Please Step AWAY from the Baby.

Random fact – a newborn’s optimal eyesight is approximately 7 inches.  That is also the space from a mother’s breast to a mother’s face.  Divine … God’s divine plan.  That a newborn sees his mother while she loves him in only a way a mother can.


So, I suppose it is natural for people to want to shove their faces into close proximity of a baby.  It is instinctual.  People want to see the cute baby and want the baby to see them.  People also feel this instinctual desire to touch or caress a baby.  They are so cute – you almost can’t help yourself.

News Flash:  Please Step AWAY from the Baby.

I know you mean well.  But don’t touch my kid.  Also – don’t put your face right in my kid’s face.  Let me explain it to you.

• Things aren’t like they used to be…. there are germs and illnesses you may be carrying you don’t even know about.
• There is this thing – called RSV.  I know… you’ve never heard of it before – please see above bullet.  In healthy children and adults it seems like a runny nose or cough.  In babies or medically compromised children – it can be life threatening.  Yes… I am serious.  Deadly Serious.
• I don’t know you.  Why do you think I want my kid to have your germs?
• Maybe you are a clean person…. did you use Purell or some other sanitizer after you touched the door to enter the building / check out counter / everything?…
• It is winter season.  Flu season.  Germ season.  I have 3 small children – who share germs. We don’t want yours.

This letter is an open letter to all well meaning people who see my children a child bundled up this winter and find themselves wanting to reach in, touch, and talk to this child.

Step back.  Away … from the baby.  Please. 

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?

Somebody Catch That Elephant!

Problem:  I am a buzz kill.
Solution: None.


I went to a party last night.  I took my date… a very handsome man. 

And… I’m nervous.  A lot of people haven’t met Alexander.  Sometimes I just want to shake that elephant in the room. 

It’s not that people don’t know…. or that we can’t talk about it.  But… all these topics come up and conversations die out.

We are not a newborn… but we fit into newborn status.  People comment on how cute he is. Because he is.   People say how good he looks. Because he looks good. … but, he was tired. He didn’t want to sit up or hold his head up or play with anything.


And I could feel it… the worried looks.  That Alexander was still so “newborn.”

And that Elephant in the room is off and running.

Friends say things and it seems I can never have the right response.  I feel defensive, “he isn’t feeling well. He normally sits so big.” 

I don’t want them to pity me so I try to make light of the questions asked, “Yeah, nothing like forgetting to feed your kid.” or “here’s a photo for Bad Parenting Magazine – how to smoosh your kid on the couch between 2 fluffy pillows.”

I’m probably over sensitive.  I don’t want to be a downer because people don’t know what to say.  And the truth is… sometimes I don’t know what to say either.

I’m better when I can write it out.  I’m better when I can think before I commit words to a page.  I’m better when I have a chance to use backspace and erase words I didn’t mean to say. 

Dear Friends,
Please continue to invite me to things.  That Elephant is growing smaller… I promise.  I need to get out.  I need to practice.  I know I have to work on it.  I need to build a little more confidence.  I need to chase that Elephant out of the room.  Just… let me keep being “normal” until “normal” is all we are.
Thanks,
Owner of the elephant.

The Shame of “Type A”

I took a personality test before writing this post.  The test can be found HERE.  The range was 35-380.  380 is extremely Type “A” … I scored a 300.

So I guess I’m pretty far on the spectrum. 

That isn’t really surprising.  If I was honest, I would confess to being impatient, having high standards, and I have trouble handling my stress.  I also often take charge, I’m goal oriented, and find myself being competitive.  I do become irritated when left waiting or wasting time, I have a hard time smelling the roses, and – I am a “fast talker.”  Apparently – even talking quickly is part of “type A.”  Finally, I am driven for success, am ambitious, and like to be the best.  At everything. 

Often, people associate Type A with things negative, but the truth is – I like to believe that I am a good person.  I have friends who are also “type A” … and I believe they are good people as well.  However… I need to remember to hold myself accountable to my values above my personality traits.

This post is really about the pursuit of happiness… or just the pursuit. 

Ever since I went to BlogHer a few weeks ago, I’ve been trying to process all the information they gave us.  I installed Google Analytics.  I’ve been looking at things like “bounce rate” and “unique visitors.”  I’ve found myself thinking things like, “Why didn’t I install this months ago?”  I couldn’t just be happy in the now. 

I’ve been trying to use Twitter more (ALSFM) and my Facebook page more… in my quest to be the best.  Not just happy with being… but trying to be the best.

And with teaching.  My passion.  My heart’s song.  It is not enough to go in and deliver a lesson and walk out.  I want to be the best.  Not for recognition from students or colleagues… but because mediocre is just not enough.

This pursuit has been swelling in my type A stress filled life for awhile.  All the while I try to slow down with my family – smell the roses – hug my children – I find myself racing forward in the pursuit of my goal oriented happiness filled dreams.

If only we have a house with two bathrooms.  If only my blog became a big thing.  If only we get this seizure dog.  If only Alexander has more therapy.  If only I can reach more students.  If only….

But, you see – I have these incredible friends.  They are my barometer on all those negative associations that come with the Type A.  They are the people that I call to help put things in perspective.  And because they helped me with that perspective, I am going to go ahead and pass some of that wisdom along.

I want to win that IPad for Alexander.  I want to win it so badly that I made a video with him touching my IPhone and I explained how it would benefit him.  I think he is  the cutest kid on the block.  I stand by my post on why I love Halloween.



BUT….

I need to remember that I am “competing” against my friends for this coveted gift.  I need to remember that winning isn’t everything.  I need to remember… that even an Iphone (which – honestly is too small for Alexander to manipulate) is more than some have.  I need to remember that some people do not have the means to any of these things.  I need to remember that some people don’t have the support system in place that we do.  I need to remember that some people have not been given the gifts we have.

I would still like for Alexander to win the IPad.  He will be amazing with it.  But.

Happiness is:
Friends who will stand by me through my “forever” times.
Family who loves and supports us constantly.
Loved ones who … just love us.

Happiness does not come from things.  It could all wash away.  And if I was left … a “loser” surrounded only by people who love us – we would still be the most blessed people.

Happiness is us.  Type A or not.  Happiness exists here. 

Are you happy?  Can you be happy without the pursuit?  What have you given up to reclaim your happiness?


Thanks – Shell…. for allowing us to link up (once again.)

I won’t take NO for an Answer

It is not an option.

It doesn’t exist in my vocabulary.

“Obstacles are put in our way to see if what we really want is worth fighting for,” unknown.

Here’s a letter I wrote to my students last week.





These are true statements.  There is nothing I can’t learn, do, accomplish.  Do you know what the rate of mg/kg of Keppra Alexander needs to currently keep his seizures under control?  It is about 45 mg of Keppra for every kg Alexander weighs.  This means that at 11lbs 8oz, he weighs 5.2 kg.  He gets .8ml of Keppra 3 times a day.  The solution is 100mg/1ml.   The ratio comes out to 45mg/kg. (actually closer to 48... but you get the picture).

I hate math.  I hate calculating things.  And yet… I calculate.

I also calculate calories.  A constant mental calculation of calories that Alexander eats.  Liquid calories, food calories, supplementary calories… calculate, calculate, calculate.

Because I can.  If I can inspire one student to believe they can do something they thought they “couldn’t” … Then I can be a satisfied teacher person.  I know I’ve been talking about my big dream, but really – I’m living my dream.  This dream of changing lives one person at a time.

Inspire. Dream. Inspire. Believe. Inspire. Push. Inspire… Don’t take NO for an answer. 

We had our IEP meeting for Alexander yesterday.  It went amazingly.  Don’t take NO for an answer.

Alexander will continue PT and OT
Alexander will begin the process for developmental therapy and speech therapy services.
We will continue the LONG process of getting a Gait Trainer for Alexander.
We are going to attempt to enroll him in a “daycare” / “playschool” for Alexander a few hours a week.
All of these are really more for the social aspect of his development more than the therapy.  I’m excited that more people will be around to give Alexander stimulation. 

*sigh* relief.  A meeting full of yes’s.  Because, honestly – “no” is not in our vocabulary.  An Obstacle is not the End… but the window into what we really want.

My children deserve everything I can give them.  My students deserve everything I can teach them.  Alexander is showing them why perseverance is so important.  And I’m proud of my baby. 

I’m linking with Shell today

Is there anything you won't take "No" for an answer?

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.)


 

STOP WHINING

Stop Whining.

I can’t take it anymore.

If I have to hear one more “woe is me” story about how terrible your life is because you have a child with special needs, I am going to smack you. Or Facebook defriend you (which is like the same thing.) Or just stop talking to you. Because – it not only makes me sick to my stomach, but it is really starting to piss me off.

Stop Whining.

No one feels sorry for you. Because they shouldn’t.  You know what?
Everyday – you wake up and get dressed.  You have a conversation with other people.  You walk around.  You eat your meal.  You don’t have seizures.  You don’t have special needs.
News Flash:  Your CHILD deals with these difficulties.  Your Child.  When I look at Alexander – he smiles.  Doesn’t your child?  And yet, You make references as to how difficult your life is?  Why?  Because you have experienced seizures that last for hours?  Why?  Because you have been poked and prodded and stuck repeatedly – because you have tiny veins? No. These things happen to your child. Where is the sympathy for your child?

I’m just tired.  We all struggle.  Lack of sleep, marital issues, feelings of negligence toward our other children.  We all understand.  We all want to support each other.  There are times when all parents have down moments. There are times when all parents need to vent, share, and express our worries.  But – your worries seem less about your child, and more about you.

I have friends, in real life and on the internet who live my greatest fear, and pity themselves less than you do.
 
I can no longer be friends with people who continue to pity themselves for struggles their children face. 
When a child is living, smiling, hugging, … begging for love – and all I hear is how tough your life is … I’m just frustrated.  Try giving your child a break.  Try empathizing with your child.  Try asking for prayers for your child.  Try not to ask, “why me?”  There are lots of people who would love to be where you are.  With a child who just loves unconditionally. And, frankly – I can’t take the whining anymore.

*Exception… Parents who just receive life altering news.  You are entitled to grieve in any way you know how… for the loss of your dreams, etc.  Having a child with special needs can be a lot to absorb… Everyone understands if it takes you some time to adjust to the news.

Ok. Go ahead. Let me have it. I know this is probably the most … aggressive …. post I’ve written. You can feel free to let me know if you agree or not.

Wives, Submit to your Husbands

Stop Laughing. Seriously. Stop Laughing.   It’s in the Bible, right?  I mean… all we have to do is just sit back, listen to what they say, and then .. do it.  Right?
A good friend of mine blogged about the Welcome to Holland Essay.  She used the “strikethrough” – which I think is the greatest literary tool ever invented, to make sure the essay conveyed her thoughts.  You can check it out HERE.  Although I’m not working on a special needs essay, I am going to use her methodology to dissect this excerpt from a 1950’s Home Ec textbook.:
The Good Housewife
The following is excerpted from an actual 1950's high school Home Economics textbook:

ADVANCE: How to be a Good Wife

HAVE DINNER READY: Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious  edible meal--on time at some point in the evening. This is a way to let him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned with his needs Everyone needs to eat and you are going to end up fixing it either way, so you might as well get in the habit of doing it. Most men are hungry when they come home, and having a good meal ready is part of the warm welcome that is needed will make you wife of the year.

PREPARE YOURSELF: Take fifteen minutes to rest so that you will be refreshed when he arrives because you are exhausted from all your daily “chores”.  He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting Be sure to share with him all the stories of children pooping in the hallway and tearing out every shoe from every closet so he appreciates his time out, besides,. His boring day may need a lift. Greet him with a smile.

CLEAR AWAY THE CLUTTER: Make one last trip though the main part of the house just before your husband arrives, gathering up sighing at all the children's books and toys, papers, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order the site of a tornado landing, and it will give you lift too.

PREPARE THE CHILDREN: If they are small, wash their hands and faces and comb their hair. They are his little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part.Try to find all your children. Attempt to make sure no one has any evidence of your poor parenting skills on their person – aka. left over lunch you didn’t get to wash off, poop still stuck to something, or buggers crusted on their cheeks. 

MINIMIZE ALL NOISE: At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise from the washer, dryer, or vacuum. Encourage the children to be quiet. I have no words here. NO. WORDS. 

SOME "DO NOT'S": Don't greet him with problems and complaints. Don't complain if he is late for dinner. And expect that he won’t greet you that way either.  But do lean on each other … as a sounding board for your struggles and successes.  Count this as a minor problem compared to what he might have gone through that day. He probably had some big crisis he took care of at his big time job… but you gave all 3 children LIFE and kept them safe for another day.  You did ok too. Feel good about those accomplishments.

MAKE HIM COMFORTABLE: Have a cool or warm drink ready for him then fix yourself something with a kick. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or suggest that he lie down in the bedroom help do something while you lie down in the bedroom. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes.  Again, NO. WORDS.  Speak in a low, soothing voice. By expressing yourself in that low “I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t get some help around here voice” you will scare him into doing something. Allow him to relax and unwind.

LISTEN TO HIM: You may have a dozen things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival so make sure you get them all out quickly.  When he is firmly seated in front of Sports Center is not the time. Let him talk first  eventually.

MAKE THE EVENING HIS: Never complain if he doesn't take you to dinner or to other entertainment.Men forget that you are not a wife from 1950 and like to sit around and wait on their every need. Instead, try to help him understand his your world of strain and pressure and his your need to unwind and relax.

THE GOAL: TO MAKE YOUR HOME A PLACE OF PEACE AND ORDER WHERE YOU AND YOUR HUSBAND CONTINUE TO LOVE EACH OTHER.CAN RELAX IN BODY AND SPIRIT.

So…. where is the marriage to be?  1950’s style? Or the more “modern” version of today?  Or somewhere in between?  I will tell you this – I am NO marriage expert.
But, Biblically, it says in Ephesians 5:22 – Wives, submit to your husbands.  Guess what it says in Ephesians 5:28?  Husbands love your wife as you love yourself.  Yeah… it’s not one sided men. 

Have you ever heard the phrase, too many cooks in the kitchen?  Why is it that almost everyone can agree that a time CAN come when there are too many people in the kitchen and nothing runs effectively.  It would be better if there was one person in charge and others working on tasks.  (Uh oh… how many followers have I lost here?)  But, no one wants to admit that there can be too many leaders in the marriage?  (I can see the followers dropping like flies.)

If Ray loves me as he loves himself – then I can submit.  Because I know that he would never do anything to harm himself and would only want the best for himself.  That does not mean that I can’t have an opinion.  Or offer my opinion. Or that we don’t argue… a lot. Or that probably a lot of people would say, “I can’t believe she thinks she submits to him.” Because often when we are out it seems I am in charge. 

Looks can be deceiving.  There can only be one Rooster in the henhouse, one cook in the kitchen.. but it is a two sided equation.  I expect that Ray will love me as he loves himself.  And he can expect me to submit. 

Eventually. (Just kidding!)

So… what do you think?  Should that verse be thrown out completely?  Interpreted differently?  Who’s the BOSS in your family?  Who’s telling me off and moving on to a new blog? It is ok. 

(ps. as I was writing this Ray was plucking my last nerve and I told him I was going to delete everything I said after my re-write of the Good Wife…. so I guess I’m still working on the submission thing.)

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!

I fell off the Bandwagon

landed hard, broke both of my legs, and took out a sumo wrestler in the process.  I fell off the Weight Watchers Bandwagon.

Stupid Weight Watchers.

So – it started with our beach trip.  I would say – I took a one week “time out” from dieting. 


Imagine a league of Weight Watchers skinny people saying, “That’s why we call it a lifestyle  not a diet.” 

Stupid Weight Watchers.

Then we came back… and getting back on track was a little difficult. 

Imagine a league of Weight Watchers skinny people saying, “You just need to Track what you eat.”

Stupid Weight Watchers.

Everyone I know has had a birthday party in the last 2 weeks.  Niece, nephew, cousin, Ray, Ray’s mom, my dad, my mom…. the list goes on and on and on.  And everyone has CAKE … and SODA… and BREAD… Seriously people.  BREAD.  Then there are those town fairs.  Who can chose a salad (I don’t even think they sell salad at fairs) when you have sausage sandwiches and French fries and ice cream.

Imagine a league of Weight Watchers skinny people saying, “You just need to make better choices.”

Stupid Weight Watchers
 
Ugh.  I've eaten everything in sight. Everything in sight. ... Because tomorrow I'm going to hop back on.  Then  - I see something I just can't live without... eat it ... and promise to start dieting tomorrow.

Imagine me encountering that league of skinny Weight Watchers people... It is not pretty.

Stupid Weight Watchers

Right now I’m bitter. And not skinnier.  In fact, I might have to go bust out some old maternity clothes and poufy shirts from HERE. 

Watch out Weight Watchers skinny people. I might just sit on you. 

I Will Love You until You Hate Me… And that is just OK.

I am not your friend.  I repeat… I am not your friend.  I am your mother.  It is my parental right to make you upset, angry, and frustrated.  Because you are 3 and I am 33.  Period.  However, for the sake of all those who see us in public, I will explain my actions in clear and concise terms.


You can do anything, I repeat – Anything, and I will still love you.  That is what a parent does.  LOVES first.  There is NOTHING in this world that could shake my LOVE for you.  But I also have a responsibility to society to help you become a decent person.  To that end, there are only three rules that are strictly enforced around this house.

1.  You may not be DANGEROUS.  Dangerous – to put yourself or others in harm’s way.  That doesn’t mean you can’t ride a bike.  That means you can’t ride a bike in the center of a 4 lane highway.  You will be automatically punished. You may not be a danger to yourself or others.  You may not hit, throw objects, or physically attempt to maimed someone else.  You must do age appropriate things like hold a hand while in a parking lot or stay with us in a crowded place or not hang from the top of bunk beds.  These things are dangerous to you … and it doesn’t help for me to love you if I allow you to be constantly hurt.  That doesn’t mean I’m going to baby you and refuse to let you test boundaries and learn life lessons.  You may climb… but not 7 feet in the air.  You may walk independently, but not along a road.  When you are punished for a dangerous behavior, it will probably be an automatic and severe punishment.  Because I want to make a long lasting impression.  You should NEVER do this action again.  So, if you take off running into traffic, I would grab your arm, yell, “NO!” and give you a tap on the bottom.  You don’t have to like it.  That is the point.  I have a duty to keep you safe.  That gives me an obligation to make sure you never run into traffic again.

 You can hate me. I’m ok with it.  I love you that much.

2.  You may not be DISRESPECTFUL.  Disrespectful – when you show a lack of respect, are discourteous, or are rude.  Thou will not be rude to anyone.  This includes, but is not limited to, parents, siblings, teachers, elders, peers, parents of peers, family members, or pretty much anyone on the street.  You will treat every last person with respect.  It is biblical, (Matthew 25:40)  ⁴⁰ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’   It is also just human.  It doesn’t matter what your opinion is, who tells you to do something, or what your similarities or differences are between a person – you will be respectful… as long as I have something to say about it.  You don’t have to like it.  That is the point.  I have a duty to help you become a decent human being.  That gives me an obligation to make sure you treat others with respect.

You can hate me.  I’m ok with it.  I love you that much.

3.  You may not be DISOBEDIENT.  Disobedient – when you do not follow the direction of me, Daddy, your grandparents, and any one who may be in charge of you that day.  There are so many reasons you must obey.  You need to obey because we want to keep you safe.  When I say, “Stay here.”  I need to know that you will indeed stay and not run into danger.  I need to know that you will listen to me.  There are 3 of you, with less than 2 years difference between you.  You need to obey your elders.  We also insist on obedience because we know what is best for you.  With all things, we have your best interests at heart.  We love you and want to help you live a long and happy life.  If you do not obey, you will be punished.  You don’t have to like it.  That is the point.  I have a duty to help you stay safe and realize boundaries exist.  That gives me an obligation to make sure you know what to do when someone gives you boundaries.

You can hate me.  I’m ok with it.  I love you that much.

So much is said about parenting.  People talk about doing one thing and end up changing their behavior in public.  I took the twins to Krispy Kreme and they watched everyone else eat a doughnut.  No Lie.  Because they were disobedient in the hours leading up to our trip.  We weren’t going to spoil everyone’s evening – and they did get to eat their doughnut the next morning.  But they sat there and watched everyone else eat.  And I’m ok with it.  I don’t have to be their friend.  My job is to PARENT them into human beings that people enjoy spending time with.  We have used corporal punishment.  There I said it.  You can judge me as you will.  We also use time out, take toys, and refuse to let the kids partake in activities if they break one or more of the 3 cardinal rules.  Again… You can judge me.  It is ok.  I have some old fashioned values.  and It is ok.  In the end – I love my kids.

I’m not my kid’s friend.  I am their parent. THEIR. PARENT.  It is time that parents everywhere start taking their jobs seriously.  You have a responsibility to raise a person who will give to society … in some way – not just take.  A person with a moral compass, that leads to the road of humility and righteousness.  Unite. Take a stand.  Make friends your own age.  You can always be friends with your kids when they are older. 

What do you find is the most effective form of parenting? 

The Overexposure of Blogging…

I have this friend, in – real – life, who is also an amazing writer / blogger.  Her blog is one of those inspire me – make me look outside the box – and have a different perspective blogs.  She went through some life changes and decided to take down her blog for awhile.  I asked her the other day when I would be able to read her thoughts on life again – and her response was something totally unexpected.  “I don’t know.” 

What do you mean you don’t know?  You have this incredible gift! You need to write! So I can read it! You can’t stop! When I finally paused for air, she quietly explained her moral dilemma she was wrestling with.  You see, she and I are cut from the same cloth.  My actions are my own.  I claim them.  When I embarrass myself – I embarrass myself.  When I am sad, it is ok.  When I am happy… that is awesome.  If you are doing something you are ashamed of, then you should stop doing it.  Her concern was for her children.
“What if they grow up to be private people?”  “What if they resent all that I have shared about their lives?”  “Maybe I should start over and not use their real names.”  “Maybe I should stop.”


I was left utterly speechless.  Not only was my sister in crime bringing up some really valid points, they were things I honestly had never really thought about!  Yes, Ray is private, and we have had to come to some agreement about the blog.  Yes, truth be told… he is still not 100% sold on it.  He told me today I should just switch to a diary.  But, I never really thought about the idea the kids might not love the blog when they are older…. crap.  Now I’ve got to mull this over.

One of the first things I did was check other blogs.  How did they deal with these potential problems.  Some bloggers had rules where they didn’t talk about their kids.  (Well… that’s not going to work) Some bloggers had pretend or nicknames for their children. (Oops… Should’ve thought about this about 7 months ago.)  Some bloggers had rules against talking about their kids medical conditions. (Um… that’s the whole reason I ever started blogging… *sigh*)  I read and read – everyone had their own boundaries.  And I realized that their rules didn’t have to be my rules.  I read back over my blog…. what were the underlying things that might upset my children?  Through the eyes of someone who might become a private person… what might they not like?  I realized 2 things.

1.  Throughout the blog… no one could ever deny my love for my children.  Almost everyone I know likes to look at pictures from their childhood.  I really believe the kids will like to read about their adventures through our eyes as we live them.

2.  I write as if Alexander will never actually read this blog.  I know.  Those words are harsh.  It took a lot of soul searching to realize the truth in those words.  In the back of my  mind… that 15.32 is always there.  Sometimes influencing me in ways that I don’t even realize.  I believe in my heart that you will walk and eat, I pray that you will talk, and I know that you will understand words that are spoken to you.  But, as I read over these entries, I realize that I was writing as if it would someday be read to Alexander, not by him.  If he reads it himself, he would get the unedited version.  The fears, hopes, … the everything.  If he gets it read to him, it can be edited as it is spoken, so that he can feel the love and not the worries. (I guess you learn something new everyday.)

I will remain prayerful about the content placed here.  For the time being, I feel comfortable with what is written.  There are many many people who post pictures and stories about life on the internet.  I receive daily e-mails come from people who are connecting with the blog and … the selfish part of me still needs that.  To know that my feelings are not mine alone.  To know that my worries are not mine alone, and to know that our triumphs can be celebrated by others as well.  But – I will now re-read my posts with from a different perspective before I post it.  Will this cause my children to need therapy?
 
Last night was a late one.  As I prayed, I wrote… and wrote, and wrote.  I wrote letters – to Alexander, to Addison, to Andrew.  I wrote thoughts about work.  I wrote my prayerful heart out.  Over the next several days, I’m going to post them and link them back to this… where it all began.  So feel free to check in and read the words God placed in my heart and the explanations to my children about my love for them and this blog.  *Oh… and …. the (hopefully final) end to the go back to work saga. **
My Personal Confessions - HERE
Letter to Alexander - HERE

Not to Judge

It's the third of July and I'm contemplating this idea of freedom.  I'm about to write a post - in the next day or two - about how my life was placed back on track by a very unconventional method... and I realize after that post, many people may change their opinion of me.  I may lose followers.  I realize after this post, many people may change their opinion of me.  I may lose followers.  I'm ok with that. 

I believe in God and pray for my family and others regularly.  I read the Bible and found these passages very inspiring this morning.  Galatians 5:1 " It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery"   Galatians 5:13-15  "You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. ¹⁴ For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” ¹⁵ If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other." 

There are many people who read passages in the Bible and use passages to hold high moral standards. *sigh* (here is where it get complicated). I think that many people are turned off by "religion" because of the rigidity of some believers.  I believe many people stray from the Word because they feel judged for their actions.  I believe too many people see the world in black and white.  I see many many shades of grey.  That is why this passage was important to me.  It talks about freedom in Christ.  But, I believe it also speaks to the shades of grey.   
 
For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: "Love your neighbor as yourself."  

Now is the time to lay it all out.  I believe, the Bible is a living, breathing document.  I believe the only person who truly knows what God was saying is God. (Well... and Jesus.)  I believe people have interpreted the Bible incorrectly. (example - in cases of oppression.)  I believe that God should do the judging and I should do the loving.  That doesn't mean that I'm never bothered or angered by behavior... because sometimes I am. BUT.... I really do try not to judge.  I believe God will do that when we all die.

I believe its what's on  the inside that counts.  The rest is just not for me to judge.  There are things that I do that others may not approve of.  I watch rated R movies.  Sometimes I swear.  Sometimes my sense of humor is "inappropriate."  ... and this is just the tip of the iceberg.  I guess that I wish people would not judge when I write my next post.  That people would see that listening to rap music or spanking your child, or drinking, or swearing,  or whatever... is not the end of my morality.  That it doesn't mean I've abandoned my values.  And I try to live my life in the same way.  I know there are a lot of controversial topics out there.  People are throwing around religion, God, and the words of the Bible to reinforce their moral high grounds.  What if we just left the judging to God and the loving to us? 

Letter to the new mother.

I've been thinking about this ever since I heard the horrific news of what happened in Las Vegas.  The truth is, probably this mother had other issues and would have done something terrible anyway - but that doesn't excuse the fact that false information circulates still about Wolf Hirschhorn Syndrome.  So here it is - my letter to a new mother (or even a mother who is still struggling with this reality).

Dear New Mother,
It will be ok. 
Please remember that life can change in an instant.  There are people already in your life that you love unconditionally, and you would go to the ends of the Earth for them.... don't worry - you will feel that way about this baby also.  It is ok to be mad at God.  Most people who have traveled this road before raged against him at one point or another, however ~ do not let this rage consume you.  If you had a relationship with him before, feel free to pray, "why?" ... just don't stop praying.  At some point he will answer your questions and heal your heart.

Don't blindly trust what you hear.  Even if it is from a doctor.  People are all fallible.  Doctors make mistakes.  You are the best expert on your child.  Your mommy gut will not fail you.  Listen to what doctors have to say, ask questions, ask more questions, go home - think about things, and make the decision that sits well in your heart.  Your best resource is going to be other parents.  A doctor, in 2010, told us that Alexander would be terminal and to let him "pass gently to ease his pain."  This wasn't a doctor from 1950 ... we were devastated because we felt the doctor was talking from expertise.  The doctor was speaking about a syndrome she had never seen based on research from 1950.  Since then, Alexander eats, smiles, coos, socially interacts, giggles when he is happy, and gets angry when people take something he wants.  Almost all of Alexander's Wolf Hirschhorn friends are walking ~ at least with assistance.  And, honestly, is it the end of the world if a child doesn't walk?  Use the other parents as a sounding board.  Then you have access to opinions from people from around the world.  The medicine that helped Alexander digest his food? I found out about it from another mom and went to several doctors until I found a young guy who was up on his research and knew this drug was used for G.I. emptying. I would not have been able to do this without the community of support of people who are going through the same thing.

Get your child therapy and treat your child normally.  This is probably one of the most important things I can tell you.  If you see your child as an outcast, so will others.  Throw away the chart of "appropriate milestones."  Call Early Intervention.  Get yourself a copy of Gross Motor Skills for Down Syndrome and Fine Motor Skills for Down Syndrome.  These will help to guide you in teaching your child how to reach milestones.  Some milestones we don't realize are milestones because they happen so quickly for other children. (Some therapy ideas can be found HERE.) Use these tools ~ but don't let these things rule your life.  This brings me back to the normalcy of it all.  Get a good reclining high chair - that sits up to the table.  A great one is from Fisher Price.  Put your child in it for every meal.  Alexander has sat at the table with us for every meal since he was tiny.  Even though he didn't eat, he watched us eat and socialize.  We talked to him.  How can I expect him to eat pizza with us someday - if he never sees how amazing pizza with the family is? Alexander goes almost everywhere with us.  Alexander is not the outcast of our family.  Raymond and I never talk about "we can't do this" because of Alexander in front of the twins.  The twins are always encouraged to include Alexander to do things with them.  The 3 kids take a bath together.... every single night. Simple things like this help to solidify your family.  I expect high things from Alexander.  I will love him no matter what, but I will continue to hold high standards for him.

This is me - holding my first born. She was also in the NICU

Lean on us when you need a shoulder to cry on. We have been there. We understand. However, let me caution you.  You must try to find some happiness in life.  I say this cautiously because.... we want you to share those dark moments when you need support.  In the early days and months, people will come to you with open arms and hold your hand as you cry.  Because we have all been there. Just try to make sure you aren't sinking into the abyss that threatens us all.   We want to help you out of the darkness.  We want to listen to you, cry with you, stand strong with you.  We all understand.  But none of us can sink with you.  This may seem like a contradiction, but this is sound advice. Even if it is a struggle, try to find something happy every day.  If you can't do this, please take some time to talk with someone... to find happiness.  Your life has changed drastically, so it may take some time to fully accept your new reality.

Stay connected.  Don't let this syndrome become the end all to be all that rules your life. Again... it may sound like a contradiction, but you have to find a happy medium.  You can acknowledge that your life has changed without becoming completely immersed. And finally...

Love your child. Love. Your. Child.  All children are gifts from God.  You could have a child and realize later in life they were autistic. You could have a child and realize later in life they were going to be wild and sneak out, etc..... you would still love these children.  So love this child.  Give yourself some time to absorb all this information. Everything will be ok. You will love this child.  And this child will love you. Wait and see.....

My Legacy

Do you ever wonder what your legacy will be?  Sometimes I wonder about mine.  We all have bits of ourselves we leave behind as we walk through life - and I wonder what my pieces will say about me.  I think it has been part of the growing pains of this past year that I now contemplate this.  You see... we are the recipient of so much generosity.  It literally continues to flow in.

A mother of a friend (whom I've never met in real life - we have the twin bond) sent me the most wonderful letter.  Amazing.  Ray's college roommate from his junior year in college and his wife just sent us support.  Amazing.  Several friends of mine from college and high school answer basic questions for me because sometimes I just need some advice from people I love and trust.  Amazing.  My great aunt's brother and his wife's auxiliary are interested in helping us. (did you follow all that?) Amazing. 

With this we have become what we never really were - takers.  I don't mean that in a negative way, but it is really humbling to accept gifts from people.  It is like accepting a compliment.  While you love it, you also are a little unsure what to say afterwards. We say thank you.  We use the heartfelt thank you page to show publicly how honored to we are to have so much support.

I am able to accept this support because it is necessary for my son.  But I do not want this to be my legacy.  I do not want to be remembered as someone who took and did not give back.  I like to think this blog is the start of my legacy.... the recording of thoughts and events to give people a look at moments in life people don't often talk about.

If I were honest... I want my legacy to be:
A good Christian
A good Mother
A good wife
A good friend
An optimist
A realist
Someone who made a difference 
Someone who was generous to others
Someone who was accepting of others

I guess ~ with so many people investing prayers and support for our family ~ I want my legacy to be worthy of those blessings.

Woodrow Wilson once said:  You are not here merely to make a living. You are here to enable the world to live more amply, with greater vision, and with a finer spirit of hope and achievement. You are here to enrich the world. You impoverish yourself if you forget this errand.

What did I miss?  What else should be part of my legacy? What things would you like to be part of your legacy?

Life Lesson #4: Special Circumstances doesn't mean Morally Right.

I have always been an opinionated person.  Just ask anyone.  So this last life lesson is one that I want to write honestly so everyone can see that I am not suddenly judge, jury, and executioner.  The fact is… I do not stand from my perch of “Special Needs” and sit in judgment of all others that pass before me.  Having an opinion does not mean it is correct.  Please hear this – Special Circumstances is not the ultimate Trump Card. 

Yesterday, I lied.  Yes… I did, and it was wrong.  I received a “bill” to authorize the request for payment for one of our many medical treatments in the past month.  I received a paper I needed to sign; I signed the paper, and forgot to put it in the mail the very next day.  (Literally… the very next day.)  Later that evening, I received a phone call from people at that organization.  (Again, this was one day after receiving the “bill.”)  They asked if it was mailed and I replied that it would go with tomorrow’s mail.  The man on the phone then asked me if I had access to a fax machine and could I fax it.  This was the straw that broke me.  I could not believe that they wanted a paper so badly they would give me a one-day turnaround before asking for a fax.  I was morally angered.  They were wrong! I said, “No, I do not.  I’m in a hospital with my son.”  This was a lie.  We were in the hospital the day before and the day after… but at that moment I just needed peace and my lie felt justified because… “How dare him?” 

That was wrong.  My special circumstances should not have been used as a weapon to make someone else feel embarrassed.  Just because I had an opinion on something, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m right.  More importantly, I shouldn’t have used Alexander as the fist if I wanted that guy to be my punching bag. 

Have always had opinions about things.  My opinions change; I change.  I am not always right.  I am not above reproach.  I do not have the “ultimate perspective.”  I do have a unique perspective, but just because I see things from a different side of the fence, doesn’t make it the only side.  Life lesson – those who sit in judgment are only asking to be judged themselves.

This ends my life lessons from Yesterday.  I am really interested in what life lessons you have learned.  You can write a lot or as much as a sentence – I just want to hear them.

Just a little something to make everyone smile at the end of the day.

Life Lesson #3: Rubbernecking is not nice

You know when you are driving along and all the sudden traffic comes to a halt?  And you think… “Oh no! This has got to be either construction or an accident.  I’m going to be here all day.”  Then – as fast as you came to a stop … you start to speed back up.  That’s when you spot it – the thing everyone else has spotted.  An accident – but it is already off the road.  Everyone is slowing down to rubberneck.  You know – turn their head to get a good look at everyone and everything involved. It has always bothered me. Now – it is entered into my book as a moral, “no. no.”

Life lesson # 3.  Rubbernecking is not rude – it is wrong.  Now, I know that we have all done it.  I can remember standing on my own front porch to see where the fire trucks were headed when they went through town.  And – I wasn’t alone.  Everyone went out to their porches to see what was happening and to whom it was happening to.  So please don’t think I’m taking a moral high ground here and giving a one-man lecture.  I’ve just altered my perspective….

This photo is one from a Hellicopter ride we took to Hershey. 
I was able to ride - this time.  And these pictures are very
benign... But they are not always...

Yesterday, Alexander had a seizure he couldn’t break.  Thank goodness my father was there – he tended to the twins while Ray and I dealt with the seizure.  We gave his emergency medicine.  It didn’t break.  We had to call for the ambulance.  When they came inside, one man said they already had a chopper on standby.  Another EMT said hi because we recognized each other.  We are “that” family.  You know…. The ambulance family.  The family everyone whispers about.  The family everyone wonders, “what is going on over there?  Why do they have an ambulance come so often?”  You have redneck neighbors, snobby neighbors, the rude neighbors, the loud neighbors, the neighbors with the terrible children, … and then there is us.  The neighbors who have medical emergencies several times a month. 

Usually (isn’t it crazy that I’m even going to say this sentence?) the helicopter lands in an open field down the street.  It is nice because it is private.  It is also nice because the closest house is a home with their own special circumstances. Yesterday, we got a different helicopter.  This helicopter landed at the church right behind my house.  This was the sight of the week!  Look at the helicopter! Landing so close to the neighborhood. I packed up my things, Alexander’s medicine, clothes, feeding supplies, etc.  I grabbed my purse and kissed the kids and Ray goodbye.  We took the ambulance (which provided a bit of privacy) to the church parking lot where I was given CRUSHING news.  I would not be able to ride with Alexander to Hershey (over an hour drive).  I wish I could say that I handled it gracefully.  I wish I could tell you that I just told them Alexander’s most vital information and went along my way.  But the truth is – that would all be a lie.  I sobbed. Those huge, ugly tears.  You know – the sobs that you cannot speak through. I’m trying to tell the doctors that Alexander is a hard stick and they need to use the IV in his head.  And that Alexander doesn’t react to Ativan; they need to use Diastat instead.   I’m trying to tell them what the signs of a seizure look like, I’m trying to explain the “do’s and don’ts” ….. while my heart is breaking, over and over again.  I know the EMT’s on Life Lion must have felt like complete jerks because I wouldn’t stop talking about my 9lb baby.  FYI…. I sobbed like that the entire way to Hershey. But this wasn’t the worst of the story – or the life lesson.

When the decision was made to put Alexander on the helicopter, I got out of the Ambulance with my things and walked to our car.  I had to walk through a crowd of people.  People with cameras. People who gathered to watch the scene.  I got to walk through a crowd of my neighbors at one of my most vulnerable points.  As they watched a mother sob so hard she could not speak because she just put her tiny baby on a helicopter and now has to drive to meet him.  My head was filled with a million worries – not only about the care, but all those “extra” things doctors should know about my son.  I literally could not get a grip on my emotions and it was something that should have been embarrassing to watch.  And yet we do.  We rubberneck.  What happened? Whom did it happen to?  What can I see?

This was someone's pain.  How many
people do you think slowed down
to check it out?

Yesterday I felt like screaming, “Did you all get a good enough look at my heartbreak?”  “Did everyone get a full view of my pain?”  I told you Yesterday I almost broke.

When people rubberneck, it must be to see what is going on.  It must be because they would like to take a good look at someone else’s tragedy.  I can tell you – from the other side of the tragedy – It is embarrassing and lowers your view of society about 100 notches when you become the object of the rubbernecking. 

Remember that…. Every time you look – it is someone’s life at a terrible moment you have chosen to witness.  Maybe the more compassionate thing would be to just look away and allow that family to grieve in private.