I am pressed for time right now, but want to let everyone know we are doing fine. So much has passed in this last couple of months and I look forward to be sharing with everyone; both the good and the bad.
Tomorrow begins the trial of the state against the defendent in Ladybugs kidnapping. It is estimated it will last through the middle to end of next week. Ladybug will testify tomorrow.
Biper started attending our state school for the blind and has had a huge loss in vision. But currently is home, as his allergies and asthma had gone out of control.
Maxter returned to our public high school this year and is doing so quite successfully. He will begin as manager of the soccer team when the season starts in November. He is also preparing to start a job part-time. What a confidence booster this was for him to hear someone say, "yes we'll hire you."
Din a Din, blessed me with the most adorable grandson on the 4th of September. He already calls grandma daily to "coo" for a bit!
Our thoughts and prayers are with all of you always.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Bug Talk
When Bug was a baby, he was affectionately given this curious nickname. And as he grows, I wonder: does this name fit him or is he fitting the name?
As a baby, and only a mother would say this with love, Bug.....well.... he looked like a bug. Not just your average, bug in the yard. He looked like Bug in the movie A Bug's Life. The movie character was animated and cute. Our Bug was animated and cute.
As Bug grew, he lost that "Bug" look; but of course, the name remained.
When Bug began to talk, saying "mom...mom.....mom....mom...." all day long; Bug once again fit. As that pesky mosquito in your ear, he never seemed to stop.
Bug also began to move. Not cute toddler steps, he would be late in accomplishing those. But he crawled. Not your typical hands and knees....more of a......well.... a Bug crawl.
And so he crawled. Into things. On top of things. Under things. Rarely a straight path. Quickly, like scurrying bugs.
Time passed. Bug grew. And as he has grown, how often I have said silently, "yes, Bug is a perfect name for you my child."
Recently Bug has began to take on a new appearance, a new character. After all, he's 4. A big boy. A preschooler. I try to refrain from using "Bug", working hard on teaching him his proper name.
Until today. For an hour (honestly, not a second less), we played, "guess this sound". Haven't played? Oh you must!
"Mom, what makes this sound"? "MOOOOOO". Mom, "a cow." "Good job mom".
"Mom, what makes this sound"? "WOOHOOWOOHOO." Mom, "an ambulance." With a roll of the eyes and a bit of disgust, "No Mom, a police."
"Mom, what makes this sound?" "WOHOWOHO." Mom, "a police." The eyes roll again and the frustration builds, "NO Mom, an ambulance."
(I finally got it right after 5 tries!)
And so the game goes. He does dinosaurs, horses, cats, firetrucks(not to be confused with an ambulance or the police-big no no) and then....
"Mom. What makes this sound? ROOOOAAAARRRR." Mom, feeling this game is dragging out a bit long, "A lion." Bug, "NOOOOOOOOO, a puma." Guess I missed that episode of Go Diego Go.
And this is quickly followed by the tiger, the lion, the jaguar, the monster. Mom makes lots of mistakes, and her guesses become; in Bugs mind, completely ridiculous.
I suggest a new game, mommy watches Bug ride his bike. And he agrees!
As he rides, he begins again, "Mom, what makes this sound?"
"Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom."
Thats easy, "Bug!", I exclaim, excited with my response.
A sheepish grin.
"Yes mom, good job."
Whether he fits his name or his name fits him. He'll always be my Bug.
As a baby, and only a mother would say this with love, Bug.....well.... he looked like a bug. Not just your average, bug in the yard. He looked like Bug in the movie A Bug's Life. The movie character was animated and cute. Our Bug was animated and cute.
As Bug grew, he lost that "Bug" look; but of course, the name remained.
When Bug began to talk, saying "mom...mom.....mom....mom...." all day long; Bug once again fit. As that pesky mosquito in your ear, he never seemed to stop.
Bug also began to move. Not cute toddler steps, he would be late in accomplishing those. But he crawled. Not your typical hands and knees....more of a......well.... a Bug crawl.
And so he crawled. Into things. On top of things. Under things. Rarely a straight path. Quickly, like scurrying bugs.
Time passed. Bug grew. And as he has grown, how often I have said silently, "yes, Bug is a perfect name for you my child."
Recently Bug has began to take on a new appearance, a new character. After all, he's 4. A big boy. A preschooler. I try to refrain from using "Bug", working hard on teaching him his proper name.
Until today. For an hour (honestly, not a second less), we played, "guess this sound". Haven't played? Oh you must!
"Mom, what makes this sound"? "MOOOOOO". Mom, "a cow." "Good job mom".
"Mom, what makes this sound"? "WOOHOOWOOHOO." Mom, "an ambulance." With a roll of the eyes and a bit of disgust, "No Mom, a police."
"Mom, what makes this sound?" "WOHOWOHO." Mom, "a police." The eyes roll again and the frustration builds, "NO Mom, an ambulance."
(I finally got it right after 5 tries!)
And so the game goes. He does dinosaurs, horses, cats, firetrucks(not to be confused with an ambulance or the police-big no no) and then....
"Mom. What makes this sound? ROOOOAAAARRRR." Mom, feeling this game is dragging out a bit long, "A lion." Bug, "NOOOOOOOOO, a puma." Guess I missed that episode of Go Diego Go.
And this is quickly followed by the tiger, the lion, the jaguar, the monster. Mom makes lots of mistakes, and her guesses become; in Bugs mind, completely ridiculous.
I suggest a new game, mommy watches Bug ride his bike. And he agrees!
As he rides, he begins again, "Mom, what makes this sound?"
"Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom."
Thats easy, "Bug!", I exclaim, excited with my response.
A sheepish grin.
"Yes mom, good job."
Whether he fits his name or his name fits him. He'll always be my Bug.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Thankful for the Light Fearful of the Dark
Deep in darkness, searching for a way out; and then I stopped. I sat. Alone and scared. In despair.
I said, "I quit. "
And as if waking from a long nap, my eyes were opened and I saw it.
Ladybug began talking; of anger. Then of this strange feeling; confidence. But why does she feel this way? After all, she has to go through a trial. Shouldn't this be her toughest time? With the help of counseling, facing the darkness of denial, working through the maze of confusion. Looking up. She, not as a follower; but standing tall, ready to lead she begins to walk on.
Maxter, young boy to man. A path physically darkening quickly, yet well lit with that special light. Walking not away from me, but walking on; his own path, his own feet.
Yes, he shines his light upon us. And I give thanks. For he is leading me from the darkness. Not through given strength to walk on; but lighting the path. Glimmers of hope, of happiness.
The bent over woman, struggling to climb this hill, steeper than any other. Pushing her cart of treasures, her children; as they slip, they tumble, the slide down and fall. Pulling her cart of treasures, hoping to stay on the path. Knowing a straight fall down on either side and she will lose them. As they teeter on the edge; her arms grow weak, her legs tremble. Drained.
And she opens her eyes to the light. She watches as her treasures begin the ascent. Trodding quickly, almost running with the light. She smiles. Such lovely light. And she gathers herself to climb. Tired, but not weary. She moves slowly. Cautiously. Deep within she is wondering; which pebble will cause the next great fall.
Pausing occasionally. Fearful the light will go dark once again. Wanting to soak in it's warmth and beauty. But dare she? Working to stand tall. Her cart no longer heavy.
Surrounded by her treasures, they walk together. Arm in arm and hand in hand. At least for now.
She startles at the familiar, yet unfamiliar sounds. Could it be? Yes.
They found the laughter once again.
I said, "I quit. "
And as if waking from a long nap, my eyes were opened and I saw it.
Ladybug began talking; of anger. Then of this strange feeling; confidence. But why does she feel this way? After all, she has to go through a trial. Shouldn't this be her toughest time? With the help of counseling, facing the darkness of denial, working through the maze of confusion. Looking up. She, not as a follower; but standing tall, ready to lead she begins to walk on.
Maxter, young boy to man. A path physically darkening quickly, yet well lit with that special light. Walking not away from me, but walking on; his own path, his own feet.
Yes, he shines his light upon us. And I give thanks. For he is leading me from the darkness. Not through given strength to walk on; but lighting the path. Glimmers of hope, of happiness.
The bent over woman, struggling to climb this hill, steeper than any other. Pushing her cart of treasures, her children; as they slip, they tumble, the slide down and fall. Pulling her cart of treasures, hoping to stay on the path. Knowing a straight fall down on either side and she will lose them. As they teeter on the edge; her arms grow weak, her legs tremble. Drained.
And she opens her eyes to the light. She watches as her treasures begin the ascent. Trodding quickly, almost running with the light. She smiles. Such lovely light. And she gathers herself to climb. Tired, but not weary. She moves slowly. Cautiously. Deep within she is wondering; which pebble will cause the next great fall.
Pausing occasionally. Fearful the light will go dark once again. Wanting to soak in it's warmth and beauty. But dare she? Working to stand tall. Her cart no longer heavy.
Surrounded by her treasures, they walk together. Arm in arm and hand in hand. At least for now.
She startles at the familiar, yet unfamiliar sounds. Could it be? Yes.
They found the laughter once again.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Openly Honest
In the past weeks, I have had so many brutally strong emotions churning within me. Why Lord did you bless me with these children? Was it because you created me with wide shoulders, to carry all their burdens? Was it because you made my backbone straight, to show them how to stand tall through whatever storms may pass? Was it because you gave me extra courage, to teach them to keep their heads high towards the heavens? Was it because you gave me strong hands, so that I may hold theirs tightly? Was it because you placed within me patience and a caring heart, so that they may learn of love and understanding?
I have been worn down; mentally and emotionally. Watching my daughter teeter on the edge of danger. Knowing her teenage mind cannot calculate or understand the risks she is walking towards. Doing all I can to protect her from herself; knowing this may not be enough. Searching her room, the computer, the phones. Keeping records of what I find. For one day she may again disappear and with this we can start to search. Learning she is a "cutter". Not understanding. Knowing this started during the time that man was in her life.
I have been hurt. Struggling to keep a son from making committments he is not yet prepared for. Battling between letting him go and learn on his own, as he wishes and keeping him where he needs to be. I have had so many moments of counting the years, the months, the days and the hours until he turns 18. Then I see him, that little boy, scared and angry and want to hold him; letting him know I'm here for him. He doesn't want his mother anymore, but then he needs her. He will say the only one who doesn't understand him is his mother. Yet she is truly the only one who understands him. He wants complete control of his life. I will not allow him to have that when it is at the expense of others. He asked for counseling. Now he doesn't want it. It is his mother's fault he is in counseling. A brilliant young man academically. An athletic young man. A young man of inspiring talents. Yet the shadows within him continue to haunt him.
I have been harboring guilt. Why didn't I push for more answers when she started the panic attacks? Why when I had gut feelings something wasn't right, did I tell myself I was overreacting, there was nothing to worry about? What had I done or not done, that stopped her from coming to me? I watched so closely for drug, for alcohol; and was blown over by a danger I never imagined. Why did I keep myself so in the dark? Have I done too much for them, that they have become weak to the suggestions of others? Have I done too little for them, that they go to others for more? Feeling I need to apologize. Not knowing to who.
Lord, I again ask, "why did you bless me with these children?" "Do you really believe I can do this job?"
I'm not sure I can.
NOTE: We learned today, our case will be going to trial in October.
I have been worn down; mentally and emotionally. Watching my daughter teeter on the edge of danger. Knowing her teenage mind cannot calculate or understand the risks she is walking towards. Doing all I can to protect her from herself; knowing this may not be enough. Searching her room, the computer, the phones. Keeping records of what I find. For one day she may again disappear and with this we can start to search. Learning she is a "cutter". Not understanding. Knowing this started during the time that man was in her life.
I have been hurt. Struggling to keep a son from making committments he is not yet prepared for. Battling between letting him go and learn on his own, as he wishes and keeping him where he needs to be. I have had so many moments of counting the years, the months, the days and the hours until he turns 18. Then I see him, that little boy, scared and angry and want to hold him; letting him know I'm here for him. He doesn't want his mother anymore, but then he needs her. He will say the only one who doesn't understand him is his mother. Yet she is truly the only one who understands him. He wants complete control of his life. I will not allow him to have that when it is at the expense of others. He asked for counseling. Now he doesn't want it. It is his mother's fault he is in counseling. A brilliant young man academically. An athletic young man. A young man of inspiring talents. Yet the shadows within him continue to haunt him.
I have been harboring guilt. Why didn't I push for more answers when she started the panic attacks? Why when I had gut feelings something wasn't right, did I tell myself I was overreacting, there was nothing to worry about? What had I done or not done, that stopped her from coming to me? I watched so closely for drug, for alcohol; and was blown over by a danger I never imagined. Why did I keep myself so in the dark? Have I done too much for them, that they have become weak to the suggestions of others? Have I done too little for them, that they go to others for more? Feeling I need to apologize. Not knowing to who.
Lord, I again ask, "why did you bless me with these children?" "Do you really believe I can do this job?"
I'm not sure I can.
NOTE: We learned today, our case will be going to trial in October.
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