I believe what we have here is A Failure To Communicate.

We have 9 therapies a week.
A babysitter.  A nurse for Alexander.
An entire Pediatrician’s staff that bends over backwards to do whatever we need.
Every Specialist ever invented involved in Alexander’s care.
People who watch the twins on a moment’s notice.
And then – of course – family and friends.

All of whom – we would like to show appreciation for this holiday season.

I got this great idea.  Let’s give Chocolate to our “Alexander” team.  We could go to that really nice candy store downtown and get boxes of candy for everyone.  We could get this huge platter of assorted chocolates for the Pediatrician’s office.  We would show everyone how much we love them…. in the way only Chocolate does.

Then I priced this endeavor. And decided to re-think my plans.  The homemade chocolate was going to cost us a fortune at $7.00 a pound.  And we love them more than a pound’s worth!  So I devised a little plan.

I sent my husband out on a mission.  Get boxes of Chocolates from Wal-Mart.  Also – get small gift bags or little boxes so we could “make our own.”  Everyone would assume they came from the expensive candy store.  And … well… that could be our little secret.

Husband went to Wal-Mart.  Mission Completed. 



My “Little Gift Bags”




Seriously?!?!!?!? These were the size of full on Gift Bags!!!  He said, “Well… they had bigger sizes, so I figured this is what you wanted.”





My “Candy”



CRAP!!!!! What credible candy stores sell pre-wrapped Santas! And Hershey Kisses and Candy Canes? These don’t look like GOURMETTE CHOCOLATES!



**Upon reflection**
1. You shouldn’t try to “scam” people on their Holiday gifts.  Especially chocolate.
2.  Apparently my husband and I really need to communicate better.

Is a Man Good Enough?

I was at a holiday get together a few weeks ago.  I overheard a conversation / debate between several moms.  Eventually, I was also asked my opinion because it seemed everyone had differing views. 

Turns out… I’m not really sure. Not only that, but the response that came out of my mouth surprised even myself.  Ready for the question that sparked this debate?

We live in a small town.  Many of the daycares are church run and often they have several people on staff, but only one or two in a “classroom” at a time.  Depending on what you “officially” call yourself (daycare, etc) places can still have rooms staffed with one person…. similarly to a babysitting service. 

One of my friends was talking about sending her child to a church based daycare.  It is staffed by a husband and wife team – that she knows well.  Her daughter would be in the “class” run by the man.  Enter spirited debate.

Would you allow your child to be watched by a man?  As in … full time daycare?

I was so unprepared for the host of responses. Completely unprepared for the vehement in some people’s convictions.  Blindsided by the secrets hidden by close friends that were brought to light during this discussion.  The heart breaking stories that apparently touch way more people than this naïve girl ever dreamed. 

My response?  “Is your daughter potty trained?”  The response I couldn’t believe I said.  I was discriminating against men also.  I was then asked to give a strait forward “vote.”  I said, “I know a lot of men… who are amazing.  I don’t know that it would have crossed my mind to be concerned.”  Truth – I think it might have crossed my mind to be concerned….

So…. What would you do?  Would you send your child to a childcare provider run by a man?  Would it make a difference if you had a son or daughter?  Would you hire a teenage guy to babysit?  Does any of this make a difference?  Should it?

It is So Much Work

I need to choose my words carefully.  I don’t want to offend anyone or misrepresent my true opinions.

Got everyone’s attention now?

There are these tools.  For children with special needs.  These … amazing resources.  They give life (literally) where life would not have survived.  They change lives. 

- In the literal sense… Alexander’s feeding pump has saved his life.  His g-tube has allowed him to be hydrated and nourished; I know he would not have survived the past year without it.  You have no idea how hard that is to actually say. Because the reality is I hate that thing.  I’m the mom that dreams of ripping that thing out. Who dreams of the day when we don’t need it.  Alexander didn’t use the pump regularly until last spring.  You can read that post HERE.  And…. then he just didn’t eat enough.  Went way down hill….. This past summer, there were days where he was not oral at all.  *sigh*

- In the life changing ways… we have standers, a wingbo, sensory toys, AFO’s, Vision therapy tools, a z-vibe, the iPad, and tons of other things to help Alexander develop skills he might never have gained.  I really feel these therapies are changing the things people (especially with Alexander’s syndrome) can achieve.  Sometimes older children are scary.  But, what if that is just because they didn’t have access to all the things we have now?

Ok. So here comes the controversial part.  To help a child with disabilities reach their full potential requires a ton of work. And… I’m not only talking about from the child. 

Don’t get me wrong.  Alexander is the hardest worker I know.  He puts more energy into sitting up than I put into any activity.  And often I find it ** tactless ** when parents of children with special needs whine.  This is a little different.  It is not a whine.  It is not a post about “why is this happening to me?”

But … on a very regular basis – I beat myself up because I haven’t done enough to help Alexander that day.


In case you missed it … Alexander is eating now. And I mean eating like a champ.  He is almost 100% oral.  I say almost because he is probably just shy of his caloric mark.  Here is where it becomes a lot of work.

* If Alexander is fed on the pump – all I need to do is calculate how many calories he needs, formulate a feeding plan, and pump it into his stomach.  (In all honesty…. easy)  There are other things that go into it… but you basically figure out  the best nutritional cocktail and serve it.

* I have fought the pump since the beginning and it has required a lot of extra time and energy.  And now… It is a ton of work.  Not only does it take him a long time to eat (time that I can’t do much else), but I must also count every single calorie and nutritional aspect of what he takes in.  Do you know how many calories are in 3/4 of an egg over easy? Or in 1/2 slice of bread? with a little bit of butter?  How about how many calories are in an oz of cheese? Or is it too much to give cheese and eggs on the same day because of protein overload?  How many calories are in “some” pizza? Or “some” pork? Anyway – you get the idea.  It is not easy to figure out how many calories he is getting during the day to recalculate how many he needs to grow.  It is so much work. I’m not going to lie. It is hard work for him to eat and it is hard work for me to help him to eat.

* The same respect, every piece of physical therapy equipment takes so much work.  Alexander has to work so hard to move those muscles, but I have to put his braces on, his shoes on, give him time in the stander, adjust the stander, put him on tummy time, help him roll over, help him grasp for things, make the signs for “more” and “all done” when he is eating.  We also have to use the z-vibe on him, mimic his coos, practice sitting, practice with the iPad technology…. practice.  It is labor intensive and … work.


It is really a labor of love.  I once heard a woman speak about how she spent 2 years touching her son on the shoulder to indicate when he should put the spoon to his mouth… until he was able to self feed. Two Years.

I am so grateful for all these things to help my son.  But, there are times when it still really lies on the motivation of parents to move past these tools… to put the tools to necessary use – so development happens – and they aren’t necessary anymore.  So much work.

So next time you see a parent of a child with special needs.  Celebrate any milestone you can. And give the child a high five. … and the mom a hug. Because she probably needs it. 


Thanks Shell…. For letting me Pour My Heart Out.

For those of you who have been following… I wonder what you think.

 What do you think when you put snippets of our life together?  I’ve been wondering this … because – I use my home Facebook page to keep people updated on our life.  The blog is more of an outlet, so sometimes I forget to update it when we are home or doing things.  I try not to exploit … but yet sometimes to explain.


I’ve also been thinking about other things… to do with the blog – but more on that next week.  For now, I would like to really tell you about the last few days.  In sequence, not by these random snippets as my emotions brim until they spill over the edge and onto the page.


Alexander had a seizure. Hmmmm… how many posts have started this way?





Anyway… Have you ever had one of those “perfect” days?  In class, I was completely fulfilled.  It was a day where my students and I connected.  Where I could see them excited to learn … and they didn’t even realize how many cool things they were learning.  And AMAZING teaching day.






Then I came home and ran my THIRD run!  WooHoo!  I actually remember enjoying the run.  I daydreamed.  I mentally blogged about the ideas that floated around in my head.  Step. Work Harder. Step. Give More than we Take. Step. Love my Family. Step. Enjoy the Quiet. Step. Embrace the Noise. Step. Slow Down. Step. Baby Boy. Step. Respect my Husband. Step. Kiss my kids… and on and on.

With each pounding of the pavement I could feel the stress release from my shoulders as I pushed aside the needs of everyone else and enjoyed the desires of my heart.


When I finally made it back for dinner, it was to smiling kids as we planned for our evening’s adventures.  My Grandma turned 83 and we were headed to an impromptu cake and ice cream party.  The kids were so excited.  I was excited too because Ray said I should get some real shoes before I gave myself shin splints.  Seriously… the shoe situation was pretty bad.




I ran into the shoe store.  Quick and simple.  … Quick and simple.  It should have been quick and simple.  Honestly – it is when everyone has their guard down that things seem to go awry. 

I came out and I could tell something was wrong.  Ray had Alexander out of his car seat.  When I looked in I could see.  Questions on the twins face.  Fake smiles on Ray’s lips.  He said, “I think he’s having a seizure. But it doesn’t look right.”  He was right.  Instead of the normal seizure – this one was only on Alexander’s left side.  His right side was completely responsive and alert.  We weren’t able to do anything in a parking lot – so we administered relief Diastat and loaded up to try to get to the house as fast as possible.  I sat timing Alexander’s seizure while we rode.  I called the Neurologist and we discussed our options once we got home.  Alexander’s seizure did break for a few minutes – but a new problem immerged.  He didn’t seem to have use of his left side.  His arm hung limp and his leg was in an odd position.  Everyone was thinking the same thing… stroke.

What a horrible thing to happen to someone so small.  We are making such progress! A stroke would just place more obstacles… not take them away. 

The ambulance was en-route – as was the helicopter – to take some of us to Hershey.  When the helicopter arrived we were greeted by 2 people.  One…inspired THIS POST about his behavior.    It was the closest I’ve ever been to calling someone “out” on the internet.  I was so angry as I drove to Hershey… so worried.  About my baby.

A CAT scan showed no stroke occurred.  Blood work was drawn.  Because Alexander has small veins, an arterial stick was used.  Not only is it incredibly dangerous, but it is also incredibly painful.  Alexander screamed as they drew this blood. 



Finally, with his seizures seemingly broken, we were admitted for observation because this last one was so different.  I once again – I convinced the doctors to allow me to watch him all night in order for us to have a private room.  Facebook became my friend.  My blog became my outlet.  The minute I released my anger over that insensitive EMT… my heart was open for the prayers that were offered up. 

I then posted the 3am reflection.  The smile of peace on a night changed in the blink of an eye.  Because isn’t life just a series of turns?  That happen in the blink of an eye? 

This morning, life returned to normal.  We were given an increase in medicine and discharge orders. 

So now what?   What do you do when you return home?  Your emotions so raw from the night’s activities and lack of sleep…

I called the EMT service.  I filed a formal complaint.  I told the director that it was irresponsible for that EMT to leave with my child and not all his medical history.  For my child to be unaccompanied for almost 2 hours without medical instructions.  I told the director that it was immoral for that EMT to take my child without even a hug or kiss goodbye.  Nothing. 

As I made this call… there was another realization that sat in just as deep.  That EMT may once again be in charge of my son’s life.  Am I making a mistake? 


I must push those fears aside for what is RIGHT.  I must help us return to normal. 
Twins and I play outside.
I try on my running shoes.
I Love my children.  All of them. 

So…. last night, when I returned home – I made the choice to continue with our IPad competition.  And trust me… competition is fierce.   I wondered if it was too much … to ask for prayers and then ask for votes.  And, I decided that we would either: say we were returning to life as normal and then do it… or we wouldn’t. 

I choose to do it.  However…. we have been very blessed by your prayers – which were necessary – those are what are important.  Above all else – the value of those relationships.  I wrote about that HERE.  I am writing this here in case you were following on Facebook or somewhere else and wonder, “how do they just go back? and pick up life like nothing happened?"  Because we have to.


We are still competing for the IPad.  - If you feel like voting for Alexander… he’s at the bottom… the cowboy. If you want to vote for another kid – that is cool too:  All the kids would benefit. We are personal friends with the Little Engine that Could and Super Girl.  We are internet friends with all of them.  And… the prisoner has been locked up for 24 years.  VOTE HERE


If you feel like sharing the link – share away. 
Down’s Syndrome is 1:600.  Alexander’s Syndrome is 1:50,000.  Spreading a little awareness goes a long way.



And now… I can feel relief.  We’ve helped raise awareness for Alexander’s syndrome, thanked everyone for their prayers and support, and explained all those “snippets” of life through my blog outlet. 



Thanks Shell.  You always deliver. 

Friday's Confession Booth: I’m a “Borrower”

Welcome to Friday's Confession Booth. To participate - you write a "Confession Post." It doesn't have to be serious, and you can read more about them HERE. Make sure you Enter the link-up below.  Then grab the button and place it in your post to link back and share with everyone's confessions.




<center><a href=”http://www.alittlesomethingforme.com” target=”_blank”><img border=”0″ alt=”A Little Something for ME” src=”<a href="http://s323.photobucket.com/albums/nn464/kstottlemyer/?action=view&current=confessionbooth1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i323.photobucket.com/albums/nn464/kstottlemyer/confessionbooth1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>"></a>“/></a></center>  
Here’s the thing. I borrow things.

I like that term better than “steal” – because… well, stealing is illegal and immoral.

I don’t mean to do it.  It’s not like I’m a kleptomaniac.  It’s not like I walk into a store and then walk out with unpaid things.

It is worse.

I “borrow” things from my family and friends.

And … never take the time to return them.

There.  You know my deep dark secret. 

These spoons?  They are my Aunt Mary’s.  She brought them to Thanksgiving dinner – at my old house – before I was married.  That means I’ve “borrowed” them for about 6 or 7 years.  I even took them to Christmas or Easter one year – but she didn’t show.  So, I still have them.  Aunt Mary – If you are reading this… I’m really sorry.

I have a TV (it is a 13 inch in my defense) that I “borrowed” from my Mom.  I actually tried to let my darling graduate borrow it when she left for college.. because she really needed it and my mom doesn’t anymore. (Does that make me a socialist thief?)


These hot pink velvet maternity sweat pants I’m wearing are “borrowed” from someone.  Truth – I don’t even know where I’ve borrowed them from. *sigh*  I just know that one day I woke up with hot pink velvet maternity sweat pants in my drawer and they are so comfortable… I’m wearing them right now as I type this.  Don’t believe me?  Check it out. 

I told you… I have no shame anymore.


Honestly – I could go on.  Outfits, CD’s (back when CD’s were cool), baking pans, jewelry, … the list never ends.

But, I swear, I’m not really a bad person.  I’m just forgetful.  Especially with other people’s things.


So. There you have it.  My deep dark secret.  Would you like to confess your secrets?

Just grab the button from the top to link back and enter the Link up.

Over Indulging our kids… and Undermining my Husband

I’ve been undermining Ray.  Not on purpose, but… *sigh* the truth is – he’s been over indulgent to the kids.  This past summer it seems every time I turned around – he was doing / getting them something.  You want an example? check out the post HERE.  Or… even this weekend – he left to get chemicals for the pool and came home with:
A tool belt
Musical Violin
Musical Saxophone
Small Piano
Battle Ship
Dinosaurs
And a couple of other things….


And they have a Birthday coming up in one month.  * I hang my head in shame here .*  I’ve been undermining this birthday.  I’ve felt ashamed that we were “going all out” for their 3 year old party.  I’ve felt like we should be doing something a little more … low key … for a birthday.

Ray’s booked a “destination” party.  We’re all going to a farm.  At the farm, there is a corn maze, hay ride, and petting zoo.  We’re doing a whole farm theme, complete with farm themed invitations.  We have farm themed games, farm themed food, and farm themed activities back at our house after the party.  We are inviting our friends and there should be a nice group of kids to enjoy the twins birthday. Instead of jumping up and down with excitement, even though the party sounds amazing, I have been quietly undermining Ray’s efforts because I felt it was a little lavish.  I’ve felt I needed to explain that this was Ray’s thing.

And now I feel ashamed.  Last Tuesday helped me to put things in perspective, once again. 

What if you were dating someone or even friends with someone who said, “I’ll come get you for dinner,” and never showed up?  How many times would you allow that behavior happen before you just… ditched that person? They say Actions speak louder than Words.  Sometimes I hate what our actions say.  They say… “We are not reliable.  We tell you we will be there for you, but we don’t always show up.” 


I know everyone reading this blog is thinking, it isn’t our fault.  But 3 year olds don’t understand that.  They wouldn’t speak to us when they returned home from the babysitter’s.  We don’t want to make a big deal about Alexander needing us, because the last thing we want is for them to resent him.  So they resent us… And if Raymond wants to throw them a grand birthday party to speak loudly YOU ARE SPECIAL TOO… then, a grand birthday party it shall be.

Which brings me right back to Raymond’s gift giving.  I hear people comment on the amount of toys my children have.  First, they don’t have that many…. but secondly – Imagine if almost weekly your sibling got new and cool toy?  Therapists leave Alexander toys all the time in the hopes that it will be the thing that triggers a new skill.  How long until do you think it will be until the twins resent all those “gifts?”
*I actually came home to another “gift” for Alexander.  It is a water therapy pool to help with his mobility.  Let me tell you – the twins think it looks awesome*

So again … I feel ashamed.  If Ray wants to go “picking” (this is what he calls himself when he stops at a yard sale) toys for the twins… then why can’t he?  Why should anyone care what my children have anyway?  Why should I feel the need to explain to others (or apologize) because my children got something?


I’m hoping the overindulgence will come to a slow simmer.  But, I’m also going to stop feeling guilty because we chose to show our love many ways.  I tell my kids I love them about a million times a day.  I tuck my kids into bed every night.  I hug them… over and over again.  But, I also break promises and disappear for days unexpectedly.  I will no longer undermine my husband as he plans an amazing birthday party.  Instead – I will focus on what a blessing it is to be married to a man who takes the time to think about our kid’s needs.

Friday’s Confession Booth: The Handicap Stall

Welcome to Friday's Confession Booth. To participate - you write a "Confession Post." It doesn't have to be serious, and you can read more about them HERE. Make sure you Enter the link-up below.  Then grab the button and place it in your post to link back and share with everyone's confessions




<center><a href=”http://www.alittlesomethingforme.com” target=”_blank”><img border=”0″ alt=”A Little Something for ME” src=”<a href="http://s323.photobucket.com/albums/nn464/kstottlemyer/?action=view&current=confessionbooth1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i323.photobucket.com/albums/nn464/kstottlemyer/confessionbooth1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>"></a>“/></a></center>
 I Confess:  I’m thinking about parking in a handicap stall.

At work – we have parking.  Regular staff parking, student parking, visitor parking, and handicap parking.  We have a handicap sticker.  Alexander shouldn’t be too far from a car ever … or his diastat ever.   Also – we go to a lot of doctor’s appointments and sometimes we have to park very far away.


I never use it for myself.

EVER.

I don’t really even like to use it when shopping or out and about.  I always picture my grandma needing that spot… and – we can walk.  Alexander, although he may need the pass for walking/riding purposes someday, he needs it now due to weather conditions and “medical fragility.”

Which brings me to Tuesday.  A phone call to work.  I run out of the building…. and – I’ve parked in the first open spot when I arrived at work.  The end of the parking lot.  Honestly – I’m completely out of shape.  I ran down the halls of our massive building.  I ran through the parking lot.  But, I needed to take a 3 minute step walk to catch my breath because … well, I couldn’t breathe.  I thought, “Oh my GOD – my son is seizing – and I have to walk because I can’t make it to the car?!?!?

Of course, the plan is to lose weight and run faster and be better.  Of course it is.  But until that happens….. should I park there?  There are about a billion handicap stalls.  They are never full.  But, I feel it is wrong. 

Is it?  Should I park in one of those spots? Or…. should I take what spot is left open?

I confess... this has been on my mind since last Tuesday... and I feel guilty just thinking about it.

(Oh... I posted an "update" late last night. If you didn't get a chance to check it out... you can go HERE.)


 

Joking? I can’t believe you just SAID that….

Secret. When I was in high school I helped out with the special Olympics at my school.  I was a senior and … thought I was big stuff.  You know what I said while outside working the special Olympics? “That is so retarded.” True story.  I immediately was mortified.  In my defense, I was 16 and realized my mistake.  My face turned red, I walked away – so embarrassed that I would say something so crass at a function so important. 


I told you that story so you could know that I’m not standing on my perch preaching down to you. I’ve been there.  I’ve said and done and thought a million things I’m not proud of.  But… now –  things are different.   I believe I am hard to talk to.

Lately we’ve been spending a lot of time with friends, family members, and people we don’t talk to on a regular basis.  They aren’t used to spending time with me.  They aren’t used to having conversations with me.  Something is said and I’m offended.  Something is almost said and everyone stops.  Someone is talking to me and they suddenly just trail off….  I’m over sensitive.  The world is not sensitive enough.

I teach about social situations.  I HATE hate.  I try to live tolerance every day.  And you know what?  Other people around me live tolerance also.  I do not associate with bigots.   They don’t make crass statements about women, people of other religions or ethnicities, or just… people in general.  Except. the. helpless.  Why is it ok to make fun of people with special needs? People like my SON.

Oh – here’s a list of the things I’ve heard in the past week or so…


I stopped by a blog I thought would be awesome.  I was reading it and getting ready to comment on how witty she was.  And then – there it was – in print.  The “R” word.  Yup.  “When I run, I look retarded.”  Thanks.  Thanks for putting yourself out there with my SON who has spent every ounce of energy trying to sit up and I pray one day runs.  JERK.
I’ve seen first hand people using physical gaits, hand tics, and non – verbal sounds … (you know what I’m talking about) because they think it is funny.  That might be my SON someday.  JERK.
“That person is going to ride the short bus.”  Guess What?  My SON has a nurse that stays with him every day.  I’m pretty sure he’s going to ride a short bus to school.  JERK.
“That person is special.”  JERK.


*sigh*  That doesn’t even begin to touch on the number of conversations I’ve had where people begin down that path and realize what they are going to say and just …. sort ….. of ….. trail…. off…..

I can’t fix the world. But, women can stand up for themselves.  Minorities can stand up for themselves.  People of different religions can stand up for themselves.  Who will stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves?

And stepping down from my pedestal – I’m guilty of things too.  How many times do I say, “You almost gave me a heart attack!” What if that person lost a loved one because of a heart attack?  Or, “If I hear that one more time I am going to shoot myself.” (If you are thinking of THIS POST – no worries) … but – honestly – how inappropriate is that statement?   Am I a JERK? 

What are we going to do?  Will there be a day when you can’t say anything without offending someone? 

I guess I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.  I hear it. I hear people say we are to “Politically Correct.” and I can see the validity in their statement. 

But then I hear the jokes.  I see the people making fun of … the person that could be my son. And my heart breaks.  My mommy gut shifts into high gear. I want to scream.  I want to lash out.  I realize I will alienate the other person… they didn’t mean it.  They didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. 
They don’t think about Alexander that way.

Truth…. Weather you like it or not – most of those things apply to Alexander.

What will that person (who thinks it is funny today to stiffen their arms and gait around and make noises that sound like words) do … if someday Alexander uses ALL HIS ENERGY to walk and manages a gait and ALL HIS ENERGY to talk and doesn’t enunciate his words properly.
I will clap. I will be proud.  Tears – proud tears of joy will stream down my face that Alexander is walking and communicating.
Will that other person feel pride? Will they continue to use the same joke?
Or… will people just avoid us because they are so worried they might offend us?

Thoughts?  What gets tossed around that you think should end – once and for all? Do you think I’m too sensitive?  Go ahead – give it to me!

The hypothetical situation that almost hypothetically ruined an anniversary

First - I must tell you that before Ray and I were married, we had to complete "marriage counseling" sessions with our pastor.  During one of those sessions, we examined - in depth - the way our parents react to situations, values they handed down to us, and practices we have unwittingly adopted from them.

Next - I'm going to tell you several hypothetical stories.  These are of "sensitive" issues, so I don't want you to think - for even a moment - that they could be about me or my family.

Hypothetically, there is this couple that had an anniversary.

Hypothetically - the wife in this couple unwittingly inherited many habits from her own father.  One of those habits was a relaxed attitude about things that are not "essential."  For example... this wife's father (hypothetically) probably has at least one vehicle in his driveway that is not inspected... Hypothetically. 

Get the picture?

So - hypothetically - the husband surprised the wife with a great night of fun for their anniversary.

The husband made dinner reservations, had flowers sent to their table, and took the wife out to play a little roulette - which this hypothetical wife liked to play once or twice a year.

It was a great evening and the couple left when they broke even - they didn't even lose any money.  Everyone was all smiles and love.  It was at this point that the hypothetical situation went awry.

As the hypothetical man went to retrieve the flowers, the hypothetical wife went to ask the nice security guard where she could cash in her chips. 

That is when it happened.

The hypothetical security guard asked the hypothetical wife for her license. 

And lets just say... for argument's sake... that the hypothetical license was expired.  Hypothetically, because the wife had put on a few pounds and didn't want to be fat on her license photo.  And .... hypothetically ... this security guard wouldn't let the wife back on the floor... and .. ahem... called for more security back - up.

And the hypothetical husband rounded the corner as 2 hypothetical security guards are arguing with his hypothetical wife over her hypothetical license that the husband told her to renew months ago.

Got that mental image?

Sort of a romantic dampener.

I sure am glad this story is all made up - otherwise - some people were probably in trouble... or at least very thankful they have an awesomely forgiving husband.

Horrific.........

Warning... POST IS GRAPHIC IN CONTENT.... Please exercise caution before reading...
 
For those of you who know me... you know that I hate to read all the garbage in the news.  I hate to flood my mind with images of the most vile things in society.  However.....  some moms posted a link to an article that I couldn't believe.  I actually searched it to find out if the article was legit... and I found the article from CBS.

(Warning... do not read if you have a weak stomach....) Read the story HERE - or read my abbreviated version with thoughts below. 

A woman had a child born with WHS.  She killed the 2 month old baby... by fire.  The autopsy showed smoke in the lungs.  This means the baby was alive prior to the fire. I honestly don't even know what to say here.... I'm looking at the screen thinking - what do I say next?

I just can't believe a person could do this. Could kill their child.  This is why I don't read the news. I hate these stories. And this story hits home because of the genetic syndrome... Alexander's syndrome.

But also shame on you CBS and other news outlets.  "A terminally ill baby was still alive...."  and  "the couple were (should say was) unaware Brandy would be born with fatal birth defects."  Shame on you for printing this. A child with Wolf Hirschhorn Syndrome is not terminally ill.  How did they not research this? How could they print such lies? Don't they know that WHS miracles exist within their midst every day? I feel like I could just vomit.  Or throw something. Or cry. Or do all three. I'm doing that looking thing again... what to say here......

This brings me back to when we heard the news.  We were told Alexander would be terminal.  We were told to "ease his suffering."  We were told to let him pass in peace.  Not only am I mortified that a mother would do this to their child - but I am always mortified when parents do despicable acts, BUT I am also mortified that news outlets allow the lie of the terminal WHS child live on.  I'm mortified that this woman was released on bail due to her 'special circumstances.'  SERIOUSLY?

Everyone has special circumstances. DEAL WITH IT.  Welcome to LIFE.  It throws you curve balls. DEAL WITH IT.  

AND FOR THE FINAL TIME. WOLF HIRSCHHORN SYNDROME IS NOT AN AUTOMATIC TERMINAL DIAGNOSIS. 

I guess this was bothering me a little more than I thought. Sorry for the depressing post - but .... when will people: news community / medical community / everyone stop giving up on a child before they have a chance to live?