Tuesday, July 31, 2007

"Weird"

LMNOB has been increasingly more resistant to working with the sensory diet in the last month.

At the first part of July, BT the OT (who, btw, is AWESOME, in case I haven't already said so - LOVE her!) sent us home with a weighted vest for a trial period. LMNOB liked it so well that she would put it on in the morning and wear it nearly all day, come home and be so organized and integrated that she didn't feel like she needed a sensory activity. And, because her behavior was "on" we agreed.

Last week, we gave the vest back to BT the OT - and noticed that LMNOB was still hesitant to perform her sensory activities. Suddenly, the heavy ball "didn't feel so good," and the trampoline was "too hard." Moreover, the nighttime regulation and morning routines were more like the battles royales that they had been before.

Today, having veered off the sensory diet for some time and seeing differences that I'd rather not, I was firm about doing sensory activities. This morning, we did wheelbarrow walking and blanket roll-ups before getting ready for daycare. Tonight, LMNOB was OFFoffofff. No listening what.so.ever, deliberate misbehavior, and tantrums at the drop of the hat. She lost computer privileges as a result, and when I informed her as such, all hell began to familiarly break loose. It'd been quite some time since our last super fit, and while this one was no where near the duration of past fits, it was still that freaking intense mode that gets me lathered every single time.

I told her to get dressed after the bath, and you'd have thought I'd told her to go jump in an acid bath at the scope of her distress. I ordered her to get dressed and that I would be up with the yoga mat and the heavy ball, to which she went into a sobbing song and dance about how this was "too hard," and then she said what she'd been hinting at for weeks.

"I don't like doing sensory things because they're WEIRD!"

Wait a minute...stop the presses....

LMNOB, what do you mean?

"No one else does it, mama. I mean, sometimes at daycare the kids do sensory things with me, but at school and stuff - no one else does it! And, besides, it makes me feel WEIRD"

She complained about the heavy ball and how it didn't feel good anymore, how it wasn't the right feeling. And, pant, pant - because she was completely riled up, NOTHING WOULD EVER FEEL RIGHT!

I began to doubt. I recalled the joker who recently debated Lucy Miller. I wondered if we were chasing the wrong monkey. Did LMNOB fit in the SID (SPD) box, or did we customize the box to fit her??

But then, I remembered. I remembered the unspoken things she told me in June. I remembered BT the OT's recent warnings that this very thing would eventually happen.

No...this is it. She is just extremely smart and sensitive to all things emotional, and why would she not use this, seemingly to her advantage in her mind? After all, if she could convince me that she was ok, then we wouldn't insist upon sensory activities, right?

Well, no, LMNOB - Mama's smart and sensitive too.

So I turned on some classical music. Told her to just lay down and calm thyself. I pulled out her surgical brush and rubbed her body with the spongey side, per her preference. I then got lotion and rubbed all over her body, followed by mild joint compressions.

The result was a mild, more organized LMNOB. We read a book, put her to bed, with her rice bag/lap pad over her.

I wish that were the end of story, but it wasn't. Charlie Brown had to intervene in the fits of "I want my Mommy" that ensued, finally getting her to bed, two tries later.

It's always something....

She's only 6, and yet...

Her sassy mouth would be proudly claimed by any teen.

Last night at dinner, LMNOB proclaimed, “Mama, you would have had SO much more fun on the boat with us this weekend than listenin’ to some old guy sayin’ ‘blah, blah, blah…’”

Yes, I knew that they went on a boating excursion with Charlie Brown’s boss. Yes, I approved, despite earlier boat turbulence at Casa del Meyer, because honestly, what else was he going to do with them the SECOND.WEEKEND.IN.A.ROW.WITHOUT.ME??

Up went my eyebrows as I glanced over to Charlie Brown, eyes asking, “WTH did you say in her presence?”

Keep in mind that was a non-verbal communication.

He shrugged and said, “I don’t know where she came up with that – I didn’t say a w.o.r.d! I! promise!”

It was funny.

Hella funny.

But damn if I’m not doomed for the future.

Test

Testing, testing, testing…

Making sure that e-mail publishing will work.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

I Promise..........

I really do not let my children watch all that much TV.

You would never know it by my daughter, though.

LMNOB has been a marketer's dream baby since she was able to talk; if she heard an ad, it was instantly stored in her memory bank for the next, oh, 100 years! and then parroted at random until I or Charlie Brown caved and bought. the. damned. toy. hoping it would end the madness of relentless ad repeating.

My favorite one was after a spill of Gatorade, or something equally colorful, on our carpet and she, quite seriously, told me, "Mama, you need some of the new formula OxiClean it will lift that stain off without scrubbing in no time!"

The other day, at daycare, the younger kids flip-flopped eating habits with the older kids, finishing first. M said, "Wow, you guys are trading spaces with your eating today."

Without missing a beat, LMNOB says, "I also like What Not to Wear and Wife Swap."

Again, I swear, my kids do not sit around the tube all day...

Thursday, July 26, 2007

I'm in!

I received my BlogHer Ad Network code today....

Soon ads will be showing in the top right sidebar.

I'm excited!

Round 2

Back to the Big D tomorrow.

The last weekend of paradigm shifting.

Next week is finals for my citizen participation class, and then.......

2 glorious weeks of school free time!

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

City of Angels

Lately, as my worldview has leaned further and further to the left, I have been feeling a bit of guilt about what implications these leanings have toward my own Christian faith. Biblically, I feel confident in the “God gives people choices, so we should let the government give people choices” conclusions I have drawn, but then the whole element of evangelism comes in and I’m shaking in my boots. It’s not that I am ashamed of my Lord and Savior, but I would just rather people fall in love with Him in a way in which they see Him, are attracted, and decide to pursue Him; not in a series of ambushed blind dates forced upon them by a friend who "just knows they'd be perfect together!" – you know? Then there’s judgment. Judgment is an activity associated with religious-types that I really would just as soon abstain from for personal reasons as well as deep spiritual convictions. Add to it the [fundamentalist] Christian version of the Mommy Wars, and wow – I just don’t stack up.

Increasingly, because of the above reluctances, I’ve recently found myself wondering if I am a lukewarm Christian, the type that God would prefer a non-believer to. I've been wondering if my increasing liberality is a sign that I'm losing my Christian distinction and blending in with the "world." I’ve been wondering if the MPA really is a direction He would have me go in, or if it was just my own selfish ambition...

This past weekend, after one Friday evening and a full day Saturday of being sequestered in an interior (read: NO windows. NONE) classroom pumped full of stale, albeit cool air, listening to rather abstract theories (which, remember, theories are only potentially reality, and not necessarily the real deal) of academia as they pertain to the third, or non-profit, sector, I was ready for a bit of “real-life” reality on Sunday morning. We’d decided to reconvene the class at noon, but I felt like I could get more work done at a café than at my hotel, so I checked out of my room and headed to LoDo.

Being broke as a joke, and knowing that we were working thru lunch Sunday, I had bought some filling staples (read: cheap, totally filler food) the night before to bring with me. I did not need a WHOLE bag of bagels, nor the entire cluster of bananas, nor the complete box of fruit leathers, but being that the interior of my car would reach well over 100 degrees in the sultry climate of exposed asphalt, I brought ALL of it with me. I didn’t want to walk around LoDo with this ginormous grocer’s sack AND my laptop/book bag that was weighing me down – so I thought I would see if I could get into the university building and put my food in the breakroom. Which would have been fine, except, the doors were locked and my id card had not been activated as a door key when I’d gotten it Friday. So, I took my plastic bag and stuffed it behind the newspaper machines, thinking that if it was gone when I got back, someone obviously needed it worse than I did.

I walked downtown to find a café. It was a bit strange hearing the church bells chime and not being at worship on the Lord's day. But I rested assured in the fact that He would bring Himself to me and all would be well. I found a popular chain café, grabbed a java, and set about to work. After an hour and a half or so I was done and I started to walk back to the university building.

It was then that I saw Him.

I thanked the Lord for showing Himself to me, as I walked past the homeless man who’d just scored the remnants of a to-go box out of the trash. I hurried past him returning to my plastic bag of goodies, saw it was still there, grabbed it and started back toward the man.

When I stopped at the bench on the sidewalk where he sat, he looked puzzled, his face begging the question, “Didn’t you just walk past me?”“How’s it going?” I asked him with a smile.

He looked up skeptical, but overall in good spirits. “Good, how ‘bout yourself?”

“Good. Hey, you’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I just last night bought a bunch of snacky-type food that I really only need a little of – and when I walked by you the first time, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps I could share my extras with you. Could you use some bagels and whatnot?”

His face lit up – sure, he said, he could use all the help he could get. However, he told me, he only had room for some, not all of what I was planning on giving him. It is always so poignant to me when those in need reveal that they haven’t lost all of their need for human dignity, despite primal survival instincts.

We sat and talked, with no strings attached to case management or service plans, for a good 45 minutes on that bench. Passersby stared at us, this unlikely pairing of a grubby old chronic and a young professional woman, neatly done up for the day.

His name was Rick. He was a vet who had fallen in love with the rich culture of the “old world,” while stationed overseas, and felt that we Americans had no culture in the arena of art or history, and what we did have was being replaced with TV, technology and rampant materialism. Somewhere along the conversation, he asked me why I was “bothering” with him. I told him I used to work with the homeless in Fort Collins, but that I was out of the “business” nowadays. I told him I missed the contact. He asked me if I ever read “this guy,” as he flashed a Stephen King novel at me. I nodded, saying not in a long while, alluding to the demands of work, family and my schooling. He asked about my program, and I took the time to explain to him how important it was for me to be able to provide a voice for the needy and disadvantaged to our governments, at all levels – local, state, and federal. We talked about the history of medicine; how in the middle ages the Church forbade anatomical exploration, and how that really held up the progress of the science.

In short, our conversation was highly enjoyable, intelligent discourse covering a vast array of topics. Rick asked my name, and I told him, saying, “I don’t know that we’ll ever meet again, but it does feel good to know a person’s name, huh?” He agreed, saying perhaps we would meet again, that we “never know.” He thanked me for the food, which had ended up being 2 bagels, 2 bananas and several of the fruit leathers. As I looked at my watch, it was approaching 10:00 – the time that my professor had said he would be arriving to open the classroom up. I bid Rick adieu, shook his hand unabashedly, and headed down to the university.

Who knows why Rick has been as homeless as long as he has. I mean, I know all of the risks and contributing factors, but which ones fit him particularly? From our time-encapsulated encounter, I can deduce that he is an intelligent guy and mild mannered; also, a person who does not get a lot of human touch, attention, or kindness. He may have made some deliberate choices that led to this life, or he may not have made any choices and just been the victim of some seriously hard knocks on this earth. Most likely, his reality had come about from possibilities in the middle of these two scenarios. But, as my ponderings meandered through my head, I thought, “Doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t matter.”

The Lord said the Father would welcome into the Kingdom those who saw Him and acted;

For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.

God's Word doesn't say anything about us asking Him why He was hungry or in jail; later determining if He would be a worthy Recipient of our resources. Nor does it say a word about best practices and/or the safety of inviting a stranger into our home. He just says that we whom He loves will do these things.

I glanced heavenward in gratitude as a familiar song crept into my heart:

What if he's an angel sent here from Heaven
And he's makin' certain that you're doin' your best
To take the time to help one another?
Brother, are you gonna pass that test?



I have no doubt that such tests occur.

I also have no doubt in my mind that God Himself doesn’t have to bother with such tests, because He already knows our hearts.

But we need them, don’t we? To be aware of just how far from (or close to) the target we’re aiming?

I’m sure glad that He sent me that test as a means to remind me that He knows just where I am, and that despite all my shortcomings, my heart's motivations are spot-on in His Book.

After all, Rick may just be telling people about the 45 minutes he spent with an angel on Sunday morning. God works in mighty and mysterious ways, and I am ever thankful to be a willing vessel for Him.

Monday, July 23, 2007

That was one giant monkey on my back!

Thank God that it is now done!

(Big Research Paper)

uuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Thank you, thank you, thank you....

On the school (which is kicking my a$$) front:

Last week's discussion post earned me a 30/40 (read: a "C," other wise known as the grade of those who champion mediocrity in normal school, but in graduate school we go all kung fu frickin' intellectual elitist and a C is now reserved for those just above pond scum).

My inner voice of reason: Oh hell, Heather, shut up - you always felt that way about a C - it was a travesty if a B dared show up at the end of a semester.

My inner ideals:
Oh you shut up - I have so grown up a bit and am ok with a grade below an A!

VOR:
Oh yeah??? Then why this post? Because unlike you, I know where you're going with this.

II:
You suck - know it all. Hmmph!

It was my second such grade on discussion posts, bringing my running total to 88.blahblah %. And the thing that kills me? It is all about effort, not my actual level of knowledge. It's the ever elusive element of TIME.

And yes, I do know that no employer will ever care what my GPA was. I do know that I do not have to prove anything to anyone. I know that an A is not the end-all be-all of the world.

But damn how I want it!

And so the gratitude of this post....my most recent discussion post got a PERFECT! 40/40! bringing my grade up to just shy of 90%.

I will get that A. Oh yes....she will be mine.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Going to the Big D for the weekend

Denver that is.

To learn me lots of stuff and catch up with an old friend.

Sans Charlie Brown.

Sans kids.

I am looking forward to it and the work I will get done on the big research paper (due Monday).

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Women are Always in Basic Training

For the Mommy Wars.

And this basic training doesn't necessarily have to be on the SAHM v WOHM battle, either. It goes much deeper than that, essentially pitting women against women with prejudiced and smug proclamations to the tune of "Well I would never..." or expressions of indignation over the [in]actions of "those moms."

Like the millitary's basic trainings, the basic training we receive to honorably fight for our positions in the Mommy Wars reeks of brain washing; brain washing we have received from the explicit and implicit nuances of our well-intentioned families of origin, all-knowing churches, keeping-up-with-the-pack neighborhood trends, etc. We internalize these ideals to the point that women attack other women in the Mommy Wars with surprising stealth, almost as if we didn't actually know what we were saying.

For instance, Mir recently wrote about one of these covert attacks of ideals perpetuating this battle among women:


“Oh, well, I made a decision, you know, that I wasn’t going to be one of THOSE women,” she laughed. “You know, the ones who say they haven’t showered all week because they can’t manage it. What is that? Life goes on, you know?”....

...And so I listened to these two young women continue talking about how becoming a mother doesn’t have to change anything and I suddenly felt SO OLD and unhip...

...I actually DID manage to shower every day after having a baby, but I also generally spent that shower standing in the water SOBBING, and this conversation made me feel like I had been stupid and weak to find motherhood overwhelming...


It's like we don't even think before we throw a bomb on some other unsuspecting woman.

In my own example, a comment was made last Tuesday night while I was out on a girls’ night with a few women from church and some other ladies who were friends of the girls' night organizer. One lady lady from church who does not yet have children, looks like a model, and is sooooo damned perfect (in that really genuine, I-hate-to-love-her way, not that I’m-so-perfect-and-you’re-not way) was having a side conversation with one of the new ladies about how children are such a blessing. I mean, children are. JUST. preshus, and nothing but precious ALL the time! She told a story of how a co-worker who was struggling with fertility issues and she had one time told off another co-worker (who sounded on par for the role of harried mother)who was less than thrilled with the role strain of motherhood. Perfect 10 continued, saying she just doesn’t “get” how women get caught up in feeling like their kids are burdens to them.

I about bit my tongue off. I remembered the early days with LMNOB - thinking that this was it, I'd just gotten an extremely stubborn and needy child, and how heartbroken I was when we had a Baaaaaaaaaaaaaad day, and now knowing my child has special needs, needs which are a burden greater than those of a "normal" child. I remembered post-partum depression and the exacerbation brought by my errant husband who retreated into himself during the baby years. I thought of women who didn't have quite enough to support their children, and the burden they feel to be the it-girl for their babies. I thought of women who've done everything they could to raise a morally upright individual, only to have their baby grow up to be a delinquent, now awaiting prison.

And, she didn't mean to offend. She was just sayin' but I felt like shouting, "Help, I've been wounded by the enemy party!" as I felt her judgment search me out like a heat seeking missile, only to hit with striking force as her weapon identified me as one of them.


Motherhood is hard, ya'll - and it is full of guilts (burdens) and giggles (blessings) - why do we have to polarize into different camps? I have some satisfaction knowing what lies ahead for her, and all the other parents of the yet unborn...Just wait, it is highly likely they will eat their words some day.

Ever Evolving

I know, I know....

This blog update marks the 4th (?) revamp since I started rambling on and on and on...just over a year ago.

Some would call that fickle.

I like to think that it's evidence that I am evolving into a better blogger...

Which must be true, btw, because BlogHer now thinks I'm good enough for them:

Dear Ramblings of a Redheaded Stepchild,
Congratulations! Your blog has been accepted into the BlogHerAds Network.
Here's how to get started......



Now, I must simply get over the techie retard hump and figure out how to get my ads code activated...

Wish me luck.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Feelin' Sass-ay

Sooooooo....

Charlie Brown and I went out on our anniversary date Saturday night.

And hoooooooooooo-boy, a little anticipation and delayed gratification goes a LLLLLLLLLOOOONNNGGGG way. Long, long way. In a mighty good way.

Suffice to say that we took a hot and steamy trip down memory lane. Mmmmm....

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Having a Good Laugh at Myself

The Brutally Honest Personality Test is pretty dead-on funny - if you have the ability to laugh at yourself. It's basically the Meyers Briggs Type Inventory, and then written in cynical results.

For me, I scored::

Your Score: Sap- ESFJ

70% Extraversion, 40% Intuition, 46% Thinking, 56% Judging



Aww...you know that sensitive mamsy-pansy sap I was talking about earlier? Yeah. Well, someone had to get it and you pulled the short straw. Now pull yourself together, crybaby.

You are quite possible one of the most sensitive people I know and I don't even know you! You care what each and every single person thinks about you. You're the kind of person who sends around a txt to everyone they know saying "i thnk ur prtty. wat do u thnk abt me? rate me frm 1-5."

That's 1 meaning "I hate you" and 5 meaning "You make me vomit when I look at you." You're still crying, aren't you?

Sure. All you want is for someone to appreciate you once in a while. Aww... Boohoo. Hold a pity party sometime. The garden's free. Lots of worms down there. Big ones. Small ones. Squishy ones.

My guess is you don't understand this test one bit. You can't imagine how anyone could be so insulting or why anyone could find it even remotely amusing...STOP THE DAMN WATERWORKS, WOMAN!

Naive is a word that needs to be branded on your forehead... Alright, now I feel bad. Sure, you do have some redeeming factors, just not many. Sorry.

*****************

If you want to learn more about your personality type in a slightly less negative way, check out this.

*****************

The other personality types are as follows...

Loner - Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving
Pushover - Introverted Sensing Feeling Judging
Criminal - Introverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving
Borefest - Introverted Sensing Thinking Judging
Almost Perfect - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving
Freak - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging
Loser - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving
Crackpot - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging
Clown - Extraverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving
Commander - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving
Do Gooder - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Judging
Scumbag - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving
Busybody - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging
Prick - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving
Dictator - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging

Link: The Brutally Honest Personality Test

Friday, July 13, 2007

Summer School Kicks Hammy's B-U-T-T

I'm floundering here.

Barely keeping my head above water with school - at least it feels that way.

My efforts have been PALTRY (read: lame-o) and are not indicative of my personal confidence in knowing the materials.

What this means, folks....

Is that I'm below the 90% cut. Albeit, only by a measely .42% - so with a few more assignments, there is hope for the elusive A.

And if not, I'll just have to live with smug satisfaction that many struggler/slacker students would kill to have my not-really-trying grades.


A B is not for BAD. A B is not for BAD. A B is not for BAD. A B is not for BAD. A B is not for BAD. A B is not for BAD. A B is not for BAD.....

Thursday, July 12, 2007

L'Anniversaire

I have to sometimes feel like the 3+ years of Highschool French was worth something! So what if it is only to have blog titles originale?


Despite my downer post yesterday re: love disillusioned, I have to say that our anniversary was actully quite nice. A little weird, given that we've been on a downward trend for a time now, and I'm currently seeing a therapist out of concern for where we are headed, but it was nice and I am always one for giving credit when/where credit is due, fairest of them all that I strive to be.


Charlie Brown stepped up and acted like the oh-so-sweet-but-at-the-same-time-ornery little smart a$$ I fell in love with, oh, some 12 years ago. (28 - 12 = 16 ... 31 -12 = 19) Good grief but we were kids.


First of all, there were cards. His had a little ditty of a poem about cuddling up with blankets, rocking in chairs, and holding hands - together, and it was sweet. I gave him one with my new favorite quote on it and a long note about where I'm at in my head about us. Then I gave him a sac de l'amour, complete with mood music, and nice things for him and for him to see me in. 'nuf said there...


Then...along the banister, he had these (now, say it everyone, "Awwwww!")Post-it Notes trailing up the stairs. The first said, "9 Steps of Charlie Brown and Heather," and each one had a scrawled summary of the year written on it, for example, Year 2 - Marriage is fun and tough at the same time - You're WHAT?!? Here comes LMNOB. I cried, uh, get real, Heather - BAWLED at the sweetness of the gesture, as well as the honesty on some of the other years.


It continued...more hearts were on the mirror with reasons multiple reasons why he loved me.


My personal favorites, that are share-able, that is ;-) :
  • I'm a pain in your a$$ and you still love me
  • Cuz UR my brown-eyed girl
  • U have GREAT hair


After work, we had Wednesday church, and had a nice time. After church, we played with some wiffle balls and a bat at the park, since baseball is now the official Meyer pasttime. It's Punkinhead's fault - the boy is a prodigy!



Love is a battlefield, and we are (moreover; were at the time of our matrimonial union) young, but the tide is turning, and our relationship, that I just last week deemed likely to forever be a losing endeavor, seems to be heading up.


I mean, c'mon, if the Rockies can sweep both NY teams, well, I guess it is true that all things are possible. Like the Rockies, it appears Charlie Brown and I are on again. I have to remember these things so that I can have faith relative to the events around me, eh?
Oh, and we have a DATE! that Charlie Brown planned All! By! Himself! for Saturday evening, at the Rio. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmargaritas :-) Perhaps we'll get to use the sac de l'amour, n'estce pas? :-D

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Love is a Battlefield

And today, I have been a veteran in the battlefield for 9 years.




You're beggin me to go,
You're makin me stay
Why do you hurt me so bad?
It would help me to know
Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you've had?
Believe me, believe me, I cant tell you why
But I'm trapped by your love, and I'm chained to your side

We are young, heartache to heartache we stand
No promises, no demands
Love is a battlefield

Monday, July 9, 2007

BOAT is a Four-Letter Word at my House

Above and beyond the literal sense of things - c'mon guys and gals!

Details of how "boat" came to be profane and why are still not for public display, but suffice to say, I'd take the "C" word over it in my presence right now.

Yeah, that bad.

So.....Saturday night was Punkinhead's b'day party - because of scheduling and all that jazz. We had a blast.

After everyone had left, save my IL's b/c they were sleeping here, my bro's hung around because C was about to head in to work (night mgr of a Safeway) and well, we really hadn't had much chance to sit and razz each other like siblings do.

So the three of us are all in the kitchen, like old times, and C goes, "So uhm, a boat, is that like the motorcycle?"

Me: "Yup."

C, all the epitome of sibling justice: "So, he gets all these toys, where are your toys?"

Younger Bro, R, all trying to be suave and sarcastically chauvinistic: "She's got two upstairs."

Me and C: "Bwahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah! Bwahahahahahahahahahhaha!"

R is now the shade of Herbal Essences' Radiant Ruby - he meant the kids, not my illicit (and completely hypothetical) stash of sex toys.

We of course knew that, C and I, being masters of instant-and oh-so-cavalier-don't-you-just-wish-you-were-so-funny-burn, but, we've always enjoyed R's knack for being able to foul up a joke such that said joke ends up being on him.

What was going to stop that now?

'twas good times...good times, all that was missing was Kay-Kay.

I'm Officially A Rockin' Girl Blogger


Or at least Niki thinks so!

That was really sweet of her to add to my RockStar delusion, wasn't it?
Her instructions were to nominate 5 other bloggers I know for this award.
One of my faves has already been awarded - Mama P - so does that make her an uber rocker? Or maybe just more widely read than me? Either way, Mama P, you DO rock. Rock on!
Then there is my girl, Princess in Galoshes - how punk is that? Besides her cool moniker/profile pic, her blog has me in stitches every time I read her.
Then there is my lady Liz - whose life mimics my own as we both rock on with higher education after kidlets.
These three and myself are kinda like the local rockers...the next two are the big headliners we open for:
Chris - who's got multiple blogs, the Blogher endorsement, and I still like her, even if she is one of the "popular kids."
And Mir, lovely, pretty Mir, who is also a "popular kid" cuz Blogher said so (and her comments are high DD's - double digits, that is, not big-breasted), but the kind who is so helpful, sweet, and right. She e-mailed me, after I asked her some questions about her own child's experience with Sensory Integration Dysfunction, with some of the most logical and heartfelt feedback, for which I will be forever grateful.
Really, every girl on my blogroll deserves this...but I am at work and illicitly using my technological resources - ciao!

Friday, July 6, 2007

The more things seem to change

The more they stay the same...

Can't say I'm surprised.

But that's about all I can say here.

Thursday, July 5, 2007

Heartsick

This is the third such occurrence in Loveland in 6 months.

I know the homeless man who did it and is in custody. Fairly well.

I'm saddened because it could have been prevented.

I'm worried that he may have been connected to the other two incidents.

I'm worried that those troops coming back to us may face similar fates - he is a Vietnam vet and last night was somewhat tied to his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, completely tied to his substance abuse habits.

So much more to say - but I'm at a loss for expressing it in the right, proper and all encompassing way.

Monday, July 2, 2007

Following through on my promises

Remember this post?
I promised pics from the photo shoot.
I just NOW got them.

Here is the one of Charlie Brown and me in front of the Capitol Building:



And then there are these two head shots for the school magazine, to be published this fall:


I so do not feel like a model now, having seen them.

For my little firecracker...

Happy 4th Birthday, Sparky.

Despite being due at the END of July, it's no wonder that you simply HAD to come out near Independence Day, because you are such a little firecracker in your own right, from your punkin colored head to your explosive, and highly contagious, sense of humor that is always followed by laughter, (I mean seriously, how many 3 yr olds a punny enough to say, while wrapped around a swingset pole, "Look! I'm a POLEr Bear!)to your fiery and stubborn temper. (Hmm, I wonder who you get that from? Pas MOI!!!)

You're a boy, through and through right now, and often I raise my hands in exasperation at the apparent pitfalls of the y chromosome, but usually right about then, you make all that exasperation melt away, with, "Mama, I need a hug," or "Mama, I need a kiss." And it secretly pleases me that you sometimes still slip into your baby language and say "tiss" instead of kiss. Also, I realize that Mamas and little boys have a special bond, and that is what continues the species.

You have inherited Daddy's thrill-seeking ways - much to the horror of my Mommy-hen-wants-to-ALWAYS-keep-the-chicks-safe ways. I told him to stop watching motocross with you when you recently attempted to stand on top of your bike (which also happens to look like a motocross bike) while moving. Just throw some caution in there occasionally, kay? It makes a Mama happy.

You are my sweet boy who is tender with babies, and loving to all. Keep that up.

You still lisp your Rs, but it has evolved from a simple W substitution to a more sophisticated RW combo....Here-wo (Hero) for example.

Happy birthday buddy,
Love,
Mama