Saturday, May 29, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Woke up this morning and her ears are full of puss and brown, thick, sticky gunk! She is in pain and viola, another ear infection. Here goes ear surgery #5....
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
...if any of you that don't know what it's like to have a child with special needs and would like to know...or you do and want to laugh (and cry....) please read...this is sooo true!
by Christina Shaver
Regular moms tell their kids to wake up and get dressed in the morning. And they do it.
Special needs moms put on battle gear to get our kids ready to start their day.
Regular moms ask their kids if they brushed their teeth.
Special needs moms prompt, “Brush your top teeth. Brush your bottom teeth. Did you get the sides? Open your mouth. My God, give me that toothbrush! You’ve left half your meal in there!”
Regular moms wave goodbye as their kids run off to catch the school bus.
Special needs moms get awesome door-to-door bus service for their child.
Regular moms know the names of all their friends.
Special needs moms know most of their friends by their username.
Regular moms judge other moms when kids have tantrums in stores.
Special needs moms say to themselves, “Hmm, I wonder which disability he has?”
Regular moms complain about driving their kids to sports and recreation classes.
Special needs mom grin and bear the weekly trips to tutors, doctors and therapists.
Regular moms’ kids have a teacher.
Special needs moms’ kids have a team.
Regular moms talk about accomplishments.
Special needs moms talk about skills, as in play skills, conversation skills, life skills, social skills and vocational skills.
Regular moms relax with their kids during the summer.
Special needs moms start their second job as home teachers, therapists and skills coaches.
Regular moms think accommodations refer to hotels.
Special needs moms have memorized the top 20 accommodations for their child.
Regular moms hope their child finds a good career.
Special needs moms are hopeful someone gives our child the chance to work.
Regular moms soak in the tub when they want to unwind.
Special needs moms consider a bathroom break a luxury.
Regular moms enjoy reading the latest best selling book.
Special needs moms should receive an honorary degree for all the disability books they've read.
Regular moms go out for dinner and a movie with their husbands every month.
Special needs moms have a date night with their husbands every…wait, what decade is this?
Regular moms complain their kids won’t eat their vegetables.
Special needs moms are so desperate we consider chicken nuggets to be a legitimate meat product and throw in ketchup as a vegetable.
Regular moms’ kids go to play groups.
Special needs moms’ kids go to therapy groups.
Regular moms meet for a ladies night out.
Special needs moms get together at support groups and forums.
Regular moms have medical claim forms that fit in one file folder.
Special needs moms will tell you a small forest was cut down so we could receive our claims.
Regular moms think OT means overtime.
Special needs moms know more acronyms than a NASA engineer.
Regular moms have time to cook a full dinner every evening.
Special needs moms will never admit how many times we've picked up fast food.
Regular moms complain their husbands sit on the couch and watch TV while they do all the work.
Special needs moms...well how about that? Some things do stay the same!
(Just kidding dads, we know you do your part!)
Regular moms worry about fat and sugar in their children's diets.
Special needs moms worry about gluten, casein, oxalates and have a working knowledge of (FDA approved) food additives.
Regular dads spend a week teaching their sons to pee in the potty and maybe a month teaching them to poop.
Special needs dads keep trying, sometimes for several years.
Regular moms look forward to an "empty nest."
Special needs moms wonder who will take care of their kids after they're gone.
Regular moms have the numbers of their friends programmed into their cell phones.
Special needs moms have the numbers of their child's specialists programmed in theirs.
Regular moms’ kids are mildly afraid of the dentist.
Special needs moms’ kids are so terrified, 9 out of 10 dentists will ask them not to come back.
Regular moms get annoyed when their child won't stop talking.
Special needs moms would do anything to hear their child utter one word, 'Mom'.
Regular moms cringe when their daughter misses a step or gets confused during a ballet recital.
Special needs moms cry a special kind of tears as their child painstakingly holds up one foot while leaning on a chair and says, “Look, mommy, I’m doing ballet.”
Regular moms rely on children's vitamins and common cold medicines to meet their kids health needs.
Special needs moms are busy being medical detectives using medicines and supplements a pharmacist can barely pronounce.
Regular moms budget for new clothes, a new size every season for their children.
Special needs moms know the anguish of three winters in the same size.
Regular moms drive their kids to the pediatrician for their annual exam.
Special needs moms arrange for an ambulance to transport their child to their annual 12 specialist event that lasts a week at children's hospital.
Regular mums complain their kids are under their feet during the summer holidays.
Special needs mums hope to find a school where their child can stay for longer than a term (semester) before being thrown out.
Regular moms send Christmas cards to their friends and family.
Special needs moms send Christmas cards to friends, family AND the medical team and specialists that helps take care of their child.
Regular moms show up to their kids' activities.
Special needs moms get to work prompting and herding their child in each activity.
Regular moms rarely get calls from their child's teacher.
Special needs moms expect it's a call from the school everytime the phone rings.
Regular moms worry about their child being picked on in school.
Special needs moms know their child will be discriminated against their entire lives.
Regular moms are on a first name basis with other moms in their neighborhood.
Special needs moms are on a first name basis with their child's pediatrician, neurosurgeon, gastroenterologist and other specialists.
Regular moms bring their kids to the doctor without any advance preparation.
Special needs moms have prepped their child all week with books and practice getting a shot. They come in armed with favorite CDs and children’s books and it’s still a traumatic experience for both child and mom.
Regular moms forward funny mom e-mails to each other.
Special needs moms can only send this list to other special needs moms--regular moms would be offended if we suggest they don't understand what we deal with everyday.
Regular moms occasionally worry about one or two allergies.
Special needs moms have memorized the top 75 allergens, preservatives, chemical additives and toxins.
Regular moms hunt for the best clothes bargains and trendy styles.
Special needs moms hunt for that one manufacturer who makes clothes that fit our child's fine motor or sensory needs.
Regular moms' stress levels raise from a 3 to a 10 if their child needs stitches or tubes in their ears.
Special needs moms' daily stress levels are already at an 8 so stitches or tubes in ears can actually be a step down from the day to day stresses.
Regular moms look forward to their children going off to college.
Special needs moms do not look forward to deciding whether or not to put their children in state run homes they become adults.
Regular moms know their child will eventually pick up reading in their own way.
Special needs moms must tackle reading skills with a sense of urgency and with all the research resources they can muster.
Regular moms are asked to chaperone for field trips.
Special needs moms are required to be there just so their child can go on the field trip.
Regular moms put their children to bed and get a good night's sleep.
Special needs moms monitor CPAP machines and masks, Apnea monitors, suction tracheotomy tubes, oxygen tanks, reset pulse oximeter alarms, and feed their children through feeding tubes through the night.
Regular moms try to get their child toilet trained by preschool.
Special needs moms try to get their child toilet trained by high school.
Regular moms take their child's developmental milestones for granted.
Special needs moms realize what a miracle the human body is to be able to do what it does after spending hundreds of hours teaching our kids to roll over, crawl, walk, eat, play, etc.
Regular moms agonize with their child if he or she doesn’t make the elite soccer team.
Special needs moms would cry tears of joy to see their child play soccer, just once.
Regular moms ask the local babysitter to watch the kids on date night.
Special needs moms call a nursing agency when they haveto leave her child home for emergencies only.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
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.
Every mother wants so much more. She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a
round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin. She
wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being
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 and
fire 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 palate 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 in the 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
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.
Happy Mother's Day.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Written by Paul Dammann
God sent to me an angel,
it had a broken wing.
I bent my head and wondered
"How could God do such a thing?"
When I asked the Father
why He sent this child to me,
the answer was forthcoming,
He said "Listen and you'll see."
"My children are all precious,
and none is like the rest.
Each one to me is special,
and the least is as the best.
I send each one from Heaven
and I place it in the care
of those who know my mercy,
those with love to spare.
Sometimes I take them back again.
Sometimes I let them stay.
No matter what may happen
I am never far away.
So if you find an angel
and you don't know what to do,
remember, I am with you,
love is all I ask of you."