My apologies

I wish to take a moment to apologize for the rather severe case of writer's block that I have experienced of late. I promise that there will be new posts, just as soon as I can come up with something worthwhile to write.

I will be back. Sometimes, it just takes awhile.

Sorry.

YESSSSS!!

Just a quick post to update.

J saw a pediatric gastroenterologist today. They think he has a reflux issue. He'll start getting treated with some meds. Hopefully, if food stops making his tummy hurt and he stops gagging and throwing up, he'll be more inclined to eat. I think his eating is slowly getting better, and I think his time is starting to improve also ... it no longer seems to take the boy several hours to eat a quarter of a sandwich. So that's good.

What's great, though? He's in the 25th percentile for height and weight! We've gotten so used to a struggle - used to hearing bad news ... he's below the 5th percentile ... try this nutritional supplement ... he's too small ... if he won't gain, we'll have to do a G-tube ... failure to thrive ...

So yeah. Today was such a welcome change. Today, we got good news. He's smaller than averaqe in both height and weight. But at last, he's on the charts. He's not a malnourished starving kid who needs to be tube fed. He's not stunting his growth by refusing to eat. He's in the normal range, at last!

Now the trick is keeping him there. But I am feeling optimistic now. Sweet little J may be okay yet. We keep plodding along, and do our best.

It's all we can do.

A quick non sequitur

H: I think I'm right.
J: Well, I think I'm right.
H: So you think Daddy's wrong, then?
J: Yes. You're wrong, and I'm right.
H: No. You're wrong, and I'm right.
J: No. You're wrong, and I'm right.
H: But I'm the Daddy. So I'm always right.
J: But we have a Daffy Duck movie. So I'm always right.

Yup. Makes perfect sense.

RTT: Because I'm sick and the baby's angry. Apparently.

Make the baby stop crying. Make the baby stop crying? Make the baby stop crying!

Debt sucks. Just sayin'.

The Reese's peanut butter cup commercial mocks me, since I am out of peanut butter cups. Oh, delicious peanuty goodness, why do you taunt me?

New class, new policy. I no longer answer questions on the student collaborative board if they are addressed to me personally. I'm not the course tutor, and I won't give out my assignment answers. That would be called "cheating". So just stop asking, and we'll get along much, much better. I promise.

OMG! "Vision Quest" is on! And I'm watching it!

Sick as a dog yesterday. Slightly better today. Hopefully I'll be all fine tomorrow.

There are dishes to be washed, but I'm still lacking energy. Tired and sick. Must rest. Maybe later tonight, I'll be up for some chores. Just now, I need to nap and try to knock out this cold virus. But it's totally not working. I just can't nap. And why can't I nap?

Make the baby stop crying. Make the baby stop crying? Make the baby stop crying!

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Head on over to Keely's. Grab a button. Create your own Random Tuesday Thoughts. Do it. You know you want to.

'Kay, I gotta go. Obviously, the baby's crying.

*sigh*

It's educational, because I didn't know Maleficent was British

First, a word of caution.

Please ignore the nasty Blair Witch Project type special effects that occur largely at the tail end of this video as I searched frantically for the stop button. The camera is still pretty new, and I have yet to learn to edit these things.

And now for our feature presentation. We are pleased to present the opening sequence of "Sleeping Beauty", as told by J.



My kid, ladies and gentlemen. He's teh awesomeness. Yup, yup.

(One day, I hope to be able to upload videos through the button in Blogger, instead of having to use Youtube. Sadly, Blogger keeps giving me failure messages. This does not help my self-esteem issues, Blogger. Smarten up.)

Don't sweat the small stuff ... or, you know, sweat a lot

I had a moment today. A moment where I felt really stupid. A moment where I thought to myself "I can't finish my designation; I'm not smart enough". You ever get like that? It happens to me more than I'd really care to admit. But then, today, I realized that it's a nonsensical feeling. I am not stupid. I can't be. My course grades negate the concept. I'm actually very bright. I'm just not highly functional in a number of other very important ways.

No. I'm not stupid. But ...

You know how, when you go in for a job interview and the interviewer asks you to outline your weaknesses ... and everyone always tries to pick something that's actually a good trait but make it sound kind of negative? Remember saying: "I can be too much of a perfectionist"? Oh, admit it; we've all said it. The thing is, though, that for me, this is actually true. And incidentally, it's not a good trait at all. Actually, it kind of sucks.

I waste time. Everything must be just so. For if it is not absolutely perfect, then it is wrong. Other things are pushed aside as I work to make it perfect, totally functional, and beautiful to boot. Because I care, even if no one else does. And everything else that is actually of utmost importance suffers for it. I try to move on, but I am unfocused, knowing that I just blew something over, leaving it complete but not 100% perfect in every single minute and irrelevant way. And to get past it and carry on, I must first go back and finish the fool thing to my satisfaction.

It's pathetic.

I think it's some kind of weird undiagnosed OCD problem. It must be. I redo, and redo, and redo, trying to make everything in my world fit with absolutes, when the reality is that some things just don't matter that much. Other things are of greater importance. But I can't look at any of those things just now, because this spreadsheet is not evenly spaced and the fonts go all weird partway down, and the symbols switch from red to blue and back again with no rhyme or reason whatsoever, and it's making me crazy. Because it's not perfect.

It's not my fault. If the chairs are not completely straight, evenly spaced, and precisely the right distance from the table, something bad will happen. I just know it. Apparently.

Today, I realized that if I were in the army, I'd be the guy who routinely lags 10 minutes behind the batalion (and ultimately gets ambushed and offed by the enemy) because my bootloops were not perfectly symmetrical and I simply had to fix it before I could march.

Yup. That's me. I am just that insane. And over time, the problem appears to have gotten worse. Much to my chagrin, I appear powerless to just carry on and accept that things don't always have to be perfect. Sometimes, it just has to be good enough. And you move on, accepting that it's as good as it needs to be and no one else cares.

But I care! And dammit, that's good enough. Isn't it? Well, it should be. And if other people don't care about it as much, then they're just wrong. Apparently.

This is a flaw. It's a big one, actually. You don't want it.

Though at times when there are serious things going on around you, it can be helpful. It provides a distraction from the serious, as you work on fixing the inconsequential. This can help you keep your sanity in what might otherwise be a terribly stressful situation. Because you can focus on tiny details and completely ignore the fact that your hair is on fire, if you so choose. The problem with this, of course, is that you really have no choice in the matter. You must deal with your flaming hair. And yet, while your hair burns brightly, you find yourself completely disabled because you have observed a small scratch on the side of your fire extinguisher and you really can't bring yourself to deploy it until it is properly resurfaced.

This annoying trait means that everything takes me too long. And I don't like it. But I appear unable to change this in myself, and it's really, really irritating. Plus it creates stress. The stress of having to do it perfectly. It's a hard thing to handle. And then, you start irrationally feeling stupid, because you ran out of time or missed something or ... and it's at that moment that you feel like you're teetering on the edge of a precipice, still balancing on the appropriate side of the idiot line but just about to topple over. And you just don't know how you'll manage to carry on, because the slightest movement will push you right over the edge.

I really don't have time to be like this. Busy. Yes, with things that actually matter. I must find a way to get over it; some way to not care so much about trivialities. But I don't know how.

You know?

No. Of course you don't. Because you are not deranged.

Are you?

*sigh*

Cat toys are not suitable presents for your 4-year old son

Tonight, H and I stopped at a Second Cup to get expensive coffee drinks, because an occasional treat is a good thing and also because J had just announced that he needed to pee and Second Cup was close-by, and we can't abide being "those people"; you know, the ones who use an establishment's bathroom and then leave without buying anything and just really tick everyone right off. But mainly, we bought drinks because an occasional treat is a good thing. And to that end, when J spotted a special cookie that made his eyes just light up, we decided to get it for him.

A happy J skipped out of the Second Cup, cookie in hand. It was a big sugar cookie, shaped like a teddy bear and decorated with green and yellow icing, and J couldn't have been happier. It was very cute, and it looked delicious. We were sure that J would want to eat his treat right away.

J got back in the van, and H strapped him into his carseat. H then removed the cellophane wrap from the cookie and presented it to J so that J might eat his special cookie at once. And as H handed the teddy bear cookie to J, one of the bear's legs broke off. J looked kind of stunned for a moment. But we told him this wasn't a big deal; the cookie would taste the same, and J could just eat the leg first. Apparently placated, J began to eat his cookie. And we headed off for home.

As J continued to eat his cookie, he discussed the situation as he saw it. "Poor teddy bear", said J. And we explained to him that the teddy bear cookie was made to be eaten. It wanted to be eaten. This was the teddy bear cookie's sole purpose. But though J continued to munch on the cookie, he appeared somewhat upset. Periodically, J would look at his cookie with sad eyes and sigh mournfully at the poor teddy bear's plight.

J ate his cookie slowly. He ate the bear's legs, and arms, and then he started working on the bear's head. And then suddenly, he cried out "His eyes are gone!", in the same urgent tone of voice one might use to say "I backed over your brother! Call 911!" And I again told J that the teddy bear was made to be eaten, and that his eyes would surely disappear as he was eaten, and that it was all going to be okay.

To my dismay, J's big bright eyes welled up with tears, and he started to sob uncontrollably. He wouldn't eat the rest of the cookie. It was too painful for him.

He cried for the loss of his teddy bear, whose beautiful yellow and green icing was now completely gone. J wanted his teddy bear cookie to be whole, with yellow and green icing, and eyes that would last forever. He did not want to eat this special cookie. And he would not have done so had the teddy bear cookie's leg not fallen off when its package was opened. To J, this cookie was a real teddy bear, meant to be slept with, played with, and cuddled, and certainly not meant to be eaten. J was horrified that he had mistakenly eaten his new friend.

H considered going back to Second Cup to get J a new teddy bear cookie, but we realized that doing so would be problematic. J would try to sleep, cuddling his replacement cookie. And he would be upset when the cookie crumbled, or when it grew old and stale and had to be thrown in the garbage. Food is not forever. And cookies are meant to be eaten. We needed to come up with something else.

Toy stores are closed. Drug stores, however, are open. And so we stopped at one, looking for a teddy bear. Something small and inexpensive. Something inedible. Something that J could cuddle with and keep.

There were no teddy bears at the drug store. There was a large green ball with a picture of Winnie the Pooh on it, though. But J was unimpressed. A ball was not a friend. A ball was a poor substitute for a teddy bear. A ball could not take the sting off J's wounds. And as he looked at the ball, he tried to be happy. But the tears were still flowing, and they spilled over and wet his sweet little cheeks. He liked the ball, but it was just not the same.

Grocery stores are also open. And we need baby food. And so, with a basket of baby food in hand, I searched. I looked at baby toys, but there were no bears. I looked through the seasonal area, but there were no bears. Specialty items? Giftware? Greeting cards? Yeah, no. There were no bears. Ummm ... cat toys? (Don't judge me. I was desperate.) Oddly enough, there were no bears.

I had nearly given up when at last, I found them. In the back of the floral section. In an area that I think is actually reserved for employees only, but I didn't really care anymore. Balloons, frogs, dogs, unicorns ... and bears! Bears! Cute little stuffed teddy bears! They even had them in yellow and green! Perfect!!!

J sleeps now, with new bears in yellow and green. They are not meant to be eaten. They are not filled with catnip. And when he awakes, he will not be stunned and saddened by their unexpected deterioration into a pile of crumbs.

I am the mom who cannot bear to see tears in your eyes. I will do anything in my power to protect you and to make you smile. Heaven knows that there are harsh realities and disappointments to be faced in this life. You will encounter them someday. And much as it pains me to realize it, I won't always be able to make it better. But just now, you are four. You are four, and you are mine, and I can look out for you. I can't give you everything, but I can give you this. I can wipe your tears and kiss your ow-ies and offer you small tokens that bring a smile to your sweet face once more.

And at the end of the day, I promise that there will be teddy bears.

I love you, J.

At least he knows what's most important

J: My teacher swallowed a frog.
T: You mean she has a frog in her throat?
J: Yes. She swallowed it but it got stuck. And now, she can't eat her french fries.
T: I see.

Maddie's Song

Two months.

(Photo courtesy of Heather Spohr)

Two months ago, Mike and Heather Spohr lost their precious daughter, Maddie. She was 17 months old.

Born prematurely after a complicated pregnancy, Maddie was a fighter. She defied the odds to survive the pregnancy, to be born, and to be released from a prolonged stay in the NICU. And though she had weak lungs and struggled to gain weight, she did well at home overall.

Until one day, she didn't.

For 17 precious months, Maddie grew in beauty and intelligence, making new friends and earning the love and admiration of all who saw her. And then, one day, she caught a cold, just as she had many times before. And she quickly developed a chest rattle and required oxygen, just as she had many times before. And she was admitted to hospital with pneumonia, just as she had been many times before because her lungs, weakened from prematurity, made her more susceptible to complications from colds. And she should have recovered and been released to her loving parents, just as she had always been before. But this time, she wasn't. And no one saw it coming.

She was special. And she is greatly missed.

**********
I never met Maddie. And I don't know her parents in real life. But for some reason, Maddie's story had an impact on me, and I don't rightly know just why.

Maybe it's because she passed away on J's birthday this year. Or because of the similarities between my pregnancies and Heather's. Or perhaps it's because Maddie was a preemie, just like J and several other children who we love so deeply. Or that she, like J, struggled to gain weight. Or the fact that she bears a bit of a physical resemblance to our baby N.

Or maybe it's because, after their loss, her parents threw themselves headlong into fundraising efforts for the March of Dimes, raising about $60,000 in Maddie's name, in hopes that other parents may not have to go through this pain.

And maybe it's because, several years ago, a couple of really close friends of ours who we love deeply also lost a much loved baby born too soon. At the time, I wanted to write something in tribute to their beautiful little Aiden. But I was shredded, too close to the loss and pain, and I couldn't pass through it all to find a way. Sometimes, that's how it happens.

Maybe it's any of these. Or more likely, it's a combination of all. But Maddie inspired me, just as she has inspired and continues to inspire so many of us. And this is why I wrote to her mother, Heather, and asked permission to use some of her words, so beautifully written on her blog, in a tribute to the incredible Madeline. And she agreed.

**********
And so, I am now posting a song. Lyrics by Heather and myself, together with music that I wrote. Maddie's Song. And I hope you like it.



MADDIE'S SONG

Verse 1
There’s a heaven in your smile.
There’s a halo of light around Madeline.
Though I shared it for only just awhile.

Verse 2
Your bright eyes and golden curls.
Such a beautiful child is my Madeline.
An angel sent from another world.
Smart, sweet little girl.

Chorus
Heaven
Right in front of me.
You will always be
The daughter I always wanted.
Remembered
For all eternity.
You will always be
The daughter I always wanted.

Verse 3
There’s a hole here in my arms.
A space left by my Madeline.
Exquisite pain I can’t comprehend.
And a world that makes no sense.

[Chorus]
[Musical Break]

Verse 4
There’s a heaven in your smile.
There’s a halo of light around Madeline.
And I know that someday, we’ll meet again.

[Chorus x 2]
For Madeline Alice Spohr. And for her parents. And for all children whose lives have been cut too short, and their parents as well. For those left behind to grieve and mourn a loss none should have to bear.

For all of you. I wish you strength to bear up, hope for the future, and a world with no pain.

This video must have been terrible before they fixed it

I've been remiss in posting. I'm unrepentant and continuing to do it. I promise a real post will come soon. Honest. Maybe even before my exam next Friday. Who can tell?

In the meantime, enjoy this new and improved Bonnie Tyler video.

Her hair. It's awesome.