Today I was reminded of a story, and decided I'd like to tell it here.
Several years ago, when Angela's dad and I were still married and had all 5 kids living at home, we lived in the tiny town of Lester Prairie, MN, in a huge six bedroom, 100 year old Victorian house that had a small fenced in back yard. We also we had a dog named Agate. (yeah, like the rock.) Agate was a Sheltie who was an absolute sweetheart. We lived in that house for 7 years before buying a 50 year old farmhouse on 10 acres just outside of town.
About 2 weeks after moving into the house, I walked outside one day to find Agate unmoving on the lawn. I went to her and found that she was awake with blinking eyes, but she wasn't able to move. She did thump her tail, but couldn't lift her head. I screamed for my husband to come help me load the dog into the van so I could rush her to the vet.
After examining her we concluded she'd thrown her back out. (I had no idea a dog could do this!) Agate wasn't in the best of shape when we moved. She wasn't really overweight, but she certainly didn't get the amount of exercise a Sheltie needed. Moving to the farm and suddenly giving her all this room to run was a little like plopping me onto a track and saying, "Go! Now! Run 10 miles!"
Agate was put on doggie bed rest and given an anti inflammatory and pain killers. Poor Agate. I felt horrible for doing this to her. Her bed rest was to last 3 whole weeks. The first week she could only go outside when she had to go to the bathroom. The second week she could be outside on leash. The third week she could be outside off leash but only if we were outside with her and not letting her run around too much. But that third week it was hard not to just let her be outside. She hated coming in.
About half way through the week, on a Wednesday afternoon, I had to drive the seven miles to pick up the boys at school. I needed to leave but Agate wouldn't come in. Angela's nurse was due to arrive any minute, so I decided to just leave her outside. After all, it would only be a few minutes that she'd be alone. What could happen? (if you ever have a thought like this, STOP! Don't do it! Phrases like "just one more time." or "What could happen" are known to MAKE things happen!)
I picked up the boys, then stopped at the grocery store to grab some milk. I was gone 30 minutes. I pulled up our sort of long driveway and there was Angela's wagon sitting in the middle of the parking area. I mumbled something about the darned wagon being in my way.
And then we saw her.
I say "we" because all four boys and I saw her at the same time. Draped across one side of the wagon lay Agate.
"Oh my God!" I cried, as I scrambled out of the drivers door, the boys piling out the side. We all stood around the wagon, mortified, sobbing, not really sure what to think. There was our Agate, one whole side (the side that was up) looked like it has been skinned by a skilled butcher. Angela's nurse came outside sobbing. "I found her...at the end of the driveway...she must have tried to follow the van when you left. She was already dead when I found her so I don't think she suffered."
The boys were hysterical, and all scattered different directions. I went to the house to call my husband, "Get home! I don't care how fast you have to drive or what you have to drop to get here, just GET HERE! The boys are hysterical and I need you home." The pressure was one. This was the first pet the boys had ever lost, and I knew how I handled the next few hours would be very important in years to come. How, I didn't know, I just knew it would.
I could hear sobbing coming from an upstairs bedroom. I climbed the stairs to find 13 year old Noah, face down in his pillow. As I rubbed his back and tried to comfort him, something out the window caught my eye. There was dirt flying from the behind the corner of the barn.
I bundled up and went out to find 10 year old Bryon, sobbing and gagging, digging a hole right next to the barn wall. "Bryon honey, you're doing a great thing here, but...well...umm...this probably isn't the best place to bury Agate. If floods here, remember?" (visions of a dogs body working its way out of the ground kept coming to mind.)
"But we have to bury her! She's DEAD!!!! We HAVE TO!!!"
"Yes honey, I know Agate is dead. Dad will be home soon and we'll figure out the best place together, ok?"
"Fine!!!" he hollered, as he threw the shovel into the hole he'd started. "Crap!" I thought to myself. "How did he get that hole so deep so fast? I'll have to remember that next time I need a hole dug and he says he doesn't know how."
It was about that time when I heard a strange noise coming from the garage. I couldn't place what it was, except that I knew for SURE it involved power tools. I raced to the garage to find 13 year old Robbie. Somewhere he'd found a HUGE slab of cement, managing to load it into a wheelbarrow and push it to the garage. In his hand was a drill and he was attempting to carve Agate's headstone. There were chips of cement flying everywhere.
"Robbie..honey...ummmm...this isn't gonna work son."
"Yes it will! YOU don't know! I can do this!!!"
"Robbie..honey...lets go in the house and wait for Dad to come home. He'll help us get everything we need, ok?"
"Fine! I don't care! My dog is GONE. SHE'S GONE!!! Don't you KNOW THAT?"
(Wow...teenagers are very dramatic.)
About that time I realized I hadn't seen Tyler. Where could HE be? I looked everywhere for him and was just headed into the house to call my sister when out by the creek I saw just the top of his hat. The creek is a good 1/4 mile from the house through the field. When I got there he was down in the dry creek bed.
"Whatchya do'in Ty?" I asked?
"Rock hunting. Leave me alone. I'm just looking for rocks."
I thought this was a very clever way to deal with stress. And then I realized what KIND of rocks he was looking for. He was hunting for Agates. My heart ached for him.
Just then my husband came home. We gathered up the boys to figure out where to bury our friend. It was evening now, and very cold and blustery on the Minnesota prairie. My husband and the boys chose a spot out on an open knoll, right at the edge of the field, facing the evening sunset and set to digging. Angela and I watched from the house.
When the hole was about 2 feet deep Dad noticed a problem. Apparently many years before there used to be a driveway in that spot, and it had been paved with red rock. "Dad, you can't stop, it has to be SIX FEET! We can't move it, it has to be RIGHT HERE!" an so he kept digging.
Finally it was time. I bundled Angela in her warmest winter clothes and we joined the funeral procession across the yard. Dad pulling the wagon with Agate's favorite blanket draped over her, the boys following behind one by one, sobbing and sniffing, and me bringing up the rear, carrying a pink snowman named Angela.
As we stood on the windy knoll, Dad started to lower Agates body into the hole, except that this wasn't going very smoothly. The hole wasn't quite wide enough and Agate's stiff legs were in the way. He tried to carefully bend them but they wouldn't bend. He turned to see the faces of all the boys, their tear-stained cheeks bright red from the cold. He looked at me with one of those, "NOW what do I do???? QUICK, save me!" kinds of looks. It was time for a meeting.
He and I stepped to the side. "I could force her legs, but it's going to make a noise. Bring the boys to the house and I'll do it then."
"Yeah right, you think they're going to leave right now? Not on your life. How about if you just stand her up on all 4's?"
"Stand her up in the hole? I don't think it's deep enough to do that."
We walked back over to the grave site. Dad carefully lowered Agate into the hole, standing her upright. Except that her head was bent back so it wasn't going to work. He climbed back out of the hole, hauled Agate out and put her back into the wagon, then started digging again.
Finally the hole was wide enough and deep enough. Agates now frozen body was lowered into the hole, her favorite blanket draped over her. Dad reached up and took the rocks from Tyler, carefully arranging them around the blanket. Then they all looked at me. I guess since my mother is a minister that made me a minister's daughter and the one responsible for saying a prayer for the dog.
"God. Agate was our best friend. She was the best dog ever. She loved Robbie, and Noah, and Bryon, and Tyler and Angela. She loved everyone. Please take care of her for us, and tell her that one day we'll get to run with her again. Amen."
I led the kids into the house while Dad went to work filling in the hole. A few days later a friend made a bone-shaped marker for Agate.
There were a lot of lessons learned that day. Lessons like:
1) always follow doctors orders. If she says bed rest for 3 weeks, she means it!
2) never ever ever say, or even THINK, "Just one more time." or "What could happen?". Just having the thought will MAKE bad things happen.
3) Tweens and teens feel emotion in a very raw sort of way. It's primal. They will also feel it for a very long time.
4) Never try to hand dig a grave in Minnesot in November, and if you do make sure you have the homes abstract on hand so you can go back to be sure you're digging in a good place!
5) Always dig the hole wide enough. Take measurements if you need to!
6) What you say in the prayer is very important to the kids. They will NEVER forget it! Pray from your heart, and remember that God put that creature here for all of you. THANK HIM for giving you the chance to love that pet.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
"I'm not into brown."
So, Angela is going back to wearing glasses. Not a huge surprise. What WAS a huge surprise was what happened when we went to pick out frames. Alright, knowing Angela I guess I shouldn't feel that surprised. Anyway, she wouldn't consider one single pair that I handed her to try on! Nope, she kept picking out these god-awful colored frames. I kept handing her more neutral frames with flesh-like tones, to which she'd say, "Mmmm I'm not into brown. Hmmmm I'm not into silver."
Where did "I'm not into..." come from?
Instead of liking what I did she kept pulling out every purple, red, and NEON GREEN frame she could find. There was one style I really liked on her, if only they weren't DARK VIOLET! I wanted to see the other colors, so the guy ordered the brown ones so I could at least see them before ordering.
We went back today to try on the brown....they are very dark brown. With Angela's dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and dark brown frames....it was just too much brown. That didn't really matter though because Angela isn't "into brown" and only wanted the violet ones. With all the frames I suggested, she'd look in the mirror quickly, then put the violet ones back on and proceed to look at her reflection from all kinds of different angles....sideways left...sideways right...chin down...chin up...magnified...you name it, she tried it. She really enjoyed looking at herself in the mirror with the violet frames. When the sales person or I would say, "Look at mom once." She'd just turn her head, but her eyes stayed glued to the mirror.
I know that this is a game God is playing with me. He knows this particular color is probably one of my least favorite in the entire rainbow. I KNOW that's why He has Angela so attracted to that color. Apparently I'm still getting lessons on how to not give into the control issues I have. I could see Him at work during the whole visit, like he was speaking in my ear saying, "It's not about YOU. It's about HER and what SHE likes. Give it up already!"
GAH!
So we ordered the violet frames. I'm hoping this will mean she actually wears them. In the meantime, I'm now shopping for lots of clothes with a particular shade of violet in them. I'll post a picture when we pick up the glasses at the end of the week.
Speaking of clothes, we're having issues in this area. This issue is called, "I want to choose my own clothes, and you're not going to like what I choose."
Angela has about 15 t-shirts and about 4 pairs of pants. (long story I think I've already told you about.) In the morning she gets in the shower, and I put her clothes for the day on her bed. When she's out of the shower and getting dressed I go get the dogs fed. She ALWAYS comes out wearing different clothes than what I set out. At the very least, a different shirt. Now, one smart thing I did was get rid of all the too-small tpshirts she had. (sometimes I'm slow about this, which causes problems with the favorite shirt that is now too small is still in the drawer.) I've also gotten rid of the really junky shirts, so at least she's choosing shirts that are wearable. But still....purple sparkly capri leggings with an orange shirt and all kinds of colors on the front doesn't look too good. Add red socks and the purply/silver shoes her dad bought her. Nauseating.
I sent a note to school that said, "Angela is now choosing her own clothes" because I don't want to take the blame.
There is a store called Justice for Girls that my friend told me about. It has lots of "Hannah Montana" and "That's So Raven" type of clothing. I want to take Angela there and let her pick out her own outfits. At least then maybe she'll wear something that matches...one can only hope.
I did not have this problem with my boys!
Where did "I'm not into..." come from?
Instead of liking what I did she kept pulling out every purple, red, and NEON GREEN frame she could find. There was one style I really liked on her, if only they weren't DARK VIOLET! I wanted to see the other colors, so the guy ordered the brown ones so I could at least see them before ordering.
We went back today to try on the brown....they are very dark brown. With Angela's dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and dark brown frames....it was just too much brown. That didn't really matter though because Angela isn't "into brown" and only wanted the violet ones. With all the frames I suggested, she'd look in the mirror quickly, then put the violet ones back on and proceed to look at her reflection from all kinds of different angles....sideways left...sideways right...chin down...chin up...magnified...you name it, she tried it. She really enjoyed looking at herself in the mirror with the violet frames. When the sales person or I would say, "Look at mom once." She'd just turn her head, but her eyes stayed glued to the mirror.
I know that this is a game God is playing with me. He knows this particular color is probably one of my least favorite in the entire rainbow. I KNOW that's why He has Angela so attracted to that color. Apparently I'm still getting lessons on how to not give into the control issues I have. I could see Him at work during the whole visit, like he was speaking in my ear saying, "It's not about YOU. It's about HER and what SHE likes. Give it up already!"
GAH!
So we ordered the violet frames. I'm hoping this will mean she actually wears them. In the meantime, I'm now shopping for lots of clothes with a particular shade of violet in them. I'll post a picture when we pick up the glasses at the end of the week.
Speaking of clothes, we're having issues in this area. This issue is called, "I want to choose my own clothes, and you're not going to like what I choose."
Angela has about 15 t-shirts and about 4 pairs of pants. (long story I think I've already told you about.) In the morning she gets in the shower, and I put her clothes for the day on her bed. When she's out of the shower and getting dressed I go get the dogs fed. She ALWAYS comes out wearing different clothes than what I set out. At the very least, a different shirt. Now, one smart thing I did was get rid of all the too-small tpshirts she had. (sometimes I'm slow about this, which causes problems with the favorite shirt that is now too small is still in the drawer.) I've also gotten rid of the really junky shirts, so at least she's choosing shirts that are wearable. But still....purple sparkly capri leggings with an orange shirt and all kinds of colors on the front doesn't look too good. Add red socks and the purply/silver shoes her dad bought her. Nauseating.
I sent a note to school that said, "Angela is now choosing her own clothes" because I don't want to take the blame.
There is a store called Justice for Girls that my friend told me about. It has lots of "Hannah Montana" and "That's So Raven" type of clothing. I want to take Angela there and let her pick out her own outfits. At least then maybe she'll wear something that matches...one can only hope.
I did not have this problem with my boys!
Monday, September 24, 2007
gephyrophobia
gephyrophobia is the fear of bridges.
Many of us here in the cities have a new fear of bridges, developed after the collapse of the 35W bridge two months ago. For those who were on the bridge when it collapsed and lived to tell about it, I can only IMAGINE their fear. Dean and I, along with about 30 other motorcycles belonging to a group we ride with, were just minutes from getting on that bridge to enjoy our Weds. night ride.
A few weeks ago Angela and I were headed downtown to the fair, taking Hwy 52 in St. Paul just downriver (or is it upriver? I'm horrible with direction) from the site of the collapse. It was rush hour and we got stopped at the top of the bridge. I remember looking down and feeling a slight panic running through me. It was similar to what you feel when you get on a carnival ride, suddenly aware of all the nuts and bolts, wonder if those toothless carnie guys really know how to put it together. Anyway, I remember looking down at the water, then at Angela in the rear view mirror, knowing if something happened, there's no way I'd be able to get us out. And remember, I don't swim.
So tonight I'm surfing through the Star Tribune, and run across this article. It's about how the Wakota bridge project will now be delayed due to reconstruction of 35W, etc. The Wakota project has been delayed for quite some time, but one of the reasons is during one inspection it was found to have "numerous hairline cracks in the concrete support sections for the deck."
Umm...HELLO!!!! This is a BRAND NEW bridge, and it has these cracks all over the place? AND...this bridge gets 40,000 cars per day on it. One of them is mine. Ok, I'm not on it EVERY day, but certainly several times per week. Sometimes in my truck, sometimes on my motorcycle. Guess what? I think I don't WANT to drive on that bridge anymore. I can take another route! It's a coupe miles longer, but will still get me where I'm going. Call me irrational, and an alarmist, but guess what! We just found out that big bridges DO indeed collapse! They can come crashing down into a rushing river, or lake, or onto other roads.
Now, I might get over this fear by tomorrow. One just never knows. But for tonight anyway, I'm not driving on that bridge anymore.
Many of us here in the cities have a new fear of bridges, developed after the collapse of the 35W bridge two months ago. For those who were on the bridge when it collapsed and lived to tell about it, I can only IMAGINE their fear. Dean and I, along with about 30 other motorcycles belonging to a group we ride with, were just minutes from getting on that bridge to enjoy our Weds. night ride.
A few weeks ago Angela and I were headed downtown to the fair, taking Hwy 52 in St. Paul just downriver (or is it upriver? I'm horrible with direction) from the site of the collapse. It was rush hour and we got stopped at the top of the bridge. I remember looking down and feeling a slight panic running through me. It was similar to what you feel when you get on a carnival ride, suddenly aware of all the nuts and bolts, wonder if those toothless carnie guys really know how to put it together. Anyway, I remember looking down at the water, then at Angela in the rear view mirror, knowing if something happened, there's no way I'd be able to get us out. And remember, I don't swim.
So tonight I'm surfing through the Star Tribune, and run across this article. It's about how the Wakota bridge project will now be delayed due to reconstruction of 35W, etc. The Wakota project has been delayed for quite some time, but one of the reasons is during one inspection it was found to have "numerous hairline cracks in the concrete support sections for the deck."
Umm...HELLO!!!! This is a BRAND NEW bridge, and it has these cracks all over the place? AND...this bridge gets 40,000 cars per day on it. One of them is mine. Ok, I'm not on it EVERY day, but certainly several times per week. Sometimes in my truck, sometimes on my motorcycle. Guess what? I think I don't WANT to drive on that bridge anymore. I can take another route! It's a coupe miles longer, but will still get me where I'm going. Call me irrational, and an alarmist, but guess what! We just found out that big bridges DO indeed collapse! They can come crashing down into a rushing river, or lake, or onto other roads.
Now, I might get over this fear by tomorrow. One just never knows. But for tonight anyway, I'm not driving on that bridge anymore.
MN Health Care....RANT
Minnesota health care, who made you God? Warning, I woke up with a migraine, and then got this phone call....so I'm CRABBY!!!!
Now, back to insurance companies.....What the HE** are they thinking????
Last week I called the pharmacy to refill one of Angela's meds. This is the medication that keeps all of us in the household safe from Angela's rampages. (at least 90% of the time anyway.) Angela's script is written for (x) mg 3 times daily.
When I picked up the script the pharmacist said there was a problem. The medication with that Angela has been on for a year at the exact same dosage, suddenly the insurance company doesn't like the way the script is written. They don't like that it's 3 x a day. They will only cover if it's written for twice a day.
This irritates the crap out of me. Who the he** is the insurance company to say how a kid takes medication? Isn't that up to DOCTORS???? Now, in reality this is a solvable problem. They want it written for twice a day, so the doctor said she'd write it so the afternoon dose is double, but we'll just split the pill and keep giving to her like we have been. Doesn't seem like that big of a deal, does it?
WRONG!!!! Any other caregivers she has (school nurse, pca, etc) are required to give the medication AS IT'S WRITTEN on the bottle. Angela can't take a DOUBLE DOSE in the afternoon, she'd sleep for 24 hours!!!!
So I called the state Ambudsman, but of course they're not taking calls this week. (how can they not take calls????) and there is a message saying if you're having issues to call the insurance company. So I call the insurance company which has a message saying, "we're experiencing higher than normal call volume. Please call back later." then it disconnects you.
What the &^#@#)$&^S%
What the state of Minnesota doesn't know is how many times I've complimented them on the services we receive. Minnesota has long been known as the "cadillac" in the world of disabilities. It's crap like this that makes me wish I'd never opened my big mouth. We are just one small family of fish in a big huge pond. What are they doing to other families that have much bigger issues than we do? What a CROCK!!!
Now, back to insurance companies.....What the HE** are they thinking????
Last week I called the pharmacy to refill one of Angela's meds. This is the medication that keeps all of us in the household safe from Angela's rampages. (at least 90% of the time anyway.) Angela's script is written for (x) mg 3 times daily.
When I picked up the script the pharmacist said there was a problem. The medication with that Angela has been on for a year at the exact same dosage, suddenly the insurance company doesn't like the way the script is written. They don't like that it's 3 x a day. They will only cover if it's written for twice a day.
This irritates the crap out of me. Who the he** is the insurance company to say how a kid takes medication? Isn't that up to DOCTORS???? Now, in reality this is a solvable problem. They want it written for twice a day, so the doctor said she'd write it so the afternoon dose is double, but we'll just split the pill and keep giving to her like we have been. Doesn't seem like that big of a deal, does it?
WRONG!!!! Any other caregivers she has (school nurse, pca, etc) are required to give the medication AS IT'S WRITTEN on the bottle. Angela can't take a DOUBLE DOSE in the afternoon, she'd sleep for 24 hours!!!!
So I called the state Ambudsman, but of course they're not taking calls this week. (how can they not take calls????) and there is a message saying if you're having issues to call the insurance company. So I call the insurance company which has a message saying, "we're experiencing higher than normal call volume. Please call back later." then it disconnects you.
What the &^#@#)$&^S%
What the state of Minnesota doesn't know is how many times I've complimented them on the services we receive. Minnesota has long been known as the "cadillac" in the world of disabilities. It's crap like this that makes me wish I'd never opened my big mouth. We are just one small family of fish in a big huge pond. What are they doing to other families that have much bigger issues than we do? What a CROCK!!!
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Testing insanity
Clearly Angela needs more physical outlets. She loves swimming, but for now it's only a couple days a week. She's out of school very early cuz she's too tired to make it a whole day. (but then comes home and spends exactly 6 hours driving me insane until bed time) I'd like to put her in something else. She needs something every day of the week, even if it's just to eat up time until bed time! She's in special olympics, but she's not bowling this year, so her next sport (basketball) doesn't start till January or something like that. I think I'm going to enroll her in Karate.
No, really...I think she'd love it! Now, it's very possible that I will regret this decision, but every time one of those flyers come home from school or arrive in the mailbox I think, "I can picture Angela doing this."
And then I think of this young man. His name is Carson, and he's amazing. He also has Down Syndrome! He has a Black Belt in Shotokan Karate. I would love Angela to be that successful in something! If you go to his website, make sure to look around at all his video's. He's something to watch!
I think this could be one of those "sink or swim" kinds of things, but I'm not sure if that's for me or for Angela.
No, really...I think she'd love it! Now, it's very possible that I will regret this decision, but every time one of those flyers come home from school or arrive in the mailbox I think, "I can picture Angela doing this."
And then I think of this young man. His name is Carson, and he's amazing. He also has Down Syndrome! He has a Black Belt in Shotokan Karate. I would love Angela to be that successful in something! If you go to his website, make sure to look around at all his video's. He's something to watch!
I think this could be one of those "sink or swim" kinds of things, but I'm not sure if that's for me or for Angela.
Friday, September 21, 2007
There are days....
*Disclaimer*
I know there are several parents reading here who are brand new to the world of DS. Please know that Angela's behavioral issues are NOT typical of DS. We don't know why Angela's behavior is the way it is, but there is a significant family history of psychiatric and behavioral disorders so it's really not all that surprising. Surprising or not, the combination of that history and DS sucks!
There are days when I just don't get IT! I don't get what the lesson is. Surely there is a lesson in the happenings of the day. If there isn't a lesson, then WHAT'S THE POINT????? What is the POINT of my child's aggression. What is the POINT of the stress and strain? What is the POINT of this day happening in the first place?
UGH!!! Needless to say, I'm at my wits end today. Angela's behavior has been pretty good for the most part for a couple of months. Although whenever we see one doctor in particular she never fails to display her absolute WORST behavior. I'm glad she chooses that doctor in particular because THAT doctor is the one who gets us stuff (read services.)
Today is a day where I watch the clock counting the hours and minutes until bedtime. Angela doesn't sleep very well, so she takes medication to help her sleep at night. She's usually out within about 30-60 minutes of taking it so I know that if I can hold out until 7:00 she'll soon be asleep. I hate that I can't wait for my child to go to sleep. I don't think that's what parenting is about. Yes, we all have our days, but I'm feeling that way EVERY day.
I'm not getting any breaks these days either. I only have a few hours of PCA available, and the couple people I have to do it aren't available when I need them. Time to find more people. In January we'll have a new neuropsychiatric assessment done, which will get us additional hours, making it easier to find a body to do the job. We'll also be able to get an in-home behavioral specialist who will helps us learn how to deal with the issues at hand. Right now I just feel like I'm drowning.
On a good note, so far this year at school she's been a model student. This is a HUGE change from last year when the behavioral specialists were having to follow her around and she couldn't manage staying with one subject or activity longer than 10 minutes. We did find out she HATES Spanish though! Our district started a charter program and her building is Spanish and Science. Yeah...lets work with English first! Anyway, she'll no longer be participating in Spanish. I'm sure the little girl who has been sitting next to her and getting her hair pulled will be thrilled.
If you're a praying person, please pray for God to calm Angela. Please pray for guidance for those of us who have to deal with the behaviors. The guidance could be insight into what's happening in her mind, or just giving us the words to say and actions to do to address each incident.
After the long grueling afternoon of Angela screaming, swearing, kicking, spitting and hitting, she has now isolated herself in her room with a movie. She came out long enough for dinner then headed back. I guess we all need a break.
I know there are several parents reading here who are brand new to the world of DS. Please know that Angela's behavioral issues are NOT typical of DS. We don't know why Angela's behavior is the way it is, but there is a significant family history of psychiatric and behavioral disorders so it's really not all that surprising. Surprising or not, the combination of that history and DS sucks!
There are days when I just don't get IT! I don't get what the lesson is. Surely there is a lesson in the happenings of the day. If there isn't a lesson, then WHAT'S THE POINT????? What is the POINT of my child's aggression. What is the POINT of the stress and strain? What is the POINT of this day happening in the first place?
UGH!!! Needless to say, I'm at my wits end today. Angela's behavior has been pretty good for the most part for a couple of months. Although whenever we see one doctor in particular she never fails to display her absolute WORST behavior. I'm glad she chooses that doctor in particular because THAT doctor is the one who gets us stuff (read services.)
Today is a day where I watch the clock counting the hours and minutes until bedtime. Angela doesn't sleep very well, so she takes medication to help her sleep at night. She's usually out within about 30-60 minutes of taking it so I know that if I can hold out until 7:00 she'll soon be asleep. I hate that I can't wait for my child to go to sleep. I don't think that's what parenting is about. Yes, we all have our days, but I'm feeling that way EVERY day.
I'm not getting any breaks these days either. I only have a few hours of PCA available, and the couple people I have to do it aren't available when I need them. Time to find more people. In January we'll have a new neuropsychiatric assessment done, which will get us additional hours, making it easier to find a body to do the job. We'll also be able to get an in-home behavioral specialist who will helps us learn how to deal with the issues at hand. Right now I just feel like I'm drowning.
On a good note, so far this year at school she's been a model student. This is a HUGE change from last year when the behavioral specialists were having to follow her around and she couldn't manage staying with one subject or activity longer than 10 minutes. We did find out she HATES Spanish though! Our district started a charter program and her building is Spanish and Science. Yeah...lets work with English first! Anyway, she'll no longer be participating in Spanish. I'm sure the little girl who has been sitting next to her and getting her hair pulled will be thrilled.
If you're a praying person, please pray for God to calm Angela. Please pray for guidance for those of us who have to deal with the behaviors. The guidance could be insight into what's happening in her mind, or just giving us the words to say and actions to do to address each incident.
After the long grueling afternoon of Angela screaming, swearing, kicking, spitting and hitting, she has now isolated herself in her room with a movie. She came out long enough for dinner then headed back. I guess we all need a break.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
DOGS!!
Raising dogs is both fun and a lot of work, all at the same time. Our dogs seem to have a busier social calendar than we do. Right now they're rehearsing for their rolls in "Seussical the Musical." Dudley and Zurri are sharing the roll of the Grinch's dog Max. We'll be performing TWELVE performances of this play, which of course is running over the Thanksgiving holiday. My extended family is NOT going to be happy with me. Unless, of course, they want to go watch!
Today was open house at All Breed Obedience where the dogs and I do all our training, and where I also work to train other people's dogs. I mostly do puppy Kindergarten classes, and help teach the level one obedience class. In preparation for a busy weekend Dudley and Zurri got all gussied up. (meaning a bath, nail trim and some shaving here and there) and I got this beautiful picture of Zurri. Isn't she stunning?
And here's an older picture of Dudley. He's just turned 2 years old happens to still be in his summer coat. Here's what he looks like in the winter time with full coat.
Of course we can't forget Rubee. (Dudley's mom) Afterall, there are ultrasound pictures on here, so it wouldn't be fair to leave out her beautiful face. Here she is, waiting for Angela to come home from school. If you'd like to see more of our dogs, visit our website.
Oh, and with our last litter I got some of the most amazing pictures! Here are a couple of them, and our website has LOTS more pictures like this!
Today was open house at All Breed Obedience where the dogs and I do all our training, and where I also work to train other people's dogs. I mostly do puppy Kindergarten classes, and help teach the level one obedience class. In preparation for a busy weekend Dudley and Zurri got all gussied up. (meaning a bath, nail trim and some shaving here and there) and I got this beautiful picture of Zurri. Isn't she stunning?
And here's an older picture of Dudley. He's just turned 2 years old happens to still be in his summer coat. Here's what he looks like in the winter time with full coat.
Of course we can't forget Rubee. (Dudley's mom) Afterall, there are ultrasound pictures on here, so it wouldn't be fair to leave out her beautiful face. Here she is, waiting for Angela to come home from school. If you'd like to see more of our dogs, visit our website.
Oh, and with our last litter I got some of the most amazing pictures! Here are a couple of them, and our website has LOTS more pictures like this!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
My life is distinctly different
Like most people, I have a whole bunch of "me" wrapped up into one package. I'm debating about splitting my blog into a bunch of different blogs. There would a blog for the "not-so-hot-biker-chick" side, and a blog for the "I'm raising a child with disabilities" side, and then the "dog breeder/trainer" side.
I know a lot of people visit my blog to read about my life raising a child who has Down Syndrome. They're usually new parents who are just starting out on their journey and want to see that they CAN do it. When they get here they have to muddle through the other parts of my life.
There are people (usually the families who have bought puppies from us) who come here looking for more of a dog journal, training tips, and stuff like that.
Then there are the other biker chicks who cruise around looking for biker related blogs.
Oh, and there are my grown kids who come here looking to see if I'm talking about them.
Breaking it all up wouldn't be such a bad thing...or would it? If I kept it all together, those new parents of new babies with DS could see that life goes on, DS or not! Those new puppy families can see that it doesn't take ALL of your time to train a dog. That there is still time for other stuff in life too. Those biker chicks could see....what? I dunno, except maybe why I don't have as much time to ride as I'd like? LOL
Most of you who are reading here are regulars. What are your thoughts?
I know a lot of people visit my blog to read about my life raising a child who has Down Syndrome. They're usually new parents who are just starting out on their journey and want to see that they CAN do it. When they get here they have to muddle through the other parts of my life.
There are people (usually the families who have bought puppies from us) who come here looking for more of a dog journal, training tips, and stuff like that.
Then there are the other biker chicks who cruise around looking for biker related blogs.
Oh, and there are my grown kids who come here looking to see if I'm talking about them.
Breaking it all up wouldn't be such a bad thing...or would it? If I kept it all together, those new parents of new babies with DS could see that life goes on, DS or not! Those new puppy families can see that it doesn't take ALL of your time to train a dog. That there is still time for other stuff in life too. Those biker chicks could see....what? I dunno, except maybe why I don't have as much time to ride as I'd like? LOL
Most of you who are reading here are regulars. What are your thoughts?
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Responses to comments
Tonight I received a comment to one of my posts "Surviving Tragedy/Id bracelets"
stating that something I posted was untrue. Since you didn't leave a way to get in touch with you, here is my reply:
First of all, that post was written the morning after the crash. Details were still very sketchy. I learned bits and pieces throught the night and day before. I was emotional, exhausted, and pretty freaked out! The details I did have came from Andy and what he saw/heard that night, (if I remember correctly, everyone showed up to the accident scene intoxicated?) and from the authorities involved in the chase, the clean-up, and the investigation. I think I've now talked with 3 different officers and am waiting for a copy of the police report and investigation results, including the toxicology reports. I've also heard from Tosh's family (his former step-mom, his sister, his brother and his dad.) who, like you and me, were not in that car with Tosh and can only speculate about what was going through his mind at that time. As of a week ago, what they have told me is they have a lot of questions that you have failed to answer for them.
Clearly the two of you had some "issues", and Tosh isn't here to defend himself about them. Really...I don't care to get involved with them either. What interest would I have in your business? To give me details about something he did so that I might see him in a negative light is just plain sick, an very "high school". Have you given the whole story to those who've asked for it? Has that story been jaded in any way? Remember that if it has, it'll eventually come out. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. Maybe not even until you're standing at the gates of heaven waiting for your own judgment to be handed down. When it is....which way do you think God will see things?
I'm sorry that you lost Tosh. From what everyone has told me he seems like he was a wonderful person. Certainly big enough to step up to the plate of responsibility when he had reason to believe he didn't need to. It's very possible you'll never find someone like him again. He could have been your "once in a lifetime" and now he's gone. I've said all along that every person involved that night...be they police officers, family members, witnesses to the actual crash, or innocent victims like my daughter, my ex-husband or myself...all of us have lessons to be learned from that night. Every person involved has "what if's" and "if only's" going through their minds. Those are the things we can learn from. Our job now is to take the lessons learned, and to apply them to our lives from this day forward. God gave us this opportunity for growth, and its up to us to use it. If we don't, eventually he'll stop giving the opportunities.
stating that something I posted was untrue. Since you didn't leave a way to get in touch with you, here is my reply:
First of all, that post was written the morning after the crash. Details were still very sketchy. I learned bits and pieces throught the night and day before. I was emotional, exhausted, and pretty freaked out! The details I did have came from Andy and what he saw/heard that night, (if I remember correctly, everyone showed up to the accident scene intoxicated?) and from the authorities involved in the chase, the clean-up, and the investigation. I think I've now talked with 3 different officers and am waiting for a copy of the police report and investigation results, including the toxicology reports. I've also heard from Tosh's family (his former step-mom, his sister, his brother and his dad.) who, like you and me, were not in that car with Tosh and can only speculate about what was going through his mind at that time. As of a week ago, what they have told me is they have a lot of questions that you have failed to answer for them.
Clearly the two of you had some "issues", and Tosh isn't here to defend himself about them. Really...I don't care to get involved with them either. What interest would I have in your business? To give me details about something he did so that I might see him in a negative light is just plain sick, an very "high school". Have you given the whole story to those who've asked for it? Has that story been jaded in any way? Remember that if it has, it'll eventually come out. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. Maybe not even until you're standing at the gates of heaven waiting for your own judgment to be handed down. When it is....which way do you think God will see things?
I'm sorry that you lost Tosh. From what everyone has told me he seems like he was a wonderful person. Certainly big enough to step up to the plate of responsibility when he had reason to believe he didn't need to. It's very possible you'll never find someone like him again. He could have been your "once in a lifetime" and now he's gone. I've said all along that every person involved that night...be they police officers, family members, witnesses to the actual crash, or innocent victims like my daughter, my ex-husband or myself...all of us have lessons to be learned from that night. Every person involved has "what if's" and "if only's" going through their minds. Those are the things we can learn from. Our job now is to take the lessons learned, and to apply them to our lives from this day forward. God gave us this opportunity for growth, and its up to us to use it. If we don't, eventually he'll stop giving the opportunities.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Look at our surprise!
Here's our ultrasound picture. How many do you see in there? Count the arrows....one....two....three....How cool is that?
Ok, jokes on you. These are ultrasound pics from our dog Rubee who is bred and due October 15th. In dogs, an ultrasound 1) confirms the pregnancy and 2) gives you a minimum count. Today we counted 5, but she was very gassy which usually hides puppies. We will do an xray on day 60 for a final skull count.
Ok, jokes on you. These are ultrasound pics from our dog Rubee who is bred and due October 15th. In dogs, an ultrasound 1) confirms the pregnancy and 2) gives you a minimum count. Today we counted 5, but she was very gassy which usually hides puppies. We will do an xray on day 60 for a final skull count.
Even a "rock" can make progress!
Once, when I was around 8 or so, I was at my grandmother's apartment building. There were two pools there, one indoors and one out. There was a man who lived there that gave swimming lessons to the kids in the building, myself included. Because of my total inability to swim, I was told NEVER to be in the pool area unless there was an adult around. One day I was chasing a cute boy around the grounds, and he darted into the indoor pool area. I came in through a different door and snuck up behind him. As he peered out the glass to see if I was coming, I tapped him on the shoulder, scaring him to death. He turned and by reflex gave me a shove, sending me into the deep end of the pool, and took off out the door. There was nobody around. I don't know know long I was in the water, and I don't remember anything after going in. I just know that I was found in the nick of time because...well...I'm still here! At 40 years old I still don't like water on my face, and have nightmares about my car going underwater and trying to breathe. I do go out in boats, but when we go fast I am constantly envisioning hitting a rock or something then sailing through the air only to land in very cold, very deep water. I am able to swim, but I NEVER go under the water, as doing so sends me into a panic.
So a year ago a friend of mine hooked Angela up with a swimming coach for the summer. Due to summer school interfering with everything else, Angela missed alot of time, as she did this summer as well. Really...she only got 4 or 5 sessions in this summer, three of them being private sessions. These sessions are very difficult for me to watch. The worst part is at the end of a session the get "free play" and can mess around with floaties and stuff. There are lots of adults around, and Coach Keanne is super diligent in watching everyone, but still the entire time I feel on the edge of panic. I've found it's better for me to either not watch AT ALL, or to just plain leave until the lesson is done. The last thing I want is for Angela to pick up on my fear of the water.
The coach is not just any coach. He is the coach for the Special Olympics NATIONAL team, and in a couple weeks will be taking the team to China to compete in the world games. He is an amazing man, donating HUNDREDS of hours of his own time every year. When summer swim was over he invited Angela to "swim" with his team. I was elated.
You see, much like her mother, Angela swims like a rock. Mouth wide open, sinking straight to the bottom. Over the past few weeks Keanne has worked with her ever so slowly, and ever so patiently, on how to kick and how to paddle her arms. (which Angela seems unable to do simultaneously, which is not conducive to staying above the water!) Because of her history of strokes, watching her "kick" is quite interesting, but over the last couple weeks I'm seeing her kick change, and become slightly more efficient. She's also working her arms better as well. But yesterday there was a breakthrough!!!!
We've been talking to Angela constantly about the need to close her mouth in the water. That it's scary when you go under and your mouth fills up and you try to breathe. She just doesn't seem to understand the concept. Yesterday when it was time to get out of the pool, she was in the second lane over and needed to go under a rope in order to get to the ladder. Keanne asked her, "What should we do? How are you going to get to the ladder?"
Angela's eyes got big, and said, "I go under."
So Keane demonstrated. He put both hands on the side of the pool on either side of the rope. He made an exaggerated motion of closing his mouth, then going under the water and under the rope.
Without missing a beat, Angela did it right behind him!!! She came up smiling at me, "See mom? See Dean? I did it! I go under!!!!"
I had to hide my tear so she wouldn't see it.
So a year ago a friend of mine hooked Angela up with a swimming coach for the summer. Due to summer school interfering with everything else, Angela missed alot of time, as she did this summer as well. Really...she only got 4 or 5 sessions in this summer, three of them being private sessions. These sessions are very difficult for me to watch. The worst part is at the end of a session the get "free play" and can mess around with floaties and stuff. There are lots of adults around, and Coach Keanne is super diligent in watching everyone, but still the entire time I feel on the edge of panic. I've found it's better for me to either not watch AT ALL, or to just plain leave until the lesson is done. The last thing I want is for Angela to pick up on my fear of the water.
The coach is not just any coach. He is the coach for the Special Olympics NATIONAL team, and in a couple weeks will be taking the team to China to compete in the world games. He is an amazing man, donating HUNDREDS of hours of his own time every year. When summer swim was over he invited Angela to "swim" with his team. I was elated.
You see, much like her mother, Angela swims like a rock. Mouth wide open, sinking straight to the bottom. Over the past few weeks Keanne has worked with her ever so slowly, and ever so patiently, on how to kick and how to paddle her arms. (which Angela seems unable to do simultaneously, which is not conducive to staying above the water!) Because of her history of strokes, watching her "kick" is quite interesting, but over the last couple weeks I'm seeing her kick change, and become slightly more efficient. She's also working her arms better as well. But yesterday there was a breakthrough!!!!
We've been talking to Angela constantly about the need to close her mouth in the water. That it's scary when you go under and your mouth fills up and you try to breathe. She just doesn't seem to understand the concept. Yesterday when it was time to get out of the pool, she was in the second lane over and needed to go under a rope in order to get to the ladder. Keanne asked her, "What should we do? How are you going to get to the ladder?"
Angela's eyes got big, and said, "I go under."
So Keane demonstrated. He put both hands on the side of the pool on either side of the rope. He made an exaggerated motion of closing his mouth, then going under the water and under the rope.
Without missing a beat, Angela did it right behind him!!! She came up smiling at me, "See mom? See Dean? I did it! I go under!!!!"
I had to hide my tear so she wouldn't see it.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
The Gift of Riding Alone
I actually wrote this Mother's Day weekend, and it was published in the August edition of Biker Alley magazine.
.....................................
Almost a year ago I reached one of my "Before I turn 40" goals. I took a motorcycle safety class and earned my "M" on my driver's license. I think I unconsciously set this goal way back when I was a teenager and I rode behind my mom, but later as an adult and mother of 5 young kids myself it seemed an impossible goal. Then, at age 35, I found myself divorced and with every-other weekend to myself. I started dating again, and one of the "prerequisites" of anyone I dated was that, not only did he need to have a bike himself, but he needed to ride regularly as well. It never occurred to me to get my own!
One of the men I dated had a sport bike (aka crotch rocket) and I found I loved the speed and rush of adrenaline that came with the ride. I even contemplated owning one myself, but our relationship was short-lived and suddenly that particular type of bike didn't seem to fit me anymore. As any adrenaline junkie will tell you though, it's highly addictive. The goal was now firmly etched into my soul.
Then I met Dean. Not only did he ride a Harley, but his entire extended family did as well! Dean and I fit together like a hand and glove. We rode together on his bike like we'd been doing it all our lives. What Dean didn't know was that riding behind him was a woman who was starting to have issues. Control issues, that is.
Like most people, when I'm riding behind, I loose myself to my thoughts. (Ok, I have a tendency to sing because Dean can't hear me!) I can look at the scenery and just enjoy it. Once in awhile we can have a conversation, but usually in broken sentences, or bits and pieces at a stoplight. Mostly though, I'm just by myself on the back of the bike. If I really want to feel "connected" to him, I can put my arms around him, or give him a squeeze with my thighs. Sometimes he might reach back and put his hand on my lower leg (the only part of me he can reach.). Those actions, however simple they may seem, are very meaningful forms of communication when on a bike.
Unfortunately there came a time when I developed awareness for other things around us. I've always had a watchful eye for hazards when on the back of the bike, but it's not been 100% up to me, so I could slack off now and then. But one day, out of the blue, I became very nervous. It was like somewhere deep within me a switch was flipped, causing me to be hyper aware of everything. Does he see that car? That pothole? That gravel on the inside of the corner? How good is he at quick stops? My ears became aware of his shifting, both up and down, which meant I also noticed differences if there was a problem.
I thought it was just me being paranoid. That is until I started talking to women riders who told me, "That's how I knew it was time to get my own bike!" So I took their advice, and got my license just before my 40th birthday.
The first few times out, (once I got over the fear of our daunting driveway!) I went alone, sticking to side streets where 50 mph felt very fast! It didn't take me long to venture further, and on roads that had a 55 mph speed limit. My time is limited to ½ hr here and there squeezed in after household chores and while my daughter is still in school, but even so within a couple of weeks I was able to put a couple hundred miles on my bike.
One day, shortly after my daughter left for a weekend with her dad, Dean came home early so we could go for a ride. It was to be our "maiden voyage"; our first trip together on separate bikes. He decided we would ride to the home of his parents just 15 minutes away. "But we're taking the long way Honey. We're going on the freeway."
"The freeway? I've haven't done that yet and it's getting to be rush hour!"
His replied, every so calmly, "That's exactly why we're doing it. I don't want you alone the first time. It's only a mile or so of freeway. You'll be fine. So let's go!"
Suddenly I didn't want to go on this particular ride, but I wasn't about to let him see my fear either. After all, I do have control issues, and I'm highly competitive!
I quickly realized I needed a new goal, and it was keeping up with Dean. I knew he wouldn't go too fast for me, and I knew his ultimate goal was my safety, but I also knew if I did anything stupid, or showed fear, word would travel through the entire family before my feet even touched the pavement again. So keep up I did. For the entire mile and a half I stuck to him like glue at 70 mph, and even changed lanes once to get around a slower moving vehicle! I felt like I'd "arrived" and was now a legitimate rider.
The next day we ventured out more. This time it was on a three lane interstate with all kinds of cars (and semis!) merging and exiting. We switched lanes more than I've ever dreamed we needed to, and I'm pretty sure he did this on purpose. I really didn't pay attention to WHERE we were going, because I was too busy keeping up to Dean, and staying away from the tires of big trucks. But I did it! All 60 plus miles of it. And along the way, I discovered something I never knew about the gift of riding my own bike.
You see, my daughter has a disability, and my life with her is often very complicated by doctor appointments, school meetings, and worry about whatever her current medical crisis is. I rarely get a break from her care other than a couple of hours each week. Even when I was riding behind on Dean's bike, getting "lost in my thoughts" often meant getting lost in my thoughts about the latest school report, or doctor's diagnosis, or how to help her achieve the next much-needed independent living skill.
What I discovered on my own bike is there isn't one single opportunity to think about my worries of the day or week. Every fiber of my being is involved in the ride. My nose smells everything there is to smell; from the diesel fuel of the truck next to me, to the lilac bushes in full bloom on the side of a country road.
My ears hear the subtle changes in my engine, they hear when I need to shift gears up or down. They revel at the powerful sound that comes from a fast acceleration.
My hands grip the handlebars, doing a subtle dance between brake and clutch. With just a very slight change I can accelerate quickly, or let the engine speed slow me down. My feet join in the dance, braking and shifting as the need arises.
My body feels the changes in the engine, the rumble of the exhaust. It feels the changes in the wind, instinctively adjusting to keep the bike upright, becoming one with the bike through curves in just the right way so as to make it one smooth and beautiful move.
My heart and mind are in the ride, taking a break from all the world has offered to me on any given particular day. Leaving it all behind, trading it in for the feeling of freedom, power, independence and pride that come from riding alone.
At the end of the ride, when the kickstand goes down and I take the key out of the ignition, I'm ready to take on the world again, and all that it has to offer. I'm ready to be a mom again, refreshed and energized to live each day to the fullest.
.....................................
Almost a year ago I reached one of my "Before I turn 40" goals. I took a motorcycle safety class and earned my "M" on my driver's license. I think I unconsciously set this goal way back when I was a teenager and I rode behind my mom, but later as an adult and mother of 5 young kids myself it seemed an impossible goal. Then, at age 35, I found myself divorced and with every-other weekend to myself. I started dating again, and one of the "prerequisites" of anyone I dated was that, not only did he need to have a bike himself, but he needed to ride regularly as well. It never occurred to me to get my own!
One of the men I dated had a sport bike (aka crotch rocket) and I found I loved the speed and rush of adrenaline that came with the ride. I even contemplated owning one myself, but our relationship was short-lived and suddenly that particular type of bike didn't seem to fit me anymore. As any adrenaline junkie will tell you though, it's highly addictive. The goal was now firmly etched into my soul.
Then I met Dean. Not only did he ride a Harley, but his entire extended family did as well! Dean and I fit together like a hand and glove. We rode together on his bike like we'd been doing it all our lives. What Dean didn't know was that riding behind him was a woman who was starting to have issues. Control issues, that is.
Like most people, when I'm riding behind, I loose myself to my thoughts. (Ok, I have a tendency to sing because Dean can't hear me!) I can look at the scenery and just enjoy it. Once in awhile we can have a conversation, but usually in broken sentences, or bits and pieces at a stoplight. Mostly though, I'm just by myself on the back of the bike. If I really want to feel "connected" to him, I can put my arms around him, or give him a squeeze with my thighs. Sometimes he might reach back and put his hand on my lower leg (the only part of me he can reach.). Those actions, however simple they may seem, are very meaningful forms of communication when on a bike.
Unfortunately there came a time when I developed awareness for other things around us. I've always had a watchful eye for hazards when on the back of the bike, but it's not been 100% up to me, so I could slack off now and then. But one day, out of the blue, I became very nervous. It was like somewhere deep within me a switch was flipped, causing me to be hyper aware of everything. Does he see that car? That pothole? That gravel on the inside of the corner? How good is he at quick stops? My ears became aware of his shifting, both up and down, which meant I also noticed differences if there was a problem.
I thought it was just me being paranoid. That is until I started talking to women riders who told me, "That's how I knew it was time to get my own bike!" So I took their advice, and got my license just before my 40th birthday.
The first few times out, (once I got over the fear of our daunting driveway!) I went alone, sticking to side streets where 50 mph felt very fast! It didn't take me long to venture further, and on roads that had a 55 mph speed limit. My time is limited to ½ hr here and there squeezed in after household chores and while my daughter is still in school, but even so within a couple of weeks I was able to put a couple hundred miles on my bike.
One day, shortly after my daughter left for a weekend with her dad, Dean came home early so we could go for a ride. It was to be our "maiden voyage"; our first trip together on separate bikes. He decided we would ride to the home of his parents just 15 minutes away. "But we're taking the long way Honey. We're going on the freeway."
"The freeway? I've haven't done that yet and it's getting to be rush hour!"
His replied, every so calmly, "That's exactly why we're doing it. I don't want you alone the first time. It's only a mile or so of freeway. You'll be fine. So let's go!"
Suddenly I didn't want to go on this particular ride, but I wasn't about to let him see my fear either. After all, I do have control issues, and I'm highly competitive!
I quickly realized I needed a new goal, and it was keeping up with Dean. I knew he wouldn't go too fast for me, and I knew his ultimate goal was my safety, but I also knew if I did anything stupid, or showed fear, word would travel through the entire family before my feet even touched the pavement again. So keep up I did. For the entire mile and a half I stuck to him like glue at 70 mph, and even changed lanes once to get around a slower moving vehicle! I felt like I'd "arrived" and was now a legitimate rider.
The next day we ventured out more. This time it was on a three lane interstate with all kinds of cars (and semis!) merging and exiting. We switched lanes more than I've ever dreamed we needed to, and I'm pretty sure he did this on purpose. I really didn't pay attention to WHERE we were going, because I was too busy keeping up to Dean, and staying away from the tires of big trucks. But I did it! All 60 plus miles of it. And along the way, I discovered something I never knew about the gift of riding my own bike.
You see, my daughter has a disability, and my life with her is often very complicated by doctor appointments, school meetings, and worry about whatever her current medical crisis is. I rarely get a break from her care other than a couple of hours each week. Even when I was riding behind on Dean's bike, getting "lost in my thoughts" often meant getting lost in my thoughts about the latest school report, or doctor's diagnosis, or how to help her achieve the next much-needed independent living skill.
What I discovered on my own bike is there isn't one single opportunity to think about my worries of the day or week. Every fiber of my being is involved in the ride. My nose smells everything there is to smell; from the diesel fuel of the truck next to me, to the lilac bushes in full bloom on the side of a country road.
My ears hear the subtle changes in my engine, they hear when I need to shift gears up or down. They revel at the powerful sound that comes from a fast acceleration.
My hands grip the handlebars, doing a subtle dance between brake and clutch. With just a very slight change I can accelerate quickly, or let the engine speed slow me down. My feet join in the dance, braking and shifting as the need arises.
My body feels the changes in the engine, the rumble of the exhaust. It feels the changes in the wind, instinctively adjusting to keep the bike upright, becoming one with the bike through curves in just the right way so as to make it one smooth and beautiful move.
My heart and mind are in the ride, taking a break from all the world has offered to me on any given particular day. Leaving it all behind, trading it in for the feeling of freedom, power, independence and pride that come from riding alone.
At the end of the ride, when the kickstand goes down and I take the key out of the ignition, I'm ready to take on the world again, and all that it has to offer. I'm ready to be a mom again, refreshed and energized to live each day to the fullest.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Starting over...again!
When I divorced 6 years ago I was a fat and frumpy 30 something mom. It didn't take me long to learn that in order to get dates I had to 1) loose weight 2) stop dressing like a mom! I had never realized that Mom's who live in farm country very quickly get into a rut in how they dress and (don't) take care of themselves. I was on a mission!
Fast forward a couple of years. I was now in fantastic shape at 140 lbs. I stopped drinking the 4+ bottles of Mountain Dew every day, I walked 3 miles every morning BEFORE work, AND was working out an hour every night. (I got more compliments on my arms by other women!) I'll never forget meeting the guy I was currently dating for a lunch date. It was summer and I'd just bought myself a new outfit. It wasn't anything special, just a pair of shorts and a shirt, but as I walked up to the table he was seated at, a huge smile came across his face as he said, "Wow! You look GREAT!"
Never in two marriages had I heard those words before. I vowed I was never going to get fat again.
A couple months and a break-up later I met Dean. I kid you not, within 4 months I'd gained 20 lbs back. I was furious with myself. I started back on the long road to loosing it, and was just about there when Angela got sick. I spent that winter living in the hospital, and eating hospital foods. My love affair with Mountain Dew was rekindled, and the workout stopped. I had given up.
A year and a half ago I bought into Nutrisystem. I actually did loose a fair amount of weight on the system, but it's expensive and I couldn't keep it up, and it bothered me that I did it before without spending so much money. Again, I gave up.
This summer I bought my first and second motorcycles. I'd had visions of being a hot biker chick on my bike, but turned out to be anything but. I wear my hair very short and with the extra weight it makes me look like a guy. I could hear Satan in my ear saying, "you're not what your Dean wanted! He doesn't like to be seen with you looking like this."
And so here I am again. I was going to start my workouts the day Angela went back to school. Well, that just didn't happen, so I started today!!!! I went back to my "Firm" videos that I used before Dean and I met. I really like them, but man are they TOUGH!!! I remember being able to get through the entire video, and finish with my clothes satisfyingly soaked, confirming the calories that had been burned. Today I made it only 15 minutes into the video. (that's just the warm-up!) Tomorrow I promise to go 20 minutes, and keep adding a few more minutes until I can make it all the way through the 62 minute workout.
As for next spring? I'll be that hot biker chick!
Fast forward a couple of years. I was now in fantastic shape at 140 lbs. I stopped drinking the 4+ bottles of Mountain Dew every day, I walked 3 miles every morning BEFORE work, AND was working out an hour every night. (I got more compliments on my arms by other women!) I'll never forget meeting the guy I was currently dating for a lunch date. It was summer and I'd just bought myself a new outfit. It wasn't anything special, just a pair of shorts and a shirt, but as I walked up to the table he was seated at, a huge smile came across his face as he said, "Wow! You look GREAT!"
Never in two marriages had I heard those words before. I vowed I was never going to get fat again.
A couple months and a break-up later I met Dean. I kid you not, within 4 months I'd gained 20 lbs back. I was furious with myself. I started back on the long road to loosing it, and was just about there when Angela got sick. I spent that winter living in the hospital, and eating hospital foods. My love affair with Mountain Dew was rekindled, and the workout stopped. I had given up.
A year and a half ago I bought into Nutrisystem. I actually did loose a fair amount of weight on the system, but it's expensive and I couldn't keep it up, and it bothered me that I did it before without spending so much money. Again, I gave up.
This summer I bought my first and second motorcycles. I'd had visions of being a hot biker chick on my bike, but turned out to be anything but. I wear my hair very short and with the extra weight it makes me look like a guy. I could hear Satan in my ear saying, "you're not what your Dean wanted! He doesn't like to be seen with you looking like this."
And so here I am again. I was going to start my workouts the day Angela went back to school. Well, that just didn't happen, so I started today!!!! I went back to my "Firm" videos that I used before Dean and I met. I really like them, but man are they TOUGH!!! I remember being able to get through the entire video, and finish with my clothes satisfyingly soaked, confirming the calories that had been burned. Today I made it only 15 minutes into the video. (that's just the warm-up!) Tomorrow I promise to go 20 minutes, and keep adding a few more minutes until I can make it all the way through the 62 minute workout.
As for next spring? I'll be that hot biker chick!
Thursday, September 06, 2007
I hope to do this again sometime
So tonight was our book signing. Ann Bremer, Emily Zied, and myself. The man who was our contact person hadn't been very optimistic about the whole thing, as they usually only have "big names" do signings. Oh well.....
We were to start at 7:00 pm. Ann and I arrive, and there is a stack of books on a table, chairs for each of us, and chairs in front of us....like for an audience to sit at. (?) I think to myself, "That must be where people wait when the line is too long!" (wishful thinking, I know.)
People start to arrive. We have smiles frozen on our faces because we're really not sure what we're supposed to do. One woman comes in with her teenage son with DS and says, "So what time do you start speaking?"
Speaking?
This is what my face looked like in response to that question. It looks confused.
We were SIGNING books, not speaking. Yes, I do public speaking all the time, but I have a SCRIPT...sorta...This is different. So we ask "the guy" who set everything up about this 'speaking' thing, and he tells us, "Oh, you know, you use the microphone (we hadn't noticed the MICROPHONE!) and you can talk about yourselves, or read something from the book, things like that.
So Emily arrives, and we tell her about the speaking thing, and that' she's first. There are now about 20 people seated, with some on the floor and some standing behind shelves peering over to see.
She is a great sport and hops up to the mic, and does a spectacular job of speaking. She reads part of her essay, and I see people wiping tears from their eyes. Later I'll add a picture of Emily speaking.
Then Ann gets up to the mic. She reads her essay and people laugh, clearly identifying with her feelings. Like Emily, she does a fantastic job.
Then it's my turn. I'm so glad to get this opportunity, because I've always felt that mine is much better when read out loud. People laugh at the story, which is a good thing because it's supposed to be funny.
Then we get on to signing our books. Here we are signing away. Notice we are all smiling because we can remember our names AND the page number our story is on!
Angela signed books too!
Oh, and I even did my nail art appropriate for the evening! (it's a Down Syndrome awareness ribbon)
Suddenly there was a problem! All the books were GONE! We'd SOLD OUT!!! There were still people in line, but no more books! Ann had brought a few with her, and she sold those! The guy from the store was stunned. He kept saying, "This has never happened before! In fact, two weeks ago we had the lead singer from The Styx here and HE only sold EIGHT COPIES! We had sold 30 in a very short time. He was now our best friend and wondered how soon we could come back. :wink:
The coolest thing about this whole book deal, is ALL the royalties go back to the non-profit that produced it, to purchase more copies of the book (which is now in it's 3rd printing by the way!) Our goal is to get a copy of this book into the hands of every new parent who's just been told their baby has DS, into every OB and geneticist's office, and into every NICU waiting room.
It was a wonderful evening, one that we were thrilled to have the pleasure of participating in!
We were to start at 7:00 pm. Ann and I arrive, and there is a stack of books on a table, chairs for each of us, and chairs in front of us....like for an audience to sit at. (?) I think to myself, "That must be where people wait when the line is too long!" (wishful thinking, I know.)
People start to arrive. We have smiles frozen on our faces because we're really not sure what we're supposed to do. One woman comes in with her teenage son with DS and says, "So what time do you start speaking?"
Speaking?
This is what my face looked like in response to that question. It looks confused.
We were SIGNING books, not speaking. Yes, I do public speaking all the time, but I have a SCRIPT...sorta...This is different. So we ask "the guy" who set everything up about this 'speaking' thing, and he tells us, "Oh, you know, you use the microphone (we hadn't noticed the MICROPHONE!) and you can talk about yourselves, or read something from the book, things like that.
So Emily arrives, and we tell her about the speaking thing, and that' she's first. There are now about 20 people seated, with some on the floor and some standing behind shelves peering over to see.
She is a great sport and hops up to the mic, and does a spectacular job of speaking. She reads part of her essay, and I see people wiping tears from their eyes. Later I'll add a picture of Emily speaking.
Then Ann gets up to the mic. She reads her essay and people laugh, clearly identifying with her feelings. Like Emily, she does a fantastic job.
Then it's my turn. I'm so glad to get this opportunity, because I've always felt that mine is much better when read out loud. People laugh at the story, which is a good thing because it's supposed to be funny.
Then we get on to signing our books. Here we are signing away. Notice we are all smiling because we can remember our names AND the page number our story is on!
Angela signed books too!
Oh, and I even did my nail art appropriate for the evening! (it's a Down Syndrome awareness ribbon)
Suddenly there was a problem! All the books were GONE! We'd SOLD OUT!!! There were still people in line, but no more books! Ann had brought a few with her, and she sold those! The guy from the store was stunned. He kept saying, "This has never happened before! In fact, two weeks ago we had the lead singer from The Styx here and HE only sold EIGHT COPIES! We had sold 30 in a very short time. He was now our best friend and wondered how soon we could come back. :wink:
The coolest thing about this whole book deal, is ALL the royalties go back to the non-profit that produced it, to purchase more copies of the book (which is now in it's 3rd printing by the way!) Our goal is to get a copy of this book into the hands of every new parent who's just been told their baby has DS, into every OB and geneticist's office, and into every NICU waiting room.
It was a wonderful evening, one that we were thrilled to have the pleasure of participating in!
Sunday, September 02, 2007
A Mother's Job
Now that I have kids out of the house, I'm trying to figure out where my job as "mom" ends. Where I have to step back and just watch the mistakes my kids make and let them learn on their own, and where I should step in.
I look at my grown kids and wonder if I did a good job with all that we went through. I have to be honest, it's hard to tell. Clearly I made mistakes along the way, (we all do, right? RIGHT?) I just wonder which ones were preventable?
I can see that the basic thing is still there....they both have good hearts. They don't like seeing someone hurting, and they don't like to cause hurt. This is a good thing, I just wish those same hearts were open to God. For that I'll keep praying.
One is hard working, the other expends alot of energy avoiding hard work. I look back to what I was doing at my 20th birthday. I had already been in the Army, gotten married, and had a two week old baby, and by my 21st birthday my husband and I had a house and another baby on the way. I think I'm glad my boys are nowhere near doing those things, but at the same time I wish they at least SEEMED ready to handle that level of responsibility. Should the unexpected happen I don't think either of them have the skills necessary to deal with it.
It was tough to be a young mom who barely knew myself, much less trying to get to know a husband and new babies at the same time. It was tougher still to become a single mother by the age of 23. I don't even want to see my grandchildren go through what my little boys did, so I will pray that my boys can straighten out their lives and become responsible, productive members of society.
If you are a person who prays, I would sure appreciate it if, the next time you sit down to have a talk with Him, you'd lift my son Noah up to Him as well. He needs all the prayers he can get right now. Pray for guidance for me. When to step back, when to step in. Pray for open hearts and minds all around, and for forgiveness on all the levels it's needed.
I look at my grown kids and wonder if I did a good job with all that we went through. I have to be honest, it's hard to tell. Clearly I made mistakes along the way, (we all do, right? RIGHT?) I just wonder which ones were preventable?
I can see that the basic thing is still there....they both have good hearts. They don't like seeing someone hurting, and they don't like to cause hurt. This is a good thing, I just wish those same hearts were open to God. For that I'll keep praying.
One is hard working, the other expends alot of energy avoiding hard work. I look back to what I was doing at my 20th birthday. I had already been in the Army, gotten married, and had a two week old baby, and by my 21st birthday my husband and I had a house and another baby on the way. I think I'm glad my boys are nowhere near doing those things, but at the same time I wish they at least SEEMED ready to handle that level of responsibility. Should the unexpected happen I don't think either of them have the skills necessary to deal with it.
It was tough to be a young mom who barely knew myself, much less trying to get to know a husband and new babies at the same time. It was tougher still to become a single mother by the age of 23. I don't even want to see my grandchildren go through what my little boys did, so I will pray that my boys can straighten out their lives and become responsible, productive members of society.
If you are a person who prays, I would sure appreciate it if, the next time you sit down to have a talk with Him, you'd lift my son Noah up to Him as well. He needs all the prayers he can get right now. Pray for guidance for me. When to step back, when to step in. Pray for open hearts and minds all around, and for forgiveness on all the levels it's needed.
Friday, August 31, 2007
A Hug From Very Far Away
About a month ago I signed Angela up for a bunch of free toy catalogs. She LOVES flipping through these! Tonight I wandered down to the mailbox, with Angela at the top of the hill hollering, "Is a new one? A new toy magazine for me?"
There was, indeed, a new catalog for her, and an interesting looking envelope addressed to me from a name I didn't recognize in Florida. While Angela was flipping through her prized possession, I opened the envelope to find it had really come all the way from Germany! It had been sent by our Downsyn friends Friederike and her daughter Cecilie!!!
When Angela realized the package was really for her, she was so excited to get mail! I showed her the map, and how far away Germany is. We talked about how that envelope GOT here, etc. She was very impressed. Then we red the story of Tuffi. And right now, Angela is going to bed wearing her flashing Tuffi pin.
By the way, Cecilie is 5 1/2 and has Down Syndrome, and we "met" via the internet. It's amazing how the internet can connect families who you would have otherwise never dreamed of meeting. And Down Syndrome brings together the most amazing people. See? This is why I live online! LOL
Thank you for brightening our day!
There was, indeed, a new catalog for her, and an interesting looking envelope addressed to me from a name I didn't recognize in Florida. While Angela was flipping through her prized possession, I opened the envelope to find it had really come all the way from Germany! It had been sent by our Downsyn friends Friederike and her daughter Cecilie!!!
When Angela realized the package was really for her, she was so excited to get mail! I showed her the map, and how far away Germany is. We talked about how that envelope GOT here, etc. She was very impressed. Then we red the story of Tuffi. And right now, Angela is going to bed wearing her flashing Tuffi pin.
By the way, Cecilie is 5 1/2 and has Down Syndrome, and we "met" via the internet. It's amazing how the internet can connect families who you would have otherwise never dreamed of meeting. And Down Syndrome brings together the most amazing people. See? This is why I live online! LOL
Thank you for brightening our day!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Winding down. It's been a long week!
It's been a long week and a half. Aside from the emotional fall-out of the Wyoming crash, there were other things that needed to be dealt with. When Angela went with her dad, due to the length of the trip and the fact he wouldn't be doing laundry in the semi (aawww c'mom!) I sent nearly everything that she had that still fit. (she's gone through a HUGE growth spurt this summer!!!) At the time of the crash, Angela was wearing pajamas and was barefoot, so all the clothes I sent were burned up in the fire. Shorts, socks, underwear, pants, pajamas, tshirts, sweatshirts, toothbrush, all her medications....everything gone. When she came home, the first thing we did was go shopping for clothes!
Have I mentioned that Angela does not do so well in stores? Ok, giving her the benefit of the doubt, I didn't pick the best time to take her shopping, as she was completely exhausted. While we were in the dressing room at Kohls she insisted on putting her shoes under the wall into the next booth. I explained that there was someone in there, "See the lady's feet? Lets keep the shoes AND MY PURSE in our booth, ok?" Yeah...that didn't work so great. Before I could grab her, both shoes had flown OVER the booths and landed 2 or 3 booths away. (I knew I should have put her in softball this summer.) Anyway, I made a split decision, piled all the stuff into a cart (5 or 6 pairs of pants and about as many shirts) paid for them and brought them home to try on in her own room. That was only slightly better, and of course NONE of the pants fit her and ALL have to go back. It's been a week, and I haven't gotten around to it yet, but I better do so soon! School starts in a few days and she has NO PANTS!
Angela's shoes are a whole different story! She was barefoot at the time of the acccident. Her dad had to make a list for the insurance company of items lost in the fire. He asked me, "How much were Angela's shoes?" HA!!! The "shoes" were $20 from Payless, it's the $800 orthodic inserts that were IN THEM that are going to be tough to replace!!! Here private insurace doesn't want to touch it. Afterall, they were only 3 weeks old! Here I was feeling proud of myself for getting all these medical things taken care of before school started and....litterally...POOF! They're gone! They had really been helping her too. She was finally able to walk more than a couple of blocks without her knees or hips bothering her, or being just plain exhausted.
Angela was supposed to come home on Sunday the 19th, then Monday the 20th go for a long-awaited eye doctor appointment, as her vision has deteriorated over the summer. I made the appointment back in June when she failed a "healthy athelete" check up at the special olympics state meet. Needless to say, she missed the appointment and now I'm trying to get her in somewhere else. Everyone is booked out a couple of months. I was just hoping to have her able to SEE when school started. Oh well.....
There were other things lost, like her portable dvd player that Andy and I send back and forth to keep us sane when on long trips with Angela. Her neuro-developmental ped was actually quite shocked to find out that Angela had actually been on a trip...in a semi...all the way to California! In several reports are phrases such as, "Angela's activity level is striking." LOL...I call that an understatement!
But these are all just things. They are a minor incovenience compared to what could have been.
Saturday morning I found Tosh's obituary, on the very day of his funeral. It was the first time I was able to put a face to the name, and the emotions I felt were indescribable. I wanted to ask him questions right then and there, but I wanted to ask God even more. I'll never have answers for those questions, but worse....neither will his family. My heart aches for what they are going through right now! I learned that like Dean and I, he's a biker. Since my house was empty that day I decided I was going to take a long ride alone. Since my ride was related to the crash (I was going out to my sisters 70 miles away to get the disk of crash pictures Angela's dad had dropped off there) I decided I was going to ride for Tosh. Even if it was in my own heart and nobody knew I was going to do it.
Someone asked me how I can forgive "someone like that" who tries to kill your kid? The answers are simple. 1) I don't think he meant to kill my kid, or her dad. He meant to kill himself and I don't think he though far enough ahead. All he thought of was the object...the truck...and not the fact there would be a real person driving it. I KNOW...in all certainty...had he known thee was a child in there he wouldn't have done it. I don't know much about Tosh, but I do know he had a love of children, particularly those with special needs.
But there is a #2 to my answer. God says I have to forgive him, and so I do. There have been times in the past where my mouth has said, "I forgive" but my heart doesn't feel it. I can tell you honestly, my heart feels 100% at peace in forgiving Tosh.
There are some who have criticized me, saying, 'You're being petty. Why all the emotion? Your kid is safe. Get over it already!"
I sure wish it were that simple. My daughter and her dad watched someone die. My daughter can only express to me her emotions through play. I have to pay close attention to decipher what she's trying to tell me. And then there is myself too. No, there are no physical scars, but believe me....the emotional scars are deep and to the bone. To look at the pictures of the accident is a feeling beyond explanation. I get the chills and break out in a cold sweat. My baby was in this vehicle! But more than that...SHE SURVIVED IT!!!!
The truck after it had been moved. Do you see the passenger seat, where Angela was sitting at the time of impact? Do you see how far it's moved? Tell me....how did my daughter walk away without any physical injuries? (click on pictures to view full size)
So although we're trying to move on, we'll be dealing with some of these things for a long time.
Have I mentioned that Angela does not do so well in stores? Ok, giving her the benefit of the doubt, I didn't pick the best time to take her shopping, as she was completely exhausted. While we were in the dressing room at Kohls she insisted on putting her shoes under the wall into the next booth. I explained that there was someone in there, "See the lady's feet? Lets keep the shoes AND MY PURSE in our booth, ok?" Yeah...that didn't work so great. Before I could grab her, both shoes had flown OVER the booths and landed 2 or 3 booths away. (I knew I should have put her in softball this summer.) Anyway, I made a split decision, piled all the stuff into a cart (5 or 6 pairs of pants and about as many shirts) paid for them and brought them home to try on in her own room. That was only slightly better, and of course NONE of the pants fit her and ALL have to go back. It's been a week, and I haven't gotten around to it yet, but I better do so soon! School starts in a few days and she has NO PANTS!
Angela's shoes are a whole different story! She was barefoot at the time of the acccident. Her dad had to make a list for the insurance company of items lost in the fire. He asked me, "How much were Angela's shoes?" HA!!! The "shoes" were $20 from Payless, it's the $800 orthodic inserts that were IN THEM that are going to be tough to replace!!! Here private insurace doesn't want to touch it. Afterall, they were only 3 weeks old! Here I was feeling proud of myself for getting all these medical things taken care of before school started and....litterally...POOF! They're gone! They had really been helping her too. She was finally able to walk more than a couple of blocks without her knees or hips bothering her, or being just plain exhausted.
Angela was supposed to come home on Sunday the 19th, then Monday the 20th go for a long-awaited eye doctor appointment, as her vision has deteriorated over the summer. I made the appointment back in June when she failed a "healthy athelete" check up at the special olympics state meet. Needless to say, she missed the appointment and now I'm trying to get her in somewhere else. Everyone is booked out a couple of months. I was just hoping to have her able to SEE when school started. Oh well.....
There were other things lost, like her portable dvd player that Andy and I send back and forth to keep us sane when on long trips with Angela. Her neuro-developmental ped was actually quite shocked to find out that Angela had actually been on a trip...in a semi...all the way to California! In several reports are phrases such as, "Angela's activity level is striking." LOL...I call that an understatement!
But these are all just things. They are a minor incovenience compared to what could have been.
Saturday morning I found Tosh's obituary, on the very day of his funeral. It was the first time I was able to put a face to the name, and the emotions I felt were indescribable. I wanted to ask him questions right then and there, but I wanted to ask God even more. I'll never have answers for those questions, but worse....neither will his family. My heart aches for what they are going through right now! I learned that like Dean and I, he's a biker. Since my house was empty that day I decided I was going to take a long ride alone. Since my ride was related to the crash (I was going out to my sisters 70 miles away to get the disk of crash pictures Angela's dad had dropped off there) I decided I was going to ride for Tosh. Even if it was in my own heart and nobody knew I was going to do it.
Someone asked me how I can forgive "someone like that" who tries to kill your kid? The answers are simple. 1) I don't think he meant to kill my kid, or her dad. He meant to kill himself and I don't think he though far enough ahead. All he thought of was the object...the truck...and not the fact there would be a real person driving it. I KNOW...in all certainty...had he known thee was a child in there he wouldn't have done it. I don't know much about Tosh, but I do know he had a love of children, particularly those with special needs.
But there is a #2 to my answer. God says I have to forgive him, and so I do. There have been times in the past where my mouth has said, "I forgive" but my heart doesn't feel it. I can tell you honestly, my heart feels 100% at peace in forgiving Tosh.
There are some who have criticized me, saying, 'You're being petty. Why all the emotion? Your kid is safe. Get over it already!"
I sure wish it were that simple. My daughter and her dad watched someone die. My daughter can only express to me her emotions through play. I have to pay close attention to decipher what she's trying to tell me. And then there is myself too. No, there are no physical scars, but believe me....the emotional scars are deep and to the bone. To look at the pictures of the accident is a feeling beyond explanation. I get the chills and break out in a cold sweat. My baby was in this vehicle! But more than that...SHE SURVIVED IT!!!!
The truck after it had been moved. Do you see the passenger seat, where Angela was sitting at the time of impact? Do you see how far it's moved? Tell me....how did my daughter walk away without any physical injuries? (click on pictures to view full size)
So although we're trying to move on, we'll be dealing with some of these things for a long time.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Sorrows, Praises and MIRACLES!
There are alot of people who've contacted me this past week who I would love to reply to, but blogger blocks out the email addresses. Late last night I received one email in particular that I feel I must respond to, but I think my response to one will really be for everyone.
To Kam Kam's Mom....(re: comments Sunday August 19th)
To Kam Kam's Mom....(re: comments Sunday August 19th)
I am sobbing and in tears right now. With trembling hands I'm responding.
I have received emails (anonymously) from Tosh's extended family members, telling me "We don't get it...this wasn't HIM! He didn't DO things like this! Gave no indications!" I agree...it wasn't him, and I didn't even know him. Maybe someday, on my blog I'll write what I really believe happened in the spiritual world of good and evil on that night.
If I knew you well enough, I'd tell you all of what I, and the rest of my extended family believe. If you look at the pictures of the accident...and understand the timing and sequence of events of that evening, then you KNOW...beyond a shadow of a doubt...that it was only a miracle, angels and GOD that got my family out of that truck. At one point, after the fire was put out, my daughter's dad was taking pictures of the truck. A fireman told to get away because they needed to do a body recovery on that vehicle. When he discovered that Andy had been the driver...he was shocked...he said there was NO TIME for anyone to have gotten out of that truck, much less a man going BACK IN to get his daughter who was afraid to come out into the flames. Things happened too fast for anyone to get out. They were sure he'd burned up in the fire.
Please know I am so sorry for the hell Tosh's family is going through. There is some extended family member who has criticized something that I wrote (it's kind of hidden on the net) at a time when I was angry, scared and upset by what had happened. I understand that he/she is dealing with their own roller coaster emotions right now. I feel horrible for Tosh's family. They were the innocent ones left behind to sort out the why's, hows, what-if's of it all. It is the sad end that comes with suicide. Too many unanswered questions. Too many hearts that feel guilty about things they shouldn't. "I wish we hadn't argued." "If only we'd collected keys." "I wish I hadn't said...." But Tosh was determined that night. There would have been no stopping him.
My family is dealing with things from an entirely different perspective. It's 1:30 in the morning...last week I didn't get the call until 2:30 a.m. I haven't gone to bed before that time since the crash. I can't. I hardly sleep.
Angela has been putting out imaginary fires with her invisible friends. Yesterday she started patting my leg. I asked her why and she said, "putting out the fire." Here dad has told me where that came from, and I wish I'd never heard the explanation.
Tonight we went to a carnival, and as I put Angela on those giant swings I had to turn and look away. I wanted to throw up. I don't know how to describe what I was feeling. All I could think of was what if this ride collapsed? I'm too far away! Because of Angela's communication issues I can only guess what she saw/heard/felt at the time of the crash. If I pay close attention to her play I can put some of the pieces together. I hope and pray she didn't see the same things her dad did, but in reality I know there's no way she didn't. But tonight, on the way home from the carnival, she told me countless times to "Slow down mom. Take it easy." We were on area of freeway that's known to be a speed/dui tagging place, and there were alot of squads with cars pulled over. With every one that she saw, she said, "Nope. No fire. Nope." She had also just graduated to sitting in the front seat if she chooses. She now chooses not to. "Safe in the back" she says.
I've talked Angela's dad more in the last few days than I have since we divorced 6 years ago. There is no doubt he has PTSD. Her dad has disappeared now for awhile. He told me he was going to. I have prayed every night that this event will be a turning point in his life to realize he has a PURPOSE here, and that clearly he hasn't yet completed his task or he wouldn't be here. It's up to him to figure out what he needs to be doing with his life.
We lost some things that night. The material things are just that....THINGS. No matter how expensive, how necessary, they can be replaced. Andy's permanent address was his truck, so his home is gone. Angela's things...while some were very necessary, have already been replace for the most part. But we lost more, I don't know what it is. I can feel it but I can't label it. An innocence maybe? And inability to ignore areas in our life that we have been ignoring for too long?
I'm a "glass half full" kind of person, and I truly believe that night, as horrific as it was, was a gift to us onn levels that would be incomprehensible to most. Angela and her dad were given life. They were also given a future. I was given the opportunity to watch Angela continue to grow, and now it's up to me to make sure she develops the way God intended her to. Her job here isn't done. He told me when she was a tiny baby that she was here to teach. She has done that time and again with every single person involved in her life over the years, and she'll continue to do so. I can see that I'm not done learning.
I'm a "glass half full" kind of person, and I truly believe that night, as horrific as it was, was a gift to us onn levels that would be incomprehensible to most. Angela and her dad were given life. They were also given a future. I was given the opportunity to watch Angela continue to grow, and now it's up to me to make sure she develops the way God intended her to. Her job here isn't done. He told me when she was a tiny baby that she was here to teach. She has done that time and again with every single person involved in her life over the years, and she'll continue to do so. I can see that I'm not done learning.
I wanted to send flowers for Tosh's funeral, but couldn't find any information about it anywhere online. Believe me...my family calls me the super sleuth...and I couldn't find a thing. Just tonight I found the notice in the local paper. It's the first time I've been able to put a face to the event. Seeing Tosh's face......it left me with a stunned feeling. Please...tell them if I lived there I would be at that funeral, to give them each a hug and tell them I'm sorry for all they've lost. They will (some of them anyway) carry with them memories of that night that will haunt them. I will pray that God soften the edge of the unpleasant memories, and sharpen those that bring them happiness. I pray that he will soothe their hearts, and wrap himself around them in his comforting embrace.
~Leah Spring~
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Suriving Tragedy / ID bracelets
It seems I only write here where there is some crisis or big event. Maybe those things happen more than I realized? I don't know. Here's our latest big event. ....
~Leah Spring~
Sunday, August 18th
About a year ago I bought Angela an emergency ID bracelet. She hates it, and obsesses about taking it off, so I finally gave up trying to get her to wear
it.
Fast forward.......
I live in MN. Last week I needed to make a trip to Western Montana, so Angela was going to spend the week with her dad. He drives semi over the road, and was going to be making a run to California. Angela was excited to go along on the trip. She's gotten to do it a couple of times this summer.
At 8:30 last night (mountain time) I talked to Angela on the phone. She had just woken up from a nap in the back of the sleeper truck, and moved herself to the front seat where she got herself buckled into her seatbelt. "When er you picking me up?" she asked. " I'm bored of the truck!"
I told her, "You'll be home tomorrow, and then we'll go school shopping, ok?"
At about the same time, in Mountain Veiw, Wyoming, the county sheriff was negotiating with a man who was racing through town in a corvette. During the chase he called his girlfriend (or wife, I'm still not clear which) and told her, "I'm going to go out with a semi. Goodbye!!!" The chase continued to the freeway. The State Patrol met him there and threw out tire strips, but he was able to avoid them...twice. He raced down Interstate 80, clocked over
100 miles per hour. (the trooper later told me they don't know how fast he was going, as their cars top out at 110 and they couldn't keep up to him.
He headed West on I-80, and finally, at some point, crossed the median into oncoming traffic. Angela and her dad could see the flashing lights ahead of them but didn't know they were on THEIR side of the road speeding directly toward them. Angela commented, "Uh oh! Bad guy speeding!" or something like that. Just a second later her dad realized they were going to get hit. He swerved the semi one way, and the car met his swerve. He swerved the other
way, and again the car met him, the drivers sights set on hitting the truck. Finally, knowing the impact was coming, Angela's dad threw the wheel to the right, hoping to jack-knife the truck so the car would hit the trailer instead. He looked over at Angela, knowing they were going to die.
The car hit the front drivers corner, taking out the front axle of the
truck, and the fuel tank, causing it to catch fire. When everything stopped moving, Angela's dad looked over to see the trailer had slid forward and was now outside Angela's window. She'd already unbuckeled herself, and the flames were coming from under the dash. There were only seconds to get out of the truck. Her dad grabbed her, kicked his door open, expecting to jump down out of the truck. But there was no jumping...the floorboards were on
the ground, and flames were now coming from under the cab.
He ran across the road and handed Angela to someone in a truck who had watched the whole event. He ran back to the truck, in a hysterical attempt to get things out. (you know how you don't always think clearly in something like this.) He was just able to get a couple things out of the pocket on the door when the entire truck went up in flames. He was able to get away.
The man in the car had been ejected, and was found dead under the bridge where the impact happened. Angela's dad hadn't known they were on a bridge. At some time he tried to get around the debris, and in the darkness was going to step over the thigh-high rail to get around the truck. At the last second he realized there was no ground there. He would have fallen about 30 ft, just about landing on the body of the dead driver.
When the fire was put out, Angela's dad went to take pictures of the truck. A fireman said, "I'm sorry, you'll have to get away from here. We still haven't recovered the bodies out of this truck." They didn't even KNOW that Angela and her dad had gotten out! (at that time they still hadn't found the body of the car driver and were concentrating on looking for him. They assumed the truck driver had burned up in the fire.)
Two or 3 days ago, I told my husband Dean, "You know, I should be making Angela wear her ID bracelet when she goes with her dad. What if something happened? Nobody would have any idea who she was, know to get a hold of me, or how." Last night was a prime example. Nobody knew who Angela was. The people in the car who were keeping her safe and warm while her dad dealt with the police and firemen didn't know her name, and I doubt could understand her. Someone could have called me then. Instead I knew nothing
until about 3:00 in the morning when someone finally tracked me down. (Angela's dad's phone burned up in the fire and he couldn't remember my number since it was just in his phone.)
Angela and her dad escaped the accident with only minor scrapes. Angela has a bruise on her thigh from hitting the gear shift as her dad yanked her out of the truck. It is only a miracle. There were angels protecting them every step of the way last night.
They are still in Wyoming, about a 24 hour drive if they go straight
through. Her dad's boss went to pick them up. But first they need to meet at the accident scene tomorrow with the investigators and the insurance adjustors. I don't expect them to make it home until Weds. I just want to hold my girl. She seems so very far away right now. I wasn't even THERE and the images in my head of what she saw are keeping me awake, along with the images of what COULD have been the case instead.
Please, hug your kids tonight, and put those ID bracelets on them. There are lots of really neat ones out there. Pretty ones for little girls. More durable and sporty ones for little boys. Whether your child has a disability or not, in an accident they may not be able to communicate, and people may not know who they belong to. Don't get the kind that go on your child's shoe laces. Why? Well in Saturday's accident, Angela was barefoot. Her shoes were burned up in the fire. Even if she had shoes on, how many times have you seen those emergency room shows and the person comes in missing a shoe? Shoes fly off during accidents all the time. Me...I want permanent. I'm thinking a tattoo or microchip!About a year ago I bought Angela an emergency ID bracelet. She hates it, and obsesses about taking it off, so I finally gave up trying to get her to wear
it.
Fast forward.......
I live in MN. Last week I needed to make a trip to Western Montana, so Angela was going to spend the week with her dad. He drives semi over the road, and was going to be making a run to California. Angela was excited to go along on the trip. She's gotten to do it a couple of times this summer.
At 8:30 last night (mountain time) I talked to Angela on the phone. She had just woken up from a nap in the back of the sleeper truck, and moved herself to the front seat where she got herself buckled into her seatbelt. "When er you picking me up?" she asked. " I'm bored of the truck!"
I told her, "You'll be home tomorrow, and then we'll go school shopping, ok?"
At about the same time, in Mountain Veiw, Wyoming, the county sheriff was negotiating with a man who was racing through town in a corvette. During the chase he called his girlfriend (or wife, I'm still not clear which) and told her, "I'm going to go out with a semi. Goodbye!!!" The chase continued to the freeway. The State Patrol met him there and threw out tire strips, but he was able to avoid them...twice. He raced down Interstate 80, clocked over
100 miles per hour. (the trooper later told me they don't know how fast he was going, as their cars top out at 110 and they couldn't keep up to him.
He headed West on I-80, and finally, at some point, crossed the median into oncoming traffic. Angela and her dad could see the flashing lights ahead of them but didn't know they were on THEIR side of the road speeding directly toward them. Angela commented, "Uh oh! Bad guy speeding!" or something like that. Just a second later her dad realized they were going to get hit. He swerved the semi one way, and the car met his swerve. He swerved the other
way, and again the car met him, the drivers sights set on hitting the truck. Finally, knowing the impact was coming, Angela's dad threw the wheel to the right, hoping to jack-knife the truck so the car would hit the trailer instead. He looked over at Angela, knowing they were going to die.
The car hit the front drivers corner, taking out the front axle of the
truck, and the fuel tank, causing it to catch fire. When everything stopped moving, Angela's dad looked over to see the trailer had slid forward and was now outside Angela's window. She'd already unbuckeled herself, and the flames were coming from under the dash. There were only seconds to get out of the truck. Her dad grabbed her, kicked his door open, expecting to jump down out of the truck. But there was no jumping...the floorboards were on
the ground, and flames were now coming from under the cab.
He ran across the road and handed Angela to someone in a truck who had watched the whole event. He ran back to the truck, in a hysterical attempt to get things out. (you know how you don't always think clearly in something like this.) He was just able to get a couple things out of the pocket on the door when the entire truck went up in flames. He was able to get away.
The man in the car had been ejected, and was found dead under the bridge where the impact happened. Angela's dad hadn't known they were on a bridge. At some time he tried to get around the debris, and in the darkness was going to step over the thigh-high rail to get around the truck. At the last second he realized there was no ground there. He would have fallen about 30 ft, just about landing on the body of the dead driver.
When the fire was put out, Angela's dad went to take pictures of the truck. A fireman said, "I'm sorry, you'll have to get away from here. We still haven't recovered the bodies out of this truck." They didn't even KNOW that Angela and her dad had gotten out! (at that time they still hadn't found the body of the car driver and were concentrating on looking for him. They assumed the truck driver had burned up in the fire.)
Two or 3 days ago, I told my husband Dean, "You know, I should be making Angela wear her ID bracelet when she goes with her dad. What if something happened? Nobody would have any idea who she was, know to get a hold of me, or how." Last night was a prime example. Nobody knew who Angela was. The people in the car who were keeping her safe and warm while her dad dealt with the police and firemen didn't know her name, and I doubt could understand her. Someone could have called me then. Instead I knew nothing
until about 3:00 in the morning when someone finally tracked me down. (Angela's dad's phone burned up in the fire and he couldn't remember my number since it was just in his phone.)
Angela and her dad escaped the accident with only minor scrapes. Angela has a bruise on her thigh from hitting the gear shift as her dad yanked her out of the truck. It is only a miracle. There were angels protecting them every step of the way last night.
They are still in Wyoming, about a 24 hour drive if they go straight
through. Her dad's boss went to pick them up. But first they need to meet at the accident scene tomorrow with the investigators and the insurance adjustors. I don't expect them to make it home until Weds. I just want to hold my girl. She seems so very far away right now. I wasn't even THERE and the images in my head of what she saw are keeping me awake, along with the images of what COULD have been the case instead.
~Leah Spring~
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