It's Official

I am now truly the only family member who does not like Halloween. The Baby aka The Bride had a blast tonight.

Speech delayed? She certainly yells, "trick or treat" clearly enough. Of course several pounds of candy is the perfect speech incentive. And those sweet tarts? I will admit they are like crack. Can't. Stop. Eating. Them. Wheee! Feeling good!


Yes, I know Mommy is funny but keep handing me those sweet tarts, honey.

Let mommy check them for you before she eats them.

Oh and check out your sister, The Genius. I think she just swiped all of your Almond Joys.

Isn't Halloween fun?

Wait.

Did I just admit that?

I Hate Halloween

Photo from Google Images

I'm a Christmas person. I think I've mentioned that before along with the fact that I love roses. I suppose if I lived in a climate where we had a change of seasons I'd love to go all out and decorate with fall leaves and pumpkins and definitely gourds and get caught up in the autumnal red, brown and orangy theme.

But I don't live in a climate where there are any seasons. Our change of seasons are: Heatstroke Hot, Hot Flash Hot, Just Plain Hot and Unseasonably Warm. The leaves may fall off of a Frangipani or two but that's about the only thing that falls around here besides my drunken neighbor or me during a Meniere's attack.

The Genius LOVES Halloween. She generally takes charge of the children and enjoys every moment of the experience while I cower inside hiding from the trick or treaters. I start buying candy in July as I cannot afford it right before October 31st since our neighborhood is insane. My neighbor, Brasilia, counts the trick or treaters every year. One year we had over 400. Yes. That's a lot of candy.

This year I've purchased 5 bags of candy ahead of time and have eaten 5 bags of candy. It is Halloween day and I am candy-less. I'm in big trouble, people. And ten pounds heavier.

And then there's the costumes. whine

The Teenager is easy. Every year for 17 years you can count of her wanting to be something with wings. Ladybug. Butterfly. Fairy. Fairy Princess. Fairy Princess Butterfly. This year she's an Angel. Wings are easy to find. This is a good thing.

The baby could care less. This year I'm bobbie-pinning a veil and a flower to her head and calling her a Bride.

The Boy. Ah, The Boy. Remember when he wanted to be Jack Bauer? Yeah, well that has changed at least 10 times since that idea formulated in his ADHD brain circuitry. The Boy usually changes his mind 10 to 15 times and ends up wearing the same costume as last year which in this case is a policeman.

I love the idea of him pretending to be a law enforcement officer. Such a good role model to emulate! It does have it's draw backs, however. Like this which I discovered last evening:


And him asking me in a very loud voice in the grocery store, "Mom. when we get home will you handcuff me?" cringe

Some people like my childhood friend, Haggie Maggie like the spooky aspect of Halloween. Here she is below in one of her many scary persona's. She is the local hag at a big seafood festival in town every October. Note the Spanish Moss which I am always compelled to point out is neither Spanish or a moss.

Boo!

You want scary? Forget Halloween. My house is scary 365 days a year. Save the haunted house ticket price and come to my house for a day. I'll give you scary. How about you wake up with this crawling on your face?

Or this:

Or this:

Or this:

And even this can be scary. Especially when his proboscis is stuck up your nostril.

You know i could go on and on with the photos but I have to go buy candy now. As I'm typing this, however, as if on cue, The Boy comes inside wild with excitement, "Look what I found in the gazebo! Look!" I look ...and look...but I can't see anything. Until it hops three feet up into the air off of The Boy's head scaring the pee right out of me:

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Happy Halloween, everyone!

"Walking On Ice Cubes"

Photo from Google Images

It's Saturday morning and The Boy wakes up in one of his moods. He'll spend the day in his room, eventually coming around. Mom imposed Lego therapy works every time since self calming skills are limited in the world of the hyperactive.

The teenager walks past mumbling under her breath. "This family! I'm tired of walking on ice cubes like a bunch of penguins."

Me, too. I plan on escaping through Christmas craft projects today:

Photo from Google Images

A few weeks ago when The Teenager and I escaped for a little Weigh n' Pay therapy she picked out a book (she always picks out a book), a Care Bear and a cute blue ice cube tray. Yes, a blue ice cube tray. With that in mind I found this on the internet:

Do you think she'll like this for Christmas?

Will We Be Hosting Richard This Week?

Or will we dodge the bullet again?
It's been 6 years since Charley and Frances.
Why do I think we are due?

And this can't be good...a resting hurricane?
I don't like the sounds of a resting hurricane.
Call me suspicious.

The Baby's First Trip To The Dentist

Don't even think about touching me with that buzzing thing

I have a strong stomach. Nothing phases me. Gore. Barf. Poop. Purulent drainage. Swamp ooze. You get the picture.

But teeth. As stated in blogs posts past teeth have always made me queasy. When The Genius and The Artist were little and had wobbly baby teeth that were on their way out I always took them to my Alabama friend's hubby and he pulled them while I hid. About the only thing I could handle was plunking the quarter under the pillow for the Tooth Fairy after the deed was done.

Two things happened:

1.) On my second trip to Haiti I met the dentist who informed me in no uncertain terms if I was coming back to Haiti then I needed to learn how to pull teeth or I didn't need to come back to Haiti. Oh, he was a tough one. Somewhere in a magazine is a photo of me as a younger nurse holding up someones 12 year molar with the victim patient gazing lovingly at me for putting him out of his misery. Dental care is a blessing in Haiti. And if your pseudo-dentist blacks out face down in the sand after pulling your 12 year molar, "no problem."

2.) I adopted special needs children.

I came to the decision early on that oral defensiveness, aspiration, rumination, regurgitation, biting, fighting, crying, clenching, sneezing, seizing or wheezing would not deter me from brushing and flossing these children's teeth from the moment they erupted a minimum of twice a day. I think I mentioned before that an anesthesiologist who was marveling over the teenagers teeth asked how in he world I was ever able to take such good care of her teeth considering her disability and severe oral defensiveness? I informed him, "It's called a head-lock." Too gruff? Too bad. I mean look at these choppers...

Today, since The Baby turned three recently we traipsed off the the Big City Dentist who also treats The Boy. They graciously accepted his baby sibling.

YOU did this to me!

The Baby hated everything about the visit and fought manically. Here she is above blaming me for traumatizing her for life.

When the Big City Dentist examined The Baby's teeth after her cleaning and x-rays he had one word...

"Beautiful!"

She graciously accepted her new toothbrush. I was surprised that it did not go sailing across the room.

The Boy was cooperative as always and also had no cavities. He will be admitted the week after Christmas to the Big City hospital again for more extractions, though. Four adult teeth must go to make room. While he is under the dentist said, "I'm just going to pull those baby teeth as well." He had my blessing on the spot. After all, the baby teeth simply do not come out on their own. A common issue with many children who have Osteogenesis Imperfecta. The Baby who has the Lauren Hutton gap to die for has the exact opposite issue.

The Big City dentist summed the two totally opposite mouths up nicely when he stated, "It's too bad we couldn't do a space transplant from The Baby to The Boy." Too bad, indeed.

After The Baby barfed the fluoride up in my hand we went to Denny's for a Grand Slam celebration and then...of course...thrifting... where we saw this horror:

I mean, seriously. I almost bought this poor little rooster just to rescue him from these wilty, discolored, alien lemons.

And then there was this charming reminder:

Yeah. So how is that working for you? Cause I'm pretty sure it's not working for me.

Princess In The Pumpkin Patch

Just when you think your Pumpkin Patch days are over after 40 years of motherhood... It coincides with thinking your Chuck E Cheese days are over.Irregardless, a good time was had by all at The Baby's pre-k pumpkin patch field trip. And it was only 84 degrees out! Much cooler than patches past.

Would you look at this one!

It's bumpy!

I picked out baby pumpkins for my sister and brother all by myself.

"Carnies built this country, the carnival part of it anyway" Homer Simpson

In my ongoing quest to achieve a Shaker like minimalism Haggie Maggie and I got our "stuff" together and had a yard sale on Friday and Saturday. I told Haggie I didn't have any "stuff" left but as it turns out after cleaning closets, I actually had $91.00 worth of "stuff" left. Of course I will NEVER achieve Shaker-like minimalism because I have 3 children, a thrifting addiction and did I mention I love roses?

We used a good portion of the garage sale earnings to attend The Boy's yearly school carnival last evening. Rides were hideously over-priced and fabulous fun. The Genius accompanied us and we actually made a good team. She can't go on anything that bumps due to extensive, multiple jaw surgeries and I can't go on any thing that swirls and twirls unless I want to provoke the Meniere's attack from hell. Perfect.

So The Genius and The Teenager swirled and twirled...

Click on photo to enlarge (these instructions are for the benefit of my for my cyber impaired friends.)

While The Boy and I bumped...

Click on photo to enlarge the terror on my face.

Fortunately, The Boy did not meet many of the minimum height requirements for the scary rides as he wanted to go on ALL of them. For once, I wasn't the mean "party pooper." Blame it on the carnies and get over it dude. Not my problem.

It's a tough, painful mom-call on things like The Fun Slide that The Boy did meet the height requirement for. Having OI means you can break bones very easily. Having OI means you can break your femur by simply walking across the kitchen floor or falling over a 6 inch wave at the beach. Your humerus can be snapped in two by a blood pressure cuff. Yes, we've experienced all of the above.

The irony of OI, of course, is that you can also fall down an entire flight of stairs on Christmas morning, leap to your feet, yell, "Ta da! I meant to do that!" and break absolutely nothing.

The way-too-many-stories-high Fun Slide was so high I spent a good deal of the time photographing the wrong boy in the red shirt. As a matter of fact in doing some carnie research if this is the 90 foot 3 lane Fun Slide model that would make it about 9 stories high. I did manage to get one of The Boy sliding down on the left:

By the end of the evening the shorter family members were all experiencing maximum over-stimulation and a DSM-IV sugar psychosis.


The Genius, who wisely, has not had children of her own, asked me how I get through the day without Xanax. Simple. I do not have a prescription for Xanax.

In other words...a great time was had by all.

Put The Chicken Leg Down And Back Away Slowly

The Teenager and The Boy discuss today's events

The Teenager just walks past me and announces, "I'm taking a bath. I smell like a mule."

Perhaps it was from all of the crime fighting she has been doing lately?

Last week The Teenager and Iris/Virus went to get a manicure and afterward stopped by Iris's house only to find a truck backed into her driveway and two men helping themselves to her belongings. When she confronted them the older man informed her, "Carl sent us."

"Wrong answer," replied Virus. She dialed 911.

In the meantime The Teenager jumps out of the car and confronts the lookout. "Put that stuff back! That's not your stuff! "Iris said she was flapping around doing her "chicken dance" while confronting the robber. Apparently, she scared the bejeebies out of the lookout who began screaming for his partner, "Get in the truck! Get in the truck!" Off they sped. There was no tag on the truck. When I picked The Teenager up forensics was there dusting for prints and photographing tire tread. Very impressive.

Iris phoned me later that night to see if The Teenager was ok fearing she'd be traumatized for life. Once when they were out to lunch and left their table briefly to use the restroom a homeless couple stole the teenagers chicken right off her plate. When they returned from the restroom The Teenager was chicken-less. That was two years ago. It was not a pretty scene. The teenager is STILL ticked off.

Don't mess with The Teenagers food, honey. Food is serious business. Especially her fried chicken.

Regarding the robbery however, not a word from The Teenager. Iris commented before we hung up that if anyone could find the truck and the men it would be the teenager. Yep. I know that's right.

Today...one week later...Iris and The Teenager were coming out of the dollar store and who flies past them? Yes, this could only happen in our family.

"Iris! There's the truck!

Iris followed the truck while on the phone with the police and in minutes the guys were surrounded by 3 squad cars. One of the officers put Iris and The Teenager in the back of a squad car and drove past the two men who were handcuffed on the side of the road. They were able to positively identify them.

I still haven't heard many details about today's events from the Teenager but she did mention the chicken event of two years ago. It's fascinating what is deemed important in her world and what is not important in her world. Robbery? A ride in a real squad car? Whatever. But apparently something happened today involving a wind shield wiper and a Wal-Mart. I gave up my feeble attempt to decipher what that was all about when she summed it up, "but it all worked out and Wal-mart is a crap-hole anyway."

Crap-hole? nice

Both of the robbers are tucked safely in to their county jail bunks tonight in their nice orange pj's. They are career thieves with a long list of parole violations and may not be cruising around in their truck again for quite some time.

They have no idea how fortunate they were that there was no fried chicken involved in their violation of Iris's rights.

Christmas Card Field Trip

I told y'all I'm in the Christmas mood. Big time.

Fa La La La La...

Today we went to the local park to shoot photos for our Christmas card. It takes months to get the card together. And I've finally learned to shoot one family member at a time. That way I preserve my sanity and I'm not a shrieking lunatic in public stressed at the photo shoot. I praise the Lord daily for the miracle of digital photography.

Today was The Teenager's turn only because we got the hair together which is a monumental achievement in itself. She picked out what she wore and added the necklace she made at her brothers infusion. I said no to the Gravedigger ball cap that she got at Monster Jam, though. I know. I'm such a party pooper.

The Teenager was 17 months old when she joined the family.

Now she's 17 years old.

Where did my baby go?

When you think of her original prognosis and you look at her now you have to agree with the big city university geneticist. She certainly "does look better in person than she does on paper."

That's one way of putting it, honey.

I prefer "miracle."

So which photo do you like?

Shining Like The Sun

Blinded by the light

The Genius is quite the coupon-er and sweeps-staker. Are those actual words?

She gave us some higher quality toothpaste that we are not used to in this family as it's generally whatever tube I can grab for 88 cents.

The teenager comes downstairs today. "This toothpaste is making my teeth shine like the sun. Now I can live a healthy life."

Topped only by her tattling on my 90 year old father yesterday. "Come quick! Come quick! Popi is getting into big mischief."

I was afraid to look.

"Confusion" Day Two

The Boy's best buddy from school, The Angel, was at "confusion" today for his I.V therapy for an unrelated condition. What do you do when you have your best buddy right next to you all day? Why, play baseball. What else?


The ball was table paper wadded up and taped. The "bat was the non-iv'd arm. A great time was had by all.

Especially the nurses.

It's "Confusion " Time

For ten years now we've been going to the local children's hospital for Pamidronate I.V. infusions for The Boy's bone disorder. When he was little The Boy referred to them as "confusions."

We began at two months of age every month for 3 days in a row. Then every two months for 3 days in a row. Then every 3 months for 3 days in a row. Now we are at every 4 months for 3 days in a row. In the beginning it took approximately 8 hours to run the fluid as The Boy was so tiny and the hourly amount had to be so small. Because of his kidneys and the nephrocalcinosis he had as an infant he also required a lot of extra fluid also slowing down the process. Now days we are able to finish is about 5 hours. Things are looking up.

The Boy was one of the first children in the USA to begin the treatments that originated at Montreal Shriner's about 11 years ago. We were very fortunate to have a nephrologist in our city who was up on the latest research all those years ago as there are still kids all over the USA struggling to find knowledgeable physicians to this day. It is the only treatment that has improved the quality of the very difficult life that children have with Osteogenesies Imperfecta have. It helps strengthen bone, reduce fractures and most importantly relieve the chronic, debilitating bone pain that accompanies this disorder. Terrible bone pain.

For years we were crammed into a tiny room with one or two other patients. Recently we have been blessed with a brand new outpatient infusion center which is state of the art. The Boy was busy playing PlayStation today while I was reading my favorite blogs on the hospital computer. Each bay has one complete with Internet.

I also finally got to see the new Alice In Wonderland movie. Yes, movies too! I'm not a huge Tim Burton fan but curiouser and curiouser I ended up loving the movie.

Being able to actually sit still for an extended period of time and tumble down the rabbit hole with Alice was sheer bliss.

Photo from Disney's Alice In Wonderland

Right now I'm off to flush The Boy's I.V. and then I'm in bed! No doubt I'll be dreaming about cakes and rabbits and hookah smoking caterpillars. And other such confusions.