For My Dear "Sister-Friend", Angel...

In 1989, my mother had a massive stroke. Amazingly, it didn't kill her right then and there. Nor did the hours-long lack of treatment (it struck overnight as my dad and I slept).

That was on October 1st, 1989, when my father had found my mother in her favorite chair, not able to speak, barely could hear, and was blind in one eye. Also, her entire right side was paralyzed.

For 28 days, my mother suffered. Unbearable for her to endure. Unbearable for me to watch. Especially when she and I had more in common than I had ever thought that we could. Before her move to a so-called rehabilitation center, she had to have a trache placed in, due to the muscles in her lungs spasming and filling with fluid due to pneumonia.

So many times, with her good hand (her left side), she succeeded in pulling out her nasal-gastric feeding tube.It was so bad, they finally had to restrain her arm as to keep the tube in to nourish her.

But I knew then, even at the age 12, that mother wanted out. She didn't want to live like that. She didn't want US to live with her being like that. She wanted to let nature take it's course and release her. I think she KNEW that no matter what, the affects of the stroke were going to kill her in the end.

On that 28th and final day, after all of the denials of my father of her not getting better, and saying she WILL, I think something inside of ME gave me the wisdom of timing and of knowing what was the RIGHT thing to do.

As Dad went off to get a soda or some coffee, and waiting for him to be out of earshot, being you had to yell at the top of your lungs for her to hear you, I told my mother something that I NEVER in my young mind or heart would ever think I'd have to...

"It's okay Mom. WE will be okay. I'll be alright. I know you don't want to do this anymore, and you want to go home. If that IS what you want, then it's okay to let go and be with Grandma and Grandpa".

Within not even a 24 hour time frame, after I had said those words to her, Dad got that dreaded call from the Rehab Center. Something happened and she stopped breathing. He and his mom rushed to the receiving hospital that she was taken to by ambulance.

All in all, between the center, the ambulance and the ER, they all worked to save my mother for about an hour.

They called her death just about a mere five minutes before Dad and Nana had arrived.

She went Home. Just as she wanted to. No longer to suffer or to lay there, not LIVING what was to had become her "life.

Now, my friend Angel and her sisters have been faced with a similar scenario that scarcely mimics mine. Only, I am an only child. And I didn't deny to myself what "home" truly meant.

Like I had told Angel on her blog post, and in a comment within one of her FaceBook status posts, it is NOT a weak thing to finally realize the realities of the end of someone's life, and wish to not prolong their suffering. It is not a decision that is EVER made lightly, and often times, not made sooner because WE don't wish to be without the person that we will be losing to death.

It takes an insurmountable amount of strength, courage, and most of all, UNCONDITIONAL love to make an end-of-life decision to let your loved one die with dignity and the least amount of medical restraint as possible.

The clues are there, being provided by the one that is suffering. But sometimes, because of our emotions and the need to NOT want to let go, we don't always see them. Or we do, but refuse to admit that they are there. And that's normal. And it's OKAY.

Please, I implore ALL that read this post, to MAKE KNOWN your final wishes. Have a Living Will drawn up and let your family and close friends know what YOUR wishes are. My mother, and Angel's mother did NOT do this.

In the end, we were the ones to have to carry that horrendous weight upon our shoulders to make that life ending, and life altering decision. To let go. To let our mothers find peace and rest. NO child, young, old or in between should have to endure as we had to.

Angel, my dear, sweet sister who literally wears her name on her sleeve...

Know that while heartbreaking, difficult and emotionally-draining, what you and your sisters decided to do, had taken A LOT of courage and strength. What you did was a wonderful showing of UNCONDITIONAL love, and a heart-felt final gift of that love. Never (any of you) feel that you were weak in mind, or in heart of coming to that conclusion. Because it is the farthest thing from the truth, my dear sister.

SIDE NOTE;

As of this post being completed, I went to Angel's FaceBook page, to sadly find that her mother has had her sedation scaled back and letting her breath more on her own. It's just now a matter of time to see where things will go from there. It's in her mother's hands, and most importantly, in God's will.. May the family find comfort in the Lord Jesus through this sad and difficult time.

I'm taking a SICK day..Again. (Funny w/pics)

Yep, I finally have made it to the big time. Took pretty much all Winter long, which for me is a new record!

OOPSIES! Set that one on the player a tad too hard. My bad.

Anyways, I think I'm once again going to just chill on my downstairs couch, because that's how I roll.

Don't those look yummy! Too bad that my throat is still a bit sore and can't hack anything more than yogurt.

Why? Because a kid was sent to school last week, sick, coughing and running a fever. So of course mom and dad decided that since their kid was sick and looking like this...

..that everyone, including two parents (myself and another mom), as well as countless other kids from class (which now to my knowledge stands at other mom's kid at least, out of 22 count) must want the joys of feeling like this happened..

So, with that said, let's hope I can go from this...

over to this...

..in the next 24 hours. After two days of this junk, I'm ready to be my normal self again.

I'm "Pouring My Heart Out" via Shell

With all that is going on lately, I think it's finally time to sit here and indeed...



Between an "extended" winter break this year for the schools, my kids fighting because of 'cabin' fever, my son having problems as of late, I am shocked that I'm not in the Psych Ward having meds fed to me three times a day.

If you want a better picture of what is happening with my son, then I suggest that you READ THIS.

As for the longer winter break, we are this year (and hopefull JUST this year) on the college schedule as to help with the budgeting, heating costs and other "costs".

But the biggest thing on my plate is the fact that my husband's grandfather has taken a turn for the worse and there is indeed no going back. I'd written about him a good while back, when we thought that the end was imminent. Of course, once more, Big Papa fooled us all. And even then, I shared my fears of when it's REALLY time. But this time, it's different.

Now, Big Papa is in the beginning of Kidney Failure. And he has flat out refused Dialysis. So, no amount of fluid intake will reverse it and once one organ starts the shut-down process, it's not long before other major organs follow.

We'd taken Hayley (who's the oldest at eleven, and knows fully of what's going on) with us to see Papa yesterday. She sat there and answered a couple of questions. As soon as he complimented her on how beautiful she's become as a young lady, she got up and left the room as to not let Big Papa see her cry.

After seeing she was right outside the door, I made the excuse that I wanted the guys (Scott and his granddad) to have some time alone. Which was true to an extent, but more to check on my kid.

I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place at this point. Mainly with Scott and Hayley, who will be most affected by the loss when Big Papa indeed does finally pass.

Scott's had this man in his life for almost 40 years. Hayley's known him for most of her eleven years. And she knows it's not everyday a kid can say I KNOW my GREAT-Grandparents.

I've got a responsibility ahead of me. One I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. One to be there for my kids, who will at different levels be grieving.

And I've got to be there to "hold up" my husband when this all goes down, knowing he will be taking this loss extremely hard. And knowing he is one of the pallbearers is of no consolidation to me, either.

All the while, I'll be having to deal with my own grief. So, knowing myself, I'll do my best (and more than likely succeed) to hold it all together and keep it all internalized until the primary portion of the storm passes by.

I've always been of the mind set that if I fall apart when everyone else is that's around me, then no one will be of use to anyone. It's kind of like "the blind leading the blind" in other words.

So, deep down, I know what's headed for me, for my family, and for the family as a whole when all is said and done. But I'm scared that when push comes to shove, I won't be who or what I need to be when the need arises.

Dec. 1st is World AIDS Day

Will you join me? I urge you, if you are on TWITTER, MySpace, or on FaceBook, to RIGHT CLICK, then copy the picture above of the Red Ribbon and use it as your profile picture for today in support of bringing awareness to AIDS and to support in finding a cure.

My cousin Raymond (who I have blogged about before many moons ago) was a victim of HIV/AIDS. He died when I was fourteen years old (almost TWENTY years ago). I was there, along with my grandmother, his mother, and his sister and her husband as Ray drew on his last breaths.

To see him struggle and fight on that last day was beyond heart breaking. As a "child" to be witness to such a horrific scene, it was unimaginable to see death in it's raw form. And in one of it's worst ways. I held his hand and told him it was okay to let go.

He was more than my cousin. He was my "brother". He loved me as if I was almost his. We went places all the time together. Hung out listening to Madonna and Prince. We watched movies.

And I even ate off his fork and took sips from his glass of drink. And I hugged him and kissed him (on the lips) all of the time.

Unlike his own REAL siblings and mother, I did *not* live in fear of his disease...Or of him. So he was "sick" with HIV/AIDS. He was still a human being. And I treated him the same AFTER he became sick, just as I did BEFORE he started showing the signs of full-blown AIDS.

Yes, Raymond was Gay. All out, too. He had the "walk", the "talk", and the "mannerisms" of a truly "Gay" man. That to me, made him even more lovable. Don't ask me why, because to this day, I can't pinpoint the reason.

When he died, it forever left an aching hole within my heart. I didn't lose my cousin. I lost my brother. And for a "technically" only child, that was a loss almost to great for me to bear.

Sadly at the end, I noticed relief in his mother and sister. And for the wrong reasons. It seemed like they were "relieved" to be rid of the "eye sore" of the family. The "problem child" that supposedly brought shame upon their family name. As well as humiliation. And that in its self SICKENED me.

NO ONE should have to "hide" their disease and live in fear of those that are SUPPOSED TO love them UNCONDITIONALLY, no matter HOW the disease was spread to them, be it through unprotected sex, an open wound, or tainted bags of blood from a donation.

I'm a straight, married mother of three beautiful children. I could be in a serious car accident today and require a blood transfusion. And it could POSSIBLY be tainted with the HIV/AIDS infection. Yes, screening has gotten much better since their testing abilities of the 1980's. But science and medicine are NOT perfect and could miss that one bag of blood.

A friend and I could both get cut and they accidentally taint my blood with the infection.

If I contracted AIDS, how would YOU view me? Would I be a Leper? Would you (especially if you don't know me from Eve) ASSUME that I am in a homosexual (Lesbian) relationship?

Or would you extend your hand and your heart to me and my family? Would you shake my hand and hug me? Maybe even playfully take a sip from my glass.

What would you do? After all, those with HIV/AIDS have a right to be treated as human beings, too.

Handicap Parking & The "Not So" Disabled

I know a while back somewhere along the line, I had touched on this subject. But seeing as I hate "recycling" posts and honestly, I really don't wish to go through my previous 192 posts to find the sucker, I shall write about Handicap Parking Spaces...again.

Thanks to someone I follow on Twitter, who shall remain nameless (and genderless) as to protect their identity, the subject has once more come to me, especially with Christmas shopping in full swing and the fact that some shoppers can be real humbugs about parking lots and parking spaces.

My Mother and Father-In-Law both have poor health. Primarily my Mother-In-Law. She has Systemic Lupus. Systemic Lupus affects all the main organs (including lungs and heart), as well as muscles throughout the body. She literally is drained even after a short shopping trip for groceries. It doesn't take much for her to tire out or to bruise, or get sore throughout her body.

When she goes to public places, she parks in Handicap stalls. She looks fine. She walks fine. She sees and hears just fine. She walks (for the most part) fine. But indeed, she IS legally disabled.

No one can see (unless you REALLY know her, or of her condition) her internal handicap. Her illness that is tucked within her own body.

So, when she climbs out of her van and starts walking "normally" in to the store, I have been witness to a few stares and sneers. People in general think that she is just being lazy.

Yes, she is heavy set (not fat), but that is NOT due to being "lazy" or over eating, seeing as she has to watch her intake, due to her Colostomy Bag (that she craps in to, having only two INCHES of her colon, thanks to cancer). The Lupus plays with your weight as well.

And it can mess up her breathing. After a while, you can hear her breaths get heavier, as she tires. Hence why her trips to the store are as minimal as she can make them.

When I was little (as in a toddler), I was allowed to be on "Day Trips" from the hospital (for new readers, I didn't go home until I was almost 3 YEARS old, due to many medical problems at birth). My parents had a Handicap Sticker to use when I was with them, seeing as I had to have my medical equipment close by in the car in case I had a breathing situation (a suctioning machine for my trache).

An elderly lady called the police on my parents (I know I spoke of this last time lol) because she didn't see where any of us were handicapped and "required" a spot for those that were REALLY handicapped.

Needless to say, my parents were caught off guard when a Police Officer side stepped them inside the store and let them know what was transpiring. After hearing this, my mother took me (in the cart) and walked off to "cool down" after eying the lady that made the report.

My poor dad. He had to take the officer outside and SHOW HIM the equipment, sitting there on the floorboard of the back seat area of the car. The Police Officer thanked him and apologized for the intrusion and the trouble (as well as the embarrassment) that the situation caused.

After going back inside, the officer pulled the lady aside and let her have it for being a nosy old bag. He even took HER to see that INDEED I was LEGALLY afforded that spot and why. Also, she got a better look at ME, sitting in the cart and started to cry (by my understanding of what my dad said), all the while apologizing to my parents.

My mother walked off without accepting the apology, due to the humiliation and the rudeness of the woman in the first place. Plus, it kept Mom from wanting to punch the old woman (by what was told).

So, the next time you see someone parking in a designated Handicap spot, don't be so quick to judge by their outward appearance. You don't know their full medical history and what may be going on internally.

Believe me when I say that there are days when I really wish I had a sticker/plate due to my son and his "outbursts" (due to his mental disorders that LEGALLY make him 'disabled' by our state) that he has. I'd be able to get him out of where we are and out to the car MUCH quicker when an episode hits. Most of the time, we are parked most of the way towards the end of the lot area. Just my luck I guess.

"Am I A Fireman Yet??"

Once in a while, my dad will send me things from his side of the country. At almost 3,000 miles apart, it doesn't happen all too often. But when he does send things (primarily for his grandkids), he will send me clippings from a local magazine, The Carson Valley Scoop. Inside are some jokes, heart-warming stories and other articles that make you sit back and think, and also realize just how good you've really got it, compared to other people.

The following is a copy of an article (re-typed word-for-word by yours truly). This one really tugged at my heart strings. And yes, even brought a tear or two to my eyes. As a mother, how could I not feel the deepness of this story? So without further adieu, here is the story from 'Scoop'...

"Am I A Fireman Yet??"

In Phoenix, Arizona, a 26-year-old mother stared down at her 6 year old son, who was dying of terminal Leukemia.

Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination.

Like any parent, she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The Leukemia would see to that. But she wanted her son's dream to come true.

She took her son's hand and asked, 'Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up? Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life?"

"Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up."

Mom smiled back and said, "Let's see if we can make your wish come true."

Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son's final wish and asked if it might be possible to giver her 6-year-old son a ride around the block on the fire engine.

Fireman Bob said, "Look, I can do better than that. If you'll have him ready by seven o'clock Wednesday morning, we'll make him an honorary Fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if you'll give us his sizes, we'll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat - not a toy- one- with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots." They're all manufactured locally, so they can get it ordered and back pretty fast.

Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his uniform, and escorted him from his hospital bed the waiting hook and ladder truck. Billy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls.

He rode in the different fire engines, the Paramedic's van, and even the Fire Chief's car. He was also videotaped for the local news program.

Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy, that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible.

One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the Hospice concept - that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a Fireman, so she called the Fire Chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition.

The Chief replied, "We can do better than that. We'll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire?" 'It's the Department coming to see one of its finest members one last time. And will you open the window to his room?'

About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital and extended its ladder up to Billy's third floor open window - SIXTEEN fire-fighters climbed up the ladder in to Billy's room. With his mother's permission, they hugged him and told him how much they LOVED him.

With his dying breath, Billy looked up and the Fire Chief and said, "Chief, and I really a Fireman now?" 'Billy, you are, and the Head Chief, Jesus, is holding your hand', the Chief said.

With those words, Billy smiled and said, "I know, He's been holding my hand all day, and the angels have been singing." He then closed his eyes one last time.

I'm in a Musical Way,today!Join me & hear what I want to say to certain peeps!!

This first one is for my husband Scott. Let's just say that I'm sure we are BOTH in withdrawal thanks to my UTI problem. And for me, this following song states exactly how I'm feeling about him.




This next one is to my kids. They have been *almost* the death of me during Summer Vacation. Sadly, I can vouch that I have said EVERY SINGLE thing in this "mom song" at least a hundred times, plus another million...




The eating song goes out to my PMS and knowing that I have gained two pounds from water-weight gain. And another two will be added from stuffing my face for the next week or so...




Every once in a while, including very recently, I have thought about the old days of my youth. And I swear, Tim got this right!




There is a way out! You just need to find the courage to pick yourself up and leave. It WILL be difficult and extremely scary to do so, at first. But to escape and taste the freedom of what life REALLY has to offer is more than worth it..I should know.




Last but not least, this one goes to all my gal-pal readers! No matter if you are 9 or 99. We really ARE the same inside...

McDonald's is changing the world.

McDonald's. It's been a kid-friendly staple for over fifty years. Who knew that when Ray Kroc first opened his little burger joint's doors, that it would be the mega-empire it is today?

It wasn't (if I remember correctly) until the middle 1970's that Happy Meals started to appear. Back then, it was either a hamburger or cheeseburger, with a small fry and a kid-sized drink.

Today, there are various types of Happy Meals. From burgers, to nuggets, to even a Snack Wrap. Plus you can now choose fries or "Apple Dippers", and either a milk (or chocolate milk), Apple Juice, or a fountain drink (AKA soda).

The other day, I had taken my kids for a breakfast. I had no milk, so no cereal. And I wanted to get out of the house anyways. At first I didn't seem to notice, but when I went to throw some trash away, I did.

Usually, you can see the small, plastic boxes where you can drop coins in to the box's slot. All proceeds in that box goes to the Ronald McDonald's Charity House for your general locality.

There, now in a huge window display poster, it now reads that Happy Meals and McDonald's was bringing even more smiles...and hope to kids and their families.

Namely families with sick, hospitalized children.

To my memory, if it serves me right, my parents, a time or two, had to stay at the Ronald McDonald Charity House while I was hospitalized. Plus, even though it was for a (grown) uncle, I and his (then) girlfriend and were able to stay a night at the Ronald McDonald Charity House here for this area.

McDonald's has (for the most part) always been committed to children and their families. They help HUNDREDS of families every year, around the United States.

When families, and their children must travel long distances for medical treatment, or the child is transferred via ambulance or helicopter to a distant hospital, then this is where the RMCH comes in.

They house the family (and sometimes the child too, if they are not admitted to the hospital), feed them a meal, let them shower and rest. And the RMCH has as much of a comfortable environment as possible. To make it as much a "home away from home" as they can make it.

I'm so happy that children and their families have somewhere to go, and feel safe, and be comfortable, as well as relaxed during their child's most trying time of life. And I'm happy to be a part of it. I love giving back to those that helped me and my family when I was a child. Be it RMCH, Children's Miracle Network (CMN), or Shriner's Organization.

Without them all, I don't know where myself, my parents or the millions of families like ours would have (or would in the future) do without them.

My First Time.

Some say, when you have your first time, it can be really scary. You don't know what to expect, how to act or react. Or even what to feel at that very moment in time.

There are many firsts in our lives. First boyfriend or girlfriend. First dates and kisses. First time having sex. And then there is another first. One that thousands in the United States, and millions world wide get to have. Believe me, it is a first that no one wants to experience.

The loss of someone that for some people, they don't really even know on a "personal" level. But the shock, hurt, fear, and pain is still the same. Because in my exclusive club, when one hurts, we all hurt. When one rejoices, we all rejoice.

Sadly, there is no rejoicing for us in the Transplant Community in our Facebook tight-knit group, TEC. For one of our own is watching his wife dying before his very eyes. And there is NOTHING now that can be done for her.

She was in the process of testing to receive a Liver Transplant. She was even transferred to another hospital to start rehabilitation. But no sooner they got her there, she had to go back to her regular hospital and be placed in ICU. Sadly, she is now in Liver and Renal Failure. Her Kidneys have also basically shut down. Now, this vibrant, "young" woman is on full life support and around-the-clock dialysis.

Her family is coming in to say their good-bye's and at this point she is comfortable. By Monday, she will be taken off of life support and let nature take it's course, unless her heart stops before then.

This is a first for me. It is a stark, let alone grim reality of being in the Transplant World. None of us, be it Live Donors, Donor Families, or Recipients, I think honestly "get it" until something like this happens. We are in a "La La Land" of sorts. We all know that some get the call and are lucky. Some sadly don't. But until it REALLY "hits home" and happens to one of your own (so to speak), you can't honestly get a grasp on the severity of the realities of being in this (be it unwanted) exclusive club, where ALL ages are welcome, nor are they turned away. Transplantation has no age limits. Nor does Organ Failure.

Today, I await word on a friend's wife. He held out so much hope, gave her SO much love and devotion and was there for her from beginning to end, never wavering. He was giving positivity and hope to fellow new caregivers, even as he has had been getting his own heart shattering through seeing that there was nothing he could do but support and be there for the love of his life. And he is at this moment, by her side. Showing her his undying love, giving all the support he can as her soul-mate and just waiting for the end to sadly come.

We, his friends, have been loving them, supporting them and have hoped for the best. But sadly, the best came too late in the game. And for one woman, her journey through the Transplant Experience is almost over. Help was coming too late.

This "first" is something I will carry with me for years to come. And it's a "first" I knew would come along in my life. I just didn't think I would be blind sided with it this soon after becoming a Recipient myself. But I thank it for coming like it did. Why? Because now I can see the TRUE realities of the Transplant Community/World. It's not all a bed of sunshine, puppies and rainbows.

There is also darkness, heart break, sadness and death. In  this "club", lives are at stake. We have to depend on another person, be it that they are alive or have died, to keep US alive, seeing and going on with our own lives. And to be here for our loved ones. That's a hard pill to have to swallow.

Some one had to DIE to give me my sight back. Some people depended on someone's death to be their second chance for a new heart or a new set of lungs. It's not easy knowing this fact. In some ways, some of us (myself included) felt like we "took" or "stolen" from our donors, in a selfish manner. But that is NOT the case.

Our donors gave of themselves to help those that are in need of a second chance at living their lives and being with their loved ones. Without them, we either would not be able to see, walk or even be alive ourselves.

There is so much more of a Demand, than there is a Supply for people in need of a Transplant. Be it a heart, a kidney, lungs, cornea, skin, and many other organs, tissues and even blood. Please, if you have yet to do so, SIGN UP to be an Organ/Eye/Tissue Donor. Be a HERO and pay it forward. You never know when YOU may depend on someone else for a second chance for the Gift of Life.

Boy Sent Back To Homeland ALONE, USA Mom Couldn't Handle Him.

Being a mother is a number one priority in my life. Especially being that my three children are children that the "medical professionals" said I would never have. I had birth defects that if I tried to carry a baby, my body would have gone against me so-to-speak and abort the baby. Plus, I have had a severe case of Ovarian Cystitis since I was a teenager. That too was a factor, being that even then, the cysts that have ravaged my ovaries were scarring them, making it less possible to be fertile.

But, apparently, like in the years before, I defied the odds and surprised the medical community by getting pregnant with my first baby. Sadly, that was an Ectopic, caught in the ovary (of all things). A year later, I had my first born, who is now ten. Seventeen months later, followed her little brother, who will be nine tomorrow.

In 2003, we were pregnant with what was to be our last baby. But it had died in the womb and never fully miscarried. But once more, a year later our youngest daughter was born. She is now five.

After losing two children, having almost lost one (the youngest at weeks eight and twelve of pregnancy, plus severe pre-term labor), I must say that I know that I'm extremely fortunate and blessed to have these three in my life. I would go to the ends of the earth for them....I would give my life for them. I am their best advocate and defender.

My middle son, as many of my readers know, is disabled with several mental disorders. I won't list them here, but you can find them in some of my previous posts. We have been through some tough times, he and I. Including me having to hospitalize him in a Pediatric Psychiatric Ward being that he was severely Manic, impulse-driven, running away to a dangerous area repeatedly and needed major medication adjustment. We have cried together as we both faced fears of knowing he just threatened to KILL ME over simple little things....Yes, it has gotten that severe in his last five years of dealing with Mental Illness.

So, with all of that said, I find it outrageously appalling to see an article about a single, adoptive mother, who adopted her seven-year-old son from Russia, out of one of the orphanages, only to SEND HIM BACK, alone! Yes folks, she sent him back ALONE on an overseas flight back to Russia, with a note attached to him stating (in part), "After giving my best to this child, I am sorry to say that for the safety of my family, friends, and myself, I no longer wish to parent this child."

Where did this woman give her "best" to her son? If she gave her best to him, then she would STILL have him, love him, and get him all of the possible psychological care available. She only got that for HERSELF to see what she could do for him and get advice. Not to truly help him. Not once did she get an evaluation for services done on her son. And she freely admitted to that!

Obviously, she has NO business being a "mother". Adoptive or biological. What mother in their right mind would throw away their child in that manner? She did not even try to get help for the boy.

Read the article here... http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100410/ap_on_re_us/us_russia_adopted_boy

Sure, this woman saw a psychologist, but NEVER took him in to get evaluated and to receive help for his mental problems, that most likely stemmed from his living conditions and trauma in his life back in Russia.

It's certainly apparent that there was an extreme lack of common sense, patience and LOVE on this woman's part. If she REALLY wanted to be a mother, she would have not have sent that little boy back to his native homeland alone on a plane. She instead would have done EVERYTHING possible to help him first, before even fathoming the thought of washing her hands of him.

What my son has displayed over the last five years, I have noted that this little Russian boy has also done or attempted to do. He needs serious help and UNCONDITIONAL love.

I'm hoping that the adoption was finalized here in the States, and that this young man is a citizen of the USA. Then, she will have to get him back and make a difficult choice. One, take him back in and MOTHER him (as in get him HELP in the proper manner and LOVE him as a mother should). Or two, place her son in to a Foster Home situation, give up all parental rights to the child, and let a loving family who WILL help him adopt this troubled boy.

There are days where my nerves have been tested BEYOND their limits and frayed. I hate that my son (who is NOT a bad child) feels like the whole world is against him. That his own mind and body are against him. And he always tells me that he doesn't want to be bad. We are doing all we can in helping him in this fight for a "normal" life.

Yes, my son's mental disability affects the family as a whole. It impedes on his socialization and behavioral skills. He has very few friends. But they are ones that understand (yes kids in his age group CAN understand and do accept children that are not always "like them") that he is just "one of the guys".

I've had people stare at me and him as he has a Manic Episode or a Sensory Issue overload. He can be a real terror in those times. And yes, I have in the past, feared for my life, being that my small son threatened my life, with a HAMMER or a BUTCHER KNIFE in his hand, describing how he is going to kill me "until I'm dead". He has beaten his little sister in the past (mainly pushing her in to a piece of furniture, then slapping her). He has threatened to harm and even kill his big sister.

But never, EVER have I thought of kicking my son to the proverbial curb. Yes, I have thought of placing him in a group home in the past, temporarily. But never to just tell the state to take him and place him permanently somewhere else. I refuse to throw my child (or ANY of the three) away because life with them has becaome extremely difficult.

All I can hope is that this little boy from Russia, who only needed/wanted a LOVING home, with a LOVING family, will find a "forever family" that will take him in and get him all the help that he requires to work through the mental issues that plague him. No child (that has a disability of ANY kind) should be thrown away like a piece of bad meat. Yes, disabled children require more care and attention. But every one of those extra seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, and years is more than well worth it as their parent.

Too bad his "mother" didn't see it that way....

Arm, eye and stomach...What a combination to deal with.

Germ invasion, broken arm and a failing eye. That is what I have been dealing with since last week. Let's just say it's kind of looking up.

The bright side? Bryce's arm and hand/finger swelling is going down and he is doing well in the cast.

Otherwise, there isn't much of a bright side. Other than the fact that the constant drops in the eye are helping to reverse possible irreversable damage to my Cornea.

After sitting in the Cornea Specialist's chair, he looked in to my eye and looked at results from a new test I had done last Friday. Then asked how long my eye has been red.

Come to find out...My Cornea is in the EARLY stages of Rejection. Not even in my fourth month yet and BOOM! Now I'm on my Pred Forte Drops several times a day. At least for the next three weeks.

Then, Friday night, Skyler got us up at around eleven from a nice slumber, only to let Scott and I know as she cried that she "puked" all over my living room carpet and couch. Let's just say, it is going to still require the Rug Shampooer to get the stains up.

Top it all off with last night, around midnight, Bryce got up and barely made it to the toilet and threw up. He also had some on the doorway area of his carpet. But otherwise, he did it full throttle all over the seat, inside, and the side of the potty.

At this point with my immune system already attacking my eye and having a lowered "defense", I can't afford to get sick. That would make my already failing eye a complete failure most likely. My body is already attacking the Cornea. To get sick leaves a wide-open shot like a dear being hunted in the clearing of the forest. It's sure to be killed.

One day soon, I will be able to hopefully put all of my worries behind me with my eye. But now that is is in rejection, my chances go up for it to happen again if I can save THIS Cornea.

Well, that's life. I have YET to be able to get Bryce's Vyvanse. Still working on fighting insurance and waiting to see if the Pre-Authorization went through. Plus, Bryce has an appointment Friday for his broken arm. Needless to say, Dr. Asshat who doesn't call back never let him get an earlier appointment so he won't miss TWO WEEKS of school. So, it looks like Monday of NEXT week is when he can go back. Bryce NEEDS TO BE IN SCHOOL! Not stuck at home...for a broken arm. Good lord!

This guy makes me wonder if he is a quack. Who the hell keeps a kid home for two weeks? Put Bryce in a sling, make sure he gets assistance from the other kids and the teacher to help write and carry heavy things and take extra precautions (like no P.E. or recess on the school yard).

Snow, school & sickness. What a combo!

It's been a ride, that's for sure.

My youngest, Skyler has been home since last Thursday, due to a severe Chest Cold. Then, on Friday, in came a nasty snow storm. That dumped about fourteen inches around our city. Some areas, mainly south of us got even more.

My oldest, Hayley was with her father for her visitation weekend. She called and let me know she was outside although she had been SICK! So I got on her for that and for not listening. Who knew? My ex-husband actually was being a parent for a change and putting his foot down. Only for her to do as he said NOT to anyways. That was going outside. So, we both jumped her for it.

Man, then along comes the Stomach Flu in to my home. And who did it strike? You guessed it. Kinda. It got a hold of me, as well as Scott. My poor husband came in at 5:30 in the morning, after working his last 3rd shift after two weeks of doing so. He was visibly shaking and had the severe chills. Plus the all-out fun diarrhea. Mine was mainly problems with vomiting.

Oh, and one of my kitties, Stinky is in the Animal Hospital. He has a Blocked Urinary Tract. I thought he got hit by a car or drank Antifreeze. He was so sick, I was ready to put him down. But then the doctor realized what was wrong and saved his life. Today, Stinky is still in the hospital with a catheter to drain his bladder. But he is moving around, eating and drinking well. He may even come home in the next couple of days.

Like I said, fun times!

Today, the kids are once again home, due to icy road conditions. My husband is at work this morning, back on day shift. And we are looking at another big system of snow and sleet to come back to our area on Friday. So, I'm hoping and praying that the kids get to go to school for at least ONE day this week. That would be tomorrow.

Don't get me wrong. I love my kids. I love spending time with them. And I love that we can all be together as a family. But they REALLY need to be in school. For their sake. And for mine. The City School System could have made it a two-hour delay, instead of no school at all. People are on the road this morning in full force. And no one seems to be having problems at this time...And it will be even better on the roads in an hour or two.

Sometimes, I wonder if the head-hanchos at Home Office do this as to just get more time off. I feel bad for the homes of children that have a 2-parent home where BOTH parents work to make ends meet. And those of single-parent homes. Both types of family dynamics cannot afford to stay home due to the kids being out of school for so long. Or to add extra days of having to pay the babysitter.

I'm one of the lucky ones in this respect. We are a one-income-provider family. I'm a Stay-At-Home Mom/Homemaker. My husband is the sole "bread winner" of the family. But, believe me when I say that all this "kids are staying home AGAIN due to weather conditions" is taking a mental-toll on me. They need to be with their friends in a classroom. The arguing, fighting, constant messiness and the dreaded all-day long "I'm hungry/thirsty" has GOT TO stop.

Soon I will be kicking them out the house and back on to the school bus before I know it. It just seems like it's so far away. *sigh*

Hi-ho....A-Bleaching we will do.

There are days that I can hack it. Other day's I can't.

Today was can.

My nose has been just tore up from the floor up, thanks to all the freaky weather changes. One day, it's colder than Frosty's butt. Next thing I know, we have Spring in the air. Only for Old Man Winter to come roaring his was back in to town.

Needless to say, my sinuses, especially on the left side have been having lots of "plugged" days. Which in turn has been making my worked on eye teary, red and stingy. So, down goes the Sinus Medicine to open me up.

This morning, I have been trying to get the house back in order. With three kids, ages five to ten, you can imagine what the house looks like.

Being that I am one to refuse to clean everyone's messes, I had Bryce clean the table, chairs and bench in the dining room. With bleach cleaner.

Holy cow!! That spray can really do the job of a whole pack of Sinus pills from just a few squirts from the bottle.

As soon as I had breathed in the aroma of the Bleach, I noticed that my nose was doing something it's lacking. Taking in air!! Man, it felt good until....

It opened me so well, that I started to get teary eyed from the scent of the powerful fume.

Bryce did a pretty good job on the dining area furniture. And most of my upstairs is back together and looking like a normal family lives here. Not a bunch of savages from 10,000 B.C.

Now, on to the down stairs. I swear! A Stay-At-Home Mom's work is never done. Even when it is.

My son is no different from your kid (THANKS ANGEL FOR THE INSPIRATION)

When you see my son, what do you see? Do you see the happiness he can have most of the time? Do you see that he can be sly at any given moment? Do you see how much he loves his family?

Can you see that my son is Bipolar, with OCD, ADHD, Asperger's Tendensies, Anxiety Disorder and Behavior Disorder?

When our children with these 'problems' have an 'off" day of lashing out and being 'abnormal', it is OUR normal. We have gotten used to the stares and whispers out in the public eye. Especially when an episode from the Mania he experiences just suddenly pops up during a shopping trip or other outting.

Sure all is fine and good with the world around us....Until it happens. Bryce's eyes glaze over in a "haze" and get a more sharp tone. His voice is quiet. His movement almost at a stand still. Then it happens. OUTBURST!

Next thing I know, I am having to take Bryce off to the side to talk him down, maybe even bear hug him from behind. Otherwise he is going to try and knock things over, run off, or hit someone (mainly me or his sisters).

And this is where the world's judges come in. They gawk and stare at the "evil" little boy and the parents that obviously can't "control" their kid. They see that as one of us is dealing with Bryce, the other is trying to maintain calmness with Hayley and Skyler, as to not have them feel upset or embarrassed.

Once everything is said and done, the calm comes as the storm passes. And everything is as it once was before the Episode hit. And yes, these can occur at ANY given moment at ANY time of day, in ANY place (even in the home).

What you see as an "outsider" looking in though is NOT what I see. I don't see the "evil" little child that is unruly and needs his "ass whipped more often".

What I personally see as Bryce's mother, and Scott sees in his son as the boy's father is the potential that our son has to become a normal and productive member of society.

Bryce is in mainstream classes at school. And in ADVANCED Math and Reading classes.

He has friends and a 'social life'.

Bryce loves to play games on the computer and his sister's DS.

My boy is a Spongebob junkie.

He has a wonderful talent for knowing about Astronomy.

But Bryce also requires monthly Psychiatric sessions because to help curb MOST of the symptoms of all of his disabilities, he needs medication. And to be sure that the medicines are working properly, there are no adverse affects, and that he is overall doing well, he must see a "Shrink".

Okay, yes I said that I "drug" my kid. But, there are SO MANY misconceptions about the medications that are given to Psychiatric patients. Especially those given to children.

My son is not a "zombie'. He is not "foaming at the mouth" or listless. He is functioning at a better rate for his age THANKS TO those drugs. And it helps curb the ideals for him to go and get a hammer or knife and hold it up at me, all the while saying he is GOING TO KILL ME.

Yep, that's actually happened a few times over the years. Why do you think I have to keep the tool room locked? Mainly with the hammer. I don't remember him ever trying it with a knife.

What this is all boiling down to is that for parents such as myself, we are tired of "professionals" telling us what we do or do not know. No one knows our children better than us. And when we cry out for help, we EXPECT someone to be there, listen and do RIGHT by our kids. Not pass us off and think that they 'know' our children. When that happens, dangerous or even fatal errors can occur.

Same goes for society as well. When you see a parent dealing with an "evil little brat", don't assume that the kid is just a 'bad seed' and the parent is just not "parenting right". Look at the scene a little closer. Try for a second to put yourself in their shoes. Because their child might be Special too.

Hidden Disabilities get the most "heat" in this nation and passed off by the general public more than it should be. It's time to stand back and get to know the person before judging them. They are human too and all they ask for, like anyone else is some compassion, understanding, and caring.

Christmas is the happiest time of the year...

So far, it is far from it as it so seems. At least for me and for my home.

My kids are sick. Well two of three are anyway.

My son has broken my cherished Snow Globe that my husband gave me from one of our first few Christmases together.

My husband is having to work extremely long hours during this week leading up to Christmas day at the store.

I'm losing my sanity by the minute it seems. As well as my well-talked-about patience as my husband always is amazed by the amount of it that I have.

Apparently, I have also "upset" some people in a group I'm a part of on FaceBook.

Plus, I am apparently using wrong 'terminology' when referring to a certain subject. Plus I'm apparently in the wrong for voicing MY opinions/views/thoughts on a subject in another of my blog pages.

Where will it end for me? It's obvious I'm doing NOTHING right this week. I can't say things correctly, I can't do things correctly. I can't have nice things that are MINE. I can't have a damn thing go right.

Screw you, Christmas week! Here is to a better one next year. Because this one is nowhere near jolly or merry.

Puke, Barney and Cats

What a way to start off the day the right way! And it's a form of starting off the morning that I haven't done in quite some time.

How about we start with your child getting up at five in the morning, only to vomit all over your family area carpet as you blindly scramble to find a semi-clean towel and shove it under your daughter's face in the hopes that you catch at least most of it.

Only then, after throwing up the meal from the night before, do you clean up the remainder of her "morning gift" as you barely see out your good eye.

Finally! You drift back off to sleep, only to once again hear the sound of your five year old once again vomit. But she learned from the last time to actually puke in to the towel, not on her blanket or the rug.

Then, thirty minutes later, you raise up, thanks to the hubby turning on the loud shower at six-thirty only to find Barney the Dinosaur staring back at you from the television screen. OH THE HORROR that my eyes met!! Ugh! I can't stand that purple child molesting freak of nature. That image of his toothy grin is now etched deep in to my cerebral cortex.

On to the kitties who are not very innocent this morning. As I came in to the kitchen to start my morning coffee routine, I noticed what looked like black dirt on my kitchen floor. Nope!! Scott said it was the coffee grinds I threw away last night before washing my pot. Apparently, they decided to jump my garbage can and try to steal food from it.

Yes, people!! I do feed my fur-children. But they act like they are starved for weeks on end. The second that BOTH BOWLS are empty, they meow and cry as if they hadn't had a meal in a month of Sundays.

So, I filled the bowl of food, as well as dumped the nasty kitty litter box. As I did, Weebles (the youngest) decided he couldn't wait like a good boy, and peed in the corner where the box sits BEFORE I could sweep.

After all that was taken care of and their water container filled, all three cats filed in to the box at one time...Talk about a packed house! Two of the three decided to take a dump right after the freaking box was cleaned out and "refreshed" with all new litter in the pan. Needless to say, I once again scooped the freshly cleaned box as to get the stench out.

As of now, I'm letting both of the kids sleep as much as they want. I'm giving them medicines as needed. Being both have colds, they can take the same thing. But one may have to go to the doctor for an ear infection. And Skyler has managed to now not only puke on my rug, but has officially spilled drink as well.

Hayley will be home later today. I can only hope and pray that she isn't sick, and won't get sick! Bryce has yet to wake and cause me any grief...But it's coming!

Here is to my Puke-tastic, poop-tastic day in Stay-At-Home-Mom Land!!