Something to make you giggle...

Why Women Can't Sleep...

WHY WOMEN CAN'T SLEEP

Have you ever wondered how a woman's brain works? Well....it's finally explained here in one, easy-to-understand illustration:


Every one of those little blue balls is a thought about something that needs to be done, a decision or a problem that needs to be solved. A man has only 2 balls and they take up all his thoughts.

My Beautiful Kiddos...

My Beautiful Kiddos all in one place again!

Just as it should be (if life were perfect and Darrell was home).

Samantha's operation has been postponed (insurance complications) so PLEASE keep her in your prayers. We need to have her VNS replaced before the battery completely dies so that her seizures do not come blaring back at full throttle. Her brain is no longer used to that level of seizure activity and a sudden return to it could prove fatal very quickly. We hope that we can get everything worked out and rescheduled for next week (the same time Dad has to be there for his Cancer check up).

So please just pray that everything goes well and the timing works out!

If I could be a Super Hero...

Her Super powers would include (but would not be limited to):

1. Laughing when she feels like crying

2. Having strength to keep moving when her world crumbles in around her

3. Always finding the silver lining (even when its more grey-ish)

4. A pain tolerance beyond that of mere mortals

5. Teleportation

6. The ability to heal others (physically, mentally & spiritually)

7. The ability to successfully mediate any conflict

Bed time prayer (Auron's way)...

This was WAY too cute not to share.

(I shot this video with my phone today, so I'm sorry for the poor quality.)

I TRIED to teach him:

"Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Angels watch me through the night and wake me with the morning light. Amen."

What he actually says:

"Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord I sorta keep. Angels watch me through the night and wake me with the morning light. Amen!"

Mall Photo Booth...

Box Boy!!!!

The amazing STUNT-BOY!!!...

This just goes to prove that great stuntmen are not trained... They are born that way. I apparently gave birth to a natural stuntman. He is constantly running into walls and flinging himself off of the furniture. I originally thought it was just because he is a boy... I am slowly starting to grasp the idea that his antics may have a deeper purpose. How to describe it? Well... Let me just show you...

Auron: Stunt-boy in training...

My son is a nut!

My goofy son...

Enjoy! :)

Happy thoughts...

Too Much Time...

Sent to me by email....

Someone out there either has too much
spare time or is deadly at Scrabble.

DORMITORY:
When you rearrange the letters:
DIRTY ROOM

ASTRONOMER:
When you rearrange the letters:
MOON STARER

DESPERATION:
When you rearrange the letters:
A ROPE ENDS IT

THE EYES:
When you rearrange the letters:
THEY SEE

GEORGE BUSH:
When you rearrange the letters:
HE BUGS GORE

THE MORSE CODE:
When you rearrange the letters:
HERE COME DOTS

SLOT MACHINES:
When you rearrange the letters:
CASH LOST IN ME

ANIMOSITY:
When you rearrange the letters:
IS NO AMITY

ELECTION RESULTS:
When you rearrange the letters:
LIES - LET'S RECOUNT

SNOOZE ALARMS:
When you rearrange the letters:
ALAS! NO MORE Z 'S

A DECIMAL POINT:
When you rearrange the letters:
IM A DOT IN PLACE

THE EARTHQUAKES:
When you rearrange the letters:
THAT QUEER SHAKE

ELEVEN PLUS TWO:
When you rearrange the letters:
TWELVE PLUS ONE

AND FOR THE GRAND FINALE:

MOTHER-IN-LAW:
When you rearrange the letters:
WOMAN HITLER

Yep! Someone with waaaaaaaaaaay
too much time on their hands!
Bet your friends haven't seen this one!!!

DON'T FORGET TO SHARE

Cute kids!...

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!

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.
*************************************************************

I was such a beautiful baby... So what the heck happened!

Auron playing at the mall...

Auron's 1st Birthday Party...

Washing off birthday cake in Mams' kitchen sink...

Auron making a funny face in the bathtub.

I don't know you... but Thanks!

Mothers of children with disabilities worthy of praise
By Lori Borgman Knight Ridder/Tribune News Service

Expectant mothers waiting for a newborn's arrival say they don't care what sex the baby is. They just want it to have ten fingers and ten toes.

Mothers lie.

Every mother wants so much more.

She wants aperfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebudlips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin. She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57, column two).

Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump andfire neurons by the billions. She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class.

Call it greed if you want, but a mother wants what a mother wants.

Some mothers get babies with something more.

Maybe you're one who got a baby with a condition you couldn't pronounce, a spine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palette that didn't close. The doctor's words took your breath away. It was just like the time at recess in the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it knocked the wind right out of you.

Some of you left the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, took him in for a routine visit, or scheduled her for a well check, and crashed head first into a brick wall as you bore the brunt of devastating news.

It didn't seem possible. That didn't run in your family. Could this really be happening in your lifetime?

I watch the Olympics for the sheer thrill of seeing finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing, it's a wondrous thing. They appear as specimens without flaw -- muscles, strength and coordination all working in perfect harmony. Then an athlete walks over to a tote bag, rustles through the contents and pulls out an inhaler.There's no such thing as a perfect body. Everybody will bear something at some time or another. Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, therapy or surgery. Mothers of children with disabilities live the limitations with them.

Frankly, I don't know how you do it. Sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that kid in and out of the wheelchair twenty times a day. How you monitor tests, track medications, and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear. I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, the well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionally questioned if God is on strike. I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy columns like this one -- saluting you,painting you as hero and saint, when you know you're ordinary.

You snap, you bark, you bite. You didn't volunteer for this, you didn't jump up and down inthe motherhood line yelling, "Choose me, God. Choose me! I've got what it takes."You're a woman who doesn't have time to step back and put things in perspective, so let me do it for you.

From where I sit, you're way ahead of the pack. You've developed the strength of a draft horse while holding onto the delicacy of a daffodil. You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July, counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule.

You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a woman I pass at church and my sister-in-law. You're a wonder.

Thank you so much Lori! I needed that more than you could know right now. Today is my twenty sixth birthday, and I have spent all day wondering why the ONE DAY A YEAR that is supposed to be special for ME always seems to leave me feeling so crappy. I think I'm in one of those "God on strike" times. I spend so much time taking care of the kids with very little acknowledgment because everyone is just used to this being my life, that there are days like today that I need to feel special, and don't. I feel very plain and ordinary, and even though I know that they mean well (and are probably right), I get very tired of people telling me that God is in control of everything when I feel like he has forgotten about me. I know the feeling will pass, it always does, but its nice to have it acknowledged as a legitimate feeling. (even if it was in a column written by someone who doesn't even know me!) Thanks Again!

I am a terrible mother...

Or so my son seems to think. He is currently screaming his little head off in his baby bed in his room, because he kept pinching and hitting me to stay awake. I have decided it is time for him to learn to calm himself down without my intervention. He throws a major fit any time he doesn't get his way, and I just know if I don't nip it in the bud right now I will have hell to pay when he hits toddlerhood. I am so in awe at the difference between Auron and Samantha. I mean besides the obvious boy/girl stuff. Samantha never wanted to be held when she was this age. She wanted to be in the middle of the floor where she could see everything. Auron on the other hand, get seriously pissed the second his feet or butt touch anything other than Mommy or Daddy. Unless of course he is chasing Grace (our cat). He is getting faster and she is getting more and more spooked from running away from him. I don't worry too much about Grace biting the kids, but I worry more everyday for Grace because BOTH kids bodyslam/bite/pull her tail/chase her.... Well, you get the point. Quite frankly Grace was psychotic enough before the kids got so mobile, and now she is taking her frustration out on my living room furniture, and it was shabby before her cuisanart trip. Now its just plain trashy looking. I think declawing might be in order. I just cant decide if I should declaw the cat or the kids. HMMMM.... He stopped crying for almost a full five minutes before he restarted, maybe he is winding down and will pass out soon. Samantha gave herself a bloody lip today. She has been chewing her fingers so bad we have kept socks on her hands for the last week to try and reduce the trauma to her already chapped hands, but her poor lips are so dry and chapped now. She rubs the chapstick off chewing on the socks on her hands. I'm afraid its a lose lose situation. I just hope she doesn't end up with gangrene. That would be more than we could handle I think. Then again, we have already handled nine operations. We have almost lost Sam five times, four from seizures and one from infection, and we almost lost Auron once when he was two weeks old. So I guess we can handle just about anything life throws at us. Well the baby fell asleep finally. And the kicker... He is sleeping sitting straight up in his bed. LOL! How funny is that?! Only one of my kids could pull that off at eight months old.... Well, off to bed now... I hope...