Water Is Life

I'm so proud of A! She spent the better part of 2 days, selling lemonade during her grandmother's garage sale. She raised $90 for http://www.waterislife.com/. With the money she raised, Hearts and Hands International can buy 9 water filter straws for children in Kenya. That's 9 kids who won't die from water-bourne illnesses because of her! Wow! And she was disappointed because she didn't reach her goal of 20 straws. We're going to try to find other ways to raise money this year to help her reach her goal, but I'm still proud!

Sick day

My son threw up after school today. I knew he was sick at lunch. It's odd how a mom can tell her child is sick just by looking at him. His face was flushed, his head hung low, his shoulders were drooped, he shuffled his feet. No fever, no cough, no rash. But he just wasn't acting normal. It was confirmed at the lunch table when he didn't eat his Cheetos. That NEVER happens! But he wanted to go to school. I warned his teacher and told him that I would take him home if he started to feel worse. He made it through the day, but didn't make it down the hall to me. In fact, he didn't make it to a toilet or even a trash can. While waiting for me, he upchucked all over the couch, his pants, his coat, his sister, and her back pack.

Now he's napping, which NEVER happens.

When I leave my little diabetic with a new caregiver, I explain to them about what his low blood glucose level looks like. I describe his low behavior in detail, and say, "Don't worry - you'll know. His whole behavior changes. My little spaz will slow down." And they get it when they see it. So totally obvious. You just know. The blood sugar monitor just tells you how low it really is. It's just like when your own child gets sick. You just know.

Except in the case of an ear infection, which always went untreated in our household because my kids never once complained of pain!

Bad children or bad parents?

People often tell me they couldn't do my job. They say it takes a special kind of person to work with special needs children. I used to think that, too. That is, until I accepted my job. Teachers and teacher assistants have it easy - they send the kids home to the parents every day. I go home to my normally developing children.



It's the parents who have the tough job. I admire those who do their job well. They're angels. I am ecstatic that others even try.

Food Snob

My husband thinks he's Gordon Ramsay. He must have seen every season of Hell's Kitchen. He has probably watched every episode of Kitchen Nightmares, both the U.S. and the U.K. versions. He rarely reads books, but he just finished Chef Ramsay's autobiography. He has been experimenting with food in the kitchen, making entrees without recipes. (I must admit here that he usually scores. Only once in 15 years has he made something entirely inedible.)

But an ordinary family breakfast at Denny's turned him into a food critic. Once served, Super D picked up a bit of his scrambled eggs and wiggled them back and forth to show me how rubbery they were. I told him that if he had wanted good eggs, he shouldn't have ordered them scrambled. And I scooped up a bite of my eggs, over medium. As I was enjoying my bacon, he held his fork aloft, waiting for me to try a sample of his biscuits and gravy. Not really knowing what he wanted me to say, I simply nodded my head with a smile and said, "Hmm." He replied with a look of scorn, "A mix." Even our daughter's link sausage failed to pass muster. His word for it was "frozen." Of course, he prefers sausage patties to sausage links. (Oddly enough, the best sausage I think he has probably ever had came from my mother's freezer. My brother procured it from a pig farm.)

It should be noted that my husband did not walk away from the restaurant hungry. I believe Super D ate everything on this plate. I should probably consider myself lucky that Chef Husband didn't send it all back to the kitchen, yelling obsenities at the kitchen manager about how horrible the whole experience was. Although Ramsay-wannabe would have had to stand in the cold in order to speak with him - the manager was just outside the front door, smoking his cigarette.

Maybe my pallette isn't as refined as my husband's, but I rather enjoyed my breakfast. If only because I didn't have to cook it.

My genius

I just have to brag a bit. "A" brought home her progress report today, and she has a 100% in Science and 99% in Social Studies! Two of my least favorite subjects! I have always said that she is just like me, but not in this arena!

I pledge...

to use a kinder voice with my family so that my children will learn to be kind to others.

I pledge to support Hearts and Hands International's Water is Life program, so that children around the world will have the clean water needed to sustain their lives and the Living Water needed to give them eternal life.

I pledge to follow the actions of my President by regularly reading the White House website. I pledge to be an informed citizen. I pledge to make my voice heard when my government does not speak for me, and I pledge to applaud when it does.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgnAz7A_i0s

What do you pledge?

Friday Nights

My grandfather used to call my brother and me every Friday and say, "Is it Friday yet?" This was code for, "Can you come over to spend the night?"

Friday nights at my grandparents house are one of my fondest childhood memories. As I age, I don't remember specifically what we did as much as I just remember being with them. I do remember playing games like Flinch and Wahoo. (I'm so old that these games are now known as Skip-bo and Aggravation.) The computer was a novelty, and my brother and I spent hours playing M.U.L.E. I remember my grandparents watching Mystery! and Masterpiece Theater on PBS and wondering how they could stand to watch something so boring. I mean, in my mind, the only public television worth watching aired in the mornings. (I now LOVE both Mystery! and Masterpiece: Prime Suspect, the Linley Mysteries, Agatha Christie, Poirot, Jane Austen.) And Hee Haw . . . well, don't get me started! That was just pure torture!

Saturday mornings, Grandfather made breakfast, which usually consisted of either waffles or pancakes. These were not your average, boring breakfasts. They always had a "surprise" inside - nuts, chocolate chips, blueberries, or bananas.

In the spring, we had to help in the garden, which I absolutely dreaded. In the summer, we would play in the sprinkler to keep cool (no swimsuit required - just underwear). In the fall, we would attend Bulldog football games. And in the winter, we would always have a roaring fire in the fireplace.

TGIF was reality for me because I waited all week for these overnight visits. Now I realize that my parents probably enjoyed them more than we did. They had a standing Friday night date!