IN THE GARDEN

When heaven needs butterflies.......

2009-07-06T18:02:00.000-07:00

A five year old little girl exclaimed in excitement as she prepared her project for the science fair. She held in her hands a netted container full of pupas and painted lady butteflies. She couldn't wait to show her classmates the cycle of a butterfly.

As the day progressed, all the pupas but one hatched it's beautiful orange and brown butterflies. One pupa remained hanging with no sign of life. It wasn't wiggling anymore as the other pupas had.

When the week ended, the little girl looked into the netting and asked when the pupa would hatch. Her teacher placed a hand on her shoulder and told her that this pupa wasn't going to hatch. When the little girl asked why, the teacher told her that sometimes heaven needs butterflies.

Soon the weather became warm and school let out for summer break. Over the summer there was much excitement; days at the beach, camping, bike riding and lazy days reading in her back yard.

This summer was extra special. There was news. Her mama was having a baby. The little girl was so very happy. She loved placing her head against her mama's belly and feeling her new brother or sister kick against her check.

Fall came. The weather grew cooler and crisp. It was time for new school clothes and shoes. The little girl was mostly consumed with telling her friends about the new baby.

First grade was so very different. There were lots to learn and it was a longer day. Sitting in the chair still took a lot of concentration. The little girl focused on her new studies and it helped the days to pass while she waited for her new baby.

One day she came home from school to find her mother crying in the nursery. Her mother was rocking in the rocking chair where she had held her as a baby. She climbed up into her mothers lap, kissed a tear as it slid down her check and cuddled in her mother's arms.

Her mother kept crying. The little girl stayed there without questioning; knowing that the answer to whatever it was would be very bad.

She heard her daddy's footsteps as he came down the hall and entered the nursery. He placed his hand on her shoulder and told her that there was no longer a baby in her mommy's belly.

A tear slipped out of her eye before she could stop it.

"It is so sad" she said, "when heaven needs butterflies......"

Knott Goody Nuff

2009-07-06T17:06:00.000-07:00

There once was a little boy with blond hair and brown eyes. His face was patched with cheeks of red. His smile was sweet, but his eyes shadowed pain.

His name was Knott.

Knott goody Nuff.

Knott was named after his grandfather...and his grandfather's father. A name that should have made his grandpa proud. A name that should have guaranteed that he was the special grandchild out of them all.

I watched as Knott went to help his grandfather, walk up the stairs to the family gathering. Knott wanted to help his grandpa who was now older and not as agile in his younger days. He went to gather the things grandpa was carrying to give a helping hand.

Perhaps it was pride in the older man's heart. Perhaps love in a displaced way. What came out was criticism, gruff and full of anger.

Knott walked away to the other side of the porch, and cried.

I recognized the color of tears that he shed as I have kept the same ones bottled up inside my own heart.

Knott is on the honor roll, he dreams of being in law some day. He is only in junior high and he is focused on his grades and future. Knott is a talented athlete. He plays football and baseball.....and plays it well. Knott is already a scholar athlete.

Those aren't even the qualities that make this child so amazingly incredible.

He is gifted with hospitality. Not only giving up his room for a night (without complaining like most pre teens) but gathering as many blankets and things he thought we would need to be comfortable.

In the morning he asked if I would like a cup of coffee. He made coffee for everyone and was asking people how they would like theirs. Hospitable at his young age.

He cares about the people around him. Conversations of family members that had him worried were held in my car as if he was a 40 year old adult.

Compassion, hospitality, intelligence, athletic skill, dedication.....and visionary.

Pretty close to being a perfect son.

Yet he feels Knott Goody Nuff.

I wish I had the answer for him....to change the way he was treated in that moment. I wish I could make him the apple of his grandfather's eye. I wish I could explain why it is that the children who seem to have so much to give...are treated in such a way that they're self esteem gets clinked.

I too, was Knott Goody Nuff.

It took becoming an adult to realize that the sibling who was the apple of everyone's eye; was not what they had me believing she was.

The wounds in my self esteem are still evident today. Knowing in my head what I really was doesn't change the fear in my heart of rejection from those I loved the most.

Perhaps I could tell this child.....he is MORE than Goody Nuff. He is incredible.

I'll keep him in my prayers at night; asking that the love of his parents be more than Goody Nuff to keep him from stuggling like I do with a name like Nott Goody Nuff.

feelings of home......

2009-06-17T09:37:00.000-07:00

i love reading the ramblings of a father who writes about his days. Recently he wrote about the feelings of home, which reminded me of a post I wrote recently on facebook. His writings inspire me to share it in blog world as well. Here it is;

sometimes in the winter, I work third shift.

leaving my facility while it is still dark brings me a feeling that i have known before. street lights are dimming as the soft glow in the sky tells of a sun starting to rise.

reflectors of bright yellow and white flicker against the dark grey pavement as i drive onward towards home.

a slow changing of colors in the sky is like the yawning of the day.

there is often a birdsong heard right as dawn breaks. an offer of praise perhaps to the creator for a new day.

driving home after third shift brings me comfort.

brings me back to a place of childhood peace. a time when driving as the sun rose meant going home.

home that was never a place to live, but a place where i belonged, where family was in every face that you looked at; a place that you dare not date anyone until you conducted a thorough family tree.

many call it The Vineyard...and they say it with a cool yuppy like sound....that conjurs up thoughts of Black Dog, Democratic Kings and queens and Carly Simon.

for me, we called it The island. There was no other island and it was our island.

for me, it was about driving around the bend to see the Nautilus sign that causes you to immediatly turn your face left to see the Coast Guard ships and scan the ocean for signs of the ferry....

your ferry.

coming like a floating whale to open it's mouth...for you to return to the bosom of your homeland.

in the old days we would round the corner and drive right into the standby line. we would climb out of the crowded car and run for the bathrooms while someone bought ticketts. sometimes that car belonged to my father....and 5-6 kids jumped out of a smoke filled pinto with two huge old english sheep dogs...chet and Levi would sleep in the back of that station wagon curled up with two huge fur ball excuses for dogs. mac and minnie. or in the yellow opal. same kids except for the little one...would climb out with their crumbs from snacks falling down...probably bologna and bread sandwhiches..........and we would run pellmell from the bathroom to the fence of the dock. Watching in the morning night for the lights of the ferry....and we had favorite ferries....the uncatina (sp?)....for one. We knew the ferries by name and waited for them....to bring us home.

the seagulls would call hello to us, knowing that the blood in our veins belonged to their island. wind would often be whipping the flags on the poles, clanging the ropes against the metal poles...in tune to the buoys calling out with fog hornes.......and voices of workers would be heard shouting with the vowels intoned differently than ours but more belonging to us...they would say, "pahhhk that cahh over thahhh...." we knew it was a directive to park the car over there. music to our ears.

The boat would come and we would jump with glee! Running to get into the car as if it would leave without us before the boat even docked.

The docking was an adventure as the mouth of the whale would come toward this giant square, and it would bump to the left and right as it aimed for the perfect dock. Chains would be clanking loudly as the ramp was lowered and positioned.......and then.....

the wave.

the men in uniform would start waving for cars to come aboard...and our car engine would start...and we knew by the clunk clank that we passed over the ramp and into the belly of a whale....

and the echos in the well of the boat, we would tap our feet twice as loud to hear them, stopping to look out large open windows (checking to see if there was a shark fin in the waves) before running up the metal stairs to the top of the boat. At every door, you had to step up because there was a metal raised plank in the doorway. The top deck is where we always ran unless it was storming or freezing cold. even then, you went to the top anyway for a brief acknowlegment that you had come home and all was well.

The churning of the motors would grow loud as the engines pulled water out of the ocean and into its machinary to begin the reverse. Chains and clanking would be heard again as the ship would be released from its docking. Shouts in the massachussets twang would echo through the walls...and the HORN would blow.

If you were standing near it, you would be lucky to feel the vibration of the noise in your every bone. Even in your bones, you knew, you were returning home.

The horn was the call to the island, that it's children were returning.......home......home.

we would look into the waves, sometimes clear minty green with sunrays coming from the ocean's bottom, sometimes dark gray and onery with white caps that would rock the ship left and right, up and down, sometimes deep teals...always it's mood for the day expressed in a different color...the ocean cradled the ship onward towards the vineyard.

and we would watch.

as small mounds of land with sand and brush passed us...and buoys red with numbers and lights swayed and sang out....

as lights coming from the vineyard indicated another ferry was to pass us....

as the sun rose with the most miraclous of sunrises....placing it's rays across the homes that were coming into focus as we approached the island.

and always, looking to the right, tring to guess where between the west chop lighthouse and the gazebo (olin park maybe?) was the path from Ma's summer house....the beach with the boats turned upside down, with the lilac bushes taking over the fencing....where I spent numerous hours finding seashells with Ma (jane cleveland), watching sailboats and picking lilacs.... I never really can find it, but I tell myself that I do, each time.

The boat comes around the corner and into the harbor.

on summer days there is an onslaught of sailboats coming at your ship and around you. People smiling up and waving at you as they start their day out on the sea....

on cold winter days, the harbor is quiet. floating markers show either lobster traps or boat holds, I 'm not really sure.

As the ship enters Vineyard Haven, the Horn Blows loud again. Letting all know, even the dead in West Tisbury, that we have come home.

We would run down to the car, hoping that if the boat wasn't crowded, we could stand at the open door behind the mesh netting and watch as the boat came to dock. We would look into all the faces to see if there were familiar eyes.

If we came in the opal; there would be the eyes of MA waving. An older woman with grey hair, standing next to her car. Waving and smiling........ Later it would be Gram. A younger version of the same english strength, with a red lipstick; standing next to the same car......waving....... There were times when a jeep would pick us up; George or Untie Dot. There were times when Mikey would be fishing off the docks....one time chasing a humongous crab...he was my uncle jack cousteau..... he had stories of seeing shark....and buckets of squid that he would catch.

If we came with my dad, there wasn't anyone at the dock because they lived farther away...in the woods. We would clink clunk off the boat...and drive past the A & P and bike rental shop, hang a right, then a left.....and drive on roads that took us up island. Roads paved with tar that had trapped sand and beachstones ...and a few shells....lined with oak trees that appeared to grow while ingesting salt and sand. Shorter than our oaks, twisted and gnarled...and well, salty and sandy looking.

up island.

Taking a left onto new lane as the road curved, we looked at grass. Grass that had sand at its' roots. We would turn left and look to the right for Uncle Cy's grey cedar shingled cottage...and then look for the dirt road between the trees that opened up to reveal the cottage.

A cottage with white triming and cedar shingles. A garage to the right...with the path to the outhouse.
A bunkhouse. Dogs, Aunts and Uncles running to say hello.......and gramma and grandpa. A house that had roses...and I swear I could smell the blueberries as we drove in...even though those bushes were out in back past the wooden swing that hung in the breezes.

Arriving at the island.....in the night......is the feeling that I remember when I leave work at 7 am...driving on the empty roads, while the sun is rising......and a new day is coming.

Blue Glass

2009-06-12T11:52:00.000-07:00

She was excited to see her grandmother again. She had driven 3 hours and taken a 45 minute ferry anticipating being with the family she loved. It was financially hard this year. She just graduated from college and hadn't started working yet. She had scrapped up her last change to pay for the gas and ferry. It was important to her to bring her son across the ocean and to be around family.

After her grandmother hugged her hello, she brought her to the living room to show her the new blue glass pieces, again.

The blue glass was everywhere around the room. Some hung in the windows, shapes of flowers and animals stuck with rubber suction holders so that the sun could reflect through the shapes. They were stacked on the shevles..... it was much like being in a gift shop. There were so many pieces of blue glass.

Gram knew exactly each piece, who had given it to her or where she had bought it. She was listening patiently, again, as her grandmother went through each story about each piece.

she wished she was a piece of blue glass.

Years passed. She returned to the island again, with her husband now and more children. She was happy to see her grandmother again, but had foresight enough to tell her husband that he would go through a tour of her grandmother's blue glass. Patiently they listened as she described each piece of blue glass.....each person that had given it to her...or where she had bought it.

She worried that her children would touch the blue glass. Her children looking up in awe at the beautiful blues reflecting through the windows....magically making little ducks look like shimmery crystal creatures.. She winced as one of her little ones hands' reached out to touch the blue magic.

touching the blue glass might mean everyone would hear about how her kids weren't well behaved...it might mean she wouldn't be invited back. She loved her grandmother, but in that moment she hated the blue glass.

she wished her and her babies were blue glass.

More years passed. She returned to the island again. One of her babies a man now, seeking secrets from the island as he passed through adulthood. She sought to find her grandmother out....longing to see the blue eyes and the love on her face. The years had taken grandma's ability to speak well and care for herself. She was no longer in her home with the blue glass shimmering around the living room. She was in the hospital, needing 24 hour care from the stroke that took so much of her strength away.

When she entered gram's hospital room, she was struck by the blue glass. Hanging in the windows and a few standing on her nightstand by her bed. " OK", she thought, this would give Gram comfort. She resigned herself to the fact that the hated blue glass was still around.

She was struck with emotional surprise that even though Grandma wasn't able to speak; she gave the tour of the blue glass. Using a board to write on and gesturing with her hands; grandma showed her and her 5 year old daughter, the precious blue glass.

sadness overcame her. she no longer hated the blue glass, she felt pity.

Later that day she took her daughter to the Oak Bluff beaches to play in the sand. They jumped over stones, picking up the most beautiful ones to bring home to treasure. They sang, they danced...they splashed water at each other from the cold ocean. She felt home in the loving presence of her daughter on the seashore....as they gathered shells together reliving moments that generations before had beheld; mother and daughter gathering the gifts from the sea...

when her daughter looked down exclaiming in joy....at having found a beautiful piece of sea glass. The edges were softened from the salt and sand... her daughter held the sea glass up to the sun for it to reflect through....

and it was then that she knew.

the sea glass was blue.

she remembered being with gram and her great grandmother. she remembered childhood days of walking the beach looking for sea glass. Blue sea glass was the ultimate treasure. The ultimate reward. The ultimate gift from the sea....

she knew.

She was the blue glass.....as was her mother.....her cousins...her aunts....and uncles...her grandmother....and now her daughter.

blue sea glass.

blue memories of stolen days on the beaches......

small tokens to remember each person that gave her the gifts of blue glass...

and she wept a few tears for all the years of misunderstanding. of wishing she was blue glass...and not knowing.

She clutched the sea glass in her hand, knowing that it would hang on a string in her window so that the sun could reflect the blue shimmers...so that she and her babies would know;

the love of Gram.

politiking...

2009-03-28T06:12:00.000-07:00

I haven't written here in a while...

haven't been reading the blogs that have become family to me...

I have been politiking,
and I have discovered facebook as a way to communicate to all the others that I need to politik with me.

I guess it took my job being placed on the chopping block for me to leave the busy schedule of my children to stand up and fight this travesty that is occurring in our nation.

I am so sick of hearing about cuts because of economy.

Money is coming to our state from the feds, but our governor has refused some of it based on principle.

My biggest issues is that she intends to shut down the place I work, a residential facility that takes in children with complex needs that have been refused elsewhere.

I will fall on my feet if I loose my job, I have a degree and experience...and I'm a tough fighter.

I am worried sick about the children that we serve. The need our facility.

Here are a few links to coverage...

and yes, those are my posters...and my daughter is seen on her dad's shoulder with a poster in her hand.

http://www.wfsb.com/video/19014533/index.html

http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=59553931450&h=87Yj_&u=0e6jr

posting....

2009-02-17T14:40:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted for a while, and frankly it is because I can't stand the layout here any more in blogger world.

some of you have changed over, any suggestions>?

Our governors budget.

2009-02-06T21:33:00.000-08:00

She released it this week. I may not be able to write it coherently here. I am wavering between shock, denial, acceptance and fear.

She is proposing that to save money, She intends to shut down the residential treatment center of which I work.

I would like to write about how afraid I am of loosing my income. The irony is all I feel is fear for the kids I work with.

Instead of reducing the ridiculous top heavy management in my agency and every other- she is turning our kids out of their homes.

I am stunned.

I am praying for a powerful Democratic blockage.

Except our commissioner visited our place today. Do commissioner's visit places unless they know it is already a done deal?

She was just arrested for DUI last week, I think she has no strength to fight the governor who didn't fire her.

I am going to have to write our governor a letter. I will not be able to sleep at night worrying about these kids. and my lost paycheck.

pondering things...

2009-02-06T08:21:00.000-08:00

so I sit here at the computer, exhausted, after a difficult week with my son Caleb.

What made it difficult?

I forgot this week that his issues that come out as behaviors- are a disability. I bought into the lie that "he really can do it if we force him to, or con him to."

yup. I did. Just like parents of dyslexic kids who for years were told that their children were lazy readers- because all the other area of academics in their lives, they were doing well in. It took years, research and someone taking the time to listen to these children to realize that dyslexia was a REAL disablity and not an excuse for lazy children.

My son was restrained three times this week. Three. You would think after the first I would have called a meeting.......it's a warning that something isn't going correctly.

He is terrified of going to school. So angry that this morning he took off his clothes as the bus pulled in our driveway because he knew that we would not be able to force him on the bus, in this cold, in underwear.

Then, when my husband, already late for work (and he works for the governor who is watching for lazy state employees that she can lay off to fix her economic problems- you know ones that come to work late often...which is him...because of Caleb but he always stays late to make up the time)....stressed...and my 21 year old tried to get him in the car; he refused.

he walked up to me quietly and whispered in my ear, "I am running away but don't tell anyone because they will stop me."

When my husband left for work, I called the school and indicated that we couldn't safely get him to school after all; feeling guilt as a parent that I was not able to get my son to school; feeling fear as a parent because at what point will they hospitalize him for his "acting out"...

With a screaming toddler in tow, I convinced Caleb to cuddle with me while I put Sam down for a nap. Curling up with him, I asked him, "you know how much your daddy and I love you and for how long we wanted you, right?"

He answered, "1,000 million"

I responded, "more, can you tell me about school?"

Caleb explained that he hated school because play time was too long away. He thought it a better idea to do math, then play; read, then play. He proceeded to explain that when he has to work all morning and can't play until after lunch; that his body starts to feel funny. He told me that when his body feels funny, he looses his "good boundaries" which frustrates and angers him. That is when he starts acting out, or he gets bored until his head hurts.

What amazes me with his answer is that it seems to be always around 10:30 that he starts to "loose it" at school.

Second, he misses his favorite toys. He had some toys (a batmobile) that were taken by the teacher and returned to the locked closet because he was told they are toys for younger kids.

Third, he hates restraints. He went on to show me how they covered his mouth with his shirt and held his head down. He said his feet and hands hurt when they hold him down.

I have always been against restraints. I have been trained at my work that they are dangerous, only get temporary results, and teach kids with sensory issues to get the input that they need inappropriately.

The time has come for me to evaluate the effectiveness of this program for Caleb. When I homeschool him, he does very well. My confusion comes in with the question, "am I enabling him to shelter himself in his house?" Does a child with autism have to learn to wake up everyday and go meet life?

My husband pointed out to me that if a child is wheel chair bound, do we treat it as behavioral when he can't walk?

My son can't work on academics without physical breaks. He is socially developmentally delayed; batman toys are still appropriate for him. Restraints? Well, they just scare the crap out of me, can you imagine him? When the state has decided that spankings are abusive and restraints are ok (they are more likely to cause death and/or injury) then what kind of world do we live in?

The real question that I continue to face is, am I ready to homeschool him full time? Am I able? Am I qualified? Will I ruin his life?

Can I do it?

hmmm and more importantly- Don't you find it AMAZING that in 5 minutes of listening to a "disabled" child; he was able to tell me what the problems are?

Caleb and Jason interviewed on our local news!

2009-02-04T17:54:00.000-08:00

We've been real busy these days. Running from one thing to another. I'll have to get around to posting pictures, I promise.

One of the things we have been doing is driving Caleb to ski ing, his big brother Jason goes up with him for support.

if you feel so inclined, click on the link below....look for the video on right with the child in the red jacket (caleb) and hit play- the first one saying, "skiing is cool" is Caleb- but if you can wait for the interview of the doctor- you'll see they interviewed Caleb and Jason-

We are so proud of Caleb who only the week before this interview was too afraid to get on the chair lift. He is now a super skier!

(ok, I can't figure out how to make this a link- but if you copy it and paste it onto the left search window- it works)

http://www.wfsb.com/family/18550774/detail.html

I thought I could outwit the phone company.

2009-01-31T21:29:00.000-08:00

seriously.

insane nut that I am.

I despise the fact that I have to pay for a landline phone in order to get internet service. We NEVER use the landline...well, it NEVER works. We pay for insurance on the lines but the working men tell me we don't...and in between our fifty million things that we do....we don't ever finalize the age old argument that we have with good old ma bell.

so the phone bill didn't get paid last month...an accident that became an experiment.

our internet still worked,

HA!

we thought to ourselves, ok ok, yeah, we spoke it outloud around here.

A month of no land line and internet...

so we planned to outsmart them....

maybe they wouldn't know that we aren't paying our land line bill anymore.

we lost.

our internet went down.

so for four days we scrambled to call, be put on hold for endless hours...and finally,

I am back online!
and paying for landline service that we don't use...

and stuck with a new email address because the company merged and I can no longer own my own email...and have 90 days to forward anything saved into my new email name.

they suck.

TAG- OBAMA's IT

2009-01-21T14:27:00.000-08:00

I've wanted to blog about the new president, but what can I say that no one else has said already?

I love the hope that he is inspiring, the patriotism, the inclusion...the Hope...wait, did I write that already?

I was glued to the t.v.

I cried when shots of black americans cried.

I cheered when the audience cheered.

I waited for every word he would speak, to see which profound sentence would go down in history for the generations to memorize.

Would it be the encouragement ?

the prose?

the calm self assured way he carried it off?

I hope to god that what doesn't go down in history is who wore what when.

Those comments are the first that we should get rid of in his call for us to mature and grow up.

He included all people, all colors, all religions including those with no religion.

wow.

I have a few complaints-
one, Rick Warren? to what end>? WHY?

There are very few published christian leaders that I respect and trust- how about Graham? He seems to have stood the test of time so far.

Then I was wondering, where is Maya Angelou?

until I heard the words of the new poet....how perfectly, perfect.

and another thing; we pride ourselves as Americans as transitioning the power peacefully with all of our little rituals...

come on, you don't think Michele bought that gift for Barbara without being coached, do you?

well, in my opinion, that "transition of power in a peaceful way" is symbolic of the dysfunction of our nation.

It illustrates the elephants on our table.

The ability of Americans to pretend all is well as people in our own cities are starving, drugging, dying and homeless.

wow, sounds like a subject by itself to blog about.

The only truth I witnessed in the transition of power was Cheeny.

Come on now, you don't really think his attitude was because he was in a wheel chair the day he left office do you?

I think he used that as an excuse because he was pissed he was leaving office- leaving power- and giving that power to the other side; not only to the democrats but to a black man.

and as he was giving power over- the entire country REJOICED as did the world...

that is why he was scowling....

As the helicopter left, and everyone waved a fond farewell to the Bush family; this woman screamed with joy at the top of her lungs...

farewell crook, liar, murderer....farewell...oppression, hatred, exclusiveness...farewell....

now, let's hope that this new president stays on track and lives up to half of what we wait for.....

and may God, whomever God is, be with them.

SUV - special victims unit

2009-01-15T06:13:00.000-08:00

any one else get traumatized by this show last night?

anyone else ready to pull off all pictures of their children anywhere on the internet, like STAT?

this happens to me from time to time.

I write here like it is a free extension of my mind- a diary that once in a while a friend pops in and writes a comment.

Then I watch Law and Order SVU- which I love.

I admit; I Am a LAW and Order junkie...

until they put those freaky stories on about children.

then I want to erase all my blogging- and well, hide my children in a cave underground for a while because the world is big, bad and ugly.

where's the balance guys?

My Christmas tree is still up!

2009-01-14T09:48:00.000-08:00

It is January 14th, and yes, my christmas tree is still up!

I am just not ready to take it down yet. This christmas was filled with so much busy-ness that I never had a night to sit under the lights and enjoy it.

I like to do that at christmas time, sit there with a hot cup of tea and soak it all in.

It's my version of yoga, I think, my once a year chance to empty it all out and relax.

but this year?

I served dinner at my home on christmas eve, then sent the kids to bed because according to NORAD, Santa was in Ireland about to cross the Atlantic Ocean.

Santa came, and I had to rush to work. I worked 11pm to 7am...and rushed home before the kids woke up to see what Santa left for them.

I worked a lot through out the winter break, that and blizzards, colds and therapy schedules have kept me running- have kept me from having time to post photos...

and now I sit here, a deep freeze coming in our way on the wings of another storm tonight...

and hope that tonight will be the night I can sit under the tree lights and reflect on last years happenings.....

so that this tree can come down before valentine's day.

hey, this tree still has all it's green! we cut it down the friday after thanksgiving and it still has all it's green needles......amazing.

NO SCHOOL!

2009-01-07T06:50:00.000-08:00

I love snow days,
maybe it's the excitement of my own childhood that causes me to wake up before 5 am to turn on the news when there is the anticipation of a storm coming to New England..

maybe.

maybe it is the feeling that I have stolen a day back with my kids from the school system.

maybe.

maybe it is the excitement that comes from not being able to control weather- like when preparing for a hurricane.

maybe.

maybe it is the feeling that in the midst of a terribly busy schedule; weather comes to stop our craziness for a moment and gives us a locked down un planned time with family.

yeah, that's it.

I woke up this morning, turned on the news and waited....
school is cancelled, YEAH!

so in anticipation of power outages; I filled up the tub with water (for those with city water- if you have a well, it needs electricity to bring up the water- so you can't flush your toliets without water- filling your tub insures that you can still flush), I gathered emergency candles, cooked food items, and had my husband stoke up the wood stove.

I just fed the kids a big breakfast- home made pumpkin bread with chocolate chips toasty warm from the oven, eggs, and hash... made up an incredible omlet for the adults (kids don't like mushrooms, onions, and peppers)...

so if we can't open the frige- we're full anyway....

gonna head out the door with ice skates on because here in southern New England- we are in cased in ice.

and the good news? We're all home safe, warm, fed and together

Happy NO SCHOOL DAY !

January musings...

2009-01-05T11:00:00.000-08:00

it's that time of year...

time to catch up on medical appointments for everyone,
time to pack away the christmas things.

time to sort through the "stuff" that is multiplying
and donate some to freecycle.

It's time to put out birdseed and watch the birds come,
put on ice skates and rub baby oil on cheeks,
measure ski fittings,
and blow up inflatable tubes for sledding.

the cabinet is stocked with hot cocoa
and soup makings.

and me?
I'm curled up on the coach memorizing the products in the seed catalogs.

soon....very soon...it will be time to start ordering!

Happy New Years! It's 2009 and the economy,

2009-01-01T07:53:00.000-08:00

must be doing better because I heard on the news that there is a new ball that fell at Times Square last night:

"At first glance, the new ball set to drop over Time's Square this New Year's Eve looks a lot like designs from years past. However, the updated ball is twice as big as previous versions (12-feet tall, 5,385kg) and it will be the first to be a permanent year-round fixture atop One Times Square. Besides its size, the ball is decked out with 2,668 Waterford Crystals and powered by 32,256 Philips Luxeon Rebel LEDS that are capable of generating more than 16 million distinct colours and billions of patterns. Essentially, it's a giant LivingColors lamp kaleidoscope for the world. [Times Square NYC]"

Now see, in my household, if we were not out of the 'red' that ball would be made out of recycled jeans or cardboard. Perhaps even fasioned out of twigs and branches from the back yard....come to think of it; that would leave a better carbon inprint as well, right?

ok, realistically I know that NYC wouldn't do such a cut back-

But I've read that this thing cost several million- imagine putting into my budget one waterford crystal during these times of 'recession'... but this thing had over 2,000 waterford crystals....hmmmmm has someone lost their mind?

do we need waterford crystals one night a year?

or jobs for families...

and what does a ball dropping have to do with the end of a year anyway?

So while the government is telling us to conserve energy; while coorporations are threatening lay offs and asking for welfare bailouts; while food lines are growing; foreclosure signs are part of the general landscape-

let's all stop for a moment to gaze upon a crystal ball to tell us that this year has just ended.

yeah, right. good night, happy new years.....and my hopes are for you all this year are to have a full belly each day, a roof over your head, warm clothes on your back and moments of laughter.

Days Gone By....

2008-12-29T12:40:00.000-08:00

I play a game on another blog, apples to apples. This time the instruction was to write a short story on days gone by...thinking of new years reflections of yesterday. I'd like to post here what I wrote there...

DAYS GONE BY.....

sitting on the floor, criss cross applesauce, she gazed into the blinking lights of the christmas tree...

bright lights of red, yellow, green and blue, blinking in tune to "we wish you a merry christmas" drew her into a hypnotic gaze....

she looked down at the presents under the tree. The giant life size barbie smiled back at her surreally. There was a hess truck, ready to go, parked next to boxes wrapped in pretty paper and ribbons. The was another truck filled with chocolate candies...

and she remembered, a different christmas eve; a christmas that seemed so long ago.

with a tree that barely had any lights at all and a scattering of ornaments which had been hand made from paper.

with a Tonka dump truck also filled with chocolate candies. christmas ball candies wrapped in tinfoil colors of red, white and green...

gifts under the tree from Santa waiting for a two year old to pitter patter down the stairs...

she had laid on the sofa that night, wanting to fall asleep but couldn't. The anticipation of the baby's expression with all the gifts she managed to get for him was keeping her awake.

She had begged, borrowed and stoled as the saying goes to get all the dreams she had for this little one.

A single parent working part time at college barely managing to get the bills paid, never really having enough for the bills, the food and the bus fare to get around.

But she did it!

She got him a small table and chair set, had her father buy him some music sing a long videos, signed up for donations with the local red cross toy drive.

and christmas was here.

feet came piddle paddle down the stairs.
"ma ma?" she heard him ask.

"here I am baby, ma ma is down here on the couch. Santa Claus came!'

she was surprised to learn that the two year old didn't really seem to know what that meant.

He just wanted to climb in her lap and watch the christmas lights on the tree.

She got up and gave him a present, "open this one, open it quick, see what Santa brought!"

The little toddler climbed out of her lap and pushed the present away. His eyes were drawn to the dump truck with bright shiny balls in the back.

He toddled over to the truck, sat down in his clumsey, new at walking kind of way; and played with the chocolate candies as if they were the greatest little bright balls that ever existed.

The bag had cost 99 cents.

He kept playing with his new balls as she went from anxiously wanting him to rip open all his gifts to resigning that well, christmas if for him, and if those 99cent bag of chocolate balls brought him joy; she would let him have joy.

She got up and started her household chores. After dinner that night, she tucked a blanket over him as he slept next to the tree on the floor, beside all the presents that hadn't been opened.

She reached down to kiss him goodnight, as he stirred, she saw a ball held tight in each hand; smushing chocolate all over his fingers. Only in his sleep had the chocolate found it's freedom from the wrappers.

19 years later she sat here looking at the new dump truck filled with candies for the new toddler. A different baby, a different father, a different time.

Now there was money, now there would be enough food; enough for the 20 guests that had just joined them for christmas eve dinner. Tomorrow there would be siblings shouting with joy in the morning and a daddy lovingly watching.

This year there was a tree decorated with plenty of lights, plenty of beautiful ornaments...and yet still some hand made paper ones remained.

Those are my favorite ones, she thought.

and she laughed to herself as she looked at the mountains of gifts for the children. She had again spent way too much money, and wondered at the lesson lost from the toddler before.

She had again, not been able to stop shopping after purchasing a simple bag of shiny balls, perhaps saving the money for a later day.

Now, after all these years, after all these children, she knew that even though it was the simplest gifts that touched the hearts of children....

it was her heart she was touching to be a generous Santa Claus..

giving because she knew now, 19 years later, that those precious simple pitter patter days really do vanish much too quickly like the old people had told her.

Before falling asleep on the couch again, like she had for 20 years on christmas eve; she looked at a handmade paper christmas ornament swinging above the new dump truck with tinfoil wrapped chocolate candies...and lovingly remembered days gone by...

Merry christmas everyone.

Why I believe in Santa Claus

2008-12-25T13:44:00.001-08:00

Brian over here:
http://thecheekofgod.wordpress.com/2008/12/25/saint-anonymous/

reminded me of a different time in my life.

These days I haven't posted in a while because I am busy....

busy baking gingerbread houses, watching ballerinas dance to the nutcracker, wrapping presents, handing out gifts, lauging and taking pictures.

I'll post them soon.....

but Brian's post led me to remember,

it was a season of being poor. real poor. my state welfare check was 525. a month, the rent was 490. there were no extras. half the time, there was no basic needs.

i would take the dollar foodstamp, go to the grocery store, buy a pack of peanutbutter cheese crackers for .35- to get the change left over for the city bus. i would have to go back on line over and over again. i needed the cash to pay for my fare, to finish college, to climb out of this hellhole of poverty.

i would rotate paying the phone bills and electric bills every other month to avoid shut off. never paying the entire amount, just the basic bill to keep the utitlities on.

i had no money for toliet paper or sanitary napkins, that was my biggest ache.

i was never really good at keeping my house clean, those years it was worse. i suppose social services should have taken my child just because of the state of my home. i was running to transfer 4 buses each day, toddler in tow, to finish school to make a better life for me and him. running to class, running to daycare, running...and never really catching up with anything.

and christmas would come.

i would let him go to his father's for christmas because i had nothing much for the tree- and wanting him to experience "family" and christmas like every other child. so he would go to his grandmothers upper middle class home, with the trees, the christmas shows, and all the gifts....great big wonderful gifts....and food...and most of all; love of family surrounding him.

oh, i loved him. i loved him more than anyone. i would find a way to beg, borrow and sometimes steal to get those special little things he dreamed off...and we would go to christmas lights that were free....and sit under the tree gazing at the lights.

santa is real.

one year we moved three times from apartment to apartment. getting kicked out for having too messy of a house, getting kicked out because i had a male friend (not a boyfriend) sleep over that was black and my landlord almost died of a heart attack from his racist mind, and one because i just couldn't let the landlord grab my behind one more time...

so we moved, and we moved and we moved....at one point we were in a homeless shelter- the day after christmas. that was the racist landlord that kicked me out the week of christmas because he didn't want girls like me living in his homes; what would the neighbors think of him?

the following year, i moved to a little apartment above a deli that was on the cove of wethersfield. i took less transit busses to get to school at st. joseph's college. i started to take my son (4 now) to the congregational church after he had a bad reaction to his grandfather dying. (real bad, he thought when they buried him that he was in the sewers with the teenage mutant ninja turtles).

we lived in wethersfield Connecticut- one of the affluent towns in our state with old charming history. we walked to the First Church of Christ every Sunday, with our cat in tow like a puppy. i started to volunteer to teach Sunday school and meet other families. i left my paganism behind me and returned to the roots of my childhood in hopes of security for my son's life.

and then christmas came.

Wealthy families in church that wanted to share their love. one woman who worked at Aetna Insurance had their company adopt us.

i never told anyone about the toliet paper and sanitary napkin heartache of poverty.

santa knew.

that year i had presents galore, stacked up in my living room for myself and my son. i had food baskets, canned goods, toys, clothes...and little treats that make christmas special. i had a wall mountain of toliet paper, no lie. my kitchen wall had toliet paper stacked from floor to ceiling- because every gift giver had included a large package of it.

that year, i kept my son home and we walked to christmas eve service at that beautiful church; i cried and thanked God.

the poinsettas in the assembly, the beautiful hymns, the church bells ringing,
and the loving faces of my church family surrounding us.

I LOVE christmas, and Santa is really real.....

thanks for letting me share.
thanks to Brian, for helping me stop and remember what christmas is really about.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY

An Ode to my son's teacher

2008-12-15T09:31:00.001-08:00

WHAT my son's teacher does....an ode to Ms. Debbie.

My son's teacher wakes up each day to go to work, just like you and I.
my son's teacher gets her two children off to school, just like you and I.
like some of you, she is a single parent and does this on her own.

my son's teacher gets to school earlier than other teachers,
because my son and his friends have to get to school before the rest of the kids.
some of them can't handle big buses.
some of them can't handle lots of kids, bells, and teachers directions in the hall.
my son is one of them.

my son's teacher has a schedule to follow,
scratch that.
my son's teacher has 5 schedules to follow
because each child is in a different grade,
has a different IEP,
has a different set of educational needs.

my son's teacher has two paraprofessionals.
so she has to know their schedules,
lunch times, break times and needs.

my son's teacher has a lesson to teach.
scratch that.
my son's teacher has 5 lessons to teach.
because, well, you know, there are 5 different kids in her class.

my son's teacher has LEGAL, law binding, I E Ps to follow
5 of them.
and I can hardly understand the implementation expectations of 1.

my son's teacher has BOARD OF ED requirements to meet.
hey guess what, some of her kids aren't meeting state standards.
can you believe it?
a non verbal child with autism can't read at grade level,
and that is a bad thing according to statistics.

my son's teacher has parent teacher conferences.
scratch that.
she has conferences plus weekly meetings with parents,
plus support groups,
plus communication folders,
behavior phone calls,
PPTs, annual, bi annual and in between.

my son's teacher can plan during "specials"
scratch that.
each child goes to a special with their "regular grade"
so someone is always in class.

my son's teacher can plan during "lunch"
scratch that.
my son's teacher sits with a child or two who
can't eat in the cafetaria and teaches them
appropriate behavioral skills for dining.

my son's teacher loves to teach.
over and over and over and over.
much like groundhog day for the elmentary kid.
because kids like my son, have to learn things
over and over and over and over.

my son's teacher uses a behavior modification program.
scratch that.
yeah, she has 5 different ones.
scratch that,
the clinicians have just decided to change the program.
scratch that.
they've changed it again.
scratch that.
they gonna change it every month to keep it fresh.

my son's teacher loves the hugs she gets.
scratch that.
if she is giving a therapeutic hug it is because my son
is standing on a table
kicking her
or throwing chairs across the room

my son's teacher gets a break.
scratch that.
there is a time out room when my son needs a break.

my son's teacher gets out early because our children are on
modified programs.
scratch that.
she attends meetings all afternoon, every day, while my son is
riding the bus home.

my son's teacher loves to talk on the phone.
she must.
she has to call parents almost daily.

my son's teacher gets sworn at with no apparent
"antecendent"....yeah, that's the term for what
triggers a behavior.

My son's teacher deserves whatever the school district pays her.
whatever days off she can take to sleep.
whatever medical benefits her family can have.
whatever vacation days she needs.

because I need her.

and like my son will tell her, if he is having a good day,

"Miss Debbie, you are the Best teacher in the whole world"

and frankly, she is not the first one, nor the only one.

Yours,

the mother of the most incredible and wonderful boy.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

2008-11-29T06:20:00.000-08:00

I am thankful for.....

being able to prepare for thanksgiving,

by making cornucopia breads with my children's classes,

for each child to take one to their own home,

kindergarteners and 8 year olds,

and teachers too.....

and even one for our own table.

Life is good. Happy Thanksgiving.

E E G

2008-11-25T14:22:00.000-08:00

E E G

means "leave me alone!"

today for no reason that feels important enough to me, i held my son's hand as he was strapped to an E E G machine.

a child who abhors the light touch of tickle, was asked to quietly lay down as a technician marked circles with a red marker all over his head while measuring the distance between marks.

she then lightly put glue on those red spots.

and then attached what she called a mini camera to those glue spots.

and then wrapped his head with gauze to hold in all in place.

and then remembered to attach two more of those electodes to his chest.

then proceeded to put a light over his eyes that flashed furiously.

and then asked him to be quiet now and go to sleep.

as i lay down on the hospital bed next to him, he asked,

"why am I hooked up to cameras?"
"WHY can't I talk ?"
"why did they put cameras near my nipples"

and i couldn't answer him because the nurse told me to ignore him. i squeezed his hand three times; our secret message; I LOVE YOU.

at which point he sat up and yelled,
"ok, this is a little too freaky"
"NO ONE CAN SLEEP IN A STRANGE BED WITH WIRES ON THEIR HEADS"
"Ok mom, I'm done, we can go home now."

"I'm SERIOUS"

"H E L L O is anyone out there? This is too weird for me!"

at which point i sighed, the nurse walked in and asked him to drink the anesthesialike stuff.

which he informed me smelled like ROBITUSSIN.

which he refuses to allow in the house.

which then I had to leave and get DAD.

which caused everyone to hold him down to give him the stuff.

and as he was falling asleep, not allowed to talk, pointed with his finger to the air and spelled,

M O M.

his secret message that he just invented for dad to go and get me.

which dad was not allowed to do because the nurse said so.

but when he fell asleep, mom went in.

and they recorded his brainwaves.

even though he has never had a seizure.

that i know of.

and they gave him a cute bear.

and now we are on our way to celebrate his good job with chinese food.

the medical community needs to leave him A L O N E.

he knows more than them.

Wires on heads don't make a good time to nap.

Choices

2008-11-25T13:30:00.000-08:00

"It is our choices that reveal who we are far more than our abilities." - Dumbledore from Harry Potter

it is a quote written on the magic marker board in my son's class. a class of 6 children with various abilities and disabilities. a quote that i found so profound that i am typing it here and putting it up on a wall at work. i work in a residential treatment center for teen boys. i read the series last year with these boys and somehow missed it. so now i find myself pondering the choices that i have made that reveal far more about who I am than any strengths or gifts that i claim to posess.

FAMILY COAT OF ARMS

2008-11-23T06:35:00.001-08:00

in browsing through my photos this morning, I came across this photo that my oldest has downloaded to my computer.

my oldest is a history addict and in particular is interested in his family history.

he tells me that this family coat of arms is old because of it's colors and simplicity. (he also looked dates up on line but don't tell him I told you so)

It amazes me watching him research with such intricate detail the early formings of my father's family.

When he talks about history- albiet the male's version- he becomes alive and animated. He knows his wars, his weapons, his rulers, his governments, and the people of those times.

He actually makes me want to delve into history and learn.

The other day he asked me if it bothered me that he get this coat of arms tatooed on his arm....

TATOOED?

he's not a tattoo kind of kid...or maybe it's me that isn't a tattoo kind of mom.

He is 21 years old- I don't recall ever asking my parents for an opinion at that age. Frankly, it could be worse, he could be wanting to tattoo a girls name on his arm. I consider myself lucky.

Dysfunctional before dysfunctional was "in"

2008-11-22T08:47:00.000-08:00

Dysfunctional before dysfunctional was "in".

care to join me on a ramble about my childhood?

dysfunctional; that's what my family was. as a little girl in a neigborhood where homes stood so close together you could pass sugar between neighbors without leaving your kitchen.

the homes were built in the early 70's, starter homes, they were called.

everyone who lived there were working class; i.e. poor. poor white trash but i didn't know it at the time. the rest of my town did.

my family? we were the poorest in that poor neighborhood, it seemed. we were definitely treated different than others, some parents didn't even let their kids play with us.

as an parent, i have come to know why.

my parents were products of the 60s.

my mother and father drove a light blue VW Bug.

They were in the "indulged" generation whose parents were WWII and depression survivors.

I have heard them referred to as the "me" generation.

Having said that, some levels of "me" are just a little too, well, "ME".

My parents were best friends with the next door neighbors. They had a daughter and son, the girl was one year my junior, the son was only months older than my brother. The two families became close friends.

and then some things started happening. I am not sure exactly what, being I was about 5 years old, innocent and in love with my parents.

my father started to see the woman next door. I am told he was confused at first because while he lived with my friend's mother at the local ski resort; my sister was conceived by my mother.

eventually, he chose the neighbor's wife.....standing at the door one day with his guitar in one hand telling me that he would never see me again.

I remember the pain. the tears. and my little brother's hands holding mine tightly.

It didn't seem long before we had to move.

next door.

Seems my mother was having a baby by that woman's husband; and they were getting married.

the girl next door and I were best friends and in our innocence, overjoyed about becoming "sisters".

Memories of my youngest brother being born are fond. Moving to the other school district as our homes were on "the line" weren't so fond. Missing my father and his family created an ache in my heart. My new step father never seemed to like me nearly as much as he idolized his children, that he was raising with my mother because their mother left them to live with my father.

insanity.

bad boundaries.

a family that if I met them today, I would not let my children play at their home.

There are just too many things that cause a red flag.

so today, some 35 years later, I wish I could tell you that everyone grew up and all is well.

they didn't.

they are still wounded, sick and stuck in that teenage mindset that they were way back then.

When I read stories about dysfunctional families...or see them on t.v.; a part of me says,
"hey babe, you don't know dysfunction" and I wonder why now it seems like people brag about their lives in this way?

mine was a horrible secret. a family i was ashamed to be a part of. a face i was ashamed to look at in the mirror. a life i tried to run far from.

dysfunctional before dysfunctional was cool.

and one generation above them?

there really wasn't that much dysfunction. Normal every day people problems. my mother was a military brat and hated moving around the country. BUT both my parents came from island families...generations of relatives living on Martha's Vineyard. Large extended families full of love and stories....it's that family that has kept me somewhat connected to sanity.

Lately, I dream about the social changes that the 60s fought for, I cheer the new FDR we have in office, I hope for return to a path of freedom for people....but there is a part of me that hangs on tightly; because some change can is painful for others.

The "me" movement instead of the "establishment" was much needed....but it is my opinion that there needs to be balance. Taking care of "Me" without respect to social norms should never be about neglecting children in your care; or causing pain to others for your gain.

It wasn't the divorce, or remarriage that made my life painful growing up; contrary to what the christian right would say. Nor the 60's lack of values and merge towards social changes. It wasn't secret affairs nor visits on Saturdays with dad.

It was the pain turned into hatred within the adults in my life that hurt my childhood. Selfishness to levels of insanity. Selfishness to levels where humans became monsters; not caring about the little eyes that looked to them trustingly and adoringly. Using children in a chess match to prove to the other set that they (the new couple) were better than the other couple. Seriously. moments where that insantity manifested by visitations ending well past the court orders. moments were one couple are screaming at the other couple in the car as children are piling in or out. a particular moment where my step brother was pulled; one arm by my mother, the other by his mother. the women screaming at each other that he was "their" child. my mother telling her that she abandoned him because she didn't care; his mother yelling at her that she gave birth to him but had to leave because of domestic abuse. adults telling teenagers that they left because the other spouse was a better sex partner. moments in hell.

I guess I ramble outloud to let the reader be ware. Fight for CHANGE. Change is needed. Just look at eyes looking at you for answers about their identity in your lives as their parents. Remember covenants that you make, outloud and silent ones. Remember most importantly that change should be about us lifting up; empowering each other. As soon as we step on another for any reason; we have walked off the path of change for the betterment of society....

EGO SUM

2008-11-18T08:01:00.000-08:00

that is one phrase I remember from Latin in ninth grade.

It means, "I AM"

I also remember other things...

Cultural things that our teacher told us about the Greek Civilization.
Historial things like the volcano of Pompeii.

I remember learning that our language has its meaning from early latin/greek origins.

I remember being told that the Greek word Familia..

meant anything that a man owned, including his wife, animals, house, and children.

I remember learning that it was a patriarchal and patri-lineal society.

and we read some love poems...

but they weren't for their wives.

No, their wives were kept in their homes with their children,animals and belongings..

they were for their "lovers"; other men.

Men were worshipped, revered, loved and honored.

So I come to the crux of this thought process...because that is what blogging is for me.

On my previous post, I quoted a scripture.

Of course I realized that the men being referred to had little to do with homosexuality.

seriously.

Maybe I come across on my blog as simple, but I like to talk simply and be direct. I am not totally uneducated.

My point is however, that languages and cultures have shaped our current culture and values.

Especially our spiritual ones.

I pose questions to get us to think.

There really are people who take scriptures literal...and leave things out when it pleases them to do so.

that's all.

Let's all think, talk, and encourage growth.

as my kids at work would say, "it's all good."

Two Men in One Bed? Luke 17:34

2008-11-16T14:05:00.000-08:00

I have to tell you, I wish I had spotted this one for myself, but a more wiser friend pointed this out.

Scripture confuses me these days, seriously.

Somehow, it used to all make sense, even when it didn't- it didn't seem to matter.

I find myself wondering about scripture- about christian values- and ultimately about Jesus.

Is scripture the Perfect living word of God? without error? and if so, which translation? I am told that the King James version is the one without error.

There is so much in scripture that perplexes me.

What perplexes me more is what the CHURCH does in the name of scripture.

Take for example, homosexuality.

Talk to any fundamental christian and they know; it is sin. Talk to some, and they would have no problem yelling, screaming, condemning, and even arresting those who call themselves gay.

and yet, I come across this verse. Jesus is talking about the rapture...if one is so inclined to believe in the rapture. Look it up for yourselves, I give you the infallible KING JAMES VERSION.

....and it says,

"I tell you, in that night there shall be two men in one bed; the one shall be taken, and the other shall be left."

So I ask you, christians and non...gay and strait....jew or muslim,

"WHAT THE HELL WOULD TWO MEN BE DOING IN ONE BED" ?

and if they are doing anything remotely near to what I am doing with my husband, then "WHY IS ONE BEING TAKEN TO HEAVEN?"

could it be possible that homosexuality is not a sin?

and he turns 21!

2008-11-13T17:27:00.000-08:00

I was 20 years old. It was fall. The world was going to sleep; I was waiting for new life. A season out of season.

The leaves turned color, the smell of snow fell on the air, I waited....and ached to see his little face.

On this morning, I woke up early, 5 am early, and it was snowing. I was amazed with the snow, it was the most beautiful snow I had ever seen. It caused me to want to cook....

so I began cooking meals for a week...then two weeks...and then there were enough homemade meals from scratch in my frige to feed the entire third world...

so I looked at the snow...and it caused me to want to clean. so I cleaned the house from the top to the bottom...and every drawer...and every closet...and every tea cup.

and looked out at the snow.

which caused me to call everyone I know to say, "HAPPY FIRST SNOWY DAY". it didn't often snow this early in November. So people thought I was going to go into labor.

but I didn't think I would because I was already three weeks late, and this child was doing "his own thing" already. I doubted that he would ever come.

that night, after dinner,3 weeks late, standing by the phone, when GUSH, the waters broke...like a damn, a flood on my kitchen floor.

I hollered, "Mike, I broke my waters..."

nonplussed, the man ignored me...see in my last month; every time I sneezed, every time the baby moved...I thought my waters broke, but it was a bladder issue.

Now I knew the real difference....so I called him to come and see.

Grabbing every towel that we owned, we mopped up the mess and called the doctor.

24 hours and some later; I gave birth to a 9 pound 12 oz whopper boy that I named Jason.

November 14, 1987.

and 21 years later I still havent' stopped loving him with all that I am.

I have so much to say and no words to tell it...

I only hope that whatever I was supposed to pour into the child is in there..enough to get him into manhood...enough that he can start walking....without leaving his mama behind.

Happy birtday sweetheart...you'll always be my dinkydoo.

A little thing I read online in the press...

2008-11-10T19:50:00.000-08:00

Do my eyes decieve me?

"WASHINGTON – All smiles and compliments, President-elect Obama and his wife, Michelle, called on President Bush and first lady Laura Bush Monday in a White House visit that was part political ritual, part practical introduction and a striking symbol of the historic transfer of power to come. The president and Obama talked war and financial crisis. Laura Bush and Michelle Obama talked about raising daughters in the nation's most famous house."

Does this offend anyone else? Didn't we just enter the era of "change" of "openmindedness" and well, "maturity"

those are some adjectives described this week after America elected a black president.

And TWO LITTLE SENTENCES puts us back into the neanderthal period.

THE MEN TALKED BUSINESS and THE WOMEN DISCUSSED BEING MOMMIES???

HUH?

I hope the men shared what it was like being a daddy in the white house...and I hope that the educated women had a little more to say than how to serve tea, bake cookies and be a mommy.

CRAP.

THAT PRESS MADE ME MAD.

How is this still tolerated???

*this article was quoted from the Associated Press

a request I sent out to the homeschoolers CHAT, just now

2008-11-09T05:11:00.000-08:00

Why is it that when mom goes to work.....
and 5 year old girls play quietly....
dad's think all is well?

OK that rant is for another day.

HELP HELP HELP HELP

my daughter gave herself a makeover when no one was looking
yesterday...

her bangs were getting long apparently.. .

and now they are butchered...
and so is the rest of her head.

O M G

we usually go to cost cutters in (city near home)...but I think this calls
for desparate measure...

ANYONE KNOW OF A GREAT let me say that again GREAT hairdresser that
can make my daughter beautiful again inspite of hair of various
lengths...and in the presence of a hyperventilating mother??????

(City near home) area. that can see us N O W ?

trying to make this a fun moment...but not getting there...might
just get myself divorced instead....

O M G

so she is independent and wants to be a beautician, RIGHT????

O M G

I think I am going to take her to get her nails painted today...and
try to make this some sort of a positive thing...

OMG

anyone want a husband???? HE IS FREE FREE FREE...in fact, I'll send
him with food, money, clothes and soap....

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHH

jane

Obama holds a press conference?

2008-11-08T09:01:00.000-08:00

Were you all a little surprised?

I certainly was. I don't recall a president elect holding a press conference to address the state of the economy or well the state of anything

so his actions, leave me thinking.

What is his motive?

is he trying to show that he is a strong leader?

did he get a briefing from the white house that was worse than he expected?

is he taking power over the leadership, now, during a lame duck session?

is he trying to assure the consumer confidence so that things don't get worse going into christmas?

WHAT THEN?

Can I tell you a secret?

I fell in love with him. I loved his open candor, his smiles, his strength, his speech....his jokes. I wanted to run and buy him a hypoallergenic dog! I laughed when he called himself a mutt. I smiled when he spoke to the newsreporter with a hurt arm.

First time in a long time that this woman actually stayed paying attention to a briefing of any kind from the white house...I think September 11, a few years back was the last time.

Scares the shit out of me. Frankly, when someone is that engaging socially, I worry about them being sociopaths.

seriously.

maybe I work with too many of them?

Nah, I have followed too many engaging speakers to church. I have surrendered my money, my time, my values, my adoration....

to be spiritually raped.

kicked in my blood.

I have donated money for a needy family in my church and found out later it was for their salt filtered inground pool "PRAISE GOD"....when I needed beds for my littlest children but the pastor said he prayed, and a family was in "need" so I thought they needed more than me.

I have cooked, cleaned, prayed with, cryed with, babysat for free for, created ministries.....

and left to cry alone when I lost two babies while in my womb.

and left to worry alone when my teenager needed surgery.

and left lonely, when the mother's group that I formed, started meeting without me because I was crying too much about a very recent miscarriage.

So, I'll stay glued to this mesmerizing pastor- um I mean president elect.

But I'll watch from afar; and wait....and keep my money in my wallet; my hope in check; and my adoration hidden.

Spiritual abuse has far reaching tentacles....

To thy ownself be true.....

2008-11-07T06:40:00.000-08:00

This morning as I was readying THE CHEEK OF GOD (tysdaddy),
I felt a sense of jealousy.

You see, he is able to write without regard to his readers.

WOW. What freedom.

That is what I am striving for......

When I first began blogging, I was recovering from being a born again christian in a fundamental christian cult. It was hard for me to find my own thoughts after those years of being locked up in black and white thinking.

I was affected by comments, most were positive, but some were not. When I couldn't handle exposing myself to shame and condemnation; I stopped blogging.

Then I came across THE BROWNSTONE BIRDER while looking up bird names for my daughter..

and I wanted to write again.

I have unsuccessfully tried to compartmentalize my writings...spiritual abuse in one area; my family stuff in another.

It seems to me that I bore those who write diligently about spiritual abuse/ religion with ramblings about day to day parenting...

or I offend the families that I found with my liberal...straddling the fence...kind of thinking.

I worry about offending; being offended or worse- no comments at all.

Today I strive for the ability to write freely, and without apology.

I am what I am.

I LOVE diversity.
I Love reading blogs that support Obama and McCain...
I Love reading about spiritual journies of many people...
I love hearing your thoughts; for and against and even your prayers...

I believe that in accepting differences; I am increased.

I hope that in sharing my stories; I am teaching others.

My favorite love of all is discovering the families here in blogsphere...
the families of all shapes, sizes and color...

and sharing in their journey of life.

So welcome to my blog corner...stay awhile...read, discover, disagree or cheer me on...

every once in a while let me know you stopped by..

a blossom of.....hope?

2008-11-05T10:07:00.000-08:00

ok you all know that I didn't vote and yet I can't not be touched by,

the tears on the faces of Americans,
the woman who fell to her knees in astonishment,
the roar of the noise as they partied outside the whitehouse,
the cheers from across the globe,
the poetry of still rising,

the belief that perhaps our voice might really count is lurking,
that perhaps there isn't a conspiracy to make us working slaves,

like a scared abused puppy peeking from beneath the couch to see if my new owners really do care enough to feed me and love me;

I rise slowly to good thoughts on being American,
to hope that homes won't be lost,
freedoms stolen,
earnings robbed.

Wow. I did absolutely nothing and yet it feels good today to be an American.

Were we really the first country within the slave trade to elect a black man?

Good for us.

We as a nation are maturing and growing up.

Our spirit is evolving.

Who knows, maybe we can have world peace, save the world from hunger and pollution...and leave a future for our children.

Maybe the dream still lives on. . . .

maybe.

we'll see Obama....January thaw comes quicker than you think.

PET RABBITS SPOTTED IN NEIGHBORS YARD!

2008-11-04T05:23:00.001-08:00

we tried like heck to catch you.....

last night must have been scary sleeping in the wild....ok, not so wild we have spotted you under the neighbor's boat.

we have good food over here.....and well, we miss you....

we'll fix the hole in the cage.....oh maybe I shouldn't tell you that part.

FALLY and PETER RABBIT.....PLEASE PLEASE COME HOME.

TRICK OR TREAT

2008-11-03T10:04:00.001-08:00

Robin fell asleep with chocolate in his hands....

and when we tried to take them; he grabbed tightly but stayed asleep.

Bell was dancing with daddy as she passed out gifts of pumpkins that she made to all those giving her candy (she's so sweet hearted...)

and BATMAN didn't appear....he was "himself" instead.

but granpa....used to being cast in THE HAUNTED GRAVEYARD at Lake Compounce to raise money for diabeties...couldn't resist putting on his dress ups....
and the cousins were there, causing a scare......

or two....

and then there was the one MACAW cousin, flapping her bright feathers everywhere....

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!

One last rant before tomorrow....

2008-11-03T08:33:00.000-08:00

OK everyone gets that we are NOT the electoral collage, right?

You know that the popular vote has voted for one candidate but the electoral vote has been the opposite, right?

So PLEASE, tell me again, WHY ARE YOU VOTING????

WHY IS IT SO IMPORTANT THAT OUR VOICE BE HEARD?

If no one is listening when my voice is speaking, what does it do for me to keep on speaking?

Want to know my fears?

I fear that tomorrow the people will vote for Obama....but the electoral vote will be for McCain........and riots will errupt.

I fear that Obama might be elected....and attempts will be made on his life just like every other presidents.....but the public will be told it's because of race...and we'll have more racial problems.

I fear that people will vote for McCain for all the wrong reasons....like they think he is against abortion (when I was going to vote for him last time; he was a pro choicer)......and think they are doing the more- moral thing.

I fear that if Obama looses- people will feel that it is because America is still overall racist.

But my biggest fear?

McCain winning.....dying of a heart attack....

and that person that claims to be a voice for women with special needs children will be in charge ....

OMG HOW CAN YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE WHEN YOU HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED PARENTING A BABY WITH SPECIAL NEEDS...

talk to me baby in 7 years when your child has "BEHAVIORS"...and when you don't have income to help you....and oh don't get me started...because I LOVE MY SON but I would never never be a women with a baby saying I know what it is like because when my son was a baby; I held him and loved on him like my other babies....special need problems don't start looking stressful that early........

ok, off my rant.

those are my fears but I respect everyone's right to have an opinion...

too bad we really don't have a voice that counts.

Thanks alot buddy....

2008-10-30T14:02:00.001-07:00

thanks for finding my debit card, driver's license and employee i.d. and NOT mailing it to me.

Mean people suck.

Let me tell you about my day because of you.

What started out to be the day that I was to organize for Halloween tomorrow, ended up being the day spent at the Police Department.

See, You are so stupid that when you made reservations at the night club in New Haven; you gave my phone number to confirm.

What a surprise I got to find out I had reservations at a party house for 21 year olds; complete with break off rooms to make out and have sex.

I haven't even thought of that kind of fun in about 20 years.....

It was all I needed to be alerted that what I thought was my misplaced debit card yesterday...is really a stolen card.

Don't know where you found my card, but it was probably as I was racing through grocery stores with 3 children at heel, trying to get things done.

Couldn't you see that I had 3 children that might need that money to FEED them with?

no, I guess a night out on my back was more important to you, you selfish turd.

So, now I have to call the man who delivered a cord a wood...and tell him that the check I wrote to him that he is counting on to feed his kids....is LOCKED.

and Firestone, who fixed my car yesterday....will charge me $20 to stop payment on the check we wrote to them for $600.........

and Walmart, well, the manager isn't sure if there is a charge with a police report but there is definitly one at LOWES.

Yeah, and my supervisor is going to love to hear that I have to get a replacement work I.D. Which I will have to drive to Hartford, a good hour out of my way, with three kids, to get replaced.

And only God knows what the DMV is charging these days for a replacement driver's license.

Thanks.

I hope you were on camera when trying to buy a night out on my dime....Did you smile and say cheese? Cause the police are hoping so.

Pumpkintown 2008!

2008-10-24T05:50:00.000-07:00

ahhhh, we had a better day yesterday.....

BELLE appeared....and enjoyed her "loot"

Robin was on the look out for evil.....

Batman met up with Batgirl....

Aren't my children, lovely?

on loosing my mind.....

2008-10-22T16:06:00.000-07:00

today i came close, really close to loosing my mind.

it all started.......well, honestly sometime over the past few months.

we are on a hamster wheel, turning and turning, running to get there...

but where?

there was a goal, I am sure of it.

The goal is to get everyone in this family in their places with bright sunshiny faces.

That means people to work, in school, in therapy....and on time.

and the dryer broke.

and one car died.

so we run to the laundry mat with loads of wet clothes...

and we run to all the therapy appointments, meetings, trainings and field trips with one vehicle.

and my sister's husband is sick, very sick.

and she is loosing her house.

soon.

with 4 kids to feed.

so we run. to appointments. to therapy. to school. to work. and wake up each day to do it all over again.

my one year old now needs occupational therapy. it's an eating issue. one similar to Caleb but yet very different.

and my teenagers car died. sunday. he commutes to college.

so today I wake up after working an added shift last night, hoping the money will pay for a new dryer or a car battery. oh, did I add that the new car has a battery that periodically doesn't work?

at 6:30 a.m. my 8 year old woke up screaming and holding his ear...not a good sign.

which woke up my 1 year old screaming "ba ba" wanting to nurse to make up for me being gone last night.

which woke up my 5 year old who never wakes up well if it is too early. so she starting crying, this ear peircing wine.

so I forced myself to get up. get the lunches made. get the clean clothes on. find the homework folders. before the bus can come.

but my 8 year old held his ear, curled up on the couch and peed on it.

so I called his school and called the doctor so he could be seen...squeezed in between dropping my teenager off at college and getting home before the kindergarten bus.

then I left to drop my husband off at work (one car, remember) and beg my sister to come with me to the baby's occupational therapy because there was no way I could handle the 8 year old (he has autism) with the baby who screams through his therapy appointment; which sets off an auditory sensitive 8 year old;

who already peed on my couch so there is no self control today.

they decide to hang out at her house instead. my one year old screams as we leave because it isn't fair; he wants to stay too.

arriving a little early to therapy, I swing by the party store to buy my daughters yellow gloves and crown for her "Belle" costume because there is a Halloween party; tomorrow.

seriously. and I have to go because I have to return a cage that a women lent me when I bought guinea hens from her last week.

because the pamper boxes I brought to her home just wouldn't hold the pecking hens.

so I pull into the party shop parking lot...and the baby fell asleep.

So I drive to therapy thinking I'll catch this store after therapy.

there were no parking spaces at therapy.
none.
and we came to this facility 3 years ago for easier access to the office.

but a factory of some kind moved in next door and takes all the spaces. so I parked illegally in one of the handicapped spaces; after asking permission.

so while my baby is in therapy by himself; I meet a woman with a four month old baby that is bigger than my 13 month old. and it makes me worry more.

and I rest for a half hour thinking, wow, he isn't crying this time....this is progress.

then the therapest opens a sound proof door (can I buy one for my home?)and he is screaming for his life. he is out of breath as he sees me. she hands me an eval. it's not good. he needs therapy two times a week. yeah, in the middle of my week filled with vision therapy, dog therapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy for my 8 year old. yeah right. but I sign him up because, well, I want early intervention, right?

so I go back to the party store and they don't have yellow gloves.....so I buy white ones.

oh well Belle, get a life.

I run next door to Aldi's to grab a few food items to get through tonight until I can shop tomorrow. I fill my basket, get to the register, and they can't take my debit card BECAUSE THERE IS A CRACK IN THE MAGNETIC STRIP...so I leave my groceries there and race home to get my oldest to get him to school before he is late.

when my sister calls.

Caleb peed his pants and needs a change of clothes.

So I race the teenager to his class, run to my sisters, change my son, feed him and race him to his doctor's appointment.

I get him into the car on time but the car won't start. (remember that quirky battery).

So my sister comes out to jump my car but I can't find my cables. husband tells me (thank god for cell phones) there on the floor in the front seat which I can't see them because it is a mess.

I jump the car but now my son wants to ride in auntie's car.

So I start counting to ten...and back again...and bribe and threaten...and we get to the pediatrician's office ten minutes after 2pm

to find out that the appointment is at 3.

Which means that my son who can't wait without spinning circles around everyone; has to wait.

and they run late anyway.

so at 3:15 I tell the nurse I will come back after I go catch the school bus for my kindergartner.... but the wonderful doctor hears me so she comes quick.

and he has an ear infection.

would ya think?

but she has a million other necessary questions about all his other evals.....yeah he is going through a ton more evals, MRI, catscans, sleep studies...but I can't talk...so I tell her I'll catch up with her in two weeks because he has an appointment with her to check HIS WEIGHT.

yeah, he weighs too much....

and the baby comes in around the same time because he weighs too little...

and I rush to the car,
and I race to beat the bus....
and I get one off the bus to nurse the other...
and plan dinner to find out things are missing (remember Aldi's?)

then it is time to pick up husband and go to pharmacy to get perscription.

I walk into CVS like I have for years. I walk to the "drop off" counter and the woman is not waiting on anyone. I try to hand her a script but she rudely tells me that she is busy.

A woman is asking another employee questions about items near me...this looks like it is going to take a while.

So I ask the first woman because I am confused, if I can drop off the script so I can shop.

This rude woman says something like "YEAH< but I am with a customer so you can do that after you wait your turn!"

which is when I lost my mind.

"NO THANKS I'LL GO SOMEWHERE ELSE WHERE THEY WANT MY MONEY AND BUSINESS AND DON'T HAVE FREAKING BAD ATTITUDE" and stormed out of CVS and into the parking lot and into the car, shaking, and crying...and telling my husband we can NEVER GO IN THAT STORE AGAIN.

because I am sick of being yelled at; told NO; kicked; things thrown at my head...oh that's the autism.....

I drive to STOP and SHOP. Drop of the script. Buy a bag of Baby Ruths and walk around eating them while trying to figure out what I need.

THEY REMODELED THE FREAKING STORE so I can't find anything I need.

so I buy important stuff like ice cream, whip cream, bananas and things I haven't bought in a really long time....and remember to get the chicken noodle soup, gingerale and saltines for my sick kids.

I get in line, OK has anyone tried to pay for groceries these days? there are like double the amount of self help lines than those with an employee!

I figure if I am going to ring up my own groceries, they ought to pay me the $7.00 an hour while I am doing it that they pay their other employees who do the same thing.

plus i need someone to type in my card as a credit, because the strip is broke.

As my groceries are being rung up; I recognize a woman in line behind me. My obgyn who was proud of me when I lost weight by eating healthy....and she has a ton of healthy food...

I frantically start bagging the candybars, ice cream and canned soup to hide what I am feeding my family...evil processed garbage...

when a woman from the PTA walks by....

and I realize that I am shoving groceries into plastic bags; lots of them.

Oh, I didn't tell you that I am pushing the school to go "green" and have started a committee for this venture....complete with trying to get a composter for the school and chairing the committee for FAMILY FUN DAY in January; a crafting workshop using clean garbage.

seriously.

and here I am; green queen; shoving processed chemical junk into plastic bags that are killing dolphins in the pacific ocean.

crap. Maybe I'll tell them I had no plastic in my own home to bring in and had to buy junk food in plastic garbage to help teach a lesson to those who are ruining our planet with their garbage!

Ha! Yeah, that's the ticket. Do ya think they'll believe it?

Oh well.

you win some days; you loose others.

thanks for listening....but I got to go pick up my son from college....

maybe I catch your comments on my rebound when I come back tonight to eat the banana split.

got any creme de mint? rum? vodka? anything?

You know, they run classes at some therapy centers for parents to learn how to take care of themselves in the midst of autism.... a group once a week to listen to other mother's vent.

What the hell do I need that stress for? I'll come home to my house trashed!

Why doesn't someone just get my insurance company to pay for a maid twice a week...then I could de stress!

but you know I complain but I wouldn't trade my kids for anything- I love them all and am blessed to have them in my life...so don't misunderstand me; it was just a bad day.

Our TEEPEE

2008-10-19T05:35:00.000-07:00

Remember the Tee Pee we built last spring?

Well, it grew!

and we read it in.....

and we loved our birdhouse gourds in it!

and we waited for greenbeans to grow in it...

we watched nature in it.....

(ok blurry shot, but can you see the hummer on our scarlet runners?)

and we ........in it....HA no we did not! It looks like it but he wouldn't read without the stool because he was afraid he would crush baby seedlings!

SO, do you like our teepee?

Our children's friends. . . . .

2008-10-18T08:35:00.000-07:00

As a parent we worry about so many things. Today I write about their friendships.

I worry about them having friends; having the right friends; being invited to parties; not being invited to the wrong parties when they are teenagers...and well, yes, you get the point if you're a parent.

One of the most difficult thing for me has been accepting that my son's peers when he was in kindgarten have out grown him socially. It is easy to forget the feelings of failure as a parent when he is tucked away across town at a school just for kids that have problems like him. My goal was to get him returned to our local school because the people there are like family.

How perplexed I felt just this week when I learned that he DOESN'T WANT TO RETURN to our local school.
I was dropping off his sister, when he got out of the car, walked to the front door of the school, starting spinning in circles and said, "WOW, THANK GOD I DON'T GO TO THIS CRAZY INSANE SCHOOL ANYMORE!"

wow, he has let go, so why can't I?

Last night we attended a Family Fun Event at our local school as my daughter is now in kindergarten there. I cringe inside and hurt when I see the kids that he went to kindergarten with. They are so happy to see him; and him they. I hurt inside wishing that there was something more I could do for him....but then they get to talking....and those other kids even in their love for him; are clearly much, much older socially. So I straddle the fence; wishing for him he was successful here at public school....but rejoicing in the growth that he has made and the joy he brings everyone.

austism sucks.

For us, this balance of him being in an appropriate school while visiting his old friends works for today. It reminds me of a song we sang as girl scouts; "make new friends, make new friends; but keep the old; one is silver and the other's gold".

On a completely different note; my daughter made a new friend. We have been hearing about "vivian" since the first day of school. Vivian, Hannah and Alice have been best friends and planning playdates.

Let me back up a minute to tell you that there was another girl attending school this year that we were glad did not get selected to be in Hannah's class. Joanna is a child of a family that attends a cultic christian church. We had been friends with her family off and on through the years. We were very worried that Joanna might be selected to be in our daughter's class as it would pose stress on our family for numerous reasons.

So last night, at the Family Fun Event, Hannah and Vivian found each other to play. Vivian introduces us to her family. She holds my hand and says, "come meet my moms." Her mothers were very nice and we planned to get the girls together for a play date.

On the way home, my husband, a recovering born again christian who sometimes is perplexed by the fact that he is not a conservative born again christian any more says, "did that girl have two moms as in LESBIANs?"

"I guess so," I said. After all, I didn't ask them if they were having sex.

"what do you think about that?" He said.

"well, things could be worse." I said.

"how?" He asked

"well, Joanna could have been in her class, and they could have become best friends"

We laughed for a while because sometimes we just need to put things in perspective.

Our kids will find their own way and we need to get out of the way. As long as no one is getting hurt or doing anything illegal; we've decided to let our children grow up as they're intended to. Hopefully as they embrace their life path, we as parents can grow ourselves.

I will not be voting this year.......

2008-10-14T06:02:00.000-07:00

now before you throw stones at me and call me anti-american;

listen

I have a FEW issues with the candidates....

Let's talk the republican ticket. If I had one wish it would be to slap the conservative right silly for their hypocracy.

Just imagine for one moment if you would...if Chelsea Clinton were pregnant.....hmmm I can imagine it; "well, you know, the sins of the fathers...." or "well, if her father hadn't committed adultry in front of the entire nation....." or "well, her mother is so busy being a man that she didn't parent her" and how about comments about "generational curses".

Need I say more?

No, the christian right gives their applause to their candidate for being GODLY.

OK.

How about the abortion issue?

Has ANYONE read what McCAIN has voted for during the past decade? This may surprise some people but he is NOT A PROLIFER PEOPLE.

and how about that? Its ok to blow up cities with children and kill them- and pregnant women....but we are more holy if we make abortion illegal.

murder is murder.

whether for oil or self-righteousness- it's still murder.

AND this is not about the economy guys-
Democrats and republicans are going to take our money.

McCain doesn't know how many houses he owns- and trust me, it won't be long if Obama becomes president that he won't know either.

I find it ironic that the party (republican) that wants NO GOVERNMENT INVOLVED IN OUR PRIVATE LIVES...doesnt feel that way about abortion and homosexuality.

I find it ironic that the party that wants to help the middleclass, poor and underpriveleged (democrats) live in mansions over here at some of the most expensive areas (can anyone spell K E N N E D Y).

So do I sound confused?

I am not.

I am against hypocracy on both sides.
I am irritated by the belief that we as americans think we can make a difference in the vote. I am not an elector....my vote does NOT count.
I am irritated by the millions of dollars spent on all levels for the election.
I am irritated that friends and co-workers fight to the death arguing over who is the candidate from God.
I am irritated by it all....

oh, except those saturday night live imitations.

That would be a reason for me to vote republican, if my vote counted, because I could use some laughs watching those imitations of that women who I can't even say her name out loud that is how sick she makes me.....yup, could use some more laughs these days.

Tiger Lily's shadow

2008-09-11T09:03:00.000-07:00

Hannah (age 5) loves to sneak my camera when I am not looking and take pictures....

pictures of her baby brother, pictures of her toys, of her painted toes...

but mostly of her flowers.

When I found this photo in my camera, I really fell in love with it. I am thinking about entering it into the local fair contest.

I love seeing the tiger lily up close- and the shadows of the lilies on the wall.

Some of her best photos are of her flowers, so if you humor me, I'll share...

goodbye scott, rest in peace

2008-09-11T08:38:00.001-07:00

http://www.wtnh.com/Global/story.asp?S=8986996

I interrupt these musings of our summer fun to share with you all a recent loss.

Officer Dario "scott" Aponte was killed the other night in a car crash while responding to a domestic violence call.

Scott was the father of a child who went to the same therapeutic center as my son.

For the past two years as I have sat in the waiting room for two hours, I have gotten to know Scott's mother in law, wife and child. Anyone with a child on the spectrum knows the connectedness one feels when hour after hour, week after week, one sits in the waiting room sharing joys and pains with another parent in the same boat.

I laughed with the boys grandmother, shared recipes for the holidays, and waited patiently for the arrival of their baby last spring. I shared hopes and new ideas with the boys mother, and prayers that her new baby would be born healthy.

When Scott started bringing in the son, I knew the baby had come. We shared tales of sleepless nights, of mother inlaws who are so helpful but live too close....and other things that parents in waiting rooms talk about....and even more than that, as my son pursues a degree in criminal justice; he shared some tips with me there as well. Scott and his wife were both cops in New Haven Connecticut.

He was so happy about the birth of his new baby...

So when the news hit our television yesterday, I didn't quite recognize that it was Scott who was killed.

I called "ANNE". Anne is the center of all of our being at this therapy center. I am not sure what her title is, but it is her face that greets us at the counter, her voice that we hear on the phone... her patience that we feel when we are having a stressed out day.

I knew when I heard her voice. "Anne, that isn't our cop, is it?"

"yes."

and devastion has set in for all of us.

This man Scott was a sweetheart, family centered, loving, and positive man. He loved his family in a way that one doesnt' see to often- it showed in his eyes and smile. He was kind, funny and easy to love.

My heart goes out to the family- to the small children who will no longer have daddy at home, to his mother in law and most of all to his wife.

His wife; a fellow police officer; a mother; a woman; who is now left grieving for her love while raising a 4 month old baby and a special needs son..

http://www.wtnh.com/Global/story.asp?S=8986996
.

and then there was Shakespeare.....

2008-09-09T21:25:00.000-07:00

we LOVE (ok me and the kids) going to Shakespeare outdoors every summer.
this year we saw Twelth Night

You can see that my children LOVE LOVE the performance.

and I leave you with some scenes..... adieu

WatchHill Rhode Island!

2008-09-02T07:27:00.000-07:00

We visit WatchHill because they have flying horses.

The kids love catching the rings and trying to get the golden ring. For those who have never seen this, if you catch the "golden ring"; you win a free ride!

For me it's about memories. . . .

of a place where I visited when I was growing up:

http://www.mvol.com/virtualtours/%20Activities%20&%20Points%20of%20Interest/39/465/enter/

Memories from childhood of catching the golden ring!

Memories of great grandparents, grandparents, aunts and uncles riding the flying horses; laughing together. Sounds return to me as I watch my children go round and round.

sounds of music booming from the old organ,

cranks from the rakkitty carosel going around;
clangs from the rings as we tossed them into the side box.

In the air always was heard the chatter from seagulls.

Sun warmth kissing our faces and smells from beachplum roses, lilacs, hydragnas entwined with saltwater welcoming us home to Martha's Vineyard.

We don't get to Martha's Vineyard as often as we did. Ferry's aren't as easy to get; now you need reservations well in advanced. Once upon a time we just simply drove to WoodsHole and waited for the next ferry. The cost now is over a hundred dollars just to cross the ocean. Finding a place to stay when you have 4 children isn't fun either. I would overcome all this and still go every summer if my son didn't suffer from severe sensory issues. For him, driving in a car means he gets very sick. The shortest route to vacation is the best for all.

From this obstacle we have been given the joy of discovering Rhode Island.

What do you say guys, is this place fun or what?

WHERE IN THE WORLD IS THE "m" FAMILY ?

2008-09-02T06:55:00.000-07:00

Can you look at the clues and guess where we are?

It is NOT what my relatives will think . . . . .

but that is exactly WHY we come here because it is so much like there . . .

don't you think?

CAN YOU SEE ME?

2008-09-02T06:23:00.000-07:00

TESTING 1, 2, 3

TESTING 1, 2, 3 Houston, I think we may have

a connection ?

aaaahhhh

NOW I can show you what we did all summer, are you ready????

(actually, these photos were found on my camera....seems someone was doing a self portrait; but I think we are back to blogging with photos!)

too much eggplant?

2008-08-31T10:01:00.000-07:00

NEVER.

Well, ok, I have a TON of eggplant this year inspite of the fact that HAIL killed my favorite plant. HAIL! jeezo.

So right now, instead of fixing that photo uploading problem I am eating....

EGGPLANT Ratatouille!

I took garlic, basil and a pepper from the garden and sauteed them....

cooked some sausage because I don't have tofu or time to run to the store....

threw in the eggplant....

tomatoes from the garden chopped up....

and added a can of pinto beans.

YUM!

Last week we stuffed eggplant with ricotta cheese and mozzarella....and made eggplant rottolini.

before that? layered it with fresh mozzarella; tomatoes and basil; dribbled balsamic and oil over them...

and of course we have eaten it parm style.

Too much eggplant? NEVER.

now if only my tomatoes would turn red!

"Sugar makes him hyper"

2008-08-30T07:12:00.000-07:00

Do you remember hearing that when we were kids?

My mother would say that about my brother. "SUGAR MAKES HIM HYPER."

I thought I saw the same thing with my sons. I could tell if he got his hands on a chocolate bar. They became wild, hyper and out of control.

Until recently, I thought Sugar was the evil one.

I want to share with you all, another evil thing in our food.

(as if we don't have enough to worry about already).

I introduce to you,

VANILLIN.

google it, you'll find that the real vanilla, from the vanilla bean, is not able to grow at the rate we consume it.

you'll read that today there is an artificial vanillin that is a chemical compound created with petrochemicals. You've read that right, chemicals we use in our car.

you'll find a hazardous material listing with Environmental Health & Safety.

I decided to try an experiment with vanillin. I removed it from my son's diet. I bought "sundrops"; a "M&M" alternative at the healthfood store. It still has chocolate, it still has sugar but the artificial vanillin is not used.

Then I gave him a bag of real M&Ms....and WOW.

He spun circles, his language decreased in clarity, he was hyper and extremely ADD-like.

The problem? Vanillin is not a food ingredient so it can "hide" in the foods we buy.

So we wonder why neurological issues are prevelant in our society- things like an epidemic of autism. We wonder why we are an obese society with diseases killing us that are all diet related.

It isn't all because we are gluttons who live at McDonalds.

We are also victims of corporate greed that makes profit over deception.

No one told me as a child that when I bit into an all american Hershy bar that I was also eating a chemical with a hazardous waste listing....

did they tell you?

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that offspring of any animal fed this stuff is going to have genetic problems.....

So what do we do about it? In my younger days I would have tried to organize a group of people to fight it, would have at least got on a loud pedastal to shout it out for all to hear.

today?

I am going to go eat a Hershy bar. That at least, will make me feel good for the next 20 minutes.

(and p.s. NO this does not get sugar off the hook; he's no good either)

Homeschool schizophrenia

2008-08-27T07:41:00.000-07:00

(i wrote this letter to an internet group of homeschoolers and decided to post this here as well....)

I have self diagnosed myself with homeschool schizophrenia.

Seriously.

I read the homeschoolers blog; the one where the child who was unschooled went to ninth grade.
I find myself thinking;
I AM DEFINITLY GOING TO UNSCHOOL.

then I look around my house, I see laundry not done, clutter accumulating, hear a baby screaming to be nursed ON DEMAND, and watch two older children fighting over a toy, am behind on getting ready for work in two hours, and I think to myself:
I AM DEFINITLY NOT GOING TO HOMESCHOOL.

See, my daughter is supposed to enter kindergarten this year.

I have 2 weeks to figure out if she is getting up early in the morning to climb the stairs of the big yellow bus.

two weeks.

I should have figured this out by now.

But I am homeschool schizophrenic. ...you know me, the mother who thinks homeschooling is so wonderful and I want the best for my children....but can't seem to get anywhere on time let alone with matching socks on each child.

I am seriously terrified that I will be neglecting my children by homeschooling because, afterall, that dumbed down public school still at least has something better to offer than me.

I hear so many parents say that they know how to reach their children the best, they know how to teach their children. Mostly, I feel this way too...until the chaos of life builds up, the chores add up, the demands get overwhelming. ....and my children are plugged into the computer or tv so that I can simply take a shower or wash a few dishes...

HOMESHOOLED SCHIZOPHRENIC,

yup that's me.

I hear voices telling me...."don't put them to school this fall, they will loose their love for learning"

and feel paranoid tremers of fear...."don' t homeschool them, they need structure, organization...and the one with special needs has to have a reason to get up and out every day."

I run to vision therapy appointments, occupational therapy, speech...and lift my shirt in public places to nurse an almost one year old. Yup, I have lost all sense of modesty too.

I spent my summer at the beach, letting my children gather shells, sun, and memories....and now labor day is here.

I don't want my daughter to get on that bus but that evil voice tells me that I can't do this, I will ruin her life.

Is there a lithium for this problem????

Is there a way I can KNOW THAT I KNOW FOR SURE which path is the right path to take.

I mean this decision can mean the difference in my children's entire future.
I know things are fluid- I can enter them in and take them out....but I'd like to find peace one way or another; and stay there.

Does anyone else feel this way??

Mutt- iplicity

2008-08-07T06:15:00.000-07:00

Is it me or does anyone else find this weird?

This morning on the TODAY show a woman had her dead dog cloned into 5 puppies.

The strangest part for me?

That she sold her home to pay for the cost.

HUH?

Does she know that PEOPLE are starving, homeless and without jobs....

that children need families and homes to live in? How about funding them?

SOLD HER HOME to pay for 5 cloned puppies that may or maynot live very long.....

does crazier than a wet noodle sound like a good name for one of them pups?

or how about little cracked nut?

well, I guess its good to follow one's dream..........

and yes, I am still having photo difficulties...um SUZZANNE WILL YOU EMAIL ME MY PHOTOS SOON PLEAAASSSEEE. ?

Twelfth Night, KungFu Panda and Merchant of Venice

2008-07-23T19:18:00.000-07:00

since blogger isn't allowing me to show you my photos of where I've been...
let me tell you about how exciting it is that there is FREE SHAKESPEARE around here!

ARTFARM which I believe is led by Dick Wheeler of Oddfellows Playhouse...presents TWELFTH NIGHT (can you say that and not trip over the f?) at the Community College.

We watched them perform Midsummer's Night Dream two years ago and they were incredible, I was speechless.......

and we skipped last years MacBeth....see, I picked up the abridged version from the local library to teach the kids before subjecting them to old english....and missed opening night.

That was a blessing in disguise as a friend told us of how gruesome and detailed the killing of the mother in front of the children was; so we skipped it last year.

But a comedy of errors???? We are off to see it.....and around here all week are words from the abridged version of Twelfth night.

"mommy, WHY does she pretend to be a man again????"

ah my dear daughter, because in a time not so long ago, women could not be women of strength and courage.

at which point my 5 year old starts to show me all her NEW KARATE moves thanks to her attendance to KUNGFU PANDA this week. Yup, it got so hot that I begged my 20 year old to take the kids to the "theater near you" (as they call it).

I am told by my daughter that the Panda bear thought he couldn't be chosen because he was too fat. Can this be true? In the end it was his SUPER FAT belly that the villan bounced off of and was sent to the abyss. "so you see," she informs me "it was his FAT, the thing that made him think he couldnt that was the very thing needed to make him could".

wise, isnt' she?

so is Hollywood saying that it is ok to be fat??? only if you are a panda bear. LOL

I digress.

I am told that there is also a free performance of Merchant of Venice down New London way. I just may bring my family out there.....that was my first encounter with the old english and when I fell in love. While my peers in 9th grade moaned and complained; it came to me. It really did. Like somehow I may have written the very words in a previous life.

I am not blogging so much partly because we are never around but mostly because I am having major blogger issues with photo uploads. If it keeps up, I may find a new corner to blog in.

Happy summer to you all and stay cool!

STAND UP STAND UP for my life.........

2008-07-17T17:06:00.000-07:00

Tights never felt right, not before and certainly not after. . . .

We were late for church. somehow I was to ride with them in the pacer...the car with the bubble window back. I didn't want to go with them in that car that smelled like wet dog, with him in it.

I had a hole in those tights, that I remember. I was trying to get them to let me ride in their car to church, but we were late and my complaining was making things worse. I wanted to change my tights, but well, we were late for church.

So I climbed in their car. He climbed in the back next to me. My breathe began to leave me. My heart started racing, I was scared. I wanted to go home. I wanted to get out of this car away from him.

His hands were filthy. stained with grease and oil from working on cars. they smelled like old metal going rusty and well, like him.

Those stubby oily hands found the rip. I moved my leg, trying to squirm away, surely grandpa or Ruth would see us in the rear view mirror.

The fingers insisted and made their way through the hole in my tights. Persistant, ugly hands.

Thats when I left. I looked out the window and watched fields of flowers go by. . . . . afraid to be in me, afraid because I had already told the secrets.......and no one seemed to care.

The church "handled it". I guess he confessed his sin and was made clean.

I don't really know. No one bothered to tell me much except that I should understand. See, his father did this to his sister and him. One day their mother walked in and he shot himself in the head. He lived I am told, but brain dead....lives in a convalescent home and his penis still gets hard. That's what they tell me. I guess it is supposed to make me feel better.

No, I would have felt better if he shot his kids, his wife and then did the job right to himself.

Then I wouldn't be telling this story. then, my grandfather wouldn't have married his evil wife... then, I wouldn't be so freaking f'd up in the head.

We arrived at church pretty quickly. I jumped out of the car as fast as I could.

"Damn" I thought to myself, he tore the tights bigger, now I will be in trouble for making my tights more ripped. She'll think I did it because I wasn't given the time to change them before church. Somehow, it is always about her.

Worship had started. There I found my peace. I raised my hands and shouted. If I could just scream it out, I could get our Lord's attention....maybe then he could wash me white as snow too....maybe then he could make me innocent again........and wash away this horrific shame. Maybe then he could come for me and keep me safely in His arms.

"Wash me in the blood of JESUS".... became a begging plea for me. WASH ME CLEAN Lord...get the grime of the car grease off of me.....get the yucky feelings far from me....help me Lord because I am SO alone and so afraid........and I want to die.

His mother could smile such a beautiful holy smile. She could utter all the right things in church....but I knew the truth. She was the devil in sheeps clothing. The leaders of the church were decieved. I forced myself to focus on her evil to not be decieved. She called me a whore, I was a bitch, a fresh mouthed brat. She is a liar, and I have to remember that but I get confused and sometimes believe her.

I was in 3rd grade when he started "approaching" me. He babysat me while my mother went out. He was my "uncle andy". It was fifth grade when the story came out. I told a friend one night after our teacher telling us about strangers "approaching" young girls in the bathroom. He wasn't a stranger. The friend told her mother. The mother called the school. The school called my parents. My mother asked me what happened, and I told her. He admitted it, except he said that I lied about threatening him.

Had anyone seen how MEAN and ANGRY he could get? and they didn't believe me that he threatened me........ because he told all the other parts of the truth.........and he never told me he was sorry.

Sorry for what?

For dreams of smelly filthy hands touching me. For robbing me of my innocence. For setting me up to learn to take care of other people's needs over my own (his father molested him afterall, so I had to understand- at age 10; I had to understand).

For confusing my reality so that later I would falsely accuse my step father of his crimes and live in that shame.....

For dividing my family because apparently my mother had a deep need of approval from her father that surpassed my need for safety and healing.....

For blaming me and somehow convincing me that it was all my fault. The terrible whore that I was in 3rd grade.......

I don't just blame him. I blame lots of others. But this blog is about HIM because I am now 40 years old and he was just arrested.

For child abuse.

For beating his daughter at a public pool.

His mother is coming from Florida to bail him out of prison. Where he needs to stay.

He molested many others in our neighbor hood....so NO HE WAS NOT IN LOVE WITH ME.

Why do I say this? Because one I know asked me that this past year.....he is a filthy rotten child molester who has been able to con the world for the last 40 years.

His mother is coming up to bail him out, did I say that? HA! But I didn't say where she will be staying....

at my own mother's house.

And she wonders why I hate her. Because she first hated me. It's not all about hate, but when moments like this come, it is a deep hate and we both pretend that it isnt' there.

She chooses them over her own daughter, over me. That therein is the problem.

It wasn't him molesting me that left such huge scars (because I am a strong woman); or his mother's evil blaming ways; or the church's need to cover it up and keep in within the church; or my totally confused spiritual reality....nope. all that, I can forget about.

You know, how they all tell me "forget about the past, let it go...."

It is the continuing betrayal of my mother that keeps ripping my heart to shreds.

How does one let go of pain when hurts are still hurled at you?

It is why I am calling the Meriden Police Department tomorrow to testify against this man. In front of HIM, to ANDY, to Ruth and to my mother.

To stand up and say S T O P.

Maybe then, I'll find healing.

Maybe then that poor little girl will be delivered from her hell. He already lost a daughter to the state, how was he able to have more children?

To those who know me and read this- you know I have to do this to get back my life. To get back that shred of sanity and self esteem that I once had.

Pray for me. for my safety, for my sanity and for those that I love.........

Copied from CT Judicial Dept. Court Docket:
Defendant Information
Last, First: WOODS, ANDREW MICHAEL

Birth Year: 1961

Times on the Docket: 2

Represented By:
Docket No: N07M-CR08-0247795-S

Program: Court: Meriden GA 7

Arresting Agency: LOCAL POLICE MERIDEN

Arrest Date: 7/15/2008

Bond Amount: $20,000 (This case only)

Bond Type: Set
Activity: Awaiting Disposition (Not Released From Custody)
Next Court Date: 7/30/2008 10:00 AM
Miscellaneous:
Statute Description Class Type Occ Offense Date Plea Verdict
53-21 RISK OF INJURY TO CHILD C Felony 1 7/15/2008
53a-181 BREACH OF PEACE 2ND DEG B Misdemeanor 1 7/15/2008

Gerry's rose bush

2008-07-04T07:28:00.001-07:00

Gerry was my oldest son's grandmother. She died when he 14 years old....her gardens were beautiful. My son asked his father for one of her rose bushes when they sold her house....he had spent many hours in those gardens earning a few coins.

When he was little, she would sing, "I love you a bushel and a peck and my arms around your neck....."

Can you see that little guy trying to hide from me?

there were more blooms; edible blooms....

2008-07-02T02:00:00.000-07:00

pictures I took back then so these aren't the same anymore but nevertheless...
our favorite-
the sugar snap peas....

cucumbers....

the begining of zuccini.....

grape tomatoes....

and our PIZZA GARDEN....
did I tell you about the pizza garden?
I decided to plant a pizza garden for the children to grow. One with plum tomatoes, garlic, basil, peppers, and onions...

So I picked a spot in the sun that didn't have very fertile soil...and tried a new way to plant a garden. I gathered up OLD cardboard boxes- I found old pizza boxes so I thought they'd be appropriate. I had the children help me rip up the pizza boxes and place them in a circle. I got the hose and started watering them down so I could place layers of dirt and compost. As I am watering, my daughter sits down,rests her chin on her hand, shaking her head, concerned for me, very concerned for me and says,
"Mommy, can I talk to you?"

so I look up thinking the worst....

"Mommy, I saw this on t.v. I'm so sorry to tell you this. You can't grow pizza from pizza boxes- it doesn't work that way!"

and she bowed her head in a serious sadness.

I wanted to laugh, but this was a VERY IMPORTANT TALK.

SO I showed her the dirt buckets....and the seeds....and explained my idea...using cardboard as a barrier that would compose....and how I couldn't plant the dough...

And a smile came on her lips as understanding formed in her eyes.

"thankgoodness" she said. "I thought you lost your mind!"

So our pizza garden is dedicated to the one I love- and in hopes of never loosing our minds....

(and the red thing hanging? one of our hummingbird feeders....)

Full Moon Strength

2008-07-01T06:45:00.000-07:00

The sun radiates heat upon my face,
the waves are rythmatic heatbeats within my ears,
the sand comforts, a familiar warmth from the years.

opening my eyes I see the bright orange ball descending,
so strong and powerful it takes the sky with it
in streaks of orange, yellow and pink.

there are no paintings like these on any canvas
the living beauty exists only at the cape,
on its' shores, the waves beating in tune.

crashing itself loudly against the shore,
the waters carry the most powerful source of all,
taking everything back into it's womb.

listen to the stories waves tell,
of strong men devoured by the sea's desire.
of undefeatable battleships sleeping on it's floor.

listen to the ancestors cry from it's grave,
calling you home;
perhaps warning you away,

My blood beats in tune of it's own accord.
responding to those that have gone on before,
recognizing the dna in the molecules of ocean spray.

Her voice cries to me loudest of all,
a great grandmother whose name I share,
passing to me the strength from the waves.

breathing in the salt air,
I receive her strength, her wisdom,
the courage and power.

opening my eyes I find
the fire ball has gone to rest...
the bright moon rises to compensate.

the gulls call with a mocking laughter,
the moon is expansive and full,
the waves crash strongest and loud.

the mocking breaks the fantasy,
the ocean has no strength,
my blood holds no power.

knowledge creeps in,
herein lies the truth;
as the moon wanes, all will return to weak.

More garden blooms to share

2008-06-24T08:14:00.000-07:00

We bought these flowers because the garden center had them at buy one get one free...

I have no idea what they are called, we call them fire crackers!

I do know sadly that they are not perennials....

and since taking these pictures I have learned to pinch them and more blooms are coming in.

I have a little, well two little trees.

2008-06-22T07:11:00.000-07:00

Do you remember the mother goose rhyme?

I Had A Little Nut-Tree

I had a little nut tree, nothing would it bear,
But a silver nutmeg, and a golden pear;

The King of Spain's daughter, came to visit me.
And all for the sake of my little nut tree.

These days I am singing a similar tune....

I have a little plum tree
and nothing will it bear
but a SINGLE plum....
but it is golden

and

I have a little pear tree
and nothing will it bear
but a single pear....
not golden.

SO I guess when harvest time arrives,
my husband can eat his plum
and I can eat my pear,
and with the kids
we will share.

days like this make me think organic gardening stinks!

Perhaps we'll have enough raspberries......

2008-06-20T12:09:00.000-07:00

OK I went to WORDLE and typed in a story that I had written, pressed go....

and it created:

title="Wordle: reflections on fathers day XII"> src="http://wordle.net/thumb/04298/reflections_on_fathers_day_XII"
style="padding:4px;border:1px solid #ddd"
>

Reflections on father's day

2008-06-18T19:42:00.000-07:00

Tonight
the thunder claps loudly in the sky,
vibrating the air,
tremors through my heart. . . .

so I turn towards the bay window,
searching,
as rain pelts againt the glass panes.

lightening
streaks across the sky,
illuminating the darkness,
and secrets of the night. . . .

caught off guard I look up
reflections in the glass
mine own eyes looking back at me.

tears
streaming down my face,
just rain,
an illusion of what ought to be. . . .

startled by the reminder
repressions wanting to escape
mine own eyes turn away.

knowing
that acknowledgement
is also an illusion;
wanting costs too much. . . .

baby cries in the background
drawing me back to reality;
salvation from the rejection.

of my daddy's love.

My BLOOMS

2008-06-18T12:38:00.001-07:00

ok, after posting that I am not around, I popped into Sherry's zoo....and read her sweet tribute to her father's garden. So I decided to finally show some of mine. Why? because I don't plant in lines- I kinda let them grow where they can....
and because I decided to take my own advice.

See, I am always telling my children things don't have to be perfect to be good enough....but I was waiting to take pictures of my gardens when they were perfectly weeded, bugged, and well, you get the picture.

So here are my BLOOMS and why I am not on the computer so much. . . .

My Favorite? Oh but my HYDRAEGNA's of course,

WHY? because they remind me of my great grandmother, Jane Jackson Cleveland. She lived in Vineyard Haven on Martha's Vineyard Island. These beauties can be seen everywhere there...she had them and Rhododendrums.

and because they remind me of the birth of my son, Caleb. See there was a picture on the wall in my birthing room. It was of a little blonde boy riding a tricycle in front of a mature hydraegna....I told my husband- that is my great grandmother's bush with our little boy in front of it- all is going to be well.

speaking of the birth of my Caleb, I also have these pretty little flowers. . . .

we bought these because they are bluebirds . . . .

which is what we've named our Caleb since he was born.

because he had the lightest blue umbilical cord-
and the most beautiful lightest blue eyes . . .

see;

ok I know I know

2008-06-18T08:17:00.000-07:00

I haven't written in a while....but I will...

see, summer is here and we are OUTSIDE as much as possible....

and Sam, well, He just became mobile....

Caleb.......he just finished first grade HURRAY!

so this is the first week that we are all on our summer schedule.

I plan to catch up with Caleb on his writing and reading.....

and get Hannah ready for kindergarten.......

and get the summer projects on the house done.......

and still get to the beaches.

So, don't forget me if you don't see me as much, OK?

P.S.
can anyone help me about homeschooling????

I am so WAFFLING.....back and forth, back and forth.

I am like schizophrenic.

One minute, I am DEFINITELY homeschooling everyone this fall.......and the next, well, I freak out thinking I can't possibly.

I think, I'll put them in this year to get caught up at home.

Yeah, I have A LOT to get caught up with.

or I think I just am not organized enough.......

So I have only a few more months to decide.

Share your thoughts, I am open.

I LOVE what the homeschooling moms are doing.

and yet sometimes, it just isn't me.

The good thing is that I don't have to decide for today....so let me go back to my garden!

love ya!

Vacation Last week in New Jersey....

2008-06-05T07:58:00.000-07:00

I'm always looking for ways to cut corners financially these days, I guess we all are.

I'm not so willing to cut in the areas of making memories for my children.

It all started with Caleb's being diagnosed with microcephaly...and my need to bombard him with a multitude of sensory experiences to open up his ability to learn.

It occurred to me back then that I don't remember much about the WHAT I RECIEVED from christmas or birthdays-

but I remember smells, tastes, sounds..

So I started a voyage of finding ways to open up Caleb's sensory system while creating MEMORIES all the time for the children.

This year Santa bought season's passes to SIX FLAGGS....so I decided to trek down to New Jersey to the GREAT ADVENTURE; most importantly I wanted the children to experience their drive through animal safari.

We camped in a YURT at ALLAIRE STATE PARK for $30 a night! WOW. You can't get cheaper than that unless you lug your own tent and set it up. The passes to six flaggs covered the safari and the park. We didn't have to pay for parking ($15 each time) because we also bought a season parking pass for $45.

ALLAIRE STATE PARK is also a living historical musuem. What a joy to find reinactors dressed up in a steel making town. There was a steam train that only runs on weekends but when we got there, a field trip from school was going for a ride. We talked to the conductor and HOPPED ABOARD!

A friend told us to visit the jersey shores...well, we are so glad that we did! The beaches were clean, the waves HUGE and the shells were every where.....

"MORE FLAGGS,

MORE FUN!"

can still be heard echoing our hallway this week as the kids remember their adventures last week- six flags, giraffe's licking the car.....and waves plummeting the shores.

Life doesn't get ANY BETTER THAN THAT!

You know it is going to be a bad day to get pictures

2008-06-04T14:28:00.001-07:00

of the birds in your yard when Saasha decides to post guard. My normally seafood & mice eating cat started noticing the bird feeders when this noisy neigbor moved in! He's kinda cool- anyone know his name?

...and if you look closely at the little hummingbird feeder- that is our resident humming bird. He apparently knew he could outfly the cat!

BUTTERFLIES, LADYBUGS and DRAGONFLIES because the little lady turned 5!

2008-06-03T13:27:00.001-07:00

blogger appears to be agreeing with me again, so I am going to backtrack to share a few special moments.

Hannah has officially turned 5!

She is in love with the outdoor world- birds, butterflies and bugs are her world these days.

So together we made these cupcakes to bring to school to celebrate her birthday-
butteflies (wings are dipped pretzels in frosting/sugar).....ladybugs....and dragonflies.

Oh we had SOOOOO much fun making these together and sharing them with her friends.

Hannah's last day of preschool....forever.

2008-05-24T06:02:00.000-07:00

I am feeling so bummed out about my computer- I am having difficulties uploading photos- so I am anxious about some things I really want to post....

I got these photos though- so let me share a bittersweet moment.

Friday was Hannah's last day of preschool.

She has been attending the preschool for 2 1/2 years now. She loves this school, has been loved on and cared for by the staff.

Daddy works where she attends and at one point had his office door across the hall from her classroom door.

Hannah tells me that daddy can start working at the local elementary school next year so that they can still be close- and he won't miss her.

Hannah woke up yesterday crying. She really will miss her teachers- and so will I. It was a wonderful experience to leave my daughter in the hands of loving, devoted staff. So refreshing when we've come across some interesting people through the years.

I celebrate the life milestone- my daughter was successful in preschool. She is an advanced learner I am told- already computing addition, subtraction and basic math facts. She has long ago mastered writing her names and those of the people she loves. She is socially outgoing, well adjusted and interested in so many things.

and inside I cry because in the midst of her milestone is the truth that she is growing up. These wonderful early years are ending for her. I already miss them just knowing how quickly they flee.... and yet, I look forward to the maturing relationship that we will share as she grows.

Micro- WHAT?

2008-05-17T21:30:00.000-07:00

MICRO CEPHALY.

no lie. microcephaly. ever hear of it? how about significant microcephaly. relative microcelphaly. developmental delay. sensory integration disorder. pervasive developmental delay not otherwise specified......and (drum roll please,) last but not least.........

"we don't know." "he doesn't fit into any box so we would like him EVALUATED AGAIN BY A PSYCHIATRIST"
?????????????????????????????????????????

I am talking about my beautiful sweet loving son, Caleb. It all started one day when way back I took him to a well "infant" check up.

The nurse measured his head. The nurse measured his head again. She looked at the file and measured it again. She said, "humph" and measured his head AGAIN.

That was the begining of hell.

The doctor came in. She looked at the charts and measured his head. She looked at the charts and measured his head again. She said, "huh. ok we are just going to watch it".

WATCH WHAT?

His head circumference had not grown from 6 months to 9 months.

What sane doctor is going to think that a mother of a 6 month old baby..........who tried FOREVER to have this 6 month old answer to prayer...........and lost a baby early in a pregancy prior to having this 6 month old baby..............to "WAIT AND SEE" without worrying?

So I obsessed. I didn't have internet then which is a good thing, but I obsessed. My son's head didn't grow. I prayed with the church women and gave it to God- HE would know how to deal with this and make everything all right.

Then I walked into the 12 month appointment and well, the nurse measured his head. She looked at the chart and measured his head again..........and said, "oh"; looked perplexed; looked at the chart and measured his head again.

I knew this couldn't be good.

The doctor came in and measured his head. She looked at the chart and.........measured his head again. She said, "ok there is probably nothing to be alarmed about but we are going to send him for x-rays just to rule out Craniosynostosis."

Cranio- what? I got a social work degree not a medical one.

OK- long story short; my son's head stopped growing at age 6 months. We went to X-ray and his skull bones were not fused together to early (craniosynostosis). What I thought was good news turned out to be worse; his brain was not growing.

We then took him to Connecticut Children's Medical Center for an MRI. He was at the age where he might respond to "silly juice" which is apparently safer than anesthesia.

S I L L Y J U I C E

is not silly.

He became insane. He fell asleep in my arms and a demon took over. He started thrashing, screaming, throwing his body, but he could not open his eyes no matter how I tried to wake him. I was afraid he would kill himself on the hosptial bed. My husand and I had to hold him together while he thrashed, twisted and screamed in agony. 20 minutes went by. He finally went out. I cried.

The nurse walked in. She said when the kids are older they sometimes react like that.

Thankyou very much BITCH for not preparing me to keep my kid safe.

That is what I thought. I wouldnt' have said that outloud because I was at the time "a good christian wife and mother". Of course no one from our church was with us to pray, give support or love us........but back in those days I didn't think of that.

I had read the list of tests that the MRI and bloodwork was going to look for.

LISSENCEPHALY was one of them. I got my friend to look it up online. Not good. Lissencephaly meant severe retardation- smooth brain- and death at around age 2. So I got to freak myself out for the week before the MRI. Visions of funerals tormented me at night.

The results came back. NO lissencephaly. I thanked GOD. No abnormalities.... I thanked God. But a severly microcephalic head. VERY SMALL.

THE MEDICAL COMMUNITY HAD NO CLUE WHY.

So we visited more doctors for evaluations........the eye doctor looked behind his eyes to see any abnormalities- there were none. The ear doctors ran tests........he appeared normal for his age. The geneticists tested his blood and measured all his body parts.....she could find no "SYNDROME".

all was well?

no. the head refused to grow. At age 3 he had the head circumference 50%tile of a 6 month old baby.

I prayed for his head to grow. I fed him lots of fat- I mean brain is mostly fat, right? I let him drink half and half- they say the fat in milk helps the brain grow.......and I put him on every prayer chain, and held him tight at night.

He developed on age appropriateness.

Then my world started to change.

Caleb started to spin.

and spin and spin and spin.........he could spin for over an hour and not get dizzy.

He could hear things that no normal person could hear and covered his ears and hid.

He would line up all my spices, open the tops.........and they became "GUYS" complete with story lines.

He would watch tv shows once and repeat it back to me VERBATIM.

He was echolaic...

He was toliet trained if naked; but could never feel the urge when dressed.

I worked with AUTISTIC kids that were also mentally delayed. I kept thinking- he's like AUSTIC but smart>?

So the doctor sent us for an autistic evalution because unknown to me- autism is a SPECTRUM. You can be smart and be autistic- in fact you can be genius and be autistic.

We went back to the geneticist who drew blood again and measured him every where.

A laughing moment was when she measured the space between his nipples. My four year old looked concerned for her. When she left the room, he turned to me and said, "MOM, the doctor just measured my nipples" and cracked up in laughter. I joined him because it was funny. Who is the weird one here???

The diagnosing clinician felt that she couldn't tell if he was autistic because the "social" piece was unknown........so he entered an early intervention preschool in town with a speech and language delay.

Their findings with the psychiatrist? GLOBAL DEVELOPMENTAL DELAYS AND SENSORY INTEGRATION DISORDER.

Want to hear something funny? He was no longer MICROCEPHALIC. HIS HEAD GREW. So now the label relative microcephaly.......meaning he once was.

We entered the world of occupational therapy and sensory diets...........

and Caleb behaved like a charm for preschool so he went on to kindergarten.

Kindergarten. He couldn't ride the bus, the noise was too loud and hurt his supersonic ears.

He couldn't stay for full day- it was just- too much.

We modified his program; half day kindergarten and he completed the year. He had to repeat kindergarten because he was only able to stay half day.

Kindergarten year 2 was horrible. He couldn't handle full day, he couldn't handle cafetaria or bus.........anything noisy.

He had no proactive sensory diet so he developed "BEHAVIORS".

Running out of the classroom when the noise was too much;

taking off shoes and walking through puddles on the playground;

hidding under the teacher's desk and removing his shirt;

yelling to teachers "fu#kitall"

are apparently inappropriate ways to behave in kindergarten. :)

They sent him home on homebound education.

I told them to keep their homebound educator, I could teach kindergarten and spare the child a "change". (did I say he doesn't take too well to new things?)

I despised the program that they were going to place him in, got a private evaluation.......and his new labels became:

PDD-NOS.

The new clinician thought I was wonderful. She thought that my skill and training was meeting

his needs. She thought the only thing pathological in his life was school, have I considered homeschooling? She labeled him on the spectrum- said he was typical aspergers kid but had a speech delay and no real OCD so.......he really didn't fit into that box.

PDD-NOS.

It means that you are autistic but not typical. You don't have the right problems to get a real name of your autism. You are not aspergers or autistic or high functioning autistic- you are pdd nos.

So I homeschooled him.

He stabalized quickly. He learned. He thrived. He laughed. He loved. He grew.

I got pregnant.

I got tired.

I got concerned that since he was doing so well, since he was behaving and thriving- could he return to REGULAR school with a para for his autism?

He entered a 2 hour diagnostic program with a wonderful teacher. He attends maybe 3 days a week. I homeschool him for his educational learning, he gets peer relationships, social skills and the practice of getting up every morning and getting somewhere.

They just completed his evaluations. Their findings?

He has a low probability of being autistic. He is AT grade level for IQ function. He has issues that don't fit into ANY of their boxes. They see some adhd- which is so NOT true.......

They are paying for a consult with a pyschiatrist to do more evaluations..........

WTF?

Is this to be a life time of evaluations for this child?

When does he get to be a little boy?

I am tired of therapies, tired of behavior programs, sticker charts and communication logs.......tired of evaluations that are completed by filling in little bubbles that are subjective and outdated..............tired tired tired.

SO HE DOESN'T FIT INTO YOUR BOX.

Make a new box.

Leave us alone. that is how i feel about this at this very moment. Leave my little boy alone and let him PLAY.

10 years of Marriage . . . .

2008-05-17T05:38:00.000-07:00

and we celebrated it here.....Nordic Lodge.

http://www.nordiclodge.com

An all you can eat lobster buffet.

I thought I'd be able to eat at least 10 lobsters or as my relatives might say, "lobstahs".

I am ashamed to admit, I got four but didn't eat four lobsters.

I ate scallops....boiled, fried, wrapped in bacon...all kinds of scallops. I loved scallops- before last night.

I will probably NEVER eat another scallop or lobstah again in my whole life.

Only once before did I get a lobstah that I couldn't eat- I traveled west to St. Louis with a foster mother. We went out to eat and ordered lobstah. Apparently in the land logged areas there is a different kind of lobstah- rock lobster- it looks like a huge crayfish and tastes akin to rope. We returned ours. The waittress was WONDERFUL in not charging us as they thought our "accents" clearly indicated that we had no idea that there would be a different lobster in the midwest then what we eat in New England.

So at age 15; I learned that us new englanders sound distinctly different than the rest of our country- and that NOT ALL LOBSTERS are LOBSTAHS.

growing up I have fond memories of eating lobsters at my great grandmother's home in Vineyard Haven Massachussetts... on Martha's Vineyard, an island off of Cape Cod.

My aunt Judy's husband once brought a huge lobstah to her house. He was a fisherman then and we ate lobstah until we were full.

Never sick of lobstah though until last night.

I ramble.....the resturant was awesome.

We drove through the woods of Rhode Island down winding trails. Little elfs were on boxes in trees as we approached the Nordic Lodge. Some trees had faces on them. I saw a mother load of fiddleheads and made my husband stop so I could pick them. My brother in law loves fiddleheads and I wanted to bring some home to him.

When you pull into the resturant parking lot, there is a lake on the right with a lighted water fountain. Music is piped through outside speakers. They have horses and emus. To your left is a large lake.

The staff were so friendly, I felt like I had come "home".

The food was amazing. They had everything from lobstahs to prime rib.....chocolate covered cherries, strawberries...and vanilla chocolate dipped strawberries.

After dinner we went to the beaches in Charleston.

We love Rhode Island....

we are thinking that maybe for the next 10 years we can start planning to purchase a second home out that way....

The best part of the night was being with my best friend and lover- the man that has spent the last ten years of his life being my better half. I am the one with dreams and creations- he stablizes those and makes them become real.

who would have thought 10 years ago that we would be celebrating this day- with 3 more incredible children; a home; a garden full of butterflies and birds......and the hope of 10 more years to come.

May 16, 1998 was the day I married my prince charming.

Moments of beauty......

2008-05-15T11:45:00.000-07:00

This bird is like the one that came to visit our home today.....

What a blessing it is to see something so beautiful and pretty stop by, especially when things feel rough.

Our butterfly garden is just about finished and already yesterday we have had many visitors- yellow and black butterflies, a black one with blue spots on one side and pink on the other, a small orange one similar to the monarch but not quite....and most importantly; the hummingbird is coming every day.

The blue birds that we long to see stay at bay. Yesterday a family of about 6 flew up my road, one at a time.

The other day one perched on our power lines and looked down.

As far as I can tell, they haven't dared to eat our food yet.

C'mon little blue birds, come and eat...

PLEASE....

TAGGED?

2008-05-13T05:47:00.000-07:00

BLOGGER has been giving me a headache about uploading pictures this weekend- got somegood things to share- so while I wait, I'll try this meme....

Shaun http://www.blogger.com/profile/02459146307668300057 tagged me for this meme (could some one tell me how to say that?) so here is my response.
It's called " The six word memoir" any way here are the rules:

1. Write the title to your own memoir using 6 words.
2. Post it on your blog.
3. Link to the person that tagged you.
4. Tag five more blogs.

Hmm.. Six words. ok here goes..

"she did it all for love"

never did this before- now I have to find people to tag.

I tag- JAYNE - you're it!

and now I tag- TYSDADDY-

MEG, Sherry, and what happens if I don't find five?

ok, I tagged poor Mae because I think her's will be funny!

sorry guys........

101 COUCHES

2008-05-06T09:59:00.000-07:00

some times when I am alone, I dream of owning a beautiful couch.....

See, no one tells you the hidden costs of autism. The incredible prices of therapy that aren't covered by insurance; the diets; the supplements; the swings- these things people hear about when they read about the cost of autism.

I am here to tell you about one of the hidden costs....

we are on our 7th couch since our son was born. He turns 8 next week- and we need a new couch AGAIN.

Does that make it a couch a year?

I no longer go to real furniture stores to look for a couch. We can't afford the expensive ones; it will be ruined in a few months anyway.

See, Autism HATES couches.

Autism causes kids to soil their pants at the least expected moments.....so all of our couches are peed on or worse...

Autism causes kids to make couches fall apart.....

I really haven't figured out HOW; it just happens.

I think it is an autistic fairy that slips into the house at night while we are sleeping- it takes cushions and removes the slip covers....

it hides slip covers in weird places.....

it takes the cushions and throws them outdoors to get rained on....

I know that some of you who haven't lived with autism would read this post and say, "HOW?"

"SURELY if someone was watching this child better, he wouldn't ruin the couches!"

I would answer to you, "you don't know autism"

See, it is not my child who ruins the couches, it is autism.....it lurks its head out to drive me insane.

After a few days of severe autistic activity; parents can become brain numb...so letting a child eating on the couch while perched on the back, hanging upside down...becomes OK.

What was once totally unacceptable behavior becomes.....

not so bad.

Seriously.

When the oppositonality; the physical thrasing; the soiled clothes; the phone calls from the school to come and get your child while you have a baby who needs to be nursed in tow; the pulling off the clothes; the spinning in circles while screaming a high pitch yell.........all comes together like a tidal wave over a period of a few days; you need rest.

And rest often means that it is ok to hang on the couch- to paint one's body on the couch with shampoo and toothpaste....or god knows what else. You pick your battles because if you don't you loose sight of what is important. You become a screaming banshee instead of a loving mother.

I figure the day will come when I can own a beautiful couch....

for now, I'll dream of them inventing one made out of cement but feels soft ...

indestructable but still a place to rest.....

a girl can dream, right?

I'll share with you photos of our latest victim; complete with a missing cushion.....

if you promise not to judge me for being a bad parent; see, I LOVE my child, it's the autism that gets me drained.....and let's me allow him to destroy our couches...I mean, they're only objects; He mean so much more to me than they do.

In my world; he's not autistic; HE'S CALEB.....who has autism.......and who on most days is a wonderful, bright, happy little boy.

You know, come to think of it, by the time we CAN have a beautiful couch, I probably will want these ones with the memories engraved into them....

battle wounds.......or journal entries.....

it's all in how you look at it!

MAY SYNCHRO BLOG

2008-05-04T22:11:00.000-07:00

Glenn Hagar is doing another synchroblog.

I have decided to answer his questions - each one as a separate blog post.

Please, if you are reading this synchroblog- scroll down to the first part and read it backwards.

I am new at blogging- please forgive me for it being backwards.

As other's post their blog, I'll list the links here as well.

thanks for listening.

http://glennhager.wordpress.com/2008/04/28/your-turn-may-synchroblog/

Here are the other blogs:

http://assembling.blogspot.com/2008/05/you-are-here.html

Part 4; WHAT ARE YOU DREAMING ABOUT?

2008-05-04T21:55:00.001-07:00

I am dreaming about children.

I am dreaming about loving them to healing....taking in children who need a mother.

I am dreaming about having my home bursting with noises from feet pattering down the hallway...and fightings....and singing...and laughter.

I am dreaming about looking into a child's eyes with my own love so that they can look up; recieve the love and begin healing.

I dream of wiping away their tears, quieting their nightmares and guiding them to HOPE again.

I dream of writing stories....

I dream of days spent at the beach, a beautiful garden, and of knowing all the names of the birds that come to our feeders.....

I dream of the repairs of our house being finished.

I dream of more time to ourselves....

I dream of opening a daycare for children with special needs that have no where that will take them.....

I dream of running a summer camp for those same children....with animals and gardens....

I dream of building a retreat center- NOT FOR MORE TEACHING- but a place of rest where people can lay down their heads, breathe, heal, and rest.......

I dream of feeding people.

I dream of banners........I miss dancing in worship with beautiful banners.

I dream of helping younger married couples get through the rough spots..

I dream of being able to trust again and have new friendships.

Part 3; WHAT ARE YOU LEARNING?

2008-05-04T21:38:00.000-07:00

That God is bigger, better and oh so much wiser and loving than what the church tells you!

That life is short, spend it with the people that you love.

That things are almost never black and white

That people NEED people not a sermon.

That people WANT real friends, not to be ministered to.

That the bible DOESN'T contradict naturopathic things.

That Caleb apparently "picked" me to be his mother before he was born because I was the best there is. (yeah, he told me that last week)

That sometimes "church people" MISS IT.

Let me tell you a story about that.....

there is a boy at my work who is developmentally delayed (mentally retarded). He is the sweetest boy that you could meet. He is funny, smiles from ear to ear always trys his best to "do the right thing". This boy touches my heart. I LOVE to ask him when I come to work, "Michael, HOW ARE YOU?" just to hear his voice, to see his smile as he says, "good, good jane, and how was your week...".

sweetness, innocence, peace and joy are just some of the gifts this kid brings.

On Saturday night a fundie church comes to our residential treatment facility to have "church".

Michael went to church for the first time. He came back to the unit, HAPPY as can be because he caught the "HOLY GHOST". He said, "I AM CHANGED. I AM NOT THE OLD MICHAEL ANYMORE- NOPE HE IS GONE- I AM GOOD; they prayed over me and I found JESUS"....

Now, many will read that and say, "PRAISE GOD"

Me?

I have learned some things.....

those people came with good intentions, but I believe that they were very wrong.

Maybe they needed to become a new person, maybe they needed CHRIST to change their lives..

but Michael well, I have a hunch that God LOVED HIM JUST THE WAY HE WAS.

badness? not in this child.

I told him that Jesus loved the old Michael too....

He argued, "no, oh no Jane, they told me, they told me that I had to become a new person so I could go to Heaven"

YUP. They told a developmentally disabled sweetheart a message that I think wasn't for him.

Do I think he still needs Jesus....well, YES of course I do.

But this child was loved by God just the way that he was...if ever there was a human that didn't need to be "Transformed"; this child would be that person.

See, I think God is so much bigger, smarter, and more loving than what the church tells us....

that is what I am learning.

(ps Michael is not his real name to protect his identity.)

Part 2: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

2008-05-03T22:02:00.001-07:00

I am spending time with my family- time that I didn't have because every night of the week I had to attend a church meeting of some kind.....

I am watching the birds.....

I am gardening.....

I am growing frogs from eggs then tadpoles.....

I am watching my daughter's dance recital.....

I am helping my oldest son through final exams.....

I am busy being a sister to my lovely sister and an aunt to her kids....

I am at work in a job that I love what I do......

I am watching my Caleb pretend to be batman.....

I am going to NORDIC LODGE for my anniversary dinner (YEAH!)
http://www.nordiclodge.com/

Part 1; HOW ARE YOU DOING?

2008-05-03T21:39:00.000-07:00

honestly?

ok in some areas, not so good in others.

What's got me down?

My brother in law is sick. I'm told that he doesnt have much longer to live. This means that my little sister may be relocating to Florida for his treatment. I am close to my sister and our children have grown up together.

I am trying not to grieve the loss before the loss is here and spending as much time with them as I can.

Because of this, I have found it difficult to blog about Hannah's Haven and my experiences with spiritual abuse.

I worry about how he is in pain, how is he going to get through this, is he going to get through this.......it doesn't sound like he is......so then how is my little sister going to support and care for 4 young children?

Otherwise?

tired. I am tired. I have returned to work part time after being out for maternity leave. I am nursing a 7 month old little boy on demand... I am transitioning my 4 year old daughter into kindergarten for the fall....I am still dealing with autism issues with my wonderful 7 year old son.......and am currently living a week of stress as my 20 year old who commutes to college is in the middle of final exams.

and it is May.

that means I have 2 birthday parties to plan (caleb turns 8 and Hannah 5); two graduation parties to attend; and a 10 year wedding anniversary to my loving husband to celebrate!

ah but you wanted to know how I was doing in relationship to God or the exodus from our church group.

I haven't had time to ponder it lately........but you have given me a moment to.

How am I doing?

God, how am I doing?

I wish He would respond. I wish I could hear His voice audibly. Then I would know for sure that I am walking in His path for my life and in the palm of His hands; how secure I would feel.

He doesn't.

SO I wonder WHY my brother in law is sick so young.......

I wonder WHY my little boy has autism........

I wonder WHY the kids I work with (I work in residential treatment center for our child welfare system) have endured such wicked and tormentative childhoods.......

I wonder WHY Hannah's Haven isn't where I want it to be.

I wonder WHY I still struggle with the same sins as I did yesterday.

I wonder WHY death exists.

and yet I am also thankful.....

thankful for an incredibly loving husband who has been my best friend and the stabilizing rock in my life.....and we celebrate 10 years of marriage this May 16th.

thankful for each of my children.....my wonderful 20 year old son that loves his family so much that he commutes to college and helps us around the house. for my 7 year old whose perspective on life is so profound that each day comes to me with a new learning experience. for my 4 year old who wants to dance and dance and dance and dance.... and for my 7 month old who loves to provoke us into laughter by doing hammer head (waving his head back and forth). thankful for their health.

thankful that my husband and I have really good, stable jobs with great medical insurance.

thankful for our home.

thankful that we are not "caught up" in the busy-ness addiction of our old church.

That is how I am doing........

thanks for asking.

My Little Pear Tree.....

2008-04-30T19:34:00.000-07:00

Our new pear tree has one beautiful blossom.......
shall we all share one pear?

Our Plum tree is covered with blossoms.

Funny story about this plum tree; it was a gift to my husband when we bought our home 7 years ago. It would not grow ANY fruit. We tried cross pollinating it- and the cross polinators died.

Last year I was ready to tear it out of the ground.

I was pregnant with Sam and sick of watching it not bring plums.

When I read a tidbit about women giving birth in 2007, I learned that 2007 was the chinese zodiac of the GOLDEN PIG. Apparently rare and lucky- our new baby would be born a GOLDEN PIG.

Last summer, I went out to our Plum tree........and it PRODUCED FRUIT FOR THE FIRST TIME!

Now, I know for certain that when I bought the tree, it was labled with a picture of a purple, sweet plum.

The plums on our tree? All 20 or so of them, BRIGHT, SWEET and

GOLDEN!

I had never heard of a golden plum tree before......the fruits were wonderful.

So in the year of our Golden PIGGY being born; in the 7th year of its life, our tree produced GOLDEN PLUMS.

Let's hope it does again this year!

Spring

2008-04-30T19:25:00.001-07:00

Sugar Snap Peas are doing well so far........

2008-04-30T19:22:00.000-07:00

The sugar snap peas are growing, can't wait for the flowers!

remember the garlic?

2008-04-30T19:18:00.000-07:00

FREECYCLE had an offer of garlic, so I took some.

LOOK at it growing this time!

Our babies are here!

2008-04-27T09:49:00.000-07:00

Our tadpoles have hatched!

IT'S REHEARSAL NITE!

2008-04-26T07:41:00.000-07:00

We waited all year for this weekend!

Our little ballerina is seen here rehearsing for her recital....

She danced three dances-

Crocodile rock (tap green outfit)

Tiny Dancer (purple, ballet)

and the father and daughter dance to the song, "Old Time Rock and Roll"

I'll post more tomorrow after the REAL SHOW!

Six flags is OPEN

2008-04-23T19:03:00.000-07:00

We have bought seasons' passes for Lake Compounce for the past 5 years.

I was so frustrated that they allowed people to smoke everywhere. Here I would be walking barefoot in the water park and have to watch out for a burning cigarette.

I am not against smokers- I just want to walk around an amusement park safely.

The final straw was last year.

My son Caleb has pdd-nos; a high functioning form of autism.

As we were leaving Lake Compounce, another patron threw down a lit cigarette. Caleb ran quickly to pick it up and "taste" it. (at least that is what he told me he was doing when I started shrieking....WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING???")

So we no longer have a season's pass at Lake Compounce.

SANTA CLAUS brought us passes to SIX FLAGS NEW ENGLAND! Seems they have a smoke free park-
but more importantly- they have BATMAN....Caleb's newest secret identity!

This is a picture of Hannah on WIGGLES tea pot ride.

The year of the KITES ?

2008-04-23T18:43:00.001-07:00

This MUST be the year for kite flying.

On Friday, my sister and I kept our boys with us and ran away to the beach-

Frog eggs and spotted turtles

2008-04-18T20:15:00.000-07:00

Recently there has been some talk amongst the homeschooling group about finding frog eggs and watching the life cycle of a frog. After hearing peepers make loud noises for the last month, I decided that it might be "time".

We headed down into the back of our yard and while gathering frog eggs, found a spotted turtle!

Jason, my 20 year old, is quite the amphibian lover. He collects creatures in his room that include camiens, turtles, and snakes. He has desired to find a spotted turtle in the wild for as long as I can remember.

So with the cell phone in hand, I phoned him, "THERE IS A SPOTTED TURTLE IN OUR BOG!"

He thought I was confused and was only seeing a painted turtle. HA! He forgets who taught him how to find turtles, frogs and things from the wild.

We were all excited to find this spotted turtle. We believe it is an adult male which means they are probably colonized in our bog. We released him, as he is ENDANGERED. Go Make more babies little spotty!

Here are some photos of the adventure; gathering the frog eggs.......and finding Spotty.

spotted turtle

2008-04-18T20:13:00.000-07:00

forcing spring results

2008-04-16T12:38:00.000-07:00

I meant to post this last week.........our flowers bloomed.

My daughter was thrilled!

She grew the grass as well.

NOW for the real spring to please stand up!

(can you spy my alligator guy?)

Keep Your Hands to Your Own Bodies!

2008-04-12T07:50:00.000-07:00

I am having difficulty uploading a video.

see if you can see my LAME attempt to teach my children some boundaries!

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=302491463860435555

A beautiful day...........

2008-04-10T19:24:00.000-07:00

The weather was absolutely gorgeous....so I ran away from life with my sister and our daughters to the beach to fly kites........and check out birds.

We had to eventually return to catch school buses.......and so we continued to hang out in my back yard.

It was a great day for fun after a long long winter, wouldn't you say????

black capped chickadee

2008-04-10T19:07:00.000-07:00

ok this one is for Jayne.....not as beautiful as her pictures but finally a picture that I can see a bird in!

My daughter set up bird feeders all over our yard.

We have been enjoying the visitors and trying to guess who they are.

I believe this is a black capped chickadee.......

and they seem not afraid of us, I was less than 3 feet away when I snapped these photos.

Another pair of birds flew through our yard today, we thought they were woodpeckers at first but they are smaller....I think that they might be nuthatches, I will eventually figure these out.

Snowy egrets, seals and kites

2008-04-06T06:26:00.000-07:00

I love my job.

I work with teenage boys that live in a residential treatment facility.

They are kids stuck in the child welfare system for a variety of reasons.

I wish I could blog about them because each one touches my life in ways that are incredible. For confidentiality reasons, I can't.

Yesterday I took them on a trip to a local state park beach.

Rumors of seals laying on the rocks off the shores combined with them sharing my new addiction to birding drew us out.

We saw the seals and couldn't believe it! Laying on rocks right here in our state!

We also identified some birds in our amaturish ways....(we asked people who looked like they knew what they were talking about).

We saw an Osprey nesting, snowy egrets, redwinged blackbirds and plenty of seagulls.

The boys swear (and I'll go into the fantasy with them) that they saw eagles soaring overhead and perigine falcons....we even think we may have seen a golden eagle or two. As we walked over the salty bogs to the platform to view the seals, we saw baby great white sharks swimming in the 2 inch high water. IT was an amazing day!

The nicest thing of all happened when we were flying a kite. We had our state issue plastic cheap kite that we were amazingly successful at launching into the air.

A man flying a beautiful kite, rainbowed with tails, watched us fly our kite all afternoon.

Perhaps it was the state van, or the range of ethnicities of our teen boys, or simply the love for flying this pathetic kite that one of my boys had......but this man was touched and gave my boy his kite.

It felt like a visit from an angel. Of course, I couldn't tell him where my boys were from or why that was such a wonderful gift....

but I think he could tell that.

He left the kite with us and we had a great time flying it.

You should have seen the incredible smile on the boy flying it as he waved thanks to the man and his family.

Onward christian soldier

2008-04-05T06:41:00.000-07:00

I am a prisoner of war survivor.

i was released from captivity on May 15, 2004.

on that day, i left the church.

i remember the day i was freed from the camp.

i remember it because when i was freed, my enemy had still not been over thrown.

in fact, they still have not been.

i remember the day i walked through the doors to freedom, i was not sure if i was walking into freedom or away from freedom.

i was not sure if i had really just been captured or if i was walking into a deception of darkness.

i don't know who opened the doors to freedom, my friend or foe.

i walked with my husband as we carried our children through those doors.

our escape wasn't so easy as walking through the door and being transported to allied tents for food, clothes, water and a debriefing.

no. in fact, the door had a labyrinth tunnel that hid our enemies in many corners and crevices waiting for ambush.

they laid waiting behind every corner to tease, "you're being decieved, Satan is going to devour you".

they ignored us when we shopped in local grocery stores. isolation was a powerful weapon of torture.

they taunted with chants of "you're decieved, you're unstable, you're bitter, you have hurts, after all that we have done for you? ."

they murdered our reputation so that we couldn't join other believers. shame, another weapon, actually kept us from other POW camps.

What kept us walking onward?

the knowledge somewhere deep inside that there was a living God who loved us beyond our imagination.

the memories of walking with such a God that any place without Him was hell.

a dark place where we pretended to be worshippers while we couldn't see His eyes, hear His heartbeat or feel His love.

a place where we no longer knew that we were chidren of God, created in His image.

a place where we played church.

a place of conformity.

a place where we were called to sacrifice our own lives and calling for a mere man's.

we walked onward.......

reaching out to others who walked the path before us. some were an encouragement, others were so broken that we had to leave them beside the road in their blood.

at one point we followed a path that led us into another POW camp. we thought that you needed to be planted in a POW camp in order to be free.

we thought we snuck out of that second dark place, taking prisoners with us, only to discover that one of the victims was infact a soldier of the enemy.

he stole from us, left us on the side of the road wondering if God and our dreams were real.

we picked ourselves up and started walking again. we found comfort in the writings on the wall from other survivors. we found comfort in our own writimgs and even in anger.

we continue to walk looking for the green pastures where the sheep graze.

knowing only one thing, that we will recognize His sheep that graze by His tent, by the fruit that they have.

it is four years later, we are still walking towards the light of freedom and i pause to contemplate the writing of a synchroblog.

I will attempt to answer questions posed to the public by another POW survivor.

What do they/you need?
What did/do you need as you as went/are going through this transitional phase?
How can a ministry or service help them/you?\

I can not pretend to answer these questions for others. Even speculating what other people need or want to me is a form of dysfunction that perpetuates abusive cycles. So many have felt that they know what I have needed without taking the time to get to know me or even ask.......

So my answers are very personal. They have frankly become very practical.

What do I need?

i do not need a ministry to fix me, to tell me how to heal, how to find jesus or how to do anything. as much as i would like a quick 4 step process on how to get over this the right way- it will not work.

futher i find the very idea of a ministery somewhat repeating the old way. it sets up relationships where one has the "answers" (ministering to) to things over the one who needs the answers. there is one mediator between man and God- if you are reading the new testament.

i do not need your pity, your judgements or your own quick answers for my life.

what i need is a friend.

someone who will listen to me without telling me how long i need to get over it, how i need to get over the pain, wounds or bitterness.

just listen.

a friend who will speak to me humbly and honestly.

how about someone to stand beside us and help us physcially?

seriously.

we need help. people who can stand side by side and help us with the simple mundane tasks of rebuilding our house, parenting a child with autism and every day stuff...without being judged. we'll reciprocate- honestly- we are not selfish idiots who want to be served; we are just tired of serving for so long without stopping to eat or drink ourselves.

what i need in regards to theology is consistency.

seriously.

why is it that the church follows new testament law when they talk about eating pork (for example) but old testament law in regards to tithing?

what i need is the ability to ask questions without being told to do so is rebellious.

what i need is to be able to agree to disagree with you sometimes.

what i need is to be able to make mistakes, be forgiven, hear "sorry" when you do, and a chance to offer forgiveness.

what i need in order to join another group is to know that the group is healthy and diversity is accepted. that they are focused on the empowerment of each member- helping each other find their true identity and calling- and standing side by side to see those things fulfilled as we are able; without judging the status of one's calling or giving value to some gifts over others. that if one can't walk, we carry him; that if one can cook; he cook and so forth, the building up of each other.

...a place where we let God do any needed convicting; that we spend our time encouaging relationships with God and each other.

what i need perhaps the most of all is love and being free to love.

without fear. without shame or condemnation.

and the return to the knowledge that we are all created in His image- wonderfully and beautifully; and loved just as we are.

with no exceptions.

hey, thanks for asking-

and to those who are reading- thanks for listening-

please feel free to respond.

in love;
Tera, his rose.....

*************************************************************
*this post is not intended to disrespect any soldier who has survived a real prisoner of war experience. symptoms of ptsd are often felt by persons having left any abusive/controlling situations and the comparison to fleeing a POW camp is for the purpose of expressing myself creatively.

and about that ALLIGATOR FROM BAGGIES....

2008-04-05T04:12:00.000-07:00

remember when my oldest was sent to the store to get me some baggies?

Well, I came to the computer this early morning to blog, and LOOK who was staring up at me in front of my screen...

IT'S HIM!

He's come to life!

oh ok, he's come to toy...

my son must have found this old toy and thought he was funny....

actually I think this is the crocodile from Peter Pan, but it looks exactly as I remember the baggies dude!

Revolutionaires Synchroblog

2008-04-02T17:41:00.000-07:00

OK I am going to try this:

Glenn Hager is coordinating a new synchroblog, which he is calling the Revolutionaries Synchroblog, set for Monday April 7th:

My personal journey, reading, blogging, and conversations with friends have led me to uncover the fringes of a huge group of people who operate under the radar of much of the world. They represent over 20 million people in the U.S. (This is the number of people who are already expressing their Christian faith in ways other than through a conventional church, according to the Barna organization.) who have lost (or, are losing) their faith in the institutional church system, yet have a deep love for Christ, his community and his mission.

I believe that the church is in the early stages of a dramatic shift, such as it has experienced only a few times in all of church history. For many of the pioneers and revolutionaries who are leading the way, it has been a journey filled with wonder, but also, pain, sacrifice, and loneliness.

My questions for you are:

What do they/you need?
What did/do you need as you as went/are going through this transitional phase?
How can a ministry or service help them/you?

This synchroblog is open to anyone. Be sure to let Glenn know if you plan to participate so he can compile a list of links. Thanks!
Here's the link: http://glennhager.wordpress.com/2008/03/31/revolutionaries-synchroblog/

2 posts today

2008-04-01T14:20:00.000-07:00

I realize that in blogger world, people peek in and read your last post.

I posted 2 today- please don't forget about "we had a dream"

sorry.

Yankee Peddlers of today

2008-04-01T12:45:00.001-07:00

Selling us wares, lies for a dime....

They have a cure for you........

They can fix any problem.........

They have a concoction for any ailment........

COME on up people, don't be shy, you can be healed from any disease; any thing......

They are........False prophets.

Jeremiah 23:16
This is what the LORD Almighty says: "Do not listen to what the prophets are prophesying to you; they fill you with false hopes. They speak visions from their own minds, not from the mouth of the LORD.

This post is about my friend, Sharon.

Sharon was a beautiful sister in the Lord, she was a deacon in our church. She was a foster parent who adopted her children of special needs.

She could sew.

She could craft.

She could love.

That was Sharon.

Sharon had a prophet- more than one tell her that she would give birth from her own womb. It was an ache in her heart.

She trusted in the Lord and waited......

for His timing, for her faith, for the birth of the seed that would give her a birth child.

Sharon began getting tumors on her uterus. They were benign. We prayed together in faith.

Sharon trusted in those prophets.......trusted God for HIS goodness.....and didn't have her uterus removed.

She had more benign tumors.

surgery would remove them.

More would come.

I was in charge of the meals ministry- I organized meals for people in our church after they returned from the hospital.

many meals I cooked myself.

It was my call and what I loved to do.

I loved to feed people and sit and listen to them in love.

in the good times and the bad.

Sharon waited.......

and one day, the tumor was cancerous.

Sharon had no anger at the Lord for not fulfilling His promises.....that came from His prophets.

She figured either she missed His timing or He would complete His promise in a way she didn't understand.

She died in peace with her Lord.

Me?

I stood stunned at the ceremony of her passing.

I had already left the church so it was hard for me to return.

BUT, it wasn't about ME. It was about a sister that passed, leaving 3 special needs adopted foster kids and her husband. We walked a path together, Sharon and I. Even after I left the church, she remained a friend.

I started to read about prophets......because prophets came to visit our church all the time. People from other churches would flock to our church desperate to hear one word from God.......desperate for an impartation into their lives.......desperate to know how to walk in His perfect way, all so that in the end they could hear, "my good and faithful servant, well done".

Oh and all kinds of prophets came. Prophets who knew scripture and prophets who didn't. Soft spoken ones that had such a heavenly peace when they spoke; fire and brimstone prophets who called out private sins in people's lives; prophets with oil and a touch that could make you fall out in the spirit.....prophets from the east, from the west......prophets from everywhere. The only two things they had in common was that they preached that THEY COULD HEAR FROM GOD in a way that we couldn't AND they passed a collection plate to remove the money from our pockets into theirs.

The new testament teaches us that the veil was torn, there is no longer a need for a priest to minister to the Lord.......we can go into the Holy of Holys FACE TO FACE.

The old testament has prophets. The old testament tells us to STONE THEM IF WHAT THEY SAY DOES NOT COME TO PASS.

SO to the prophets that told my friend Sharon to wait for her child.......

Shall I cast the first stone?

no. I can't. I am not even able.

Instead, I hold my head low, and cry inside at the death of a sister in the Lord who didn't need to die.

and I no longer wait for the prophecies in my life to come true.

We Had a Dream

2008-04-01T06:48:00.001-07:00

HANNAH'S HAVEN

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

that is our question. do we build Hannah's Haven or not?

I believed with all my heart that I heard from God. I believed that He would take the very sword used against me and use it against my enemies. I believed that He would take all the suffering and broken-ness from my childhood and use them as strengths.

I believed that I was called to create Hannah's Haven.

Hannah's Haven was a dream of mine to take in special needs foster kids and give them a "forever family".

We bought a fixer upper of a home because it had 3 acres of land that was surrounded by forest and 6 bedrooms.

We bought it because we BELIEVED God himself called us to do so.

We bought it 7 years ago.................

We planned to plant organic gardens, raise small animals and lovingly embrace our arms around hurting children.

Hannah's Haven is a story of ours that is still unfolding. I want to share it with you all and welcome your opinions.

Did I hear from God?
Did the prophets that prophesied over me tell the truth?
Am I simply being attacked because the enemy knows my calling and wants to snuff it out?
Am I simply not patient enough?
Am I simply CRAZY?

Here is the list of what happened since we bought this home, each has it's own story which I will continue to share:

1)Our son Caleb's head stopped growing. He was about 1 years old. We entered a world of MRIs, Catscans, genetic testing and a place of absolute fear for his life and future.

2)My husband developed an infection in his leg that placed him in a hospital. It wouldn't respond to ANY treatment for over a month. They were watching the infection climb his thigh, worried that if it got into an organ; it would be fatal.

3)We experienced a horrific miscarriage.

4)The local power company decided that our land was their land- and without imminent domain began a plan to build on it.

5)We hired our pastor who was a cabinet maker by trade to redo our kitchen. Apparently that meant he could read from a "home depot how to" book...took our money, left the job unfinished and relocated to California because God told him to.

6)We hired a christian electrician who did what he was paid to; kinda.

7)A very close friend's betrayal nearly destroyed our family.

8)An attempt to leave our church of 9 years caused us to enter a cyclone of spiritual abuse that has left us wounded. Do you know the commercial, "I have fallen and can't get up" ?

9)Every time we dug an area of our land to plant organically, we dug out trash!

10)Every time we repair one room, it starts a domino effect of another room falling apart.

So now I bravely introduce to the world, my family and friends the innermost feelings of our struggles with Hannah's Haven....

hoping that in my monologues I find the strength to stand up and fight for my dream or the wisdom to walk away knowing that I did the best that I could and it's time to find a new dream!

My groin is bigger than your groin

2008-03-30T07:26:00.000-07:00

It's an age old argument between men. no kidding. My husband and I found it in the old testament even. I'm thinking it was Solomon, he said something like, my little pinky is bigger than my father's loin.

Only now, pastors around here are too "HOLY" to say they pack a bigger one than the other pastor. It all comes down to "numbers" and whose new church building is bigger than the others.

It is sickening. Really revolting if you ask me.

When we left our church of almost 9 years, one of the motivating factor was that we were beginning to feel like a number and not a person.

I remember believing from my childhood that God had carved my name on the palm of His hand and knew my innermost parts while I was yet in my mother's womb.

Yet that kind of intimacy, that real relationship was lacking in our group by the end of our time there.

My husband and I walked in one day to worship; a leader standing at the door to greet everyone, quickly switched a "counter" from one pocket to his other. You know, the counters that we used to use when shopping at the grocery store. A hand held gadget that you click a button for the next item that you are counting.

I was being counted like an item!

I kept thinking about how there was a story in the old testament about how David was successful until he was enticed by Satan to count the numbers......

lack of trust.

But really, what is worse? The lack of trust or the competition in my town to build the next mega church? Here in New England of all places.

The constant race from pastors to grow in numbers, to build bigger buildings, to purchase new modern things in order to lure in new tithers......

It is heart wrenching and painful.

In a pressing economy where people are not paying utility bills in order to buy prescriptions; the church leaders are shouting from the pulpits to Press In and give more and trust God more!

Does God NEED a bigger building with comfortable seats, controlled temperatures, and modern technological equipment?

When I read Isaiah, I feel the need to feed the poor, clothe the naked, and to loosen the bonds that bind. No desire to build a building.

These pastors are placing such bondage on their sheep.

Bondage that my husband and I once wore. We were obedient, we were givers of our time, money and devotion.

We stood side by side with our church family and helped build the new building. We rejoiced the day of the first service. We had been told that if we helped build God's house, He would help build ours. We were exhausted, but we had arrived into the beautiful new building.

The year did not pass when our pastor made an announcement. He unveiled a new vision. He had a person stand with a diagram at the pulpit- it was (and I kid you not)-a new building!

We were exhausted physically, spiritually, emotionally and financially.

We knew we would not be joining this group on their new building project.

What an eye opener when you first realize that your service, money, and devotion was for a mere man that suffers from penis envy- ooops I mean bigger church envy.

*i took these pictures of a local church building that I know NOTHING about. they are probably very nice people. my only point in doing so was in the fact that they are relocating from a very small building into this new building project. they are not the only church group in town, there are several. now, they probably need more space, but my point is, well, couldn't anyone worship in the high school on sundays? It's already paid for by our taxes and it's FREE.

SIGNS OF LIFE

2008-03-30T07:03:00.000-07:00

Does anyone remember Steven Curtis Chapman's song, "These are the signs of life?"

When one has a 20 year old kid that commutes to college, one often hears typing on the keyboards as papers are being written, loud door slams as showers are being rushed through to get to class on time and groans that border on agony during exam week.

So when a beautiful sunny weekend comes......and one hears car doors slamming in the yard, one knows that these are the signs of life!

Orange paintballs, lots of cars, teenagers (or are they technically adults now??) talking, soda cans all around can only mean one thing at our home;

IT'S PAINTBALL SEASON! SPRING IS HERE!