So much has happened lately and I simply do not have the time to write about it all yet! So, until I can fill you all in on life in general, I thought I would send some great pictures of my kids!
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Friday, August 11, 2006
A limerick to lighten the mood...
Ode to my breasts
or
Farewell my fallen friends
********************************
By: Melissa Moon
********************************
Once long ago they
were perky and proud.
No bra could contain them,
no corset could shroud.
Bouncy and firm
whether covered or bare.
My breasts were just perfect,
yet now I despair.
For those once lovely orbs
went from diamonds to coal
after GALLONS of breast milk
and stretch marks untold.
No longer buoyant,
just droopy and sad.
My breasts hang defeated,
no victory had.
Once gravity finds you,
never loose hope!
Just tie them together
and learn to jump rope!
*************************************************************
Author retains copyright.
*************************************************************
or
Farewell my fallen friends
********************************
By: Melissa Moon
********************************
Once long ago they
were perky and proud.
No bra could contain them,
no corset could shroud.
Bouncy and firm
whether covered or bare.
My breasts were just perfect,
yet now I despair.
For those once lovely orbs
went from diamonds to coal
after GALLONS of breast milk
and stretch marks untold.
No longer buoyant,
just droopy and sad.
My breasts hang defeated,
no victory had.
Once gravity finds you,
never loose hope!
Just tie them together
and learn to jump rope!
*************************************************************
Author retains copyright.
*************************************************************
Thursday, August 10, 2006
A thought from Ben Stein...
If they know of him at all, many folks think Ben Stein is just a quirky actor/comedian who talks in a monotone. He's also a very intelligent attorney who knows how to put ideas and words together in such a way as to sway juries and make people think clearly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary, Sunday, 12/18/05.
Herewith at this happy time of year, a few confessions from my beating heart: I have no freaking clue who Nick and Jessica are. I see them on the cover of People and Us constantly when I am buying my dog biscuits and kitty litter. I often ask the checkers at the grocery stores. They never know who Nick and Jessica are either. Who are they? Will it change my life if I know who they are and why they have broken up? Why are they so important?
I don't know who Lindsay Lohan is either, and I do not care at all about Tom Cruise's wife.
Am I going to be called before a Senate committee and asked if I am a subversive? Maybe, but I just have no clue who Nick and Jessica are. If this is what it means to be no longer young. It's not so bad.
Next confession: I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are: Christmas trees.
It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.
I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution, and I don't like it being shoved down my throat. Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him?
I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too.
But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we knew went to.
In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.
Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her "How could God let something like this Happen?" (regarding Katrina)
Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, "I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives.
And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?"
In light of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said okay.
Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school . The Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said okay.
Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said okay.
Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves. Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."
Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell.
Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.
Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.
Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.
Are you laughing?
Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.
Pass it on if you think it has merit. If not then just discard it... no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary, Sunday, 12/18/05.
Herewith at this happy time of year, a few confessions from my beating heart: I have no freaking clue who Nick and Jessica are. I see them on the cover of People and Us constantly when I am buying my dog biscuits and kitty litter. I often ask the checkers at the grocery stores. They never know who Nick and Jessica are either. Who are they? Will it change my life if I know who they are and why they have broken up? Why are they so important?
I don't know who Lindsay Lohan is either, and I do not care at all about Tom Cruise's wife.
Am I going to be called before a Senate committee and asked if I am a subversive? Maybe, but I just have no clue who Nick and Jessica are. If this is what it means to be no longer young. It's not so bad.
Next confession: I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are: Christmas trees.
It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.
I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution, and I don't like it being shoved down my throat. Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him?
I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too.
But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we knew went to.
In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.
Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her "How could God let something like this Happen?" (regarding Katrina)
Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, "I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives.
And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?"
In light of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said okay.
Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school . The Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said okay.
Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said okay.
Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves. Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."
Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell.
Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.
Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.
Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.
Are you laughing?
Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.
Pass it on if you think it has merit. If not then just discard it... no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.
Monday, August 07, 2006
I am the child...
I am the child who cannot talk.
You often pity me; I see it in your eyes.You wonder how much I am aware of...I see that, as well. I am aware of much:whether you are happy or sad or fearful, patient or impatient, full of love and desire to help me or just doing your duty by me. I marvel at your frustration, knowing mine to be far greater, for I cannot express myself nor my needs as you do. You cannot conceive of my isolation, so complete is it at times. I do not gift you with clever conversation, cute remarks to be laughed over and repeated. I do not give you answers to your every day questions, responses regarding my well-being, sharing of my needs, or comments about the world about me. I do not give you rewards as defined by the world's standards - great strides in development for which you can credit yourself. I do not give you understanding as you know it. What I give you instead is so much more valuable...I give you opportunities. Opportunities to discover the depth of your character, not mine; the depthof your life, your commitment, your patience, your abilities; the opportunity to explore your spirit more deeply than you imagined possible. I drive you further than you would ever go on your own, working harder,seeking answers to your many questions, creating questions with no answers.
I am the child who can not talk.
I am the child who cannot walk.
The world sometimes seems to pass me by. You see the longing in my eyes to get out of this chair, to run and play like other children. There is much that you take for granted. I want the toys on the shelf, I need to go to the bathroom - oh, I've dropped my fork again. I am dependent on you in these ways. My gift to you is to make you aware of your great fortunes: your healthy back and legs, your ability to do for yourself. Sometimes people appear not to notice me; I always notice them. I feel not so much envy as desire, desire to stand upright, to put one foot in front of the other, to be independent. I give you awareness.
I am the child who can not walk.
I am the child who is mentally impaired.
I don't learn easily, if you judge me by the world's measuring stick. What I do know is infinite joy in the simple things. I am not burdened as you are with the strifes and conflicts of a more complicated life. My gift to you is to grant you the freedom to enjoy things as a child, to teach you how much your arms around me mean, to give you love. I give you the gift of simplicity.
I am the child who is mentally impaired.
I am the disabled child.
I am your teacher. If you allow me, I will teach you what is really important in life. I will give you and teach you unconditional love. I gift you with my innocent trust, my dependency on you. I teach you of respect for others and for their uniqueness. I teach you about the sanctity of life. I teach you about how very precious this life is and about not taking things for granted. I teach you about forgetting your own needs and desires and dreams. I teach you giving. Most of all I teach you hope and faith.
I am the disabled child.
Author Unknown
from the International Rett Syndrome Newsletter
(800) 818-7388
You often pity me; I see it in your eyes.You wonder how much I am aware of...I see that, as well. I am aware of much:whether you are happy or sad or fearful, patient or impatient, full of love and desire to help me or just doing your duty by me. I marvel at your frustration, knowing mine to be far greater, for I cannot express myself nor my needs as you do. You cannot conceive of my isolation, so complete is it at times. I do not gift you with clever conversation, cute remarks to be laughed over and repeated. I do not give you answers to your every day questions, responses regarding my well-being, sharing of my needs, or comments about the world about me. I do not give you rewards as defined by the world's standards - great strides in development for which you can credit yourself. I do not give you understanding as you know it. What I give you instead is so much more valuable...I give you opportunities. Opportunities to discover the depth of your character, not mine; the depthof your life, your commitment, your patience, your abilities; the opportunity to explore your spirit more deeply than you imagined possible. I drive you further than you would ever go on your own, working harder,seeking answers to your many questions, creating questions with no answers.
I am the child who can not talk.
I am the child who cannot walk.
The world sometimes seems to pass me by. You see the longing in my eyes to get out of this chair, to run and play like other children. There is much that you take for granted. I want the toys on the shelf, I need to go to the bathroom - oh, I've dropped my fork again. I am dependent on you in these ways. My gift to you is to make you aware of your great fortunes: your healthy back and legs, your ability to do for yourself. Sometimes people appear not to notice me; I always notice them. I feel not so much envy as desire, desire to stand upright, to put one foot in front of the other, to be independent. I give you awareness.
I am the child who can not walk.
I am the child who is mentally impaired.
I don't learn easily, if you judge me by the world's measuring stick. What I do know is infinite joy in the simple things. I am not burdened as you are with the strifes and conflicts of a more complicated life. My gift to you is to grant you the freedom to enjoy things as a child, to teach you how much your arms around me mean, to give you love. I give you the gift of simplicity.
I am the child who is mentally impaired.
I am the disabled child.
I am your teacher. If you allow me, I will teach you what is really important in life. I will give you and teach you unconditional love. I gift you with my innocent trust, my dependency on you. I teach you of respect for others and for their uniqueness. I teach you about the sanctity of life. I teach you about how very precious this life is and about not taking things for granted. I teach you about forgetting your own needs and desires and dreams. I teach you giving. Most of all I teach you hope and faith.
I am the disabled child.
Author Unknown
from the International Rett Syndrome Newsletter
(800) 818-7388
Friday, August 04, 2006
Ducks and Rabbits...
OK.... My line of thought:
If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, I don't need to hear it quack to know that it is a duck.
Samantha's neurologist line of thought:
Yes, it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, but since I have no proof that it can quack it must be a rabbit.
I got a call from the neurologist. I am highly pissed off. He does not want to treat Samantha... He wants to treat the EEG. According to him even though Samantha's "episodes" look and act like seizure activity, if they do not look like typical seizure activity on the EEG, she must not be having seizures!
So, by this definition my daughter has been medicated, operated and hospitalized on the brink of death more times than I can count for absolutely no reason.
Wait....
I think I just heard the doctor QUACK!
He must be a duck...
If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, I don't need to hear it quack to know that it is a duck.
Samantha's neurologist line of thought:
Yes, it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, but since I have no proof that it can quack it must be a rabbit.
I got a call from the neurologist. I am highly pissed off. He does not want to treat Samantha... He wants to treat the EEG. According to him even though Samantha's "episodes" look and act like seizure activity, if they do not look like typical seizure activity on the EEG, she must not be having seizures!
So, by this definition my daughter has been medicated, operated and hospitalized on the brink of death more times than I can count for absolutely no reason.
Wait....
I think I just heard the doctor QUACK!
He must be a duck...
Thursday, August 03, 2006
A Tale of Two Mommies...
Our trip to Fort Worth was uneventful (thankfully) and Samantha’s testing went rather smoothly (as far as tests go). We are still waiting for all of the results to come back in so we can make the next move forward in her care.Samantha’s step mom, Marlena, accompanied me on this particular trip.
We had our first REAL chance to bond over our three-day three-night trip.
Our relationship started out very strained because of my feelings (disgust, dislike, disappointment, anger, distrust, etc) towards Samantha’s father. We spent months tiptoeing around one another trying not to hurt feelings or start fights. Once we started to relax a little more, we discovered something quite amazing. Not only could we tolerate each other, we could talk for hours as if we had been friends for years!
I now feel like I can honestly call her my friend.
I think it is a very common fear for a divorced mother to worry that her child might one day refer to another woman as “Mom”. At one point in time, not so long ago, I would have very swiftly knocked the crap out of any woman who dared to even hope that “MY” daughter would think of her as "Mom".
However, somewhere along the line, my feelings have changed on that matter. I’m not sure exactly WHEN I became ok with the idea, but I do remember some very specific reasons WHY I am.
Marlena makes Joe (Samantha’s father) a better person. Don’t get me wrong, he is still far from where he should be, but he is much closer to it now than he has ever been before. She does not accept stupid excuses from him for why he hasn’t been to see Samantha for weeks. She does not pull punches where he is concerned, and that is exactly what he needs in a wife. (Some one to keep him in line as much as possible.)
She has an honesty about her that is wonderfully refreshing. I can tell by the way she interacts with Samantha that she genuinely loves her instead of just pretending to care like some stepparents would. She doesn’t pity my daughter for her disability; she can see the beautiful, strong child that sits behind that diagnosis. She asks questions openly with no hesitation because she wants to know more about Samantha and how to take care of her properly. (Those who ask questions about her as if they are ashamed to speak the words usually only ask out of morbid curiosity; as if my daughter were the top exhibit in a circus sideshow.) She volunteered to take Samantha to and from therapy every Tuesday, not because she HAD to, but because she WANTED to.
I can now say without any hesitation that I have absolutely no problem with someone referring to Marlena as Sam’s Mom. I have accepted the fact that another woman CAN have a major parenting role in Samantha’s life without it having any effect on MY relationship with her. I can rejoice in the fact that someone who has no blood relation to Samantha loves her as is she were her own child.
I am thankful for my newfound friend and Samantha’s other Mom, Marlena.
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