himself questions and then answering them, and telling himself not to worry.

Ack.

After we put him to bed last night, we were treated to even more self talk;

"Wednesday finish, Thursday finish, Friday finish, then it will be Saturday.  Then I will be 9.  Daddy take Bea to swim lesson finish. Come home and it will be my party. With my friends.  I will show them my DS and they will give me Dr. Suess books."

Seriously.  I wrote that shit down.

It really is his birthday Saturday.  And we're really having his party here. 10 kids, 6 of them Deaf.  Decorating of aprons, making of pizzas, whacking of pinata.

Speaking of needing to buy a case of wine...

Special Needs *snarky* Ryan Gosling.

I just love me some snarky Ryan:

Oh Ryan.  You're so bad. You wouldn't really say that.  Would you??

But. I understand. One can only answer that question so many times before one thinks things like this.

Visit Sunday and the gang for more Special Needs Ryan.

Hope.Less.

As Owen's birthday approaches, I prepare to indulge myself in the annual emotional clusterfuck that the day, and following weeks, always bring.

I stumbled upon the Remebered prompt today while sitting in Panera killing Bea's preschool hours.




The prompt was Hope.

Before I knew it?

This happened.


*******

His birth had rendered us homeless, jobless, childless. Helpless  loved ones made valiant efforts at comfort;

"He'll be OK."

In a quiet corner of my mind, where I lay curled up and quivering I screamed back;
"NO! He most certainly will NOT be OK."

I understood what was being offered. And refused to accept it.  It was a lie.

His surgeon, offered only truth;

Bleeding on the brain, seizures, kidney failure, heart failure, respiratory failure.

He wouldn't be leaving the hospital. That was the truth I believed.

I steeled myself.  Turned to stone. Waited.

Since the day he was born,  I'd slept with the phone clutched in my fist. When it rang at 5am, I knew.  It was time.

A hug from my sister in law as we left for the hospital, she knew;

"I'm so sorry."

"Me too."

Eerily calm on the half hour ride in.  Relief that it was going to be over soon.

The ICU that had become our home had been transformed into a battle ground;

Doctors and nurses and all manner of support staff buzzing around, turning our little cubicle into a makeshift OR.

Yes. We'll take one last look at him.

Al sitting on my left as the surgeon came into the conference room and sat facing us;

"He's going where no baby has gone before."  A second round of ECMO is rarely attempted, rarely survived.

"The transplant team is waiting by the phone."  Should Owen need new lungs.

"I've never saved a CDH baby with a lung transplant."  These babies don't live long enough to receive them.

"No matter what happens, we are learning things from your son that will help other CDH babies."

Specific instructions were given when the expected did happen.

Because if out of the ruins of our baby, some piece could be salvaged to live on in another child?

That was my only hope for survival.

Special Needs Ryan Gosling #3

Sunday and Friends are at it again.  It's Special Needs Ryan time.

Poor Ryan.

Do pop over to Sunday's place and check out more of our hot friend.

Kindergarten Registration + Wine.

Somehow,  I have managed to keep Bea alive long enough to register her for Kindergarten.

The horror.

I actually managed to gather up the appropriate materials, and arrive at the school during the allotted registration time.

Apparently, a bank statement, telephone bill, and electric bill are not enough to prove residency.  I was rightfully scolded and will bring yet another form of proof that I live a mile from the school this week.

I don't know why I was surprised, and by surprised I mean annoyed, by the various questionnaires I had to fill out in regards to Bea, her development, health, and social prowess.

How badly did I want to answer like so:

At what age did your child sit without support?

You expect me to remember that shit?  Fuck.  I had me a normal baby with no tubes, no scars, no fancy diagnoses, and ears that worked.  You think I gave a shit when she could sit by herself?  'Cause I didn't.

At what age did your child use single words with meaning?

She was SIGNING at 9 months old. 

Suck it.

At what age did your child walk without help?

OK fine.  She was eighteen months old.  She didn't freaking crawl 'til she was a year old.  We're a lazy bunch I tell you. But I totally lied to her pediatrician and had her meeting all those stupid milestones exactly on time, so on paper she's perfectly normal. 

We're all about normal up in here.

Has your child had tantrums?  If yes, how do you manage your child on these occasions?

Oh.  I'm sorry.  I was under the impression that you'd encountered a human child before. 

Have there been any significant or upsetting events in your child's life?

I'm her mother.

Her brother is Owen.

That is all.

What are your expectations for your child's kindergarten experience?


Not shelling out a car payment every month for the hoity toity hippie preschool that charges full price even if school is only held twice in a month.

Not driving that half hour to and from said preschool three days a week.

Seeing that glorious yellow bus arrive at the end of the road to take my beloved child away from me for three wonderful hours, five lovely days a week.

What would be your child's ideal learning environment?

Oooh!!  We get to choose?  Fun!!!

Alrighty then. 

She wants a fairy princess mermaid teacher who sets all lessons to music played by dancing unicorns.

She would like daily glitter sprinkle parties and a handful of lollipops for every task she completes.

Recess should be held in the enchanted forest where she will become bestest friends with all the woodland creatures and certainly be allowed to bring home a baby deer to love and keep forever and ever.

She's gonna fucking LOVE kindergarten!!

Special Needs Ryan Gosling #2

Joining Sunday and Friends, and most importantly Ryan again this week.

There seems to be no end to his kindness, empathy, and most importantly, his hotness.

Click here to read about The Time I Called A Hearing Kid A VERY Bad Word.

And then go visit more Special Needs Ryan.  He'd really appreciate it.

Late To The Party

*******

Saturday morning, early, before I'd been sufficiently caffeinated, Owen runs up to me and taps me on the shoulder;

"Mom!!!"

"flmflfmlemlemlgmmmlg"

"Mom!!"

He clearly has some important revelation to bestow upon me.

"Ummmm.... yeah?"

"When I will take my hearing aids off?  I will be Deaf!!"

"Newsflash!!"

"Huh?"

*******

Saturday morning, post caffeination, I take the kids to swim lesson.  We're early, and there's an unfamiliar family waiting.

Instructor Lisa arrives and with a gasp and hand over her mouth. I know. She'd double booked the time slot.

Her co-worker Ginny (whom we see every week and always comments on how cute Bea and Owen are; which Al insists is code for "Your husband is hot") happens to have a cancellation at that exact moment.  And because we're just so easy going, agree to give Ginny a try.

How did we not know, in the six months we've been going to the pool, that Ginny knows sign language?

She's awesome and the kids have a great lesson.  But  signing skills aside, Owen is near tears as we leave;

"Can we have Lisa next week?"


*******

So, you know that Owen was tube fed for seven years right?  Well, you do now.

After years of not eating any food at all, then being coaxed into tolerating stuff in his mouth, and add to it the fact that his mother is one of the pickiest eaters on the planet, one would expect him to have some aversions when it comes to food.

One would be wrong.

He'll try anything.

This past weekend?  After a trip to Trader Joe's?  He tried and liked, no, loved;

Mushroom Ravioli. *blech* Three plate's full.
Lobster Ravioli.  *gag*  Ate the whole bag.
Seafood Stew. *barf* Wouldn't share with Daddy.
Shrimp Corn Dogs. *really?* Ate all six.

He also loves Brussel Sprouts, Asparagus, Broccoli, Green Beans, Cauliflower...it's not worth going on.

The kid will eat anything.

So. When this came home from school yesterday?  I couldn't think of a better formerly tube fed Deaf kid profession:

"I gonna be a seafood chef."

*******

I'm so pissed at how late I arrived to this party, as the second season is only available online until tomorrow, and I still have two episodes of the first season to go: (ETA! Second Season available on iTunes! $2.99 a pop!  A deal I tell you!!)

Last night at work, I questioned a British resident of mine;  Has she seen the show?  Does she like it?

Does she ever.  We proceeded to have the girliest chat regarding the hotness of Matthew:

Quite hot indeed.

The evilness and hotness, and gayness! of Thomas:

Indeed with the hotness and the gayness.

And *sigh* Lord  Grantham

I daresay quite the sexy beast.



As Al is working late, I'm off to take advantage of the alone time and drink lots of wine whilst I  gobble up those last two episodes.

ETA:  Bates!  Cannot believe I left out this adorable nugget.

Special Needs Ryan Gosling

So, Sunday over at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood has been serving up my favorite eye candy for a few weeks.  And as if Mr. Gosling weren't perfect enough already, it appears he's taken a special interest in special needs children.


She's invited us all to play along.


 


How could I resist?