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

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

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.

5 years ago

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?

Hell on Wheels

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!

Cheers to a New Year

..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

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

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

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!

'Bout that time, eh chaps?

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

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.

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

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"

To Write LOVE on Her Arms

-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.

Fun with the Book of Questions

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.