...and the saga continues...

I'd say that's pretty funny, Bob

2011-11-15T07:02:00.000-08:00

Why does Snoop Dogg carry an umbrella?

Fo' drizzle

ba-dum-dum-ching!

I will not fail

2011-11-14T10:42:00.000-08:00

I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail. I will not fail.

I I repeat it to myself enough, maybe I will win BloMo, yes?

From the ashes

2011-11-13T10:18:00.000-08:00

At the therapy center where Lucas goes, on Thursday nights he attends a feeding clinic. For two hours, he and a group of children sit around a dining table with various therapists, and they attempt to eat a variety of foods. We have been attending for several months, and in that time, all of the children have made great strides.

Adjacent to the room where the children are, the parents watch from a webcam linked to a monitor in our room. Slowly, over the course of weeks, friendships were forged. We've laughed together, we've listened to each others cries. It has been an amazing journey.

There is a huge comfort in connecting with other parents of special needs children. They are other parents who share the same worries, fears, and hopes that we have. They delight in the excitement of tiny milestones reached.

It is amazing to know that I am not alone. Others have been there. Others are arriving. We're all finding our way, slowly and with carefully placed steps. This piece really resounded in my heart today. I have printed a copy, and put it in the front cover of Lucas' binder of medical documentation

“Jacob, where do you find the strength to carry on in life?”

“Life is often heavy only because we attempt to carry it,” said Jacob. “But I do find a strength in the ashes.”

“In the ashes?” asked Mr. Gold.

“Yes,” said Jacob, with a confirmation that seemed to have traveled a great distance.

“You see, Mr. Gold, each of us is alone. Each of us is in the great darkness of our ignorance. And, each of us is on a journey.

“In the process of our journey, we must bend to build a fire for light, and warmth, and food.

“But when our fingers tear at the ground, hoping to find the coals of another’s fire, what we often find is the ashes.

“And, in those ashes, which will not give us light or warmth, there may be sadness, but there is also testimony.

“Because these ashes tell is that somebody else has been in the night, somebody else has bent to build a fire, and somebody else has carried on.

“And that can be enough, sometimes.”

~Noah benShea

Moment of Truth

2011-11-12T19:21:00.000-08:00

What type of pets do you have?

We have two dogs - Rizzo and Wilbur. They are big, goofy pitbulls, with a combined weight of 200+lbs.

We also have three birds - Paco, Consuela, and Hedwig. They're parakeets, and they have no interest in humans. They only like each other; we're just the big stupid creatures who feed them and change their paper and water. Sissy named Paco and Consuela. I had a hand in naming Hedwig.

And we have a fish tank, that to the best of my knowledge has a little striped fish, a gourami, and two shrimps living in it. They are the aquatic animals who will live forever, as I've been waiting for their demise for years now so we can get rid of the gigantic tank.

What is your favorite color?

I love all the colors. Seriously, I really do like them all. Purple is probably my favorite, seconded by pink. Lime green, orange, and blue are up there, also.

What is your favorite food?

I feel as though my answer to this question changes every hour, depending on what sort of day I've had, and how hungry I am when the question is asked. I'm a big fan of comfort foods - pasta, soups, mashed potatoes - things that warm you from the inside out.

Where do you want to retire?

By the sea. With palm trees. Or palm-ish trees. And then, once a year around Christmas, I want to vacation in a snowy cabin with my family. A roaring fire, cozy sweaters and leggings, fuzzy socks....and then return to the land of flipflops and year round tans.

What is the kindest thing anyone has done for you?

I've been blessed to have wonderfully kind people around me for my whole life. If I had to choose my most memorable random act of kindness, though, I'd have to say it was a hundred years ago, at least.

When I was 16, my best friends and I were in a terrible car crash. It left me petrified to get behind the wheel, and I rebelled against getting my license for a very, very long time. I finally caved when I was 18, when my father (who was sick of driving me places) bribed me with a VW Jetta custom painted sparkly pink. Fast forward several weeks, and I was hit from behind by a gigantic Oldsmobile. My little pink Jetta was totaled, and I was stuck inside. Given my past, and the fact that I was 18, I was hysterical in my little mashed up car. A random stranger who witnessed the accident came over to the drivers door, put his hand inside my broken window, and held my hand tightly until EMS arrived. He kept rubbing my hand and telling me it was okay, that I would be okay, and help was coming. Even though it was a small town, no one knew who he was, and I still say prayers for him, sometimes. I couldn't pick him out of a line-up if I tried, I just remember his red windbreaker, and his kindness.

What would you do with a million dollars?

I'd buy your loooooooooooove.

Bonus points to those BlogFans who get that reference.

Seriously, though...a million bucks. Do we mean million pre-tax, or a million under the table? It's my blog, so I'm going to say that it's not taxed. I would pay off my house ($334,000). I would pay off our student loans ($27,500). I would pay off cars, credit cards, and other miscellaneous floating debts ($36,000). I would put a large sum of money for each of my kids [and some for the third baby I dream of having] in the hands of a responsible investor ($300,000). I would give fifty thousand to each of our siblings ($150,000). I would pay off our parents homes and debts, which, thankfully, isn't much 'cause we're cutting it down to the wire, methinks ($150,000). That leaves me with like $2500, if my calculations are correct. With that, I'd take the kids someplace fun for the week - like Sesame Place

You have a 10 minute speech to give at a high school, what is it about?

Acceptance. In all forms. Acceptance of yourself. Acceptance of others. Acceptance of differences.

11-11-11

2011-11-11T06:02:00.000-08:00

This Veterans Day, I believe we should do more than sing the praises of the bravery and patriotism that our veterans have embodied in the past. We should take this opportunity to re-evaluate how we are treating our veterans in the present.

A day in the life

2011-11-10T03:34:00.000-08:00

This. Is. Brilliant.

I live the gay lifestyle, the gay lifestyle that is often mentioned by some Republican candidates for president. For those who are unfamiliar with the lifestyle, this is a typical day:

7:00 a.m. I wake up, and just as I have done every morning since puberty, I choose to be gay today. This will come as a great relief to my gay, homosexual, male lover who lies beside me. Because being gay is a choice, our relationship is a gamble day to day. Even though we have both chosen to remain gay and to be together every day for the past 16 years, we never take anything for granted. One of us just might throw in the towel one day and give up the lifestyle.

7:30 a.m. I take a gay shower and let the gay water rinse off my gay body.

8:00 a.m. I have a gay breakfast of cereal with milk, and a good, strong, gay cup of coffee. I am fortified for another day of ruining the fabric of American society.

9:00 a.m. I start my morning shift as a gay hospital volunteer. The hospital is not gay, just me. The patients are mostly normal people. But it is OK. The hospital has a rule that all volunteers must sanitize their hands before meeting with patients. This is to avoid spreading germs, but I think that hand sanitizer is also effective in stopping the transfer of my gayness to other people.

12:00 p.m. I return home, eat a gay lunch and take my gay dogs for a walk. Well, I am not sure if the dogs are actually gay. I have heard it said that homosexuality does not exist in the animal kingdom because it is not natural, so chances are that the dogs are not gay. But because they live with me and my gay, homosexual, male lover, they are perceived by others to be gay. I would feel bad about this, but the fact is that I need these dogs. They are the closest that I will ever come to having actual children, because, as everyone knows, gays should not (and cannot) have children. I push this out of my mind as I walk the dogs gaily through the neighborhood.

1:00 p.m. I teach classes at a small, prestigious, liberal arts college. I am a gay college professor. The college is not gay, just me. But some may view the college as way too liberal, because “sexual orientation” is listed within the college’s anti-discrimination policy. This basically means that the college turns a blind eye as I infect the impressionable students with my gayness on a daily basis. I do not teach anything particularly gay in my classes. I am a theater professor, which, for all intents and purposes, is gay to most people, anyway.

6:00 p.m. My gay, homosexual, male lover returns home from his job. Luckily, he has chosen to be gay today, too, so we can sit down and have a nice, relaxing gay dinner together. We are aware that our relationship is ripping at the seams of our heterosexual neighbors’ marriages, but we choose to ignore this. If we were normal people, the guilt might weigh on us heavily, but we are gay, after all, so we do not have consciences. We eat in peace.

8:00 p.m. We go gay bowling at our Suburban Gay Bowling League. There are quite a lot of us homosexuals who gather each week to bowl at our local bowling alley. This makes the normal suburban bowlers uncomfortable, but we do not care. Some of them are openly hostile to us. The more polite ones just stare at us. It makes us feel like we are caged, exotic animals in a zoo. But we count ourselves lucky because the alley owners have sold out. They allow us to bowl here because they are desirous of our ample, disposable gay income. Ah, the almighty dollar! The owners show mercy on the normal suburbanites, though, by putting a buffer zone of two vacant lanes between our gay league and them. We are respectful of this line, which we call the “edge of gayness,” and do not cross it. We try to tone down our gaiety and frivolity by focusing intently on our bowling. The normal suburbanites never venture past their side of the line, either, because it would be unimaginable to them to interact with us.

11:00 p.m. My gay, homosexual, male lover and I collapse from the weariness of the gay lifestyle we have been living today. All of this subversive loving, volunteering, working, eating, playing and socializing is exhausting. Some say the gay lifestyle is self-enslavement, but we just cannot think about that now. Before we fall asleep, we each take out our personal, leather-bound copies of The Gay Agenda. The Gay Agenda is our Bible. We do not look at the real Bible because we are gay and therefore have no religion or morality. We read and strategize how we can best destroy American society tomorrow. Sharing a good, hardy, gay laugh, we each fall into a sound, gay sleep.

Written by Domenick Scudera, courtesy of Huffington Post

Cooking with Saki

2011-11-09T07:11:00.000-08:00

Today, BlogFans, I am about to bestow upon you my very favorite crockpot recipe. Like all good recipes, this one came from a beautiful friend who is also a mother, and understands that sometimes, dinner just needs to make itself. The best part about this recipe? It's not one of those mill your own grains, slaughter your own chickens type things. This is a five minutes start to finish absolutely delicious recipe.

Rummage the pantry, because you will need:

1 large onion, chopped

1 16-ounce can black beans

1 16-ounce can kidney beans

1 16-ounce bag frozen corn

1 8-ounce can tomato sauce

2 14.5-ounce cans diced tomates with chili peppers

1 packet taco seasoning

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

Dump all the ingredients, except the chicken into your crockpot. Stir it all up, and lay the chicken breasts on top of the mixture. Cover, and crock it all day. Just before serving, fish out the chicken, and shred it up with a fork. Stir it all together, and serve with shredded cheese.

Dinner is done!

Its Election Day!!

2011-11-08T15:19:00.000-08:00

And for those of you who know me, you understand that this is like my ChristmaHannuKwaanzikah. So, it goes without saying:

Vote EARLY

Vote OFTEN

Vote DEMOCRAT

Demand the ballot as the undeniable right of every man who is called to the poll, and take special care that the old constitutional rule and principle, by which majorities alone shall decide in elections, shall not be violated.

Overheard in our house

2011-11-07T07:05:00.000-08:00

The Scene: Walking into Outback Steakhouse

Saki: Sissy, are you hungry?

Cecilia: Yes. I'm gonna eat the hell out of that onion!

The Scene: On the phone with my mother

YaYa: I can't believe I got called for jury duty!

Saki: That's what you get for voting!

An open letter to Senator Colgan

2011-11-06T06:43:00.000-08:00

...And any other politician who would like to acquire my vote. I have written to Senator Colgan, Congressman Jerry Connolly, and Delegate Luke Torian, both of whom are on the ballot this year.

For the record, Senator Colgan is the only one who has not responded in any fashion (other than to leave me a pre-recorded message to remind me to vote for him on election day).

Senator Colgan,

We are writing to you today to ask for your assistance with a serious matter my family is facing. We have been residents of Virginia since 2004. My husband and I have two children; Cecilia, aged 5, and Lucas, aged 3. Our problem is with the medical care for Lucas, who has been diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome late last year and most recently been diagnosed with autism. He has global developmental delays, and currently wears leg braces on both legs. He uses a pediatric medical walker for longer distances. His afflictions are treatable, and with properly managed care he can live a fairly normal life. We want desperately to give him that chance.

Currently, our whole family is covered under an insurance policy provided by my husbands employer. This policy provides for 40 therapy sessions each calendar year for physical and occupational therapy combined. As of this date we have already exhausted our therapy sessions allotted for 2011. Lucas attends various therapy sessions each week now at a cost to us of over $400 per week. This is not a situation that will be resolved once the new policy year begins, it will just repeat, as Lucas will require such treatment for the foreseeable future. As with many childhood disorders, early and aggressive treatment of autism, and the many debilitating conditions associated with it, is paramount to successfully allowing the child to live a normal life. To not provide this care is to condemn him to life we don’t really want to consider. Ongoing physical therapy is essential to strengthen his muscles and protect his fragile joints and connective tissue from a lifetime of painful dislocations and subluxations.

My husbands employer has provided a very generous insurance policy for their employees and their families. However, in our case we are experiencing some severe medical costs. Recognizing the special nature of autism and the need for extended therapy sessions, the State of Virginia mandates publicly offered insurance policies to provide unlimited habilitation therapy sessions for a diagnosis of autism, regardless of what other session limits may apply to other diagnoses. Unfortunately, MITRE has negotiated a self-funded contract with Aetna Insurance, which places a cap at 40 sessions, with no possibility to appeal for more visits.

We have been working with the Human Resources department and with our insurance company to try to work out a solution. Although we all agree that there is a need for assistance, we have been told that it is not possible to cover these costs through the policy. We have received, and continue to receive, some benefits from state and county organizations, but it does not fill the gap. Lucas has aged out of the county PIE program, and is on the wait list to be evaluated by the public school system. They hope to be able to evaluate him before the close of 2011. The ARC, Easter Seals, Autism Speaks, and United Healthcare Childrens’ Foundation have all been very helpful so far, but none have been able to help us with a solution to the insurance coverage issues. We have been denied by Social Security due to income requirements.

We are respectfully asking for your help in several ways. While we understand that healthcare issues are a very heavy issues for politicians, we ask that you take a stand for the special needs citizens of Virginia, and help fill the gaps of the current situation.

If the mandate would encompass all insurance policies, rather than just those that are publicly funded, then all children would be able to receive the services that they need and deserve. We know that ours is not a unique case, and that there are countless other families struggling in the same way we are. Given the seriousness and prevalence of Autism and Autism Spectrum Disorders, we firmly believe that changing the provisions of the mandate would be tremendously beneficial to the children in our state.

Respectfully,

A desperate disease requires a dangerous remedy

2011-11-05T20:07:00.000-07:00

Remember, remember, the 5th of November
The Gunpowder Treason and plot;
I see of no reason why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.

It's been a while. . .

2011-11-04T19:31:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've forced you to revel in the splendor of my children, so I thought I'd offer up a recent picture of my babies.

The-It's-Almost-Friday-Funny

2011-11-03T19:18:00.000-07:00

Everywhere I go, I see Christmas trees, hear Christmas music, see Christmas lights twinkling. Now, I love Christmas as much as the next girl, but give the Turkey some space, people.

Season of Thanks

2011-11-02T12:50:00.000-07:00

I have seen several people offering up reasons they are thankful this November. ...okay, okay, I saw it on facebook. These warmed my heart, so today I am going to post my own list of things I am thankful for right this second.

- Two beautiful, wonderfully smart, healthy kids

- An equally wonderful, smart, healthy Hubbin'

- A cozy house, small enough to be secure, big enough to hold all the chaos inside

- A big extended family, who knows what it means to stick together

- Fuzzy socks and steamy mugs of coffee

- An amazing sister who inspires me

- Friends who support and cheer me on; but also help me pick up the pieces when things fall apart

- Two big goofy dogs, who make us laugh, and keep us safe

- Warm clothes in my closet, healthy food in my kitchen, and also the not-so-healthy food in my kitchen :)

- Happy memories, and the promise of many more to be made

I don't know about you guys, but I certainly feel better!

About that time again

2011-11-01T08:49:00.000-07:00

I have a blog?

Oh right. I have a blog!

...crap.

Sorry, BlogFans. I didn't mean to leave you stranded out there in the interwebs, all waiting with bated breath for my latest and greatest posting.

But I'm back now! And it must be your lucky day, because guess what today is the start of! That;s right, it's MSNBCasey's annual NaNoWriMo rip off - NaBloWriMo!!!! November is the month where I diligently post 30 posts in 30 days. I have lofty ambitions of one day NaNo-ing with my writer peers, but BlogFans, this year isn't that year.

So, welcome back to our little bubble, sit back, grab your kids Halloween candy, and enjoy the ride!

They want the government controlling social security like it's some kind of federal program

2011-06-25T15:19:00.000-07:00

The scene: Sitting in a sea of paperwork, just about to wrap up a three and a half hour application to social security for Lucas

Saki: Okay, that should do it. Anything else I should say about Lucas?

The Hubbin': Did you mention that he's studly?

Saki: I don't think there's an ICD code for that, babe.

Introducing...

2011-06-19T18:00:00.000-07:00

..the newest member of the Costa Casa: Wilbur!

He is cute, yes? It's a good thing he's cute, 'cause he's pretty fresh. He has a sweet disposition, but he's exceptionally mischievous. He is a notorious counter surfer, and a big time snugglebug.

Rizzo is slowly getting over herself, and begrudgingly forging a friendship with Wilbur, or Willy B as we like to call him. Technically, it doesn't matter what we call him, Wilbur is deaf.

Having a deaf dog has its advantages - he sleeps through the chaos that is our daily routine. He is unfazed by the neighborhood dogs barking. He doesn't go apeshit over the doorbell.

It's a tough adjustment for us, though. Waving your arms in an angry fashion isn't nearly as satisfying as yelling "Wilbur, NO!" in response to him eating the leftovers off the countertop.

And so, the chaos continues, with four new legs in the house. All is well.

The Day I Almost Died (or, How my elderly neighbor saved my life)

2011-06-13T10:38:00.000-07:00

We have to start this story back in very early spring. I hate long, drawn out stories as much as you do, Blogfans, but it needs to start at the beginning.

In one of the last storms of winter, the mesh covering for one of the vents on our soffit fell down, leaving a gaping hole in the underside of my overhang. It was one of those bastard places to get to, where you really have nowhere to put the ladder, so you have to lay on your belly at the edge of the roof and pray to god that you don't tumble off.

Needless to say, we let it go for a while. While we were away for a long weekend, a family of starlings moved into the hole, and started dragging grass and twigs and stuff up there to nest. Upon our return we saw that there was not just a nest up there, but there were also broken egg shells on the ground under the hole. The starlings had started a family.

The Hubbin' was insistent that the birds needed to be evicted ASAP. "But there are babies in there!" I protested. "Just wait until the babies fly away, and then we can scoot the nest out and seal it up."

I want you to go back and read that sentence again, Blogfans. I stuck up for those birds. I am the only reason they are alive right now. Me.

Against The Hubbin's better judgment, he listened to me, and the birds stayed. The weather grew warmer, and the baby birds grew louder. Starting around 4:45am, they start peeping for food. And they do so every 40 minutes or so until the sun sets. It grew so loud that it would wake my five year old up from a sound sleep. She would bang on her window and yell "Moooom!! The birds are too noisy again!"

The Hubbin' again offered to dispose of the nest, but not wanting the babies to be abandoned, I firmly declined.

And that's how life went for a while.

Until today.

I pulled in the driveway, a car loaded with groceries, and two grouchy children. I got the kids out of the car, and then grabbed as many groceries bags as I could carry. We started to walk across the lawn to the front door. A few steps in, a bird landed in front of us.

"Look! A bird!" Sissy squealed. "Peep peep!" the bird replied to her. We looked at the bird for a few seconds. The bird look at us, with it's sweet little bird face. We Oooh'd and Ahh'd, and then stepped around the bird onto the sidewalk.

This is where it went downhill.

The bird flew in front of us and landed on the sidewalk. It flapped its wings and screeched at us. "Get out of here! Shoo!" I said to the bird, showing it I wasn't afraid.

Lucas, still thinking this whole situation was fun, laughed and said "Awwww, cuuuuuute!!! Bird!" The bird responded by hopping forward and pecking Lucas' bare toes several times in rapid succession.

I dropped my grocery bags and picked up my screaming baby, who was tucking himself into turtle pose. I told Sissy to follow me, and we hurried towards the door. But the bird was quick! And clever! He flew past us, landing on our porch, squawking his obscenities at us. I rattled my keys at him. I yelled. I hopped up and down, but the bird wouldn't budge. Finally, I kicked at it, and my flip flop flew off of my foot and scared the bird. "Quick!" I said, unlocking the door, and putting Lucas down inside.

Unfortunately, Sissy, spooked by the whole ordeal had run back towards the car. I stood on my porch, my groceries spilled on the sidewalk, and my daughter crying by the car. I took a step forward, and that sneaky little ninja bird popped up from the step and started pecking at my bare foot. But this time I was prepared. Broom in hand, I bravely started poking towards the bird. The broom didn't have quite the effect I had hoped for. Actually, I think the bird laughed at the broom.

So I hauled back and batted the bird with the broom. It flew far. "Run, Sissy!" I yelled. My girl tore across the lawn and into the house. "That bird was fresh!" she said, peering at me through the screen. I nodded and made my way down the steps to recover my groceries from the walkway.

Just as I happened upon my kaiser rolls, the bird made a kamikaze swoop at me, squawking with a vengeance. I screamed and covered my head, afraid the bird would somehow get stuck in my hair*. The bird landed on the ground, standing firm between me and my groceries.

Alright, Saki, I thought to myself. You're like a billion times bigger than that bird. Get your shit, and go in the house.

The bird must be a legilimens because he knew my plan inside and out, and responded with a resounding bird cry of "Oh heeeeeell naw." The bird went in for the kill, pecking, swooping, bucking and lunging. I screamed, and feebly batted my hands about, all while doing an elaborate dance to save my naked toes.

Through squinted eyes I saw my neighbor, a kind and soft spoken retiree, sauntering across the road, a bag in his hand. He marched up to the bird, and in one fell swoop captured it in a bag.

"Go ahead and get your groceries, Dear. I'll take care of him." he said, offering a kind smile.

"Thank you!" I called to him, as he walked slowly back to his side of the road.

Like a boss.

*Because you know I have luxurious golden curls.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone

2011-06-07T11:04:00.000-07:00

Twelve months have passed since "everything" started with Lucas.

Twelve months ago, he was not walking.

Twelve months ago, he was not talking.

Twelve months ago, we had our first meeting with intervention services, who referred us to ortho, who referred us to neuro, who launched our catapult into the special needs community.

It was a community that at the time, we were devastated to join. We vacillated between denying there was anything wrong, and trembling with fear about what might be wrong.

We still don't have a diagnosis that encompasses all of the puzzle pieces. But I do know this - there is nothing "wrong" with my boy.

When we meet new people, and it comes to light that we have a child with special needs, most people respond with a sympathetic "I'm so sorry." Well, I'm here to tell you this - don't be sorry. I'm not. Lucas is a smart, loving, sweet boy. He gives 150% all the time. He throws his whole heart into everything he does. There is nothing for anyone to be "sorry" about.

It was something that I'm embarrassed to say I didn't understand until Lucas' struggles became apparent. I never understood when parents said "My special needs child is a blessing." I get it now. I completely understand and embrace it now.

Twelve months have gone by.

We still have our struggles, and we still have our sad moments, but we keep moving forward with our heads held high.

With a heavy heart

2011-05-10T19:54:00.000-07:00

Bruno, a big headed jabberwocky, died peacefully today at home, under the shade of the maple tree in his yard. He was five years old, residing in Woodbridge, VA. He is survived by two adults, two children, three birds, and his best friend, Rizzo. He will be sorely missed by all, except for maybe the birds. He never hurt anyone, which is more than I can say for most of us.

5 years ago

2011-04-26T12:49:00.000-07:00

Five years ago today, I delivered a beautiful baby girl. She was the smallest person I had ever seen. She healed my heart and changed me forever. Happy birthday, Cecilia. You're perfect.

Everything

she sees she says she wants.

Everything

she wants I see she gets.

Everything

I say she takes to heart.

Everything

she takes she takes apart.

Every time

she blinks she strikes somebody blind.

Everything

she thinks blows her tiny mind.

That's my daughter in the water.

Everything she owns I bought her.

Everything she owns.

That's my daughter in the water.

Everything she knows I taught her.

Everything she knows.

That's my daughter in the water

I lost every time I fought her.

I lost every time.

Who'd have ever thought?

Who'd have ever thought?

Hoppy Eastah! (also, the post in which I fail at youth religious education)

2011-04-25T09:22:00.000-07:00

The scene: A crowded restaurant, jam packed with senior citizens during the early lunch rush. I am sitting with The Hubbin'; Cecilia, 4; and Lucas, 2.

Cecilia: It's almost Easter!

Saki: I know! Are you excited?

Cecilia: Mommy, why do we have Easter?

Saki: Because of Jesus. Do you know who Jesus is?

Cecilia: *deer in headlights*

Saki: Jesus was a very, very, very kind man, who lived a long time ago --

Cecilia: Oh, that's nice.

Saki: ...But he died.

Cecilia: That's terrible! How did he die?

The Hubbin', as he runs away: I'm just going to get up and go somewhere that isn't here

Saki: *nervously looking around* Well, there were people who didn't like Jesus, so they put him on a big cross, and he died there.

Cecilia: That was fresh of them.

Saki: But it's okay, because three days later, he came back to life!

Cecilia: What? How?

Saki: Because Jesus is God's son. And God is magical, and because people believed in him, he helped bring Jesus back to life.

Cecilia: So God is magical?

Saki: Uh....yes. Sort of. Yes.

Cecilia: OH! I get it -- God is magic like Harry Potter!

Nine.

2011-04-19T15:37:00.000-07:00

In western lands beneath the Sun

The flowers may rise in Spring,

The trees may bud, the waters run,

The merry finches sing.

Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night,

And swaying branches bear

The Elven-stars as jewels white

Amid their branching hair.

Though here at journey's end I lie

In darkness buried deep,

Beyond all towers strong and high,

Beyond all mountains steep,

Above all shadows rides the Sun

And Stars for ever dwell:

I will not say the Day is done,

Nor bid the Stars farewell.

Click, Read & Be Merry

2011-02-28T13:15:00.000-08:00

"What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us"

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

I've compiled an incomplete list of resources for parents of children with special needs and/or disabilities, limited to the United States - sorry overseas BlogFans. If you know of any other worthwhile links or resources, let me know, and I'll happily add them on.

Rehab Equipment Exchange This national network is a FREE service to facilitate the exchange and transfer of used rehabilitation equipment. Individuals can use the website to buy, sell, or donate used rehab items of many types, including wheelchairs, pediatric equipment, mobility aids, ADL (Activities of Daily Living) aids, communication devices, assistive technology, and exercise equipment.

PipSqueakers Squeaky shoes for babies with vision and mobility disabilities

Different Roads to Learning Products and programs designed to support the Autism Community

The Autism Superstore Affordable developmental toys and educational items

Seedlings Free and low-cost braille childrens books

National Association for Down Syndrome Ensuring all persons with Down Syndrome have the opportunity to achieve their potential in all aspects of community life

National Down Syndrome Society National advocate for the value, acceptance, and inclusion of people with Down Syndrome

The Arc Promotes and protects the human rights of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities

ASD Hope Help, Options & Parent Empowerment

Angel Food Ministries Non-profit, non-denominational organization dedicated to providing food relief and financial support

HealthWell Foundation Non-profit organization committed to addressing the needs of individuals with insurance who can not afford their copayments, coinsurance, and premiums for important medical treatments.

Patient Access Network Providing financial assistance to cover out-of-pocket medical expenses

Patient Advocate Foundation Providing mediation and arbitration services to patients to remove obstacles to healthcare including medical debt crisis, insurance access issues and employment issues for patients with chronic, debilitating and life-threatening illnesses

Partnership for Prescription Assistance Helps patients without prescription drug coverage get the medications they need for free or low-cost

Co-Pay Relief Provides direct financial support to insured patients, including Medicare Part D beneficiaries

Special Olympics Provides year-round sports training and athletic competition for children and adults with intellectual disabilities, giving them continuing opportunities to develop physical fitness, demonstrate courage, experience joy and participate in a sharing of gifts, skills and friendship

American Council of the Blind Information and referral on all aspects of blindness, scholarship assistance, public awareness and training, advocacy

Beginnings For parents of children who are deaf or hard of hearing

Hands & Voices Supporting families and their children who are deaf or hard of hearing, as well as the professionals who serve them

Lifeprint American Sign Language resource site

Raising a Sensory Smart Child Helping your child with sensory processing issues

Sensory Processing Disorder Foundation Expanding knowledge, fostering awareness and promoting recognition of Sensory Processing Disorder

Interdisciplinary Council on Developmental and Learning Disorders Advancing the identification, prevention, and treatment of developmental and learning disorders.

NICHCY National Dissemination Center for Children with Disabilities

United Healthcare Children's Foundation Provides financial assistance toward the family's share of the cost of medical services

Social Security Benefits for Children with Disabilities

The Morgan Project Making opportunities reality granting assistance nationwide

National Autism Association Responding to the most urgent needs of the autism community, providing real help and hope so that all affected can reach their full potential. Offers one time grant through Helping Hands to pay for tuition, medication, evaluations or testing

Disabled Children's Relief Fund Provides disabled children assistance to obtain wheelchairs, orthopedic braces, walkers, lifts, hearing aids, eyeglasses, medical equipment, physical therapy and surgery

Queen of Hearts Foundation Helping children gain independence from disability caused by premature birth and brain trauma, such as cerebral palsy and hydrocephalus

eSpecial Needs One stop shop for adaptive equipment, rehab equipment, and therapy solutions for children and adults with special needs.

Ehlers Danlos National Foundation Overview, support and resources

Muscular Dystrophy Association Advocacy, clinics, support groups and camps for children and families dealing with a diagnosis of muscular dystrophy

Apples to Apples

2011-02-22T05:04:00.000-08:00

Teachers' hefty salaries are driving up taxes, and they only work 9 months a year! It's time we put things in perspective and pay them for what they do - babysit!

We can get that for less than minimum wage.

That's right. Let's give them $3.00 an hour and only the hours they worked; not any of that silly planning time, or any time they spend before or after school. That would be $19.50 a day (7:45 to 3:00 PM with 45 min. off for lunch and plan-- that equals 6 1/2 hours).

Each parent should pay $19.50 a day for these teachers to baby-sit their children. Now how many students do they teach in a day...maybe 30? So that's $19.50 x 30 = $585.00 a day.

However, remember they only work 180 days a year!!! I am not going to pay them for any vacations.

LET'S SEE....

That's $585 X 180= $105,300

per year. (Hold on! My calculator needs new batteries).

What about those special

education teachers and the ones with Master's degrees? Well, we could pay them minimum wage ($7.75), and just to be fair, round it off to $8.00 an

hour. That would be $8 X 6 1/2 hours X 30 children X 180 days = $280,800 per year.

Wait a minute -- there's something wrong here! There sure is!

The average teacher's salary (nation wide) is $50,000. $50,000/180 days

= $277.77/per day/30 students=$9.25/6.5 hours = $1.42 per hour per student--a very inexpensive baby-sitter and they even EDUCATE your kids! WHAT A DEAL!!!!

Hell on Wheels

2011-02-20T20:19:00.001-08:00

Well, the title pretty much says it all: My kids have discovered the wheel. The Hubbin' has been diligently teaching Cecilia how to roller skate. She's getting to be pretty good, and spent Saturday morning (very slowly) skating backwards!

The Hubbin' and Sissy ham it up!

Flying Solo

Lucas, of course, wants nothing to do with skating. He feels that if God had wanted him on wheels, he would have been born with them on his feet. He did, however, get a sweet new walker. It's a "gator" posterior pediatric walker, made by SnugSeat. And it's AWESOME. Clearly, he's pretty chuffed with it, too.

Safe and sturdy, and not attached at the feet - the way wheels were meant to be!

Cherry red, tricked out wheels, little silver bell - OH YEAH!

Schooled

2011-02-19T17:53:00.000-08:00

While sitting at the dinner table, telling each other jokes:

Saki: Knock Knock

Cecilia: Who's there?

Saki: Little old lady.

Cecilia: Little old lady who?

Saki: I didn't know you could yodel!

Cecilia: . . .That wasn't even funny

Saki: Okay, then. Knock knock

Cecilia: Who's there?

Saki: Banana!

Cecilia: Banana who?

Saki: Knock knock!

Cecilia, sighing: Who's there?

Saki: Banana!

Cecilia: I know this one already. That one isn't funny, either.

Damn you, auto correct!

2011-01-14T08:39:00.000-08:00

Via text message between The Hubbin' and I:

Saki: I picked up cupcakes at Georgetown Cupcake today

Hubbin': Cool. Any new flavors?

Saki: PB swirl, caramel, and dysentery champagne.

Saki: Curses! Strawberry Champagne. I wouldn't feed you a dysentery cupcake. Not today anyway.

Assembling with Saki

2011-01-04T14:17:00.001-08:00

It would be unfair to title this one "cooking" with Saki, because there is absolutely no cooking involved. We have a delightful wintery appetizer for you, today, BlogFans. It's an appetizer that I don't partake in, because of my hatred of olives, but I do have to admit, they are pretty cute. Strap on your snowshoes and march to the store, because you will need:

1 can "Jumbo" black olives, pitted

1 can "Small" black olives, pitted

1 large carrot

1 ball fresh mozzarella cheese

1 jar pimentos (optional)

1 box toothpicks, bonus points if you get the ones with fancy things at the top

Drain all your olives. Pat dry, and very carefully slice the "jumbo" olives lengthwise. Gently open, and stuff the olives with a piece of fresh mozzarella, leaving a stripe of cheese showing down the middle. Cut your carrot into rounds, and cut a wedge out of the round. Using a toothpick, carefully stack your carrot round, stuffed olive and one small olive. Trim a tiny piece of carrot off of the discarded wedge, and make a small slit in the front of the small olive. Shove the carrot piece inside, making a beak. Garnish with a pimento scarf, if desired

Makes: One flock of penguins

Cheers to a New Year

2011-01-01T18:09:00.000-08:00

..and another chance for us to get it right!

Welcome to 2011, BlogFans! I hope you all had a happy little holiday season, and a safe New Years Eve. We had a quiet New Years Eve with family, filled with lots of good food and blessed relaxation.

Today brought the first day of the new year - it was mild and calm, and I hope the rest of the year follows suit. While sitting around today, we got on the subject of resolutions.

My mom has sworn off resolutions; she is still bitter that her resolution of New Years Past to stop cursing lasted all of forty one seconds. I don't love resolutions, either, but I make them anyway. This year I will do my best to:

Have more patience with my husband. He is more worthy of my patience than random people I encounter throughout the day.

Take more photographs. And try to be in some of them. Also, actually do something with the photos, so that they don't spend eternity in digital purgatory.

Live healthfully. Physically, emotionally, socially.

Speak proper English. I've found myself saying things such as "A whole nother." As in: I'm going to eat a whole nother apple. That isn't even a word! It's a word with another random word shoved inside of it. I also abuse the word "like," and punctuate what I say with "ya know?" and "Right?!" Terrible. To think - I majored in English! My father paid good money for this. The time has come to put it to use.

I think that about wraps up the big ones. What are your resolutions, BlogFans?

The Manifesto of Encouragement

2010-12-30T06:45:00.000-08:00

right now:

There are Tibetan Buddhist monks in a temple in the Himalayas endlessly reciting mantras for the cessation of your suffering and for the flourishing of your happiness.

Someone you haven't met yet is already dreaming of adoring you.

Someone is writing a book that you will read in the next two years that will change how you look at life.

Nuns in the Alps are in endless vigil, praying for the Holy Spirit to alight the hearts of all of God's children.

A farmer is looking at his organic crops and whispering, "nourish them."

Someone wants to kiss you, to hold you, to make tea for you. Someone is willing to lend you money, wants to know what your favourite food is, and treat you to a movie. Someone in your orbit has something immensely valuable to give you -- for free.

Something is being invented this year that will change how your generation lives, communicates, heals and passes on.

The next great song is being rehearsed.

Thousands of people are in yoga classes right now intentionally sending light out from their heart chakras and wrapping it around the earth.

Millions of children are assuming that everything is amazing and will always be that way.

Someone is in profound pain, and a few months from now, they'll be thriving like never before. They just can't see it from where they're at.

Someone who is craving to be partnered, to be acknowledged, to ARRIVE, will get precisely what they want -- and even more. And because that gift will be so fantastical in it's reach and sweetness, it will quite magically alter their memory of angsty longing and render it all "So worth the wait."

Someone has recently cracked open their joyous, genuine nature because they did the hard work of hauling years of oppression off of their psyche -- this luminous juju is floating in the ether, and is accessible to you.

Someone just this second wished for world peace, in earnest.

Someone is fighting the fight so that you don't have to.

Some civil servant is making sure that you get your mail, and your garbage is picked up, that the trains are running on time, and that you are generally safe. Someone is dedicating their days to protecting your civil liberties and clean drinking water.

Someone is regaining their sanity. Someone is coming back from the dead. Someone is genuinely forgiving the seemingly unforgivable. Someone is curing the incurable.

You. Me. Some. One. Now.

Courtesy of white hot truth

Cooking With Saki

2010-12-17T17:49:00.000-08:00

Tidings of comfort and joy to you, dear BlogFans! Are you enjoying the holiday season? I know we are, here at the Costa Casa. Christmas goodie making has been in full swing since last week, and I thought since I can't give my beloved readers tasty treats from my kitchen, at the very least I can teach them how to make it their damn selves :)

Jingle all the way to the store, because you will need:

One box of cake mix, any flavor

The ingredients to bake said cake

A tub of pre-made frosting that will taste delicious with the cake you picked

1 bag bittersweet chocolate

Vegetable shortening

Mix up that cake batter - I'm not going to hold your hands on this one, kids. Read the box. Bake your cake in a 9x13" pan according to directions. Cool completely. This is very important. We used funfetti cake. Who doesn't lurve funfetti?

Our helpful friend Charlie Chameleon supervises

Break that cake into pieces in your mixer, and scoop in the tub of frosting. We used creamy vanilla, but the possibilities are endless, really.

All set to mix in the fancy Kitchenaid stand mixer

One more gratuitous shot of the stand mixer. I think I hear angels heralding.

Turn that bad boy on and watch it go. Be sure to scrape the bowl frequently, as this creates quite the sticky mess.

Mmmm....Delicious goopy goodness

Cover this mixture and put it into your fridge. It will get sort of hard, the way cookie dough does. Using a cookie scoop, or any sort of spoon, scoop out spoonfuls of the dough and set them on a sheet of waxed paper. Try to keep them all the same size. When you're all done scooping, rub a tiny bit of shortening onto your hands (gross, I know, but trust me, BlogFans, it's for your own good). Carefully roll the balls between your hands until they're nice and round. *this would be where I would put the picture of the naked cake balls, had I not accidentally deleted it from the camera* Put all of them and the waxed paper onto a baking sheet and stick it into your freezer for an hour or two. When time is almost up, melt your chocolate in a double broiler, adding enough vegetable shortening to make it easy to work with. For us, this is usually 1-2TBL per 1.5lbs of chocolate. One by one, drop the frozen cake balls into the chocolate and then fish out with a fork. Put them on waxed paper or parchment paper while they cool and the chocolate sets. The chocolate will set very quickly on these, since they are frozen, so if you want to add any sort of sprinkles, be like the wind, BlogFans.

Somewhere around the 100th cake ball I begin to detest the smell of chocolate and cake.

Once they are cooled and set, transfer to your fridge. They will keep for about 2 weeks in the fridge in an air tight container.

Sidenote: If your Hubbin' is like mine, consider hiding the cake balls, lest you not have any to share with the neighbors.

Go Saki, it's your birfday!

2010-12-15T21:17:00.000-08:00

Cecilia: Mommy, do you have a birthday dress?

Saki: No, I don't think so.

Cecilia: Let's go look at your dresses

*as we flip through my closet*

Cecilia, slightly horrified: None of these are fancy.

Saki: I know. Mommy has boring dresses

Cecilia: I KNOW! How about your wedding dress? That is VERY fancy!

This is the end, beautiful friend

2010-11-30T20:02:00.001-08:00

Well, BlogFans, another November is closing down, and December is upon us. Thirty posts in thirty days is complete. It's been fun. We should do this again, sometime.

And I promise I will stop neglecting my blog. You can hold me to that, okay?

Cooking With Saki

2010-11-30T12:36:00.000-08:00

Well, BlogFans, is your fridge filled with tons of left over turkey, too? We've been slowly picking at leftovers - The Hubbin' especially. He looks forward all year to making tiny turkey sandwiches on dinner rolls. He slathers them with mayo, and stacks turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce. He usually makes his first sandwich before Thanksgiving dinner is over. But even with his copious sandwich eating, there is still more turkey lurking in the fridge.

What to do with all this turkey, you might ask. Well, make a pot pie of course! Go to the fridge and grab all that leftoever turkey. While you're in there, also grab:

1 onion, diced

3 cups chicken stock

6 TBL butter

1/2 cup flour

2 pre-made pie crusts

2 cups cooked turkey, cubed

8oz frozen mixed veggies

In a large pan, melt the butter. Add your chopped onion and cook until translucent. Add the flour, and stir with a whisk, taking care to break up any clumps. When the mixture turns golden brown, pour in 3 cups of chicken stock. Whisk until smooth. Once the mixture becomes thick and bubbly, stir in the turkey and mixed veggies. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.

Pour into your bottom pie crust, and lay the top crust over it. Carefully pinch the two crusts together, and using a sharp knife, make four slits in the top crust. Bake uncovered at 350 for about an hour.

You can also pop the unbaked pot pie into the freezer for a quick and easy meal later.

It's not going in the yard, kids. It's going in the living room.

2010-11-29T11:21:00.000-08:00

Every year, the first weekend after Thanksgiving, we pile the family into the car, and head west until the suburbs give way to farms and trees. The last few Christmases we have had excellent luck out at Hartland Orchards. It's close to 60 miles from our house, but it's worth the drive. The Hubbin' grew up with an artificial tree, so all of this was new to him.

The kids, on the other hand, embrace the trip:

Cecilia hams for the camera

Luc had trouble walking on the grass, so he got a ride on Daddy's shoulders

It only took eleven Christmases together, but the Hubbin' finally cracks a smile while cutting the tree down

The kids help with the tree cutting

The farm also offers freshly hand dipped caramel apples, which we had to get for the ride home.

For now, our tree is in a bucket of water, outside. We will bring it inside in a day or two, once the rest of the decorations are up, and the boxes put away. More pictures to come!

Words I might have ate

2010-11-28T21:39:00.001-08:00

I have always badmouthed Bank of America. They have been our bank since moving to Virginia. Until today, the only thing they really had going for them was their plethora of ATMs. Their hours were inconvenient, their fees are exorbitant, their customer service is stuffy, and I generally dislike them.

However, today, after returning home from a lovely day of Christmas festivities* with the family, we received a phone call from the bank. They introduced themselves, and said they were calling from the theft and fraud department. They were concerned about transactions made with the Hubbins' debit card.

They named the transactions in question, and they were correct - we had not, in fact, made said purchases. The charges were from local stores in our town, just a few blocks from our home. We were alarmed to say the least. The Hubbin' got on the line, and inquired as to how purchases were made, when he was in possession of his wallet.

But a quick check of his pockets, and we discovered that he was not in possession of his wallet. After tearing apart the house, the car, and retracing steps, it was concluded that the wallet must have dropped on one of our Christmas adventures, and some unscrupulous scumbag picked it up and went on a shopping spree with my husbands recently deposited paycheck.

Which set on an torrent of phone calls, cancelled cards, and so on that was both stressful and terrifying.

A side note here, BlogFans. . .Begin rant. I don't know how many of you have ever lost your wallet, but I find it to be particularly ludicrous when you report a card stolen, and the first thing the representative asks you is to read the sixteen digit account number from the front. If I had the sixteen digit account number in front of me on said card, I would not be reporting it stolen for God's sake. End rant.

In the end, and let us hope, BlogFans, that this is the end, Bank of America stepped up to the plate - not only nipping the fraudulent activity in the bud, but also immediately replacing all misspent funds.

Kudos to you, Bank of America. I won't speak badly of you again. For at least a week.

*pictures and stories about tree hunting tomorrow, BlogFans! Stay tuned

'Bout that time, eh chaps?

2010-11-27T21:33:00.000-08:00

You know what time I mean! Time to decorate for the holidays. We pulled all of our boxes of decorations out today. At some point, as I was beginning to break a sweat from all of the hauling, I turned to the Hubbin' and asked "How did we get so much Christmas stuff?"

The Hubbin', who has been saying the same thing every year since we've been married, just shook his head and handed the next box over.

I would show you pictures of my decorating (mad skillz, yo), but so far all I've truly managed to do is switch out all of the dishes, both everyday and china, for Christmas plates, and make an epic mess. There is nary a flat surface to be found that isn't covered with packing paper, strewn decorations, or everyday bric-a-brack and decor waiting to be put in the attic. To walk from the bedroom to the front door requires careful planning, and frequently, assistance.

I think I may have a problem.

But Santa is coming! I know him!

PS - Tomorrow is tree day! The day when we pack the family in the car, drive to practically West Virginia, and scour the farm for the perfect tree. Yay!

'Tis the season for shopping

2010-11-26T09:46:00.000-08:00

Oh Black Friday, how I love your bargains.

We are a family living on a single income. The Hubbin' earns a comfortable living doing his Nerdlyness, but money is never something in abundance in our household. Which is why we make the choice to be those people the day after Thanksgiving.

This year I elected the Hubbin' to take round one, which was standing in line at the place which instills fear in the hearts of parents everywhere: Toys-R-Us. The store opened at 10pm on Thanksgiving Day, which is a cruelty in and of itself. He donned several layers and headed out the door around 9:30, a belly full of turkey and stuffing accompanying him. His list included the coveted zhu zhu pets, a fancy Nancy doll, a tricycle, and a host of other items. He patiently waited almost three hours to enter the store, where he bravely fought off other toy crazed parents jockeying for the same things. He arrived home a little after 2am, arms filled with wondrous toys.

Two hours later my alarm beeped impatiently, signaling my turn to bundle and schlep to the store to continue the gift buying madness. I opened the front door and looked out into the inky darkness, my breath blowing out crystally clouds. Somewhere, something in my body decided "Oh hell no."

I tiptoed in socked feet into my bedroom and pulled out my laptop. With several clicks of my mouse, I loaded my virtual cart with all the goodies on my list. After punching in my billing information (and scoring 15% off and free shipping), I checked out.

I slipped back into bed a moment later, my Black Friday bounty on order. The more I think about it, the more concrete I am in the notion that this is totally the way to go from now on.

Well played, Brine. Well played

2010-11-25T16:33:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving, from everyone here at the Costa Casa!

Gobble Gobble Splat

2010-11-24T21:49:00.000-08:00

Dear Reynolds,

This Thanksgiving season, I decided to try something new. It seems to be all the rage on cooking shows for one to brine ones turkey prior to cooking. Having never brined before, and a violent opposer of all things salty, I was very hesitant to try this technique. However, the interwebs assured me that my turkey would be moist and delicious, tender and juicy, and most importantly, not at all salty.

We have a modest bird, 13 pounds and a little extra. I spent the day concocting Thanksgiving delicacies, and finally, at 11pm, sent the Hubbin' out to Wegman's, to purchase your turkey size bags to brine my turkey. We rinsed and patted down our bird, set it gently into your (paper-thin-piece-o-crap) bag, and poured our cooled brine into the bag. We tied it off and set back to admire our handy work.

"Wouldn't this be a huge mess if the bag popped?" I foreshadowed.

The Hubbin' agreed, so we decided to set the whole thing in a large stock pot, to ensure that any leakage would not befall my other Thanksgiving accoutrements that were residing in my fridge.

As soon as the turkey in the brine in the bag was settled into the pot, there came an awful sound. The sound of gushing fluid. Your stupid Reynolds gianormous "oven safe" bag had split at the seams and was overflowing out of the pot, spewing forth a mixture of raw turkey germs, brine, citrus bits and bay leaves all over my pristine kitchen*!

The Hubbin' and I made scrambling attempts at damage control, one of us feebly trying hold the ever-ripping bag together, the other grabbing any towel, cloth or paper product we could find, making our best effort to keep the germy brine from flowing over the edge of the countertop and onto the floor, or worse, dribbling in between the cabinet and the stove. We managed to scoot the whole mess into the sink, where our poor naked turkey bobbed listlessly in its broth, a deflated, useless bag hovering around it like a shroud.

"Maybe we should scratch this whole brine thing," the Hubbin' said, trying to be helpful.

"No. Absolutely not. I made this brine, and I will use this brine," I argued, stubbornly.

Luckily, you folks at Reynolds must know how pathetic your bags are, and were kind enough to package two in a box. We very carefully set the same scenario up again. Knock wood, Reynolds, it seems to be holding. But if I wake up tomorrow, and my fridge looks like anything other than this:

we will be having words tomorrow.

PS - I really didn't feel like bleaching down my counters, cabinets, dishwasher, stove front, floor and sink tonight, especially since it is well after midnight. Just so you know.

PPS - This is all your fault.

* Read: super-messy-I've-been-cooking-since-six-this-morning kitchen.

While we try to teach our children about life, our children teach us what life is all about

2010-11-23T20:19:00.000-08:00

If I could go back to before I had my first baby, these are the things I would tell myself:

It's okay to make mistakes

Your heart will grow exponentially the second you see your baby

Babies are made out of rubber

There will be long nights and tough days - but they will all be worth it

No one is perfect.

Save yourself the trouble and skip the bassinet. Everyone will sleep better if you cosleep

Cherish the time you spend nursing your babies.

You will love your husband even more once you see him with your kids

You will care so deeply for your children that your body aches

You will be completely humbled, and you will never forget the first time their tiny voice says "I love you, Mommy"

Cooking With Saki

2010-11-22T19:12:00.000-08:00

It's about that time of year again, eh BlogFans? A bountiful time, and a thankful time; the time of turkeys and gravies and all sorts of potatoes.

While I do love cooking, I certainly enjoy spending time with my family more, so I like dishes I can prepare ahead of time, and pop in the oven beside the bird to cook the day away.

Take a xanax, and head to the already mobbed grocery store, because you will need:

Sweet potatoes

Red delicious apples, peeled

Pineapple, fresh or canned, but either way, you want it cut into chunks

Brown Sugar

Orange Juice

Vanilla

Butter

You are going to have to judge how many potatoes you want to cook, blogfans. Usually one potato per two guests works out nicely. Wash your sweet potatoes, and place in a large stock pot. Make sure there is enough room for all potatoes to lay on the bottom of your pot. Boil with the skin on until fork tender. Once they are soft, drain and drop them into a bowl of ice water. This will make the skin pull away from the flesh of the potato. Peel the skin away with your fingers, cut the ends off, and then slice into rounds, placing them in a buttered 9x13" pan. Try to get them as close together as possible.

Put a pineapple chunk on top of each potato round, and toss in a few extra for good measure, as experience tells us that there is often a fight over the pineapple pieces. Shred your apples over the potatoes. Generally one apple per potato that you cook is a good rule of thumb. Sprinkle the whole thing with brown sugar, drizzle with vanilla, and pour orange juice into your pan until the bottom 1/3 of the potatoes are covered. Dot the top with butter. They can stay like this in the fridge overnight, if you want to whip this up the day before.

Bake covered at 350 degrees for 40 mins and uncovered for the last 20.

Happy cooking, BlogFans!

Playtime with Sissy

2010-11-21T14:37:00.000-08:00

So, Lucas is a pretty sensitive kid. He likes to be involved with everything his sister does, including getting his nails painted, and playing dress up. The Hubbin' sort of grits his teeth about it, but no one can deny - the boy has fun!

"Hat! Hat! Pretty hat!" - Lucas

Noooooooo!!!!

2010-11-20T21:16:00.000-08:00

The extra three exclamation points up there are so you guys know that I'm super serious.

I think I'm getting sick. That awful ache and burning in my lungs, the I'm-wearing-the-warmest-socks-ever-and-two-shirts-and-pants-and-i'm-under-two-blankets-and-a-down-comforter-and-FOR-THE-LOVE-OF-GOD-WILL-SOMEONE-TURN-THE-HEAT-UP feeling just can't be ignored. I've taken proactive measures, like using my neti pot, drinking lots of water, taking vitamin C, but it won't go away! WTF, blogfans?

And so, you thought that post a few days ago was the lamest post ever. Which it was. Until now.

Sidenote: I totally promise to put up a good post tomorrow. I finally have iphoto back, and I can upload the billion pictures that my camera is holding hostage. Prepare to be amazed!

Worry is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained

2010-11-19T04:04:00.000-08:00

August 2010: And so the day went on, I paced nervously about, unable to think of anything other than what could potentially be wrong with my son. The Hubbin' and I batted the idea of driving to Georgetown around, but it was a 4 hour drive, and we would arrive long after everyone had left for the day. The Hubbin' decided enough was enough, grabbed the phone and called the hospital.

I don't know what he said, or who he said it to, since I was practically catatonic with anxiety, sitting on the couch staring at the wall, but shortly after they hung up, another doctor from the neurology team called us back.

"I'm calling on behalf of your neurologist," she said. Why do these people waste so much time with introductions? At that point, I didn't really care who I was talking to, I wanted that paper read to me. "I have your sons imaging reports here. It looks like he has a venous angioma. A Cerebellar DVA. Developmental Venous Anomaly."

"I have no idea what that is," I said. It sounded awful.

"It's actually completely benign. It just means that part of his brain looks different, but maintains normal function. There are veins in the cerebellum that drain fluid, and sometimes they form in weird ways. Usually we see them branch out like a tree, but your sons twists around and around like a corkscrew." she said, sounding satisfied with her explanation, and quite ready to end the call.

"So what does that mean for Lucas?" I asked.

"Nothing, really. It's a rather unremarkable find, since it is not accompanied by any lesions or abnormalities. I don't know why the nurse wouldn't give you this information over the phone," she said. Ha, me either, doc. Me either.

We hung up the phone, and the good news spread through the house. Happy tears flowed all around.

I was beginning to think that Lucas was part cat, with nine lives and all.

Overheard In Our House

2010-11-18T17:50:00.000-08:00

Cecilia: Daddy, do you have snack time at work?

Hubbin': No.

Cecilia: I don't ever want to go to work

**************************************

Cecilia: Gaga Ah Ah Ah RaMa RaMaMa Gaga Oh La La I have a little lamb

***************************************

Cecilia: It's almost your birthday. What kind of party do you want?

Saki: I'd like a party where everyone says 'Yes, Mommy!' and 'Sure, I would love to help you with that!'

Cecilia: . . . How about a Chuck E. Cheese party? That sounds much funner.

In which I write the lamest blog post ever

2010-11-17T19:11:00.000-08:00

The problem with BloMo, is that I begin to falter with my posting around the halfway mark. This year seems to be no exception.

I have good posts coming, BlogFans, don't you worry. But they are stories for another time.

Tonight my eyes are tired and my body is tense and anxious. Tonight I sleep.

Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you.

2010-11-16T10:44:00.000-08:00

1. What time did you get up this morning?

Well, I got up at 12:30am, 3, 3:40, 4:45, 6, 6:30, 6:50 and then up for the day around nine. Sick kids make for crappy sleeps.

2. How do you like your steak?

I like a strip steak, medium-rare

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?

Uh, The Bee Movie. In December of 2007. I don't get out much.

4. What is your favorite TV show?

I don't get to watch too much TV. I like House. I like Secret Life of the American Teenager (quiet! It's addictive!). I like Law & Order: SVU when I'm not feeling emotionally tapped.

5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?

Funny you should ask, I was just discussing this! I would like to live somewhere warm and palm tree filled. Or Palm-ish trees. I think South Carolina.

6. What did you have for breakfast?

Oatmeal and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee

7. What is your favorite cuisine?

Italian, I think. Americanized Chinese food is up there, though

8. What foods do you dislike?

Lots. I don't like capers. I don't like meat that is on the bone. I don't like lima beans or peas or mushrooms or raisins. I really don't like fish. I hate jell-o, tapioca, and flan. I don't like eggs. Or gravy. I also greatly dislike when different foods touch. I find lasagna to be maddening.

9. Favorite Place to Eat?

My kitchen!

10. Favorite dressing?

Blue cheese. But good blue cheese, not shelf stable Kraft blue cheese

11. What kind of vehicle do you drive?

Chevy Trailblazer. Sometimes a Honda Fit, but not if I can help it

12. What are your favorite clothes?

Yoga pants for the win!

13. Where would you visit if you had the chance?

United Arab Emirates, Bora Bora, Australia, Costa Rica or Hawaii

14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?

Half full and here comes the waiter to top if off!

15. Where would you want to retire?

See answer 5.

16. Favorite time of day?

Evening

17. Where were you born?

Mobile, Alabama. Y'all.

18. What is your favorite sport to watch?

I have no idea. We've been watching Redskins football (hail! and all..) but that's sort of like watching a worm try to swim.

19. People watcher?

Yes

20. Are you a morning person or a night person?

Neither, really, but I'm significantly less grouchy just before bed than I am when first emerging from bed

21. Do you have any pets?

Two pitbull mixes: Rizzo and Bruno; Three parakeets: Paco, Consuela and Hedwig; one betta fish: Rainbow; and a whole tank of freshwater fish whose names change at random.

22. What did you want to be when you were little?

A Princess. And a Mom. Halfway there!

23. What is your best childhood memory?

I don't know that I can single out just one. I have a lot of really happy childhood memories

24. Are you a cat or dog person?

Dog, definitely.

25. Are you married?

I am! For six and a half years now. Man, that makes me feel old.

26. Always wear your seat belt?

Yes, more or less. It's not the first thing I do upon getting into the car, but it gets buckled within a few blocks from home. Ironically enough, this commercial stays in my head as a reminder to wear my seatbelt.

27. Been in a car accident?

Too many. Only one was my fault though!

28. Any pet peeves?

People who don't use turn signals. Passive aggressive behavior. Made up or incorrectly used words.

29. Favorite Pizza Toppings?

Bacon and Pineapple

30. Favorite Flower?

Iris

31. Favorite ice cream?

Vanilla Bean. I'm so mundane.

32. How many times did you fail your driving test?

Zero!

33. From whom did you get your last email?

Lauren :)

34. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?

Neiman Marcus, or Serago Roberts

35. Do anything spontaneous lately?

Hm...Nothing comes to mind. I'm not quite as boring as I sound, I promise!

36. Like your job?

I'm a stay-at-home mom, and it is hands down the best job ever

37. How do you feel about broccoli?

I feel pretty good about broccoli, actually

38. What was your favorite vacation?

Yorktown, VA I think. Except it wasn't really a vacation, because we lived there for a summer, but it's all kind of like a series of vacations when you grow up as a military kid.

39. Last person you went out to dinner with?

The hubbin', the children, Fuddy, Yaya, Mima and Aunt Rose. It was really fun.

40. What are you listening to right now?

Caillou whining about something in the background

41. What is your favorite color?

Purple

42. How many tattoos do you have?

Two

43. Coffee Drinker?

You don't know me at all! Of course I'm a coffee drinker. I strive to drink eight full glasses of coffee a day.

...Oh, that's the standard for proper water consumption? Oops. Same diff'

Now tell me about you, Blogfans!

Everybody needs some time on their own

2010-11-15T19:40:00.000-08:00

Oh Monday, you're back. Joy, rapture, etc.

It's a cold rainy evening tonight, and I'm feeling particularly mopey and melancholy, so I am going to make a list of things that made me smile today. And since it's BloMo, I'm going to share that list with you.

1. Fluffy down pillows with freshly laundered pillowcases

2. Sleepy babies, wrapped snugly in their blankets, snoozing the night away

3. Warm-hearted neighbors who open their home to us when we need it

4. The anticipation of the arrival of the newest member of our extended family, baby Hayden

5. Fuzzy nap socks!

6. Freshly brewed coffee, steaming in my mug, perfectly sweetened and creamed

7. Reading and re-reading the Harry Potter series

8. Chipotle burritos filling my belly (and probably raising my cholesterol)

9. The budding excitement of the Christmas season

10. On-the-spot knock-knock jokes, made up by Cecilia

Well, I certainly feel better. Thanks for that little pick me up, BlogFans!

To Write LOVE on Her Arms

2010-11-14T21:17:00.000-08:00

-121 million people worldwide suffer from depression. (World Health Organization)

- 18 million of these cases are happening in the United States. (The National Institute of Mental Health)

- Between 20% and 50% of children and teens struggling with depression have a family history of this struggle and the offspring of depressed parents are more than three times as likely to suffer from depression. (U.S. Surgeon General's Survey, 1999)

- Depression often co-occurs with anxiety disorders and substance abuse, with 30 percent of teens with depression also developing a substance abuse problem. (NIMH)

- 2/3 of those suffering from depression never seek treatment.

Untreated depression is the number one cause of suicide, and suicide is the third leading cause of death among teenagers. (NIMH)

About Depression

According to the World Health Organization, depression is one of the leading causes of disability, with approximately 121 million people suffering with depression worldwide. The National Institute of Mental Health states that approximately 18 million people suffer from depression in America alone. Depression does not discriminate across age, race, gender, or class. Among teenagers it is estimated that 20 percent will suffer from depression at some point by the time they reach adulthood. There are also as many as 8.3 percent of teens suffering from depression for at least a year at a time, compared to 5.3 percent of the general population.

About Addiction

The stigma associated with addiction is one of the greatest challenges to recovery. Each year only 10 percent of Americans who need alcohol and drug treatment get the help they need. Yet with treatment and support, people with addiction can lead productive lives.

The Addiction Project has benefited from contributions by the leading experts in the field of addiction. Throughout this website you will find original articles written by experts featured in the Addiction series and more.

About Self-Injury

While not always the case, often untreated depression and other struggles lead to unhealthy ways in which we try and deal with the hurt and pain we are feeling. We try and find anything that we can do to take away the hurt, painful feelings, or negative thoughts we are experiencing. Often the things that we turn to seem to help at first, appearing to provide some of the relief that we need so badly. But, even though they may seem like they help, often they are unhealthy themselves, eventually becoming even greater struggles like addictions such as drugs, alcohol, eating disorders, or self-injury.

Self-injury remained very much a mystery until 1996 when Princess Diana revealed that she had struggled with it. It has become much more visible in society within the last ten years. Self-injury is also termed self-mutilation, self-harm, or self-abuse. It can be defined as the deliberate, repetitive, impulsive, non-lethal harming of one’s self, including but not limited to;

1) cutting

2) burning

3) picking or interfering with wound healing

4) infecting oneself

5) punching/hitting self or objects

6) inserting objects in to skin

7 )bruising or breaking bones and

8) some forms of hair pulling

While these behaviors pose serious risks, they may be symptoms of a problem that can be treated.

Experts estimate that 4% of the population struggle with self-injury. It has the same occurrence between males and females, even though in popular culture it can appear to be more prevalent among girls.

• Emptiness

• Inability to understand or express feelings

• Loneliness

• Fear

• Past Abuse

• Depression

Self-injury, like many addictions, is often a coping mechanism to deal with some manner of internal pain, many who struggle with it also struggle with other issues such as eating disorders and alcohol and drug abuse. While self-injury may be someone’s way to cope with or relieve painful or hard-to-express feelings and is generally NOT a suicide attempt, relief is always temporary, and usually only perpetuates a destructive cycle that continues the struggle. This cycle often means that those who do not get help can become more depressed and shameful, adding to the pain and need for relief, thus perpetuating the cycle.

The Dangers of Self-Injury - While self-injury may not be about attempting suicide, the damage done while harming oneself ALWAYS carries the risks of inflicting serious, and even lethal, harm to oneself regardless of whether suicide is intended or not. Also the continued cycle of addiction and self-harm, as in substance abuse and other eating disorders can have a destructive effect on one’s health both physically and mentally, and struggles worsen as time continues without treatment.

(SAFE alternatives - www.selfinjury.com)

Self-injury, like alcohol and drug abuse and eating disorders, is addictive, and thus not something that is easy to simply ‘stop’. However, while all addictions are very difficult to overcome, help and treatment are out there and available, and recovery and freedom are possible.We believe this is true whether someone’s struggles may be self injury, depression, drugs and alcohol, body image issues, sexual addiction, or other areas of brokenness.

Research shows that those who seek professional help and therapy have a very good chance of recovery, and finding relief from symptoms such as depression and anxiety as well as others. (APA, 1998)

About Suicide

The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that each year approximately one million people die from suicide, which represents a global mortality rate of 16 people per 100,000 or one death every 40 seconds. It is predicted that by 2020 the rate of death will increase to one every 20 seconds.

The WHO further reports that:

In the last 45 years suicide rates have increased by 60% worldwide. Suicide is now among the three leading causes of death among those aged 15-44 (male and female). Suicide attempts are up to 20 times more frequent than completed suicides.

Although suicide rates have traditionally been highest amongst elderly males, rates among young people have been increasing to such an extent that they are now the group at highest risk in a third of all countries.

Mental health disorders (particularly depression and substance abuse) are associated with more than 90% of all cases of suicide.

However, suicide results from many complex sociocultural factors and is more likely to occur during periods of socioeconomic, family and individual crisis (e.g. loss of a loved one, unemployment, sexual orientation, difficulties with developing one's identity, disassociation from one's community or other social/belief group, and honour).

The WHO also states that:

In Europe, particularly Eastern Europe, the highest suicide rates are reported for both men and women.

The Eastern Mediterranean Region and Central Asia republics have the lowest suicide rates.

Nearly 30% of all suicides worldwide occur in India and China.

Suicides globally by age are as follows: 55% are aged between 15 to 44 years and 45% are aged 45 years and over.

Youth suicide is increasing at the greatest rate.

In the US, the Center of Disease Control and Prevention reports that:

Overall, suicide is the eleventh leading cause of death for all US Americans, and is the third leading cause of death for young people 15-24 years.

Although suicide is a serious problem among the young and adults, death rates continue to be highest among older adults ages 65 years and over.

Males are four times more likely to die from suicide than are females. However, females are more likely to attempt suicide than are males.

Suicide within minority groups

Research indicates that suicide rates appear to be increasing within native and indigenous populations such as the Native Americans in the United States and Alaska, and the Aboriginal and Torres Straight Island Peoples in Australia and New Zealand.

Suicide rates within migrant communities such as African and East Asian Americans or the Black British community are also of growing concern. Statistics show a rise but in some countries it can be difficult to calculate. For example, in the UK the place of birth is recorded on the death certificate, not ethnicity, therefore reducing data on suicides amongst minority groups.

I'm in the hi-fidelity first class traveling set & I think I need a Lear jet

2010-11-13T14:10:00.000-08:00

..and I know all you guys get that Pink Floyd reference, because I can tell by my site tracker that you're a bunch of pot smoking hippies. Don't deny it. Yes, I mean you.

Anyway, let's discuss money.

I love saving money any way I can. I often trade coupon and shopping tips with friends, trying to save a buck here or there.

Last week as I was chatting with a long time, much loved, friend, she mentioned a site called ebates. At first, I was all "WTF is an ebate?" and she explained it to me. BlogFans, I couldn't believe my ears. And before you go accusing me of being one of those sell out bloggers, ebates is not paying me to blog about them, it really is just that cool.

Once you make an account at ebates, bookmark that site. If you have any online shopping to do, go to their site, type in the store you want to shop at, and have at it. We bought a baby shower gift today on Target.com, and received 3% cash back on our $350 purchase. They mail checks out a few times a year.

I don't know how you feel about online shopping, BlogFans, but I happen to love shopping from my couch, while wearing fuzzy slippers and drinking wine. So go sign up at the ebates website, they'll give you five bucks just for making an account. Tell 'em Saki sent you :)

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree

2010-11-12T21:20:00.000-08:00

Saki: Guess where we're going soon.

Cecilia: Where?

Saki: To see the Christmas Tree in DC!

Cecilia: At Barack Obamas house? I love Barack Obamas house. He has a big tree.

Guess who won tickets to go see the tree? Oh that's right. This girl!

Big thanks to the nine other people who registered in the lottery for me :)

Freedom is Never Free

2010-11-11T21:13:00.001-08:00

"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers"

- Jose Narosky

To us in America, the reflections of Veteran's Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who in died in this country's service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the council of nations.

Take a moment today to remember those who gave their lives so that we might live ours freely.

How to end the war - Jersey Style

2010-11-10T19:02:00.000-08:00

Fun with the Book of Questions

2010-11-09T14:36:00.001-08:00

If you had to name the one thing that frightens you the most about getting old, what would it be?

Ah, such a loaded question. There are a few things about growing old - and by "old" I mean like actually old, well into the upper 80's and beyond - that scare the hell out of me.

First and foremost, I am terrified of outliving my children. I don't know that my heart could go on beating if one of my children passed before me. It actually makes my heart hurt just writing this, so I'm going to stop talking about this one right here.

Secondly, I'm afraid of relying on people. I have a very, very small group of people that I can readily depend on. "Small" meaning two, tops. I have a large group of people who I love dearly, and who generally operate with the best of intentions, but I have very few people who I know would take care of me in a kind, humane way in the event that I should become physically or mentally incapacitated. And it really isn't the responsibility of either of them to bear that type of burden. I should hope that I have instilled the value of kindness, empathy and compassion on my kids, and that they would make appropriate arrangements for my care.

Lastly, I'm afraid of dying. Not death, I imagine death would be the easy part. But dying scares the hell out of me. Our family has been cursed with very drawn out deaths due to cancer and other devastating diseases. The process of going from healthy individual to death itself is something that sends shivers down my back.

If you could grab the buttocks of someone famous, whose would you grab?

Johnny Depp. Dressed as a pirate. Oh hell yes.

If you had to pick the single most spiritual moment of your life so far, what would it be?

Ironically enough (or maybe not at all) my most spiritual moments have been during some of my darkest times. This summer when I was welled into a pit of despair, a good friend suggested that I repeat a spiritual mantra to myself to help me fall asleep. I would lay in bed, curled up, and say "Thank you, God, for taking my fear and replacing it with peace and love." I know, it sounds cheesy now, but little by little, my body would settle, my heart rate would slow, my muscles would relax and I would slip into sleep feeling peaceful.

Well, that was a nice little mix of morbity, sex and religion. Let's do this again, soon, BlogFans. Tell me your answers in the comments. Comment anonymously if you don't want the word to know that it is my buttocks that you'd grab if you had the opportunity.

What seems to be the problem, Officer?

2010-11-08T17:49:00.000-08:00

Oh, Monday, how I hate you.

My Mondays are always particularly insulting, because not only is it the end of the weekend, but it's one of the busiest days of our week, appointment wise. Cecilia gets dropped off at school at a little before nine, and then we head up to Springfield for Luc's physical therapy appointment.

The ride to Springfield takes a good half hour to forty-five minutes, since the straggling DC commuters are blocking up I-95. Lucas usually naps on the way up, and it's a nice quiet little ride, in which 99.9% of the time I cry. I really dread going there. I dread watching him struggle; I dread hearing him cry when he gets frustrated that his little body fails him; and I really, really hate that other than bringing him to physical therapy, there is little I can do for him.

Today I was driving along, only a few more blocks to go, minding my own business (or wallowing, whichever.) when I heard the all too familiar woop-woop of a police car. I looked in my rearview mirror and there was a cop with his lights on! I looked around the road I was on, surely he didn't mean me. But since I was the only car on the road, and the cop was inches from my truck, I supposed he did, in fact, mean me.

I pulled to the side, and wiped leftover tears from my cheeks. I tried to roll down the window, but it wouldn't work! The entire control system on my door was dead. By this time, the cop had reached my window, and was rapping on it impatiently. I reached behind me and rolled down Lucas' window.

Policeman: Why won't you put down your window?

Saki: It's broken. See? *makes overdramatic show of pushing dysfunctional button*

Policeman: Why is it broken?

Saki: . . .

Policeman: License and registration, please.

Saki: *sighs and hands over license and insurance card*

Policeman: This is an insurance card.

Saki: Don't you need that?

Policeman: I need registration.

Saki: Oh...well..

Policeman: The reason I pulled you over is because your tags are expired.

Saki: Oh, ya, they're not. I have stickers for them that are good until 2012, I just haven't stuck them on there.

This is where the officer makes his tragic error.

Policeman: Why haven't you put the stickers on?

Saki: Itjustreallywasn'tonthetopofmytodolist.Theycameoverthesummer,andIhadareallybadsummer,andbadthingshappened,andIthoughtmybabywasdying,andI'mjusttryingtobringhimtophysicaltherapy,andifIhadtimetoputthestickerson,Iwouldhavehadtimetodothingslikefixthewindowformycar,andnowIhavetodrivetostupidphysicaltherapyandIdon'twantto,thewholethingisjustveryupsetting,andI'mrunninglatenow,becauseIhadtoexplaintoyouwhyIdon'thavestickersonmytag- -

Policeman: *awkwardly tries to hand back my license*

Saki: - - whichreallyisn'tthatbigofadealbecausemycarisinspectedandI'vealreadypaidformyinsurance,Ijustreallydidn'teventhinkaboutputtingonthestickers,becauseIhadsomanythingsrunningthroughmybrainand--

Policeman: *Awkwardly tries to hand back my license*

Saki: AndIhaven'tbeenontimetophysicaltherapyinweeksandIwasalmostearlyandnowI'mgoingtobelatebecauseIhadtostopandexplainaboutmystickersand--

Policeman: Ma'am, take your license back. Listen, when you get home today, have your husband or a neighbor or someone get your stickers and put them on your car, okay?

Saki: ...okay

Policeman: You have a good day, Ma'am.

So clearly, the way to get out of a ticket is to have word vomit and take out a summers worth of frustration on the officer. Yay for acting like a complete lunatic?

Also, you'll be happy to know that the Hubbin' came home last night and put the stickers on my car. So I may be a complete lunatic, but my car is legal.

I think there's something strangely musical about noise

2010-11-07T18:47:00.000-08:00

Hubbin': Have you seen the remote?

Saki: No. Did you check under the bed?

Hubbin', on the floor peering under the bed: Meh, all that's under here is a recorder.

Saki: Yeah...go ahead and leave that under there.

I can't be certain, but I think that's the best decision I've made all week.

Crunching Numbers

2010-11-06T13:49:00.000-07:00

I was looking over my blog after posting the other day (ha! Yes! I was posting!) and I happened to notice the sidebar of my blog, which keeps a convenient tally of the number of posts I have made.

I learned two very important things that day:

#1 - I have been blogging since 2005. 2005! I can't believe this blog is five years old. Happy birthday times five, or something.

#2 - Clearly, the blogging novelty has worn off in those past five years, as the number of posts has been on the decline since then. I started off strong with 111 posts the first year, which dipped to 49, 50, 58, 97, and now, with this post I'll be at a super lame 27 blog posts for 2010.

I've made this special chart for you to see exactly how badly I suck at blogging. Also, apparently I suck at graph making also, because I had to procure an excessive amount of help from the Hubbin' in making this automatically generated graph.*

I imagine my internal monologue to run something along the lines of "Okay, it's 2005, and I effing LOVE blogging. Except for now it's 2006, and I sort of sucked at life, but I'll do better next year, and a little better the year after that, and the one after that. Then I'll really swoop in with some sort of blitzkrieg blogging frenzy in year five!" And then year six came along, and let's all make that cartoon-character-falling-off-a-cliff noise. Bzooo0000OOOoooooo....CRASH.

I must have run out of things to talk about. As evidenced by this random post about nothing. With graphs!

*Also he had to explain to me how I've been blogging for "5 years" but had six yearly values for my chart. I'm still not certain I understand, but it's been a long day, and quite frankly, BlogFans, I don't give a damn.

"This is my brudder, Yookuss. You need to check his brain."

2010-11-05T13:19:00.000-07:00

July 2010: Back to the neurologist we go. Lucas still wasn't walking, and wasn't really showing too much progress, despite physical therapy. She brought her band of merry Residents with her. Residents are a funny breed. They're like doctors who don't really realize that they are doctors. Every question is met with wide, deer in headlight eyes, afraid to give the wrong answer. They answer our questions and furtively glance to their mentor to see if it was right.

The doctor ordered a set of imaging tests to rule things out. She wrote an order for a head CT and MRI, to rule out brain abnormalities and lesions on the brain; and also for a xray of Lucas' hips. Since he is so small, and the tests are all very sensitive to movement, he needed to be sedated for the testing. We scheduled the tests for the first week of August.

August 2010: We headed up to DC on the first Wednesday of August, Lucas was in the backseat, starving to death since he wasn't allowed to eat the morning of the tests. The Hubbin' made the mistake of swinging through McDonalds for coffee, which set off a tantrum that lasted up 395 and over the Key Bridge.

Once at the hospital we checked in, got our wrist bands and settled in to wait. Lucas had brought his new favorite toy, a zhu zhu pet, which trilled and chirped all over the waiting room at an ungodly early hour.

We were finally brought back to the pediatric ward, where they placed lidocaine patches on the tops of his hands, and in the creases of his elbows. After a few minutes they peeled them back, and the Hubbin' held Luc down so they could start the IV. Which, if you've ever held a child down, you know this is no small feat. Once the IV was in, they led us back to a small cubby of a room adjacent to the MRI machine room. They briefly explained the anesthetic, the risks, and the procedures. We brought Lucas into the MRI room, he was hooked up to monitoring machines and they started the sedative. He fought hard not to fall asleep. He held onto my shirt as his eyes rolled back into his head and his cries went from strong and alert to weak and whimpering.

Once he was asleep, I laid him down on the gurney, kissed his face and walked out of the room, crying. To see him go through that made him seem even smaller and more fragile.

We got a cup of (awful) coffee, compliments of Georgetown University Hospital, and waited. And waited. And waited.

They finally wheeled him out, all tests complete. They disconnected the IV sedation line, and by the time we got back to his room, he was stirring. He was disoriented, and his head flopped like a newborn. He gladly sucked back the juicebox they offered, and since he held it down okay, they gave us our discharge papers. The nurse mentioned that the images were all digital, and our doctor would be able to pull them up on her computer.

Well, you don't have to tell me twice. We hopped in that elevator, groggy baby on my hip to go stalk the neurologist. She was in her office, and did have access to the films, but wanted to wait for the reports to come back from the pediatric radiologist. She was set to go on vacation the next day, as were we, but she assured me that she would leave a note in our file for her head nurse to give us results, both good and bad over the phone. We thanked her profusely, and trudged home, weary and emotionally drained.

Monday morning we found ourselves at my parents house, enjoying some beach and pool time with the family. I called the neurology nurse and patiently* waited for her return call. The phone rang as we were all lazily floating in the pool.

"This is the neurology nurse from Georgetown returning your call," she said. I hastily greeted her - I knew who it was, I had been watching caller ID like a hawk all day. "I have Lucas' results here, but unfortunately, I can't give them to you. You need to wait for your doctor to get back to go over this with you."

"But she left a NOTE!" I protested.

"I know she did, I see it right here, but this is really something a doctor needs to discuss with you, I won't be able to answer your questions over the phone. You need to speak with your doctor."

"But...but..." I could feel my voice shaking and my emotions taking control. Any shred of rationality that I had left slithered fast and far away. "But she's already told us they might find underdeveloped parts of the brain, or missing parts of the brain, or lesions on the brain, she promised me you could tell me those things!" I countered.

"Yes, she did," the nurse agreed. "But I can't go over these results with you."

I thanked her for her time, and hung up the phone.

"I've never heard of someone not giving good news over the phone," I said to the Hubbin' and my father, who were both now pacing anxiously around the pool.

I got out, wrapped myself in a towel, and hugged my baby closer than I ever have before.

To be continued. . .

* Read: impatiently

Cooking with Saki

2010-11-04T06:06:00.001-07:00

Hello, Blogfans! Is it rainy and cold at your house today, too? It's a frigid 50 here, and the rain is pouring from the sky in buckets. The sort of day that Axl Rose sings about. There's no better way to chase away that wet chill than a big bowl of Stuffed Pepper soup. It's a hearty soup, exceptionally filling, and inexpensive and easy to make.

So waterproof yourself and wade to the store, because you will need:

2lbs lean ground beef, browned

1 (28oz) can of tomatoes, chopped

1 (28oz) can of tomato sauce

2 cups of long grain rice, cooked

2 cups raw peppers, chopped - we usually do a mix of colors, but red and orange are our favs

1 large onion, chopped

2 cups beef broth

salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in your crockpot, set it to low, and walk away. Come back 4-6 hours later, and ladle yourself some delicious soup. Eat it with some crusty italian bread, and you'll be all set!

Election Day!

2010-11-02T05:45:00.000-07:00

Vote Early!

Vote Often!

Vote Democrat!

Remember, if you don't vote today, you don't get to complain about politics, taxes, public services, the condition of your roads, or pretty much anything else. There is a lot riding on this. Go vote, kids!

NaBloWriMo (again!)

2010-11-01T18:11:00.001-07:00

Oh yes, kids. Look who's back. Back again to BloMo the month away.

"But Saki, you haven't blogged in months!" you might say.

Well, dear BlogFans, this time it's for reals. While friends and loved ones are furiously tippity typing away 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo, I shall blog along in spirit, with the infamous 30 blog posts in 30 days, accumulating no where near 50,000 words.

Can she do it?*

Will she fail?**

Stay tuned. Should be an interesting month.

*Doubtful.

**Most likely.

An exit to eternal summer slacking

2010-07-28T11:23:00.000-07:00

Hello, blogfans, have I got a summer project for you! Flip flops are my favorite shoe, hands down. They're so versatile - the perfect footwear, really. Going to the beach? Wear flip flops. Going shopping? Wear flip flops. Getting married? Wear flip flops with sparkles on them.

We're big fans of Old Navy flip flops here, you can't beat the price, and it's awesome to stock up at the $1 flip flop sale. But they can get a little boring, so the lovely Lauren found a way to jazz them up, thanks to the ingenuity over at the flip flop project.

Grab your crafting supplies, blogfans, we're making flip flops!

Step One: Buy a pair of cheap foam flip flops with plastic straps.

Step Two: Gather your supplies. Aside from the flip flops, you will need fabric cut into strips that are roughly 6" long by 1" wide, embroidery floss, sewing needles, a sewing machine, and some decorative touches, such as fake daisies.

Step Three: Take one of the fabric strips and wrap it around the part that goes in between your toes. You don't want to make it too thick, so don't wrap too many times.

Step Four: Using your embroidery floss, stitch the fabric closed down the center.

Step Five: Sew all of your fabric strips together lengthwise. If you don't want patchwork flip flops, you can use one larger piece of fabric, but I highly recommend patchwork.

Step Six: Wrap your fabric around the strap and sew at the side. You'll want to make the stitches in a place that won't rub against your foot. Experience tells us that it can be a bit abrasive. Repeat on the other straps.

Step Seven: Make sure to make a giant mess while doing this.

Step Eight: Admire your work...

Step Nine: ...from all angles.

Step Ten: Snip two fake flowers from a silk bouquet.

Step Eleven: Glue your flowers over where all your fabric comes together. I suppose you could sew them on, but I happen to be a hot glue aficionado.

Step Twelve: Admire your work from all angles.

Step Thirteen: Kick back, relax, and enjoy your new flip flops

California (king) Dreamin'

2010-07-24T15:22:00.000-07:00

Cooking with Saki

2010-07-14T08:39:00.000-07:00

Hi kids! Long time, no see, eh? Hope you haven't been starving out there in BlogLand without my excellent cooking advice. Today we're going to make a delicious summer recipe that won't go to your hips (unless you're me, and everything goes to the hips...and thighs...and well, you get the point). So fire up that BBQ grill, Blogfans and raid your garden, because you will need:

1 c. Peach preserves (or apricot, or red pepper jelly, or orange marmalade, or any combo therein)

1/2c. lite soy sauce

4 TBL fresh finely grated ginger

4 cloves garlic, minced

2 tsp sriracha sauce

1 eggplant

1 zucchini

1 summer squash

1 red pepper

1 orange pepper

1 large vidalia onion

2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

sesame seeds

In a large bowl, whisk together the first set of ingredients until well blended. Don't let the sriracha sauce intimidate you, I didn't know what it was either. You can find it in almost any normal grocery store in the United Nations aisle. It looks like this:

Put your chicken breasts in a container with a lid. Take 1/2 of the marinade you just made, and pour it over the chicken, cover it, and stick it in the fridge. I like to marinate mine overnight, but a few hours will do if you're in a pinch. Put the rest of the sauce in a container and fridge it until you're ready to cook dinner.

When you're getting hungry, grab your veggies, and slice them on a bias, so that they won't fall through your grill. Put them in a giant bowl and toss with the remaining sauce. Let them sit for at least 45 mins.

Put everything on the your hot grill, and remember to keep in mind that chicken takes significantly longer than squashes to cook. When your veggies go on, sprinkle them lightly with sesame seeds. Your chicken is done when it hits an internal temperature of 165, and the veggies are done when they are slightly tender.

Mmmm...delicious :)

Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light

2010-07-09T10:19:00.000-07:00

I found this the other night, as I was laying in bed, idly wandering the interwebs, waiting for sleep to take over. It hit really close to home, and described my feelings perfectly. The sadness I feel because he is not running and playing like other children his age - seeing a child months younger than he is racing around the playground. But that sadness is projected - he is happy to sit and play, he's happy to plunk in the sandbox, or the shallowest part of the wading pool.

I don't know the author, but whoever it is, she's wonderful.

I sit on the park bench, eating cheesy popcorn and watching young children on the playground. I am enjoying the day, the sun on my face, and the smell of fresh grass.

Randomly I think "I wish my child could run and play with these kiddos."

And there it is, the cold hand in my cheesy popcorn; the presence taking up too much space on the park bench, blocking my sunshine. My Grief.

"Really?" I say. "I didn't invite you. Get your hand out of my cheesy corn." Instead, I end up having to scoot over, making more room for my Grief.

Grief comes and goes when I least expect it. I'll be in my car, driving along listening to music and I'll catch it in the corner of my eye, kicking the back of my seat.

"Hey."
"Aww, crap. What are you doing here?"
"It's been a while. I thought I would stop in for a visit."
"Well, make sure you fasten your seatbelt and be quiet. The baby is sleeping and I don't want you to wake him up."
"Can I change the station?"
"No."
"Can I play with the window?"
"No, you can just come along for the ride."

So we ride together; fingernails thumping on the dashboard as a reminder of who decided to show up today. Yes, I am quite aware of your presence, you don't need to remind me.

Grief's appearance used to rattle me, send me into the bathroom, crying hysterically, rendering me useless for the day. Sometimes it still does, but as Grief has been established as a consistent visitor in our household, we have drawn up a contract, we have an agreement.

As the mom of a child who does not walk or talk, I will grieve. I will grieve for many dreams that will not come to fruition. I will grieve for a life I thought would be different.

I will grieve at times, and I will not grieve at times. I will laugh at times. I will not laugh at times. Grief can come into our house, but he is not allowed to stay. If allowed to stay, it would devour the corners of our house. It would suck up the oxygen in the room. It would consume me.

And that is not acceptable.

Grief tends to run within the Special Needs community. I bump into him quite often.

"How are you?"
- My daughter has pneumonia. She is in the hospital on a ventilator.

I look around and see Grief, sitting on the couch, smugly picking at dirty fingernails.

And I meet those who sadly keep very, very close company with this unwanted guest. Grief hangs over them like a shroud. It is hard to laugh. It is hard to love. Because in copious amounts, Grief tends to ooze like a nasty, septic wound draining the life from us.

But we still have to laugh, we still have to play, we still have to live. Life carries on.
..and on..
...and on...

I cannot, at the end of my life say "Well, it was long, hard, and I was sad."

Surprisingly, our relationship is not based entirely on conflict. My interactions with Grief have allowed me to see myself entirely raw, unprotected, and exposed. At times I feel that I have lost my skin. Yes, here I am. Be careful, that's my beating heart you see there. Oh no, no, do not touch.

I am no longer afraid to approach others regarding their own tragedies. I bring up the tough conversations. How is your mother? I am sorry or your loss. I am so sorry your daughter is in the hospital. I hug, I cry, I listen. Not because I am uber-sensitive, but because I know Grief travels alone, except when he travels with with his favorites - Isolation and Loneliness.

Sometimes, Grief shows up at a party, drinks my wine, eats my last bite of fudgy dessert. It's an annoyance, really but since Grief is not a constant life guest, I have learned to tolerate the time we spend together. Sometimes, we even enjoy an introspective moment or two.

We have set the rules and sometimes they are followed. We can not have a permanent, impy, uninvited, grievous house guest. We don't have the room. Not in our lives, not in my heart. Life is too short, and despite the bad things that can happen, life is too sweet.

It's not easy being a Mother. If it were easy, fathers would do it.

2010-07-06T11:17:00.000-07:00

What is it that makes me just a little bit queasy?

There's a breeze that makes my breathing not so easy

I've had his lungs checked out with x-rays

I've smelled the hospital hallways.

Okay, blogfans, we're going to embark on a journey together. For weeks now, I've been scouring the corners of the interwebs looking for stories to reassure me that someone, anyone, has been in this situation and had a positive outcome. Google has failed me, so I've decided to write my own, for other hopefuls to stumble upon.

Don't know what I'm talking about? Let's rewind:

April 2010: I took the kids in for their check-ups. Cecilia was turning 4 and needed her school forms done, and Lucas needed one of the vaccines we decided to inoculate him with. At the time, he was 20 months, and he still didn't walk. Otherwise, he seemed to be progressing normally. The hubbin' and I had discussed our sons sedentary ways before the appointment, and we both agreed that he'll do it when he's ready. Our pediatrician agreed with us, but gently gave us the contact information for the county Early Intervention program. He said that it doesn't hurt to have a physical therapist look him over, at the very least they could help exercise the muscles he doesn't use and keep them strong so that when he is ready to walk, they'll be ready to support him. We called on the way home, and set up an appointment.

May 2010: We had our first home visit, in which someone came to our home, and asked us several pages of questions about Lucas' development. "Can he stack 4 blocks high?" "Can he self feed using a spoon? How about a fork?" Very basic stuff. Then we got to the gross motor section

"Can he stand unassisted?" Yes!

"Can he walk?" No!

"Run?" No!

"Will he drag over a chair or stool to climb on if he wants something high?" No!

"Can he kick a ball?" No!

"Can he climb stairs without placing his hands on the steps?" No!

"Can he hop?" No!

"Can he hop on one foot?" *wants to die* No!

Mmhmm...She diligently checked off "no" on her questionnaire as we went down the laundry list of questions. She then explained that in order to qualify for Early Intervention services, a child must have at least a 25% delay in any one area. Since we had an epic fail in the gross motor section, we were definitely eligible. The next step would be for a visit at their office, where we would have a three hour assessment with their team of therapists - A physical therapist, an occupational therapist and a speech therapist. The appointment was for the first week of June, about two and a half weeks after the initial home visit. The woman from Early Intervention said "He looks like he has all the right tools to do it, he just needs to put the pieces together." We nodded - she was right. It did seem that way.

June 2010: We arrived for our appointment on time (imagine that!) with Lucas and Cecilia in tow. We settled in a room that looked something like a toy room of a nursery school - brightly colored mats, toys, big mirrors stuck to the wall, happy posters hung everywhere. We were introduced to the therapists, who were all very friendly and kind. The appointment seemed a lot like play. They read books, played with blocks and puzzles, and basically just interacted with Lucas for three and a half hours. At the end of the appointment, we were handed a giant packet of paperwork that broke down the assessment into categories of skills; gross motor, fine motor, cognitive, etc etc. Lucas scored at or above his age group in all categories, except for gross motor skills where they placed him at a 12-14 month ability level. He also seemed to have low muscle tone in his core and pelvis. We agreed upon proceeding with the physical therapy. As the therapist was watching him, she asked if we had seen an orthopedic surgeon yet. "Um...no?" we said. She mentioned that she thought it was worth looking into, as Luc's ankles and feet tended to roll in when he stood and crawled. Hm. Okay. So I went home and promptly googled "top orthopedic surgeons in NoVA" and came up with Dr. John Delahay, from Georgetown University Hospital. I called our pediatrician, who concurred that he was an excellent doctor, and we were in good hands.

Saki goes psychotic: Ahh, the internets, our own worst enemy. As I was waiting for the orthopedic appointment, which was two weeks away, I made the mistake of googling. I typed in "22 month old not walking." Possibly the worst thing I could have done. I read page after page of google results. There were blogs and forums and pages of symptoms and signs on disease specific support sites. There were two reoccurring things that people kept mentioning that matched Lucas' capabilities perfectly - One was cerebral palsy, and the other Duchenne's Muscular Dystrophy. I wasn't familiar with either of them, so that led to more googling. Cerebral Palsy sounded pretty bad, until I moved onto Duchenne's. I very quickly went to "He'll walk when he's good and ready" to weeping because I felt that he had one foot (or hand and knee, as the case may be) in an early grave. I began obsessively reading about both, frantically looking for a definitive sign or symptom that he didn't have...something to ease my worried mind. But there wasn't anything. It seemed like a terribly perfect fit. At the hubbin's insistence, I called Mike's dad, a pediatrician, who talked me down off of my psychotic little ledge late one night. He was kind, and reassuring, and I took a lot of comfort from what he said.

The Ortho Appointment: Finally! We drove to Georgetown, leaving Cecilia at home with my parents, a very important breakfast date in the wings. As we sat in traffic on the memorial bridge, I looked at the Hubbin' and said "I hope this doctor isn't a doucher." He nodded in agreement. From the back seat we heard an awful retching sound, followed by what sounded like someone dumping a bucket of water on the floor. I looked back to see Lucas completely covered in vomit, soaked from head to toe. I groaned and looked in my bag for a spare outfit that I knew very well was not in there. Somehow, despite ridiculous traffic and a GPS who sent us in the wrong direction, and a car sick baby, we made it to the appointment on time (i know, right?!). We walked into the office, with Lucas, clad only in a diaper and sneakers. I felt desperate to explain what happened - I wasn't some negligent mother who brought her baby places nude, he was sick, okay? Stop looking at me like that.

We were finally called back to a room to wait for the doctor. After a short wait, the doctor came in. He was an older man, very soft spoken and thorough. He sat down, and played with Lucas, picking him up, tossing him around, rolling him across the table. He pulled on his legs, felt his back, and gave us the all clear. He said physical therapists love to send kids who don't walk to orthopedic surgeons. He noted that Luc's feet are pronated, meaning they do roll in, but they aren't pronounced for his age, and they are something that self corrects. I confessed my googling frenzy, and asked about muscular dystrophy. He said he felt that it was definitely not muscular dystrophy, but rather a neurological issue, and felt possibly a mild cerebral palsy. He suggested seeing a neurologist and gave us the name and number of someone he recommended. I left the appointment feeling as though I was dancing on air. I felt like a huge weight had been removed from my shoulders. A nurse who was standing in the hall asked "Where are your clothes, little man?" Ahh, I knew it would come eventually, but we were so blissed out with good news, I didn't care. "Oh, they're in the car. He power puked on them on the way up here." She laughed and quipped "Ah, I thought he was bringing sexy back!"

We went home and made an appointment for the following Friday with the neurologist.

Times when the day is like a play by Sartre

When it seems a bookburning's in perfect order

I gave the doctor his description

I tried to stick to the prescription

The Neurology Appointment: Back to Georgetown we went, leaving at 7:00am for our 9:30 appointment. We figured that between rush hour, and an extra few minutes in case vomit-boy had another incident we would get there on time. Except there's one thing DC is, and that's unpredictable. We left at 7, got gas in the car, stopped for coffee and made it to Georgetown by 7:35. Oops. Gross miscalculation. You can never tell with DC traffic. We sat in the waiting room until 9, watching Finding Nemo on their big TVs. We were called back to a small room where they checked weight, blood pressure, temperature, etc. Much to my chagrin, not only had Lucas had a poopsplosion in the 30 seconds that it took for us to walk into the room, but I had also left the spare diapers in the car. Apparently, I just suck at this whole outfitting a child thing. Saki = 0 for 2. They gave us a new diaper, and a spare, just to be sure, and ushered us into a consultation room. It was much scarier than the orthopedics room. A big dark wood desk with cozy chairs was in the center, and an exam table to the left of that. It seemed like the kind of room where one receives bad news. A hefty box of tissues was placed on the desk, centered between the chairs. Unsettling to say the least.

The doctor blew in the room, and immediately bombarded us with questions, pecking our answers into her computer. She examined Lucas' eyes first with the lights on, and then with the lights off. She flipped him this way and that, and then grabbed his legs and stuck his feet behind his ears. "Mmmhmm." She said. She then held his arm and bent it behind his back at an ungodly angle. "Yes, yes," she said to herself.

By this time I was about to chew my lower lip clean off my face from anxiety. I finally asked what it was that she was looking for.

"He has hypotonia - low muscle tone," she said. This wasn't big news to us, as we had heard "low muscle tone" before. But the neurologist continued that she felt it wasn't isolated to his core, as the others had said. She held his hand and bent his fingers backwards until they touched his arm. Lucas didn't even flinch. "It's him. It's all of him."

She placed him on the floor and folded him up like a pretzel, arms and legs crossed and tucked in every direction. She sat in her chair to watch him. Lucas lolled to the left and tipped to the right, and finally fell forward, untangling himself in the process. He grabbed the closest chair and hoisted himself up into a standing position, giving the neurologist the stink eye over his shoulder.

"He seems to have weak thighs," she said. "I'm ordering a Creatine Kinase test."

Instantly my heart dropped. I felt like I swallowed a whole tray of ice cubes. Cold and lumpy inside. I sunk into a chair and swatted around until I found the box of tissues. I knew from my obsessive googling that the CK test was the one which pointed towards muscular dystrophy. Seemingly oblivious to my angst, she continued "Do you have a family history of neuromuscular disorders?"

My tongue was suddenly much too big for the space provided and felt like it was made of cotton. I couldn't even answer. The Hubbin' took over from there. She handed us a slip for labwork and sent us downstairs, with an appointment to meet with her again in three weeks. "The results should be in on Tuesday," she said, circling the neurology department phone number on her card.

Silent tears poured down my face the whole time. My baby. They were testing my baby for a terminal disease.

Saki Goes Psychotic - This time for reals: Thankfully, we had a full weekend planned, away from home. My sister graduated from High School that evening (woot woot Jemma!), we drove to NJ to see her graduation and attend her party the next day. The whole weekend was a busy blur of relatives and late night swims in the pool that combined with my fathers Tramadol prescription kept me delightfully ignorant of the pending results. We returned home late Sunday evening, where I camped myself outside with a box of parliament lights the second my children were in bed.

9a.m. Monday morning I found myself obsessively calling the circled number on the card. Because she said Tuesday the results would be in, but it never takes as long as they say, right? Right?

Wrong.

"Thank you for calling Georgetown University Hospital, Department of Pediatric Neurology. Press one if you'd like to be directed to a full voicemail box where you are unable to leave a message. Press two if you'd like to sit on hold for all of eternity. Press three if you'd like us to "accidentally" disconnect this call. Press four, five, six or seven if you'd like to hear this message over and over again. If you need to speak to someone right away, hang up, and dial 9-1-1."

I finally got myself connected to the voicemail of the neurology nurse, and left a shaky message, pausing in the middle to cry a tiny bit, pleading for her to call me back.

And she did. And the results weren't in. Actually, not only were they not in, but the labwork was outsourced due to our insurance coverage. I shouldn't expect them before Wednesday afternoon.

Wednesday! That was a full 48 hours from this point in time. So I did what any rational person would do: I called my doctor and pleaded for ativan. And I got it. Thankfully.

I won't bore you with the gritty details of my expedition off the deep end, but in a nutshell, I spent three, oh yes, THREE days having panic attacks, weeping at random, and googling. It's amazing the macabre thoughts that dance through your mind. I thought about how we would have to sell our two story rambler style home to accommodate his wheelchair. But we can't sell our home, because we're upsidedown on our mortgage, so we'd have to foreclose. But we can't foreclose, because the Hubbin' will lose his clearances and by proxy, his job. And so on and so on, each level of hell getting slightly darker and darker. I wound myself so tightly that I wasn't eating or sleeping. The Hubbin' worked from home and took care of the children as I stumbled around the house in a zombie state, alternating between googling and chain smoking.

I finally fell asleep late Wednesday night, where I had a dream that the test results indicated muscular dystrophy. In my dream I screamed, sobbing, holding Lucas so, so close. It was so real I could smell his Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo. I woke up to the phone ringing, my pillow wet with tears.

It was the neurology nurse.

The labs were normal. Completely normal. I uttered a thank you and collapsed into my husbands arms, crying some of the happiest tears I've had so far.

And so it goes: We continue having physical therapy weekly. We have been working with Lucas in the pool, trying to steady his balance and work on his muscle strength. We go back to see the neurologist (who probably has all sorts of unsavory notes about my ridiculous behavior and obsessive calls typed into her computer) at the end of the month, and will probably have a CT and MRI done to continue to rule out issues.

As it stands now, he's a happy, healthy, bubbly, beautiful little boy. He's quick with a smile, and full of love. We're taking the advice of our much trusted pediatrician, and trusting in our baby and enjoying our summer. We know that this is the first steps of many. But we also know that we can't dwell on the unknowns. Feel free to remind me of that last statement whenever you feel I need a hefty helping of reality check. Now that the dust has settled, and we're finding our bear crawl groove together, there is one thing I know:

Things will be okay. Even if it's a new kind of okay.

Someday I'll have a disappearing hairline

Someday I'll wear pajamas in the daytime

Afternoons will be measured out

Measured out, measured with

Coffeespoons and T.S. Eliot

TOGA! TOGA! TOGA!

2010-06-21T14:30:00.000-07:00

10 Reasons Why Having Toddlers Is Like Being At A Frat Party

10. There are half-full, brightly colored plastic cups on the floor in every room. Three are in the bathtub

9. There's always that one girl, bawling her eyes out in the corner

8. It's best not to assume that the person closest to you has any control over their digestive function

7. You sneak off to the bathroom knowing that as soon as you sit don, someone is going to start banging on the door.

6. Probably 80% of the stains on the furniture contain DNA

5. You've got someone in your face at 3am, looking for a drink

4. There's definitely going to be a fight

3. You're not sure whether anything you're doing is right, you just hope it won't get you arrested

2. There are crumpled up underwear everywhere

1. You wake up wondering exactly how and when the person in bed with you got in there

I am thankful for. . .

2010-05-27T13:17:00.000-07:00

I'm in a rather grouch ass mood today. I seem to have taken a cue from my husband, and have been dragging around a little black (thundering) rain cloud with me today. So to keep myself in check, I'm making a short list of things that I am grateful for at this very moment:

1 - Two happy, healthy children

2 - A working air conditioner set to something like "arctic chill"

3 - Abundant sunshine and a breeze for when I start to get chilly in the frozen tundra of my house

4 - Beringer Pinot Noir 2008 13.0% alcohol by volume. Wheeeeee

5 - My Old Navy coupon code that will give me 15-50% off once I stop loading up my virtual cart

6 - The fact that my shorts from last year went over my butt without a struggle, but also zipped with room to spare (double whee!)

7 - Funny new blogs to keep me entertained

8 - Promise of fireworks this weekend

9 - Delicious steak soaking in marinade, about to have a date with the grill.

10 - Sprinklers!

Well, I don't know about you, Blogfans, but I certainly feel better

Relativity

2010-05-11T06:48:00.000-07:00

The Scene: Sitting on my deck last night, talking on the phone to the lovely Lauren.

Me: It's cold.

Lauren: Seriously.

Me: I have on pants, socks, a long sleeved shirt and a hoodie and I'm still freezing. I think it might snow. It feels like snow.

Lauren: My phone says it's 65 degrees.

Me: . . .Oh

Living in the South makes you a total cold weather pansy.

Eight.

2010-04-19T06:24:00.000-07:00

Once there was a tree.
And she loved a little boy.
And every day the boy would come

And he would gather her leaves

And make them into crowns and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk

And swing from her branches

And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree.

Very much.

And the tree was happy.

But time went by,

And the boy grew older.

And the tree was often alone.

Then one day the boy came to the tree and the tree said:
”Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy!”
“I am too big to climb and play” said the boy. “I want to buy things and have fun. I want some money.
Can you give me some money?”
”I’m sorry” said the tree,”but I have no money. I have only leaves and apples. Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in city. Then you will have money and you’ll be happy”
And so the boy climb up the tree and gathered her apples and carried them away.

And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time

And the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back and the tree shook with joy, and she said:
”Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade and be happy."
“I am too busy to climb trees,” said the boy. “I want a house to keep me warm,” he said. “I and want a wife and I want children, and so I need a house. Can you give me a house?”
“I have no house” said the tree.

"The forest is my house, but you may cut off my branches and build a house. Then you will be happy”
And so the boy cut off her branches and carried them away to build a house.

And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time

And the tree was sad.

And when he came back, the tree was so happy she could hardly speak.
“Come, Boy” she whispered, “Come and play”
“I am too old and sad to play,” said the boy. “I want a boat that will take me away from here. Can you give me a boat?”
“Cut down my trunk and make a boat,” said the tree. “Then you can sail away and be happy.”
And so the boy cut down her trunk

And made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy

But not really.

And after a long time the boy came back again.
“I am sorry, Boy,” said the tree, “but I have nothing left to give you— My apples are gone.”
“My teeth are too weak for apples,”said the boy.
“My branches are gone,” said the tree.”You cannot swing on them—”
”I am too old to swing on branches” said the boy.
“My trunk is gone,” said the tree. “You cannot climb—-”
”I am too tired to climb,” said the boy.
“I am sorry,” sighed the tree. “I wish that I could give you something, but I have nothing left. I am just an old stump. I am sorry.”
”I don’t need very much now,” said the boy. “just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired”
“Well,” said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, “well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down, and rest.”
And the tree was happy.

NonCensus

2010-03-24T10:47:00.000-07:00

Several days ago, we got a letter in the mail, stating that we would soon be receiving our 2010 census form, if we hadn't already gotten it.

The following day, we got our census to fill out. Being the responsible citizen that I am, I filled it out, and dropped it off at the post office that very day!

Yesterday, we received a post card, reminding me that I was legally obligated to fill out the census and return it. The census that I mailed back last week? That one? Oh. Just checking.

Am I the only one who feels that this is a blatant overkill and waste of tax payer money? Not to mention the amount of paper it used, delivering those useless "It's coming! Get ready!" and "fill it out or else!" letters.

I understand that if someone fails to reply, then an actual person has to go to the house, knock on the door, and fill it out themselves then and there. I get the overwhelming cost in that.

However, with the overwhelming publicity this census has been given (there is even a bilingual Dora commercial on the 24/7 kids channel exclaiming "Help your parents fill out their census forms! It will help bring new daycares and playgrounds to YOUR neighborhood!" Uh, seriously?) there was no need to waste money and resources on a warning mailer, which arrived the day before, if not the same day as, the census.

And since everything is barcode it, scan it, input it, over it, it certainly seems like it would be easy enough to wait more than a day after receiving the survey, and then send out a reminder to those who haven't yet responded.

I know the USPS is hurting for money and all...but really? Really?

Just checking.

Cooking with Saki

2010-03-17T20:23:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Patty's Day, Blogfans! Put down your pint, because we're going to make a sweet treat in honor of the green holiday - Rainbow Cupcakes! I'll wait while you calm down; I was excited too.

Are you settled? Good.

If you've been imbibing in the Irish tradition of drinking yourself into a stupor, find a designated driver (and someone to supervise your oven use) and Erin Go Braugh yourself to the store to pick up:

1 box of white cake mix

Whatever your cake ix calls for (eggs, oil, etc)

1 box of food coloring

Cupcake wrappers

A lovely assistant

Grab your lovely assistant, and award 10 points to Gryffindor if she makes leprechaun faces while you make your Rainbow Cupcakes:

Follow the directions on the back of the box and whip up that mix. I'm not going to hold your hand through this one, Blogfans. Just do what the box tells you to do. once it's all mixed, separate into six small bowls. You'll want to use bowls slightly larger than the white ones shown, because it yielded quite the batter-y mess on my counters:

In the first bowl, add 9 drops red and 6 drops of blue food coloring

In the second bowl, add 12 drops of blue food coloring

In the third bowl, add 12 drops of green food coloring

In the fourth bowl, add 12 drops of yellow food coloring

In the fifth bowl, add 12 drops yellow and 4 drops of red food coloring

In the sixth bowl, add 18 drops of red food coloring (Love that red dye!)

Mix each bowl, respectively, until the color is even throughout:

Line your cupcake tin with wrappers and add a spoonful of the purple batter to the bottom of each wrapper. It might not cover the whole bottom, and that's okay, just make sure you get some in all of them. Follow suit with the ROY G BIV* rainbow (that's Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet for all of you science slackers). Pop them in an oven that has been preheated to whatever your cake mix box says, and bake for the recommended amount of time. Again, consult the box. Also, don't mock my dirty oven. Dinner overfloweth last night:

Once they cool, top them with a delicious cloud of whipped cream, and some gold coins, if you're super fancy**.

* But omit indigo, since it's been banished from the rainbow and has gone to hang with Pluto in the land of Fun Things Scientists Have Done Away With

** Much to the dismay of my children, we are not super fancy.

Perspective

2010-03-09T11:27:00.000-08:00

Just when the Caterpillar thought her world was over, she became a Butterfly

Ferocious Beasts

2010-03-05T06:26:00.000-08:00

Just two pitbulls, living up to their savage reputation:

Weekend Rewind

2010-02-28T16:26:00.000-08:00

Saturday night

Go to visit Lauren -> Decide to make a fire in the fireplace -> Neglect to open the chimney flue -> Fill the entire house with smoke -> Frantically fan the smoke alarm with tiny sheet of paper while Lauren carefully balances the poker in the flames to prop the flue open -> Step outside to enjoy a Parliament light while the smoke clears -> Lock ourselves out of the house -> Moment of panic when the situation survey turns up a lighter as our only asset to breaking in the house -> Finally jimmy open a crawl space window and shove Lauren inside -> Back inside it is discovered that Harry Potter is on TV -> Decide God loves us -> Burn a whole bag of microwave popcorn -> Maybe we were wrong about the God thing -> Decide baking cookies would be tempting fate on an already dark day and opt to give another bag of popcorn a try -> Relax into Harry Potter bliss

Sunday Afternoon

Load the Hubbin', children, and 100lb black and white dog into the car -> Drop Hubbin' off for a haircut -> Get to the groomer and wrangle dog and children into the shop -> Realize I have no proof of rabies vaccination with me -> FML -> wrangle kids and dog back into the car -> drive home -> wrangle kids and dog into the house -> Tear things apart until I find the rabies tag -> wrangle kids and dog back into the car -> Drive to groomer -> wrangle kids and dog back into the groomer, only to present a dog license, not a rabies tag -> FML -> wrangle kids and dog back to the car -> drive home -> wrangle kids and dog into the house -> Tear things apart again until the rabies tag is found -> wrangle kids and dog back into the car -> Drive to groomer -> wrangle kids and dog back into the groomer -> hold 100lb pitbull still for ear cleaning and nail cutting -> wrangle kids and dog back to the car -> Drive home -> Drop dog off -> Pick up Hubbin' from his haircut -> Bring Lucas for his haircut -> Go to WalMart -> FML -> Wait in like for 45 minutes to pay for my $5 laundry basket

I don't know whether to be hopeful for Monday, or exceptionally fearful

It's all relative

2010-02-26T12:13:00.001-08:00

Winter is the season in which people try to keep the house as warm as it was in the summer, when they complained about the heat. ~Author Unknown

A Life in Photos

2010-02-25T09:01:00.000-08:00

After one failed attempt, we here at the Costa Casa are attempting to resurrect Chia Obama head. I, Saki, do hereby vow to water and tend to said head.

I carefully read the instructions, soaking the head for an hour (okay, okay, it was like four hours. I forgot about him. Not off to a good start), and soaked the seeds for just as long. For those of you who have never known the joy of owning a Chia, the seeds look something like poppy seeds, and when submerged in water turn into a gelatinous mass that is not dislike the products of a nasty headcold. Once you've made this rather disgusting connection in your mind, it's time to spread the seeds onto the head, which is grooved for your convenience. The helpful directions suggest using a knife, but obviously the author of said directions has never actually tried to use a knife to spread the seeds. Use your fingers. It's gross, I know, but do you want this Chia to grow, or not?

Chia Obama Day One:

As you can see, I did a spectacular job of evenly spreading the seeds across grooved Obama's head. At this point, I took the time to actually read the directions on the back of the seed packet, to try to spot the error of my past Chia growing ways. The seeds told me to "tent" the head with plastic, but "DO NOT, WE REPEAT DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, EVEN IF THERE IS A FIRE OR ZOMBIE INVASION, LET THE PLASTIC TOUCH THE SEEDS!" Okay then. Loose plastic it is. A quart size storage bag from our good friends at Ziplock seemed to fit nicely. I double checked to make sure the seeds were properly hydrated, and stuck him in a sunny spot.

Chia Obama Day Two:

Will we fail again? Will Chia Obama head rise out of the ashes like a phoenix sprouting a luxurious head of whatever it is Chia seeds sprout into? Stay tuned, kids, for the next episode of A Life in Photos

Echoes

2010-02-19T17:58:00.000-08:00

You know what drives me insane? When I get a song stuck in my head. Particularly when it swirls around my head for days at a time and I have no idea what the words are. It makes it impossible to sing and pick off of your brain.

So you can sing all day in your head with me, have a listen to this:

But being the generous blog writer that I am, I'm posting the lyrics, so we can learn together, and the next time you see me, I expect to do a stunning duet with you, Blogfans

Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Now it's Turkish delight on a moonlit night

Every gal in Constantinople
Lives in Istanbul, not Constantinople
So if you've a date in Constantinople
She'll be waiting in Istanbul

Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way

So take me back to Constantinople
No, you can't go back to Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks

Istanbul (Istanbul)
Istanbul (Istanbul)

Even old New York was once New Amsterdam
Why they changed it I can't say
People just liked it better that way

Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks

So take me back to Constantinople
No, you can't go back to Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks

In the name of the Father, the Son, and

2010-02-10T17:18:00.001-08:00

the Holy Toast!

It's a grain MIRACLE!

In dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own

2010-02-03T16:42:00.000-08:00

Confession time!

Confession #1- I love Harry Potter. In a slightly maniacal obsessive way. I started the series in mid November of this past year, and finished the last book on Christmas (as Santa was so thoughtful as to bring me the entire series!) It was roughly 4200 pages of reading, and I love every word.

Confession #2- I used to mock those who were infatuated with the Harry Potter series. The first encounter I had with a real fan was my Aunt Janet. I was in college and ZooMASS, and had gone to Boston to visit* my Aunt and Uncle. I had a book I was reading with me, and my Aunt said "I'm reading Harry Potter, it's one of the most wonderful books I've ever read. You should read it, I think you'd like it." I snubbed the idea. Wizardry and fantasy worlds didn't appeal to me, and besides, it was a childrens book. The thought of adults milling around Borders at midnight waiting for the new release in robes, with sticks whittled into wands and lightening bolts emblazoned on their heads just made me laugh. Where do those people come from?

What a silly girl I was.

Fast Forward to Present: A near and dear friend, whose literary opinion I value greatly insisted I give the books a whirl. I checked the first one out of the library, and it sat on my nightstand until it was due back. Feeling sorry for the book, I renewed my time with it, and a few nights later lo and behold there was nothing on TV and I had exhausted every single amusing thing on the interwebs, so I cracked open The Sorcerers Stone.

I stayed up all night reading that book. All night. I finally finished the book at almost four in the morning. It sucked me in. I couldn't put it down if I wanted to. It was literary crack.

The Hubbin' ridiculed me the next morning as I nursed my third cup of coffee. He sounded much like my pre-Harry Potter self. "You're such a NERD. Those books are for CHILDREN."

And so began my torrid love affair with the series. The Hubbin', who has never been much of a reader, and hasn't read a book for pleasure since...well....ever, was hesitantly eyeing up the first book after I declared that I wasn't watching the movies with him unless he read the series.

"Reading hurts my head," he told me. "I just can't get into it," "Why do I have to read the books? The movies are probably just as good," he said.

But still, he started. And hasn't stopped since. And it just warms my black heart to see him laying in bed with a book at night. Naturally, I used this opportunity to let my inner dork shine through, and as he was embedded into the second book, I carefully staged this in the shower for him to find when he got ready for work the next day:

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir....Beware

I'm already trying to convince him to go as Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort for Halloween. And yes, that is my three year old daughters red Elmo bathtub paint that I used.

* Visit: Euphemism for going to eat all their food and abuse their washing machine with seven weeks worth of laundry

Pass the tissues

2010-01-28T11:22:00.000-08:00

Seeing as how I've acquired the Death Plague of 2010* I felt it imperative to make a partial list of my last will and testament.

I, Saki, being of (somewhat?) sound mind and body bequeath:

all of my yarn and knitting supplies, and my chia Obama head to the Lovely Lauren

all of my fantastic shoes and my wardrobe to LAN

all of my debts to George W Bush (Love ya, Dubs!)

all of my Harry Potter books to my Hubbin' (don't watch the movies without me!)

all of my lawn ornamentation, including concrete donkeys to my mother

all three parakeets to Rike and Myan, because God knows once I'm gone no one will remember to feed them

*Or the flu. One of the two.