Monday, December 2, 2013
Shake it Shake it Shake it dont stop!
The Miracle of Birth
Saturday, August 3, 2013
KID FREE does not equal STRESS FREE
Spen2 spent the night at my sisters (you know, the RN?? Cheryl Wilson)... because he was out late with friends at Kings Island and got dropped off there at 10:30pm. He awakens with an EARACHE... huh? This kid is a healthy as an ox...unless there's something big going on... guess what? There's something BIG going on. You see, he'd been invited to go on vacation to Lake Sunapee in NH with a friend from school. Eight days on the lake boating, fishing, swimming... just paradise... flight leaves at 1:30pm...TODAY. The NURSE suggests we take him to the doctor --to be safe. I'm at work. My mother takes him to the doctor ... he's put on antibiotics as a precaution and given ear drops...he's going to be okay... MAY have infection but he can fly...its all good. Mom gets him on the drugs right away... I pick him up last evening...he's OK...he says it still hurts but otherwise he feels fine. Feed him, medicate him, put him to bed for a good nights rest. He's going to be great in the morning, right? WRONG! Wake him up at 7 to give him the meds so he can lay back down after... HES in P-A-I-N.... he's in tears...he tells me I need to call the family he's going on vacation with and tell him he cant make it.... Did I mention that THEY picked up ALL of the expenses.... YIKES...that's horrible. BUT if I send him and he gets worse, I'm going to be on an expensive last minute flight to New Hampshire to get my boy.... Where is New Hampshire anyway...can you drive there? Is it an island? Don't you have to take a boat to get there? Anyway. I don't even have time to go all Granny Clampitt and make an Onion Poultice....or a Garlic paste... I call the doctor. He's not panicked until I remind him that he has a FLIGHT...and I am not even going on the trip. LONG STORY SHORT.... ER at Children's Hospital Liberty Township is the BOMB! Dr. Bradley Jacksons Pediatrics is the BOMB...Drugs are AMAZING... The family he is travelling with is THE BOMB.... I am going to take a nap...then I am going to post KID FREE WEEK is the BOMB... maybe a nap and some anxiety medication.. THANK YOU GOD... cant believe another miracle healing pulled off!
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Nap Time
Spen2: I could always stand a nap
Me: NOT true... you NEVER took naps as a baby/toddler/little person.... as a matter of fact you Dropped out of a pre-school after ONE day because of their napping policy.
Spen2: Oh yeah, I remember that.
So here's what happened y'all. I did all of this research and finally found a pre-school that I thought worthy of my boy and his talents. We (his daddy and I) decided that he needed PRE SCHOOL and not daycare. I take him for a "trial day"-- a few hours...the boy says he likes it.
I take him for his first day of "school"... Drop him off. He's having a blast! Loves the place....until... NAP TIME... they tell him its nap time...screech..... Drop the Mic
He says "I don't take naps"
They tell he has to...he tells them
"No, I will just go home then... Call my momma"...
They refused to call me.... From that moment on, he was DONE with the place. My mother picks him up at 3:45 (SHE decided that 3:30 was long enough --even though I paid for the WHOLE DAY)... She asks if he had fun. In front of the Director of the Pre-School and all of his little friends he made before naptime, he says "I not go back"
He was 3yrs old. Told his grandmother he wasn't going back, because he didn't like it. His grandmother... my feisty mother... calls me-- on my job --and tells me that I need to find another option because he "doesn't like it"...seriously? Since when is he the boss??!...
So, I get home. He tells me he's not going back. I tell him he IS in fact going back. We go around... I think he gets it. He then proceeds to tell me that they don't do "Sh@T" at the school. I said... did you just say "sh@t"? He looks at me WAY too innocently and says... yes. I said "where did you learn that word?..."they taught me at SCHOOL".... This kid is BRILLIANT...but, I didn't fall for it. I tell him I don't care if they taught him that word or not...he was, in fact, going back, because I had paid my money. If he said the word again he was going back with a sore behind.
Think he gave up there? Oh no. This was not long after we had FINALLY weaned him off of the pacifier (which he called a Ba-Ba).... A few minutes later he proceeds to tell me that he didn't like the place because they made him take a nap and suck a Ba-Ba.... RIGHT!!! He made all of that up... This is when I started realizing that he might be a genius and I needed to be on full alert at all times. "Spencer, are you saying they made you use a pacifier?" "yes, I told them I didn't want to, but they said I was a Baby and needed one"...
Yep, that happened. So you want to know how it turned out??... well, HE won....HOW? I want you to know to this day I haven't figured out how he did it, but somehow, that night he spiked a fever of 103... he was fevered...with NO other symptoms (except lethargy) for THREE DAYS... that's Tues/Wed/Thur...then you have to be fever free for 24 hrs in order to go back to school.... that took care of the week.
On Thursday MY grandmother calls me and tells me that I need not take that baby back to that school if he hated it so much that it made him sick.....
Yeah, that happened!
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
The Clank Heard Round the World
17 Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord. 18 For it is not the one who commends himself who is approved, but the one whom the Lord commends.
Ok so i think I know what this means. Do not be "cocky" unless you do it in th lord. Everything you do is not you but The Lord showing favor and blessing in you. Lord thank you for all you do. Thank you for strength health and extra like brilliance and athletisim. I can't do what I do without you and there's no way I can make it without you. We want to pray for the entire healing of uncle John and to keep the family healthy and brilliant. In Jesus name amen from spen2
Its Been a While
So what happened to me since my last post..... Holy mackerel, what didn't happen! I will eventually go back and catch you all up on the in between stuff, some of which was quite amusing..... But, for now, how about I just cover the last couple of weeks.
Right after Memorial Day I found a green pea sized lump in my left breast. No biggie, I have fibrocystic breast. I find a lump, I call the amazing Dr jennifer Manders, she gets me in, does an ultrasound, says its a cyst, asks if its bothering me a lot. If I say yes, she aspirates, if I say no, I go home. Simple.
Not this time.
This time, its solid. Insert sad face. This time we need to do a needle biopsy. Insert titanium clip... Okay, that is uncomfortable, I leave with what looks like a cast on my left breast. Call back in a week.
A week goes by. I forgot to call back, because I've done this a few time. Then I get a call. Well , Jackie, this is a little different "atypical lobular hyperplasia". We need to do an excisional biopsy. We need to get it out to make sure there is nothing sinister hiding behind it. I'm at the hospital on Tuesday, let's do it then.
Okay. Will I need to take the day off of work?.... Seriously, that is what I asked. She suggested that I be really good to myself and take the following day as well. Awesome, good idea, I can take Spen2 and his boyz to Kings Island..... I'm psyched!
Days later the hospital calls, they tell me I need to have pre-op testing. 'Oh no, I'm just having a biopsy."
"Right, a lumpectomy, I see that. We will need for you to have a physical none the less"
OK...side note, I've been avoiding my PCP for a couple of years since he challenged me to lose 10 pounds....
I go in for the pre-op on a day when my doctor is on vacation. His partner doesn't even touch me. That is my kind of doctor! He doesn't ask about my weight. He doesn't make a note. He signs off on the paperwork while telling me about the boyscout camp he's going to lead the next week. Done. He doesn't even ask if I have any questions.
That afternoon the hospital calls back and gives me instructions. Don't eat after midnight-- who does? Don't take any aspirin for a week--- too late! Be at the hospital at 7am---huh? My procedure isn't until 9.... We need to get you prepped and changed. Who will be driving you home? --- uh, ME. Oh no way. You will be put into a twilight sleep via anesthesia, you will not be permitted to drive for 24 hours----me, calculating what time we can leave for Kings Island...OK, my sister or my mother, probably. Ms Boyd, you will be required to have a driver to be released----okay okay, I got it.
I arrive at the hospital on the day of the procedure to a flurry of activity. Take off your clothes--- you mean my shirt and bra? No, all of your clothes, shoes, jewelry, hair clips..... anything removable in your mouth-like a retainer? No.. Anything removable in your eyes---I'm giggling, picturing Sammy Davis Jr popping his eyeball out at this point.
The anesthesiologist arrives and sees the IV is active (which I figure was for fluids) and asks if I would like something to help me relax----do I look tense? Me--No, but how about some coffee?!
The amazing Dr Manders arrives. I immediately inform her that all of these people are acting like I am having"real" surgery. She asks what I think I am having.... My response.."a procedure"... "What ever makes you happy, Jackie".
I figure I may have insulted her a little. Not considering this as "real" surgery, discounted her status as a "real" surgeon. This lump was the size of a green pea. She's going to take something like an exacto knife make a quarter inch slit, pop it out and off I go!
So, I roll into the OR wide awake.... Look around and there are 12 people in the room!
"Who are all of these people??????". They all started speaking at once. One person is putting some inflation devices on my legs....I know what these are for....
"Hey, geez, how long are you expecting me to be in here?"
"Do you all realize that you are all speaking at once? I can't understand..". And OUT.....that's the last thing I remember.
An hour later I awaken with a three inch wound, another boob cast and one big Dolly Parton boob.
Let's just say the next day was not spent at Kings Island.
Monday, April 22, 2013
How to Have a Heart Attack
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Education is KEY
This Country, this world even, is going down a path of no return. Customer Service jobs are becoming more obsolete by the day. I began to have some real flashback moments and gave him a brief history lesson.
When I was Spen2's age there were GROWN MEN that worked at Service (or Filling) Stations. These GROWN MEN pumped gas, checked the pressure in your tires, check your oil levels and the cleanliness thereof. These GROWN MEN rotated tires if necessary, fixed flats, CLEANED your windshields...wow, I am getting all nostalgic. Ladies coming home from work in suits and pumps didn't have to get out of a car in blinding rain or snow or inclimate weather of any kind and handle the germy nozzle of a gas pump. WOW... that really existed and I remember it well.
When I was Spen2s age, there were young adults that made a living wage bagging groceries. Down South some of these young people even took the groceries out and put them in your trunk for you. Here's one that really shows my historical perspective; some of these folks would walk or ride their bikes to your house and personally deliver the groceries you had picked out. REAL JOB.
When I was Spen2s age, there was a man that owned a farm. Every morning he would load up his truck with fresh fruits and vegetables and drive throughout the neighborhood letting people know of the kinds of fresh produce he had available that day. People would flag down his truck and make purchases.
When I was Spen2s age, there was a telephone OPERATOR. You called this operator to help you dial out to different area codes and countries. When you called a business during business hours, a HUMAN BEING answered the telephone.
When I was Spen2's age, there were car washes run by PEOPLE. These, GROWN MEN, had buckets and towels and they would hand wash your car, put wax on it by HAND and buff it out....
When I was Spen2's age, executives, managers, folks of importance had SECRETARIES.... oh wow, remember that? Secretaries answered phones, typed letters, took dictation, made coffee and in general freed up the executives, manager, folks of general importance to EXECUTE, MANAGE and be IMPORTANT, all while working an eight hour day and getting home in time to have dinner with their families at a reasonable hour.
Elevator Operators, Doormen, Shoe Shiners... Gone, Gone, Gone.
So, young people, you can believe that I am just O-L-D and things are just as they always will be. Or you can believe me when I say that you better get those books and be nimble because sure as I sit here in the Valvoline Instant Oil Change today.... 10 years from now, YOU will be your very own "oil change" guy and the "oil change" guy will be the "you got any spare change" guy.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
The fine line between Genius and Insanity
I have an intricate system set up to retrieve the boy from the fancy private school on a daily basis. It takes a village they say. In our village, everyone has a pick up day.
See, the boy is just barely IN the fancy private school. If it weren't for his dad's years of hard work and a very generous scholarship, well there would be no private school.... especially not a FANCY one. Of course, he'd be just two years from High school graduation, since all that the public schools could come up with for a kid with Spen2's genius level was to "skip" him every other year. Anyway, there is NO money for the fancy private school's after care program.
Friday was Camille's day (you got a license, you get a day)... She gets there, no boy. She finds his teacher.... She's informed that Spen2 went home with the Smith Family (names have been changed to protect the insanely rich).
My mother calls me in a panic. Leaves a message, "I need you to call me right away". That never happens. When she tells me what's going on, I find the number with haste and call the Smith family. I get the nanny....now, surely you knew that the Smith family would have a nanny. Nanny Smith is frazzled by my call. The Mrs told her that this was all handled. The Mrs said she had spoken to me. Yes, Master Spencer was there, he, another child from the fancy private school were enjoying some of Chef finest after school snacks. Of course they were.
The nanny passes along the request that Spencer be permitted to spend the night with Young Master Smith as they hand a plethora of fun activities planned for the night. Not wanting to deprive my son of a night in, what he refers to as, PARADISE, I consent. Don't have to send a thing. They have extras of everything. Skis, boots, swim trunks, baseball gloves.... Whatever size you need.... In the 'mudroom'.
I go out for a Grown Up dinner with a friend. Get home and get comfortable. About midnight the madness begins. I get a text from my GENIUS son that says,
"what's your credit card number? I wanna get something in "Clash of Clans" and I need gems and I will pay you back later and I need the security code". I didn't even respond.
Fine line between Genius and Insanity. What is wrong with him???
Friday, April 5, 2013
Blanche's All Butter Pound Cakes by 3 Couzins Baking
Back Story:
My grandmother, Blanche Teresa Taggart, could sho nuff cook. On top of that, there was always dessert. One of her specialties was Pound Cake. When my husband and I owned a catering business, she gave me the recipe for the pound cake. It became known as "Blanche's All-Butter Pound Cake". We sold hundreds of them during the holidays.
Fast forward and my husband dies. People do weird things when they lose loved ones. I baked (and crocheted --but that's another blog) and cooked. I was even bold enough to tweak my Grandmothers perfect recipe. Turns out it wasn't perfect.... but NOW it is! We made so many cakes that all of the kids in my family can make the pound cake on their own.
The Pound Cake making became therapy, for everyone. We made cakes every weekend. If someone got a promotion, we made them a cake. Someone lost a loved one, we made them a cake. Someone gave us tickets to an event, we made them a cake.
When the holidays approached the first year that Spen2 attended the fancy private school, money was not in a happy place. As a matter of fact, it was sad... very, very sad. The options for gifts for his teachers became limited. I was deciding whether to give NOTHING or a $5 Graeter's Gift Card when pound cake hit me. So, for the last couple of years Spen2s teachers have been getting small Blanches All Butter Pound Cakes as a holiday token of appreciation.
Back to Wednesday:
I asked him "You sold a cake to who?" His reply "One of my teachers asked me today if we only made cakes during the holidays and if she could get one any time. So, I told her she could get it anytime she wanted. But this is a BUSINESS. There is a fee for that" Screech! He told the teacher that??? "So she asked me how much they cost. I told her that she could buy a small one for $15 and a large one for $25" Boom~! That's how you launch a business.
Blanches All Butter Pound Cake by 3Couzins Bakery. You too can have a pound cake...but this is a BUSINESS... Small $15 and Large $25. Everyone that got one of those grieving cakes.... be prepared to pay the next time!
Monday, April 1, 2013
The Real Jackie Taggart is NOTHING like the Easter Bunny
Well, well, well, what a blessing to live to see another Holiday weekend. Easter is THE highest of Holy Days. You would think I would be able to control myself leading up to the High Holy days...NOT. Shaking my head. Listen y'all, I am for real, a nice lady. Really. Sometimes it just doesn't show.
This past weekend was one of those times.
Back story: I didn't take off on Friday because it was the end of the month/quarter at work. Nikita - 20yr old Sophomore at Georgetown College--majoring in Vocal Performance (yeah, really, that's a major--but, that's another blog) is coming home for Easter and bringing a friend. Nikita is THE BEST KID IN THE WORLD... yeah, I know what you are thinking and I have no idea how she ended up in this family either. She brings home a friend who lives too far to just go home for the weekend. Nikita is at the hair salon, so when I leave to take Spen2 to Easter Pageant rehearsal, so her friend, Darian, goes with us.
We get to the church and sit in a pew mid way back. We live too far away from the church to leave a come back in an hour. I'm not that thrilled about listening to an hours worth of poetry recitation, but, hey, I am a mom, we make these kind of sacrifices. The first child, a teenager, reads the "Easter Story". The uncut version. Listen, this story was so long, I thought they were going to have to get the paddles out for me...."Clear!... great, I think we have a pulse.... She's back". This story was so long, I am inspired to do some home bible study just to prove that some of that story HAD to be made up!
Next up, four little ones under age 4 to recite a prayer in tandem. Horrible. But they are just toddlers.... I guess. I bite my lip...and keep my seat. The next kid goes up. While these kids have done a great job of memorizing their poems, the delivery is AWFUL.
Now, mind you, our pastor's wife is in charge of this program. She is sweet and kind, the consummate elementary school teacher..... She wouldn't say "shit" if she had a mouthful. She never mention's that one kid after the other is DREADFUL. I grab Darian's hand and squeeze, I feel her (the real Jackie Taggart) rising...'Darian, don't, let me stand up.'
One kid after another gets up with no energy, no enthusiasm, no light and mumbles some sing song mumbo jumbo without making eye contact with anything but the ceiling. And I sat. With a death grip in Darian's hand. Pastors wife gives some instructions and compliments them on their work in memorizing their poems. She appeared ready to release them.
Then it happened, the real Jackie Taggart burst out of the cage. '"I think they need to go over that one more time. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't understand much of what was being said.". And with no malice or anger directed towards me for jumping the curb and getting out if my lane, pastor's wife indulged me and had them start from scratch.
'Wok wok wok wok wok wok wok wok". Then I had an almost out of body experience. I willed my mouth to shut, it would not. I tried to move my legs back to my seat....they wouldn't go.
"Pardon me, sweetie, what are you saying, boo boo? Does anyone have a script? Sweetie please, look at me. Don't swallow your words. Lift your head. Project your voice. Stand up straight. Are you chewing gum??? No seriously, does anyone have any idea what he is saying? Try that again. Do you want to be here? You have to say EACH word. I'm fairly certain that isn't a word. Try it again. I know someone has a script. Spell it.".
After about an hour it sounded more like "much better, just make sure you look up. Fantastic, can you give me some facial expression. Great, pause after you say that for impact. Perfect, you nailed it, do it that way tomorrow."
The good news is that the kids had a flawless Easter program. The bad news Spen2 now has a mom that the other children in our congregation refer to as "The Cobra". Oh well, everyone has their cross to bear.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
I'm BORED
Go ahead, take a screen shot. You have never seen those words anywhere near my name before. Seriously, this is a crisis I tend to generally avoid.
Explanation, the Boy's follow up appointment with the great Camille Crawford didn't go as well as I expected. He is still on the mend but has some "junkiness" in his right lung that requires further treatment. It also requires REST and fluids. Every time the poor child sits down somewhere he falls asleep. I can not in good conscience go at our typical pace. That would be negligent.... I guess.
If you follow the boy's coming and goings, you might be tricked into believing I am special. Not true. The boy is special. What I am is .... FRIGHTENED to death to be at home alone with a little boy and all of that energy with no help absorbing any of it.
I could end up like my friend Marjorie at work who babysits her 8yr old nephew every Saturday morning. Poor Marjorie. She doesn't have any children, so she is not prepared with the arsenal of weapons to keep a young man from wearing YOU down. She plays basketball with this kid... INDOORS...then they move it OUTDOORS...then SHE fixes lunch while HE rests....whats wrong with that picture? Marjorie works more hours than I do. On Saturday that kid goes home with something left in his tank and she is WIPED out... NEVER I say.... NEVER.
My goal at the beginning of each day is to still be standing when the boy is laid out! Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I fail. But, I promise you I win WAY more than I lose. The boy actually helped me a lot as a toddler by refusing to take a nap. He just wouldn't do it. Eventually, I figured out that it was to my advantage.
On a typical Saturday, I get up, exercise, make up some waffle batter and wait. While he's sleeping I am getting myself together. When he wakes up I am fully dressed, made up and ready to roll. You cant let a kid be sitting around relaxing while you work...that's going to be a situation down the road.
I get him up at the last minute and make him run like HELL. Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry! Brush your teeth in the shower, quick get dressed, pack up. When he gets out of the shower, I load him up on waffles or pancakes... nothing invites Negritis like something with syrup on it! Then grab a bag let's go. The bag will have equipment for whatever game he's playing that day...typically basketball or baseball. Off we go to the game. When the game is over, we have to go to the cages... batting cages or to a gym to work on that hook shot... but back to back activity is always good. Then to the grocery store...try Sam's, nothing wears them down like those concrete floors. Go up and down ALL of the aisles. Hey, Dhanis doing a book signing. Let's go bake a cake and stop through. Cyclones are in town, let's go to the game. Let's go to Dayton, catch a Dragon's game.
At 11pm we are pulling down the drive way... He's nodding. He'd be asleep but I won't let him go. Every time he doses off, I ask a question he can't answer so he has to Google it. We get in. Hot bath. Quick snack and at 11pm he's cooked.
I WON! I turn on the TV search through my recorded shows find that episode of Basketball Wives, poor a glass of wine and lay down on the divan.
The next morning I wake up. Full glass of wine on the end table. Unwatched episode of Basketball Wives still cued up. Oh well, I STILL WON!
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
The Screenplay
Spencer made it thru the class trip to Williamsburg. Thought today's "Boy Story" would be best as a show and tell. On the left is Spen2 and the boys about to board the airplane..... and on the right is Spen2 and the boys coming back on Tuesday night. If you are not laughing there is something terribly wrong with you!
Using the AFTER photo as inspiration, Spen2 and I are writing the screen play ....
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
From the Archives--- The Birthday Story 12/2/12
I had an amnio to confirm that the lungs were fully developed. The doctor proclaimed that they were and while 3wks early it was safe to take him out. Good deal, cuz he WAS coming out, the flip turns were brutal!
I went into pre-op, Spen1 isn't there yet. They hook me up to monitors and determine that I was having BIG contractions....I felt NOTHING...well nothing except the flip turns! Spen1 isn't there yet.
I get an epidural....Spen1 isn't there yet. Delivery time scheduled for 1pm...Spen1 rushes in at 12:44! Gets scrubbed in puts on the mandatory green gown surgical cap and mask..and proceeds to CLOWN posing for pictures... my lower body was numb so I couldn't get up and choke him! Into the OR we go...my sister arrives just as we head out. 1:00 they make the incision. Ob/Surgeons do everything they can, but they can't get him out...they call for the head of High Risk Ob... he gets there ,scrubs in, while the 2 lil ob/surgeon docs pull from either side, he comes in and lifts the boy right out ...1:31pm then declares "that's a ten pound baby!" They wipe him off and present him to his daddy.... who declares "oh my God, he's beautiful!" Then he leans down so I can see...
Then I smell something burning...and I kinda see some smoke... I finally ripped Spen1s attention from gazing into his sons eyes and asked
Back to recovery room. Uncle Albert had shown up with the girls Nikita and Camille...who were anxiously awaiting the arrival of there cousin.... He was given to my mother who, like Spen1 immediately became entranced... and Camille leans over her shoulder to look...at which point mini-me proclaims
So, here I am today, 10 years later, having travelled a very rocky road, saying. Happy Birthday, Spencer Craig Boyd II! You are a mighty little man of God. You are blessed and highly favored. Your father owns the cattle on 1000 hills so never let it be that you have not because you've asked not. Ask and it shall be given. Knock and the door will open for you. Never let fear enter your life because there is nothing too hard for God and with God all things are possible. Always remember that God loves you and so does your mommy!
More from the Archives--Spen2 and his Thug Life Friends
I am in the car with Spen2 and his boyz (let's just say it was a DIVERSE setting) headed downtown for sushi... I hear them talking amongst themselves about the one kid getting "jumped". I have always been confused about what that means. My guess is it means 2 things #1 there was a fight... #2 you lost. So I query...
Monday, March 18, 2013
From the Spen2 archives
Since the boy is out of town, I thought I would take the suggestion of one of my blogging mentors and relate some classic Spen2 funnies for you.
Where to start? How about this classic.....
Spen2 had a severe speech impediment when he was younger. He's advanced, gifted. He's a genius with papers. He started talking really early and had complex thought processes to express. 6 yr old brain 10 month old mouth, not a good match. Couple that with an adoring family all too eager to translate for him, and you have got yourself a situation!
Almost everything in his vocabulary started with a T or a D. At 11months he ate a fruit cup at TGI Fridays and declared to the waitress that it was Tan-tas-tic. He had names for the girls ...Nikita was KiKi, makes sense. Camille, on the other hand, was NuNu....we still don't know why. But, she answered to it. Heck, we all started calling the child Nunu.
By the time he was ready for preschool, it was pretty darned bad. He would be frustrated if his translators weren't around and even more so when his translator missed the mark. For instance, there was the time his aunt took him out for dinner and he wanted a Sprite, which to him was "Ray". Everyone at the table was darned near in tears by the time Auntie reached me on the phone for the translation.
So, it's preschool time. I take him with me to check out Mt Healthy Preschool-- as he had quit the previous school after ONE day because they made him take a nap. We encounter Ms Brenna. She notices his speech and mentions it to me. I explain that he's been diagnosed but there is a waiting list for therapy through Children's. She tells me he can receive Speech Therapy through the preschool.... And is FREE. As a matter of fact, the preschool is free if he needs it. She goes to get the Speech Therapist, who thinks I'm just trying to work the system to get free preschool. She's quite skeptical. She asks him to count to ten. And it went something like this: ton' two, tree, tore, tive, tix, teven, tate, dine, ten. The therapist first grinned then gave him the "sad eyes" like "poor baby". Me, being ever prideful, couldn't stand the thought that this woman might think my baby wasn't bright... So I said Spen2, "do it again, this time in Spanish".... here we go: toono, does, tres, twato, tinko, tace, tiete, toocho, tueve, deis. That prompted riotous laughter from the teacher and the therapist. The therapist proclaimed it to be the cutest thing she ever saw, "but, we've gotta fix that".
Spen2 began preschool and, as is his nature, pretty much took it over. He became a teacher's aide of sort. It wasn't unusual for any new student to be assigned to Spen2 for mentoring. Makes sense until the new student in visually impaired. Spen2 comes home and tells me all about the new young lady in his class that can't "tee". A few days go by and I ask him how things are going with the new girl. He tells me things are not going well. He keeps trying to show her the activity chart so she knows what to do when.... Me, "but Spencer' isn't she blind?" He says he knows that, so he reads it to her too.... That's when it hit me, they have pairèd this little visually impaired girl with the little smart alleck, speech impediment boy..... That is tantamount to child abuse! How was she supposed to know what he was saying she when he couldn't even point to it for her?! I don't know about you but that made me giggle till I almost wet my pants!
Sunday, March 17, 2013
A Parting Glance...or not
So the boy and his comrades from the fifth grade at the fancy private school left for Colonial Williamsburg on Saturday morning. It's always fun to watch other folks family dynamics. Times like these I also see so clearly how different my son is. One young man in the class has real issues being away from home. As I take pics of Spen2 and his buddies for Facebook, this young lad's parental units are talking him in off the ledge. Consoling him, cajoling him, telling him he was going to have fun, loving all up on the child. I asked Spen2 what was wrong with the kid. Spen2's reply "Oh he's just like that, he gets real home sick." Then Spen2 just goes right on talking to his boys like nothing has happened. His classmate is coming apart at the seams, and no one is paying any attention to it. That's a fancy private school for ya. All that tolerance and diversity of thought. Ha! Who besides me is Old School??? That poor kid would have been dead meat at my elementary school! I went to a private school too, it just wasn't fancy. My Lord, we would have let that boy HAVE IT! He would be a thirty year old man still having nightmares about the abuse he endured at the hands of his classmates in Virginia! I make mention to another parent that Spen2 has never been like that! When I dropped him off at preschool on the first day he said good bye, hugged me and walked away. A few minutes later he saw me hovering and said out of his mouth "Why are you still here? You have to leave."
As the group departs, there are goodbyes all around. The kids follow their teachers towards the security checkpoint. I feel badly walking away without waiting for them to get through the security checkpoint and be out of view.... In case he happens to look back.... Yeah right. So there I stand, with the parents of the regular kids as, one by one, their kids turned around just to make sure they weren't completely alone. All of them from the traumatized kid to the fifth grade 'horn dog' eventually turned around
Side note: the 'horn dogs' mother went running down the aisleway to give him a final hug when he turned around-- there is a therapist in that kid's not too distant future.
How does the story end? You think the boy turned and offered me an acknowledgement, a crooked smile, threw me deuces, somehing sweet and wry..... Heck no! He walked through that security check point and never looked back. I wouldn't have it any other way! A future NBA, MLB, governor, president, pope, has sometimes got to walk alone....so this is good practice for him.:-)
Friday, March 15, 2013
The Great Recovery of 2013
Wednesday, I keep him home, because the fancy private school has a rule. You must be 24hr Fever Free to return to school. I get it. I follow directions. I leave Spen2 at home with my mother for a day of rest, relaxation, Homemade Chicken Noodle Soup, Family Feud, Gunsmoke and Andy Griffith. What could be better for recovery? I pick him up after work. All is well. Great, because we have a big agenda ahead.
Thursday after school is the Celebration of a Great Basketball Season for the 5th Grade Stingers (ALMOST won that 1st round tournament game--insert eye roll). I am to bring my "Grown Up Salad". There will be Pizza and Cake and fun activities for the boys last hurrah! This is the last basketball team many of them will ever play on (lets hope).
Friday last day of school before Spring Break.
Friday Night finish packing. Out for Spring Break Nikita's Home Celebration Dinner with family.
Saturday 5:45 am report to CVG Airport for a flight out to Colonial Williamsburg for the Spring Break Class Trip with the fancy private school 5th graders.
So, back to Wednesday night. Off to bed with a big dose of Golden Seal and Echinacea, double down on the vitamins, orange juice, Slippery Elm Bark tea and ibuprofen. We should be GOLDEN. I stay up, make that Grown Up Salad, and my special recipe Honey Balsamic Vinaigrette, refrigerate. Ahhhh, sweet rest. I have to be on my A game for an 8:30am meeting. Also need to somehow slip out to watch this 5th grade musical. Then I need to clear my desk in anticipation of a 3 day vacation. The Boy is going to be out of town, it's going to be all about ME!
FEVER 102.7. This is a situation. Fall back! Fall back! What's Plan B? Heck, I didn't have one. Off to see the great Camille Crawford MD at Premiere Pediatrics. Camille Crawford was Spen2s very first pediatrician, she saw him in the hospital when he was born. She gave him an official diagnosis of GREEDY at 16hrs old. His primary, Dr. Bradley Jackson (the Alpha man himself) is off on Thursdays, so Dr Crawford graciously agreed to see him. The Summary of Dr Crawford's findings:
#1 Don't ever take your a@@ back to a Little Clinic....just DON'T do it. Call us. Quit trying to out think everybody
#2 This kid has Bronchitis.
#3 This kid has Influenza B.... I don't care what her "little test" at the "little clinic" said.
#4 This kid has the Tri-fecta of illness... he also has a Sinus Infection.
#5 If you have paid for the child to go to Williamsburg, by gosh, he is GOING to Williamsburg! I LOVE THIS WOMAN!!!
So we have a Plan A, Plan B and Plan C to get this child well in order to board a plane on Saturday Morning. None of these plans involve a mom in a power suit. None of these plans involve a kid on a stage. None of these plans involve a Basketball Team celebration.
Here I sit at the kitchen table to tell the story of the Miraculous Recovery of 2013. Last night consisted of:
Mommas Hot Toddy with Fresh Grated Ginger, Lemons, Honey, Pomegranate Tea, Slippery Elm Bark (and for the momma 2shots of Hennessey)
A Steamy Bath followed by a Vicks Vapor Rubdown
Sleep under 2 blankets and comforter with Long Johns
2 rounds of antibiotics
2 rounds of antivirals
2 kinds of inhalers
1600 mg of ibuprofen
2 anointings with oil
1 hands laying on healing worthy of Jim and Tammy Faye Baker... I was calling those virus/bacteria OUT of my Baby
Lots and lots of prayers by friends, school mates, team mates, doctor, nurses and family
The fever broke at 3:30 am.
We are GOING to Williamsburg!
That, ladies and gentleman, is the GREAT RECOVERY OF 2013
PS...will post recipes for items in orange AFTER I recover from the great recovery!
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
The Punkin Baby is Sick
Monday, March 11, 2013
This is how the operating instructions for all new electronics should read. "Open box/carton carefully. Remove device gently. Hand device over to a child under 14. Walk away. Return after your device has been synced' charged, ice cream sandwiched, apps downloaded etc. No sense me getting myself all worked up. "Spencer!"
From the Pool to the Papacy
The Back Story: I was raised Catholic. However, for some time now, I have been non-denominational. The Boy has been raised in a church that has more Baptist traditions than anything.
Last week, on our 20 minute morning commute to the fancy private school, I began a conversation with him about the day's news and the Pope's resignation. I surmised from his blank stare that I had somehow, over the last 10 years, failed to teach him anything about the Catholic Church. I can't have the boy show up as the fancy private school completely oblivious to such a major World event. So, I quickly went into training mode. Take my phone, Google "Apostles Creed". Okay, got it? That's the foundation of the Church.
Spen2 "How is that different from our church?"
Me "I am not entertaining questions right now... just follow along..."
Then I relate the church to a corporation like Wal-Mart. A Priest is the Store Manager... Bishop... Cardinal.. all the way to Pope. I tell him the Pope is the CEO. I tell him the Pope is alleged to be more powerful that the President of the US. I tell him that the Pope controls Billions if not Trillions in assets. I tell him the Pope has a mansion and jewels and The Pope doesn't even walk, they carry him.
You see it coming, right???
Spen2 "I want to be the Pope."
BOOM! There it is. You had to see it coming. So, for those of you keeping notes, that would make him the FIRST, African American, Retired NBA, Retired MLB, Retired One Term Governor, Two Term President of the United States of America with an Olympic Gold in Swimming, Non Catholic (I guess we could fix that) Pope! Go, Spen2. Because I am his mom, and slightly crazy, I can see him riding around in that little Pope mobile now... I can see him rounding the bases after hitting a home run with the State Trooper security patrol all around him... I can hear the announcer now "Batting Fourth in the Clean up position, your starting pitcher, Governor Spencer Boyd"... crowd goes wild!
Now, that's FUNNY... but this is even funnier.
Last night -when I was REALLY cranky from the entire weekend at the swim meet- I was carrying on about some parent at the "fancy private school" that clearly thought she was in charge of everything! I was on a rant.
"I suppose when she walks in we should all genuflect." My son, ever the supportive child, piles on. He says, "yeah mom, who does she think she is? The Pimp". Screech... What the?? I love the pile on, but I was confused.
"The Pimp?"
"Yeah, remember you told me about him last week. Hes in charge of the Catholic Church."
"Oh, son, you mean The Pope. Please don't say Pimp again."
Just gave myself my own penance... saying Hail Marys through lunch then I will start with The Lords Prayer. Somebody PLEASE light a candle, lest we both BURN!