Silver Linings

There is so much going on and most of it is too personal to put in a blog, so that's why I haven't had the energy to get on here. Mostly it involves my husband, so it's not my story to tell.

But despite all of that, there is some great stuff in the world. For instance, my granddaughter. Isn't she a cutie pie? She's the one on the left. This was taken by her other grandma at a concert in Bakersfield, CA.




Also, we adopted a cat. The Boy named her Sparta after some cat he watches on YouTube. She is the most affectionate cat I've ever seen. She has a wonderful personality and has claimed The Boy as her own personal cuddle partner. That just makes him happy. The Boy has taken a gazillion and three pictures of her, but they are downloaded onto another computer, so I'll have to post those later.

Today I took The Boy to get an eye exam. He doesn't need glasses yet, but he is far sighted in both eyes and has an astigmatism in the right eye, so eventually he will need specs. They took pictures of his retina, so that was pretty cool. The eye doc was very patient in showing The Boy the pics on the computer and explaining the optic nerve and blood vessels. He even showed The Boy other people's eye pictures to show how the eye changes as we age. That doctor has the soul of a teacher. There are still good people in the world.

Tomorrow I'm going to Six Flags with my two sons. My older son works there, so he will know his way around the park and can get me in as his guest. The Boy is getting in with a ticket he got for reading a certain number of books. So other than food and gas, this is practically free.

Ka-ching, Ka-choke

1. Yesterday I went to Wal Mart to buy a watch battery. There was no one behind the jewelry counter, so I had someone paged to come and help me....... three times. No one ever showed up and I left mad. Was there NO ONE in the store who was authorized to sell me a battery? Very strange. Usually they want my money.

2. I need a wiper for the rear window of my Mariner. The blade is 10 inches. I have checked multiple stores and have not found a 10 inch blade. The people at Auto Zone yesterday were very helpful. The guy talked to me about wiper blades and explained why the one I was trying to buy wouldn't work. Apparently I can only get the exact one I need from the dealership. Even though the Auto Zone guy was 100 times nicer than the people at Wal Mart, he still wouldn't take my money.

I'm starting to get a complex. What's wrong with my money? Is my money the kid on the playground that no one will play with? Will my money be forever left out of all the reindeer games? Poor thing. I'm just going to cuddle it and comfort it and let it know how much I love it. I'm guessing my noney just doesn't fit in because its so much smaller than all the others.

Hanging in There

Well, most of you know that it's been a pretty crappy couple of weeks. Mister and I are having some issues and that's pretty rough by itself.

But Monday my dog, Scully, collapsed. She couldn't get up or move her back end at all. She couldn't even feel it when we tried to move her back legs for her. I gave her till Wednesday to show any sign of improvement, but she just got worse. Wednesday morning we went to see the vet and I had Scully put down. She was dying slowly anyway. At least this way I got to choose the time and place so that she left the world in the midst of hugs and kisses and ear scratches rather than alone in the night or while I was at work.

My dad used to spoil her rotten when he would come to visit, so I figure she ran on ahead to see if he has anything good to eat that he's going to sneak to her till I get there and tell him to quit it. If you get to Heaven before me, DO NOT tell my dad that I stopped at Wendy's on the way to the vet and bought Scully a sausage patty. I didn't let her have people food, but that morning I figured, 'What the hell. She might as well die with the taste of sausage in her mouth.' She enjoyed it, but if my dad knew, he'd decide that gives him permission to give her all the potato chips that she can eat. And I know he won't be cleaning up the mess. They'll just save it for me.

Judgement Day

Here's a conundrum for you. If you love someone and want what you believe is best for that person, then is it love or control when you make choices for them with which they disagree?

I work with people who have disabilities. They are not angelic innocents. Most of them are just like you everyone else. They drink, smoke, have sex, complain about politics, and generally have -GOSH NO- opinions.

So if you have an 80-something set of parents who live frugally, believe in hard work and responsibility, and trim their front yard on their hands and knees with scissors, what does that make life like for their adult children who have disabilities? These are the parents who FOUGHT to create the service systems for their children that I take for granted. These are the parents who were told in the 50s that they need to send their small children to institutions and they said, HELL NO. These are the parents who wrote letters, served on committees, got out the vote, and MADE the system for which I work.

And now they have children who are in their 50s. These are adult children that can bake a cake from scratch, but aren't allowed to take their medication independently because they might measure wrong. These are adult children who can ride a lawn mower all over town, but aren't allowed to learn to drive. These are adult children who argue with me about politics, but aren't allowed to vote. There is a fine line between protecting your child and holding them back. If I go outside in the winter without my gloves, my hands get cold and I learn not to forget my gloves. If they go outside without their gloves, someone will be assigned to hand them their gloves and check off that they were given the gloves to wear. I see the point. I understand that if you are unable to meet your own health and safety needs, someone needs to be responsible for keeping you safe. But when does a mistake turn into restriction? Where is that line? And who am I to question an 82 year old mom who forged a trail through the wilds that has become my super highway?

I'll do the best I can to advocate for people, but at the end of the day, I go home. The parents to which I refer never get a break. They live day to day the moral dilemmas that I leave at the office. So here's to them. And here's to their children who grew up protected and still find ways to live life to the fullest.

A Hot Time on the Old Town Tonight

Tonight I am blogging to you from the Q. It's a hotel in Westport. I came here for a People First steering committee meeting with my friends, Melanie and Sheila. They are completely wild. I can barely keep them contained. Of course, they're reading over my shoulder and they think I'M the wild one. Can you imagine?

Anyway, we're doing good here. They're trying to sneak away and leave me, but I keep catching them. They say they're going to go somewhere really fun when I'm not looking. That's fine, but I'm not bailing them out of jail.

Angels and Demons

Chickie, my 24 y/o daughter, was the perfect baby. She never cried. She had a wide eyed curiosity and the firm conviction that anyone in her immediate vicinity must surely adore her. She never met a stranger and giggled for anyone that paid her attention. She was beautiful with huge blue eyes and golden curls. She was an absolute ANGEL.

Buddy, my 22 y/o son, was a demon child. He was born crying and didn't stop till he was about three. In retrospect, I'm sure he had reflux, but that kind of thing didn't get diagnosed in babies back then. The pediatrician just told me he was colicky. He was ill tempered, aggressive, and hostile. I adored him, but it was hard to find a babysitter or anyone else to watch him. Of course, he made up for it later by being so darned charming, but the early years were ROUGH.

So, if there were balance in the universe, Chickie would have angel children and Buddy would get a taste of his own medicine.

Two years ago Chickie had a little girl who is sweet, loving, active, curious, and adored. So far this balance thing is working out. But Wednesday I went to the doctor with Chickie for her ob check up. It took a while to find her son's heart beat because he was moving around so much. He kicks her really hard in the back whenever she tries to rest. At 29 weeks he's still in the breach position and may turn out to have a difficult birth. He isn't even here yet and already he's a wild man. Oh no. Uncle Buddy better practice babysitting.

A Thousand Pardons

No, I didn't burp a thousand times. I'm just letting you all know that I'm sorry I haven't been around. My internet was down for a couple of days for want of a modem power cord. And on that apologetic note, I'm going to bed. I have a long day of driving tomorrow because I'm going with Chickie to her doctor appointment. Just another couple of months and I'll get to hold my grandson!