10 days...

Ten days ago was my last post. Just ten days ago. Today those ten days seem like years....

Colby had gone in for testing and we were making the very hard decision of pursuing this company that would cost us a fortune but made big promises or not. Ten days ago my life was about Avery's recovery, Colby's special needs, Rusty's 4th birthday, Sydney's growing need to be sassy, Shelby's babyhood, school, my Mom's upcoming petscan, PTA, kids sports and activities and moving. That's all changed now.

Tuesday I rode my kids to school on their bikes and just two hours later our lives changed. My Dad suffered a stroke. The last six days has been about all of the above AND taking care of him. Daily hospital visits that are now skilled nursing center visits, making medical decisions, caring for him and making the very challenging decision about his future...our future...our future with the added element of his care.

I truly believed when I had my kids younger that I wouldn't have the burden of caring for my children and my parents at the very same time. It didn't really work out that way did it?

How can I make decisions about my future when in the last ten days my future changed so much?

How can I give everything to everyone that needs me and not go completely insane?

When do I get to get back to the place where I feel my life goals and accomplishments and my actual life are equal again?

How did I get here?

Right now I just don"t know.

Hopefully ten days from now I will.

Colby...

Recently my husband and I had to make the very challenging decision of whether or not we should retain Colby in kindergarten. This is not a light decision by any means. I read every study and research article I could find about retention. At the end of the day most believe it's the "does the child ever graduate school" question.

Raising a large family raises the spectrum of challenges. Avery is very bright, but lazy. Sydney is also bright but more importantly very hard working. Colby is very intelligent, he just has some pretty extreme learning disorders...most people can't differentiate, including "experts". If I just had Avery and Sydney things would be...easy. Colby throws in a whole lot of extra advocacy.

When Colby was 2 years old he didn't talk. I honestly thought nothing of this because he had two older siblings that always talked for him. When I took him to his yearly check up his pediatrician felt differently. They immediately sent him to a speech pathologist and he was instantly diagnosed with Speech Apraxia. There I was with a newborn baby, 2 older kids and a 2 year old with a pretty overwhelming future.

In giving Colby a speech disorder God also gave him the worlds biggest heart and the most ah inspiring determination. This child was first told he would never talk to talking all the time. We were told to use pec cards for communication, to teach him to sign, to even give him a permanent device so he could communicate with us. His pathologist never imagined a normal life for him in regards to speech. It was daunting.

Colby had years of private speech therapy, went to a preschool for kids with special needs, has been tested by everyone and their Mom and now has a fully developed IEP. He receives over 810 minutes of therapy and resource a month in school. To say these services came easy is just not the case. When you have a child with any special need you have to learn how to fight for them. I had to file many appeals to ensure he received his therapy. I had to demand he be tested and re tested, I even had him switch preschools and had them bring his speech to the new school. None of these were easy decisions and or choices but they were best for Colby so they had to be done.

When he started kindergarten I thought he would "catch up" on his learning. We focused so much on his speech all these years because we assumed that was all that he needed help with. When he entered kinder we discovered that Apraxia effects all learning. Thankfully he was blessed with THE MOST AMAZING teacher who joined me in my advocacy for Colby and pressured the "experts" to test him for everything. When you spend years feeling like the only advocate for your child and someone else finally joins in there's an overwhelming sense of gratitude that just cannot be described.

Apraxia is a very complex disorder. It usually develops in children with Autism but over the last several years they have found more non autistic children being diagnosed. To lightly sum up what Colby goes through imagine you hear everything normal you just can't repeat it the same. When he reads he can see the word cow but when he goes to say cow something else comes out, like cat. Can you imagine trying to say something and always struggling to get the correct sounds or words out? It's a daily struggle yet Colby makes it look so easy.

When we decided that Colby should move on to first grade it wasn't capricious. I am terrified he will become overwhelmed or feel bad about himself but I have also learned that Colby is very hard working and can surprise everyone, including me. He understands everything in his life and he would know he was held back just like he knows he has a speech disorder...he's a smart cookie.

In the end knowing if we made the right choice wont be determined for years but that's usually how all parenting is...doing the best and praying it was the right decision...

I need a new name...

I would like to ensure everyone that I am still alive and kicking even though my recent long departure from blogging would suggest otherwise.

To be perfectly honest it's sometimes hard to discuss the draining days of parenting when you're smack dab in the middle of them.

So here I am...back...ready to share and explore my journey, or at least complain and whine about my journey, of this wonderful little thing called motherhood.

I must say though I am considering changing my blog name, which I think will change my blog address, however I am not 100% sure on that last tidbit. I am not a "Marketing Mama", I tried, I left, I just don't care that much...I don't mean to sound complacent but I honestly am. When I was working my job I was completely gung ho. Now I have realized I could give a donkeys nut about product placement and advertisements so it's back to nursing school I a go. I have to finish my marketing classes in school but I don't have to keep the name for my blog.

I have come up with a few ideas and would like your input. So far I have narrowed it down to "fertile myrtle" but I think that's a little obvious. There's "supermama"...not. I like "children invaded my life" or "help me". I was also contemplating "husband for sale" or "in search of sister wife". I could always go a different route too as in "shit I'm almost 30!" or "Who's fat a** is this?" More possible options are "That's not my child throwing a tantrum" or "Yes I have 5 kids, no I'm not Mormon" and "Been there, done that, got peed on". My all time favorite though is "What you talking bout? wisdom from a crazed Mom"

Really there are so many options and I am just scraping the surface.

All useful suggestions are welcomed...and hopefully this blog will be on a "somewhat" new path very soon...

If you're asking, then your probably a good Mom

Yesterday I was at breakfast with two woman that I think are great mother's. We were meeting to discuss a PTA fundraiser. All three of us had many other things to do, they both work and I go to school, but we felt this was important so we made the time. It was important because it's for our kids.

As we were talking we were all sharing parenting stories and we were realizing how even though we have different sized households with different family dynamics we all faced the same struggles with our children. One of the Mom's then said "I always wonder if I'm a good Mom" we paused for a moment and then looked at her and said "If you're wondering, than you are".

This may or may not be true, I mean maybe there are Mom's who send there kids to school with no lunch and then wonder if they're good moms, I doubt it. Because of this doubt I thought I would give some examples of Good Mom/Bad Mom choices to make it more clear for anyone out there wondering, maybe even end wondering all together. So here goes...

A Good Mom mostly knows her kids names, a Bad Mom doesn't have a clue.
A Good Mom knows their child's teachers names, Bad Mom doesn't realize they go to school.
Good Mom has laundry done and ready, Bad Mom makes kids occasionally turn underwear inside out (Scratch that last one)
Good Mom makes sure children get to and from school...mostly on time, Bad Mom can't be bothered by such nuances while lunching or bar hopping
Good Mom reads to her children, Bad Mom has pimp read to children
Good Mom only occasionally beats children, Bad Mom beats them routinely
Good Mom forbids dating until adulthood, Bad Mom suggests double dates with teenager
Good Mom will ground children if they engage in recreational drugs, Bad Mom will ground children if they get into her "stash" 
A Good Mom show up to events and supports children, A Bad Mom can't get off work because that's the best night for big dollar tippers
Good Mom doesn't always realize she's good, Bad Mom thinks she's the best and tells everyone

In the end I think a Good Mom is someone who questions their parenting because they are invested in their children and a Bad Mom is someone who by the time they get done reading this blog needs to be reminded, again, that they have children.

I want my Oscar...

I find that the older I get the less interest I have in celebrating others...or at least other that don't really do much, and I'm not just referring to most men here.

I'm talking about celebrities. By the end of "awards season" we will have celebrated them many times over for one piece of work. This piece of work may have touched us emotionally or made us think more deeply but even that may be stretching it. Maybe I'm bitter and I'll be the first to admit this but I don't feel like jumping up and down because someone got paid a hole lotta money to act in a film that most of us wont remember this time next year.

What if we honored real Mom's this much every year? What if Mom's who live in work clothes or live in "Mom" clothes were able to dress up and walk a red carpet *gasp* kids free and have fathers, yes fathers, in the stands cheering our names and asking for our autographs?

Who would receive the "Able to hold a small child, unload the dishwasher, cook dinner, and supervise homework award?", or the "Worked all day, picked up kids, drove them to all their events, and then made love to their husbands award?". Just the shear act of love making is sometimes a hell of a lot more acting than some Oscar nominees can pull of.

Why don't we Mother's come together and throw ourselves a big ol' party? We could each get up on a stage and thank all of the people who helped us through the sleepless nights, the emotional roller coasters, the hemorrhoids and vomiting, the millionth time some small person said no and we refrained from just slapping the yes into them.


Why don't we do this you ask? We don't do this because we would have to do it for ourselves. We plan everything. Mother's don't have awards seasons because who has time to throw in appreciating ourselves, furthermore appreciating ourselves for multiple months??? I sometimes can't go to the bathroom for hours how can I plan an awards show?

Instead once a year we turn on the tv, watch fancy people dress up, and imagine ourselves receiving accolades because that's pretty much the extent of our time. We don't get to thank those who helped us get through each day but we know they understand we value them because their Mom's too.

In the end we may not get our own Oscar but we have moments where a snuggle or a cleaned room or a wonderful card from our child mean so much more than anything Oscar can give. I suppose being a Mom is an awards season...or maybe just bedtime is?

Where did all the sleep go?

I awoke the other morning in a most familiar way...

I may have mentioned once or twice that I am not a morning person. This is a bit of a troublesome situation since that is when I exercise. Every night I set my alarm clock to 5:00am and every morning someone who is in my bed, possibly me, turns it off. It's really starting to cut into my elliptical time.

So back to my morning. I wake up to Sydney yelling at me because unlike her Mother she is adamant about being on time and apparently she feels I am not being helpful by still sleeping at 7:30am. I jump, more like slowly rise, out of bed when I remember that David is gone and I must ensure everyone is dressed and have lunches packed by 8:00am. My husband is the morning person and so he takes that shift, however he sometimes has to leave early and so it falls back to me, the person who is not so keen on early rising. Why don't they let kids of parents who are tired and needing more rest go to school later, say 11:00???

I walk down the hall to find that someone has wet a bed, someone else has spilled fruit loops all over the floor with a little milk to boot, and another someone (furry I might add) has peed on the floor. I then hesitantly continue on to find Rusty still fast asleep and like a sleeping lion cub I am hesitant to wake him in fear of being attacked (he did awake but mostly because of the bribery). I move out to the kitchen to find Avery, who is none too helpful, watching tv in his drawers and Colby stretched out next to him. I then finally I discover that since taking Shelby out of bed she has managed to pull every toy out of every toy chest and disappear with ninja like abilities to start eating the fruit loops that are still on the floor.

The next 20 minutes are fast forwarded like a cheesy movie about large families running a muck, yet in this tale no kids were left home alone, though the Mom in the story would love to be left home alone. 

By 8:00am everyone was where they were supposed to be. All was right in our world and Dad didn't need to know the difference. Honestly for kicks I told him I woke right when he left and prepared a huge breakfast for all five kids while teaching them about geography and then proceeded to carry them to school on my back to really up the guilt card for the next time he's running behind.

I know some day I'll get this morning routine down. That or they'll all be grown and I'll just sleep in but regardless it never gets easier. 


Just out of curiosity how do mornings run at your home?

Poop patrol

I am officially on Poop watch 2011. Shelby has decided that being cute wasn't enough so she's added some naughty in as well to stir the pot a bit.

Last night my husband was working late and so I was home with all the kiddos. Since it's apparently inappropriate to drink away their cries I tried my best to appease them all the minute each one needed something (which is every min). In the midst of this controlled chaos Miss Shelby decided she didn't just like wearing pearls she wanted to eat one as well.

I tried very hard to retrieve said item to no avail. It also took every bit of my mothering mite to not overact, run down the street screaming in horror and call the fire department (they prefer to only be called for "emergencies" I'm told). Needless to say when there is an emergency in our house I'm not usually the person everyone runs to for help. In fact unless the place is on fire and I'm sleeping they usually try to not even alert me to any danger or potential disaster. Supposedly you are an "overreactor" if you know the fire department call dispatchers by name.

Anywho, I did give my husband a very frantic call and tried my best not to harm him when he did finally return home from work and then refused to take a non choking, breathing perfectly, child to the er after working all day(I swear).

Being a bit more mature (we'll say) I rationally decided that she must not be slowly dying from the inanimate object lodged in her chest and she should soon pass said inanimate object. (btw spelling inanimate object was quite a challenge).


Because I still am fairly irrational I did wake every hour last night to check if she was breathing, she was, so was my husband who did not enjoy the hourly wakings. If you're wondering you may be more inclined to let your kids play in the street once you have enough for your own basketball team but irrational fears always rear their ugly head.

After giving Shelby as much fiber filled foods as I possibly could today she did finally poop. No pearl amidst that jewel of a diaper but there's still tomorrow. As I look back on my childhood and my hope of motherhood I do not recall ever imagining opening a diamond and searching for jewelery as a real selling point of the job.

I do think this is a rather metaphorical story in that some days it feels like I am looking through a big pile of poop for the jewel that gets me through till tomorrow...and hopefully tomorrow I'll find it.