Pictures Taken at the Right Moment

I am fortunate enough to have family and friends that usually do not send me the "pass this email on or your armpit hair will grow to outrageous, uncontrollable lengths before the end of the year" emails. I find most of them interesting, some poetic and others just plain funny. The pictures below were sent to me by my stepmom the other day. They made me laugh out loud the first time, the second time and even the third. Actually the guy in the last picture still has me laughing! I am giggling like a three year old and my stomach is starting to cramp. I had to share...

Fun in the Tub

Spencer loves his bath time. About six months ago he learned to put the word "bath" with the actual activity. Before this, anytime I walked towards the general direction of his bedroom, he assumed it was time for bed and would sit on the floor and whine. I started saying, bath, bath very clearly and then walking him to the bathroom. I was so excited the first time I realized he recognized the word. That helped me to start using "diaper" and "a book"when I needed him to come to his room to change his diaper or to read a book. Now he just ignores me on purpose. Males learn this at such an early age!

For many children it is an easy transition to recognize simple words and there meanings. Spencer has a very hard time doing this. He takes many small steps with big meanings to our household. I glow with pride each and every time.

Another GIANT step for Spencer last week. School, daycare and myself have been working for over a year now to see if Spencer recognized those in his every day life. Mommy, daddy, Mrs. DeeDee (his teacher), Grammy etc. He will mimic very nicely if you point and say the name first but does not seem to understand if you point to him or yourself and say, "Who is this?". A few months ago when I walked into daycare to pick him up, he looked up angelic as can be and said..."Mommy!". I nearly fell on the floor. Then I cried a few tears and tried not to squeeze him to death. I will never forget that moment or his sweet little voice as he said it. He said it again the next day. I have not heard it since. However, he said his substitute teacher's name last Friday at school! His normal teacher had necessary surgery and has been gone a couple of weeks. The substitute is the retired Speech Therapist Spencer had and adored last year. He walked in the room after gym class and said, "Mrs. Mary". I think she is as proud as I am!


Telling a story...


Trying to stick his tongue out.


Hmm...what's up here?

Welcome to Holland

by Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean, Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around...and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills...and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy...and they're bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever go away...because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But...if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things...about Holland.




Spencer stayed home from daycare with John today. Here he is trying to call me for some backup. "Mommy, dad won't let me run around the house naked with the cheese grater. Will you come home and blog so I can try to sneak and do this?"

"Fine then, I am calling Grandma!"

Sunshine and Soil

That sounds like a good name for a grunge band... Anywho...Today I spent time doing something I love best. Planting flowers! I have had flowers stored in my garage, wilting for over a week just waiting for some sunshine and soil. While it was windy at times, I couldn't wait any longer. I went early enough to the greenhouse this year to get the nicer plants before they were picked over. The hanging basket is beautiful in person. I can't wait to watch my perennials bloom either. I check on them a couple of times a day (like they would ever grow that fast!).





I really need a tan!

Isn't this frog neat? I bought him this way.

Skeletons That Are Not in My Closet

Meet my Catrinas. You may find them odd, possibly even grotesque. I find them intriguing pieces of art. I cannot tell you why I do though. I am normally not a fan of skeletons, skulls etc. Many moons ago during a vacation to Arizona, I crossed the border in Nogales, Mexico and went shopping. I honestly could have bought one of everything. I have always found the Mexican culture interesting and the creativity they use amazing. I walked into a shop and saw my first Catrina. Catrinas are Day of the Dead dolls used for the one day a year the Mexican culture celebrates their dead. The story goes that a beautiful, young lady primped and dressed herself in her finest clothing and went to meet her lover. He did not show and she died of a broken heart.

I decided I needed some of these masterpieces. In Mexico they are not terribly pricey. Here, they are at least 3 times as much. Since running off to Mexico is not an option these days, I turned to the next best thing and found a seller on ebay. John bought me one for my birthday this last year. He shook his head and asked if that is what I really wanted. I am thinking he does not see the use for this sort of artwork.

To my total dismay I received three more for Christmas this last year. We exchanged gifts with our friends Pam and Ramsay. Pam, bless her heart, bought me three! One being a gentleman. These are very rare. I cried. Sobbed is closer to the truth. Not because of the monetary value but because she thought I was important enough to deserve such treasures. I have no idea how to show appreciation for such niceness. I am not good at letting people know how I feel. I hope she knows how special and thoughtful this was to me. I love you girl!


I love her dress, orange being my favorite color and all. Plus that scrawny leg sticking out.

This lovely lady is expecting and smoking. Not a good role model.


Here is my gentleman. Look at those hands.


I love the detail on her snake boa. If my photo skills only better. She is a beauty.



Here is what John thinks of the whole idea! She has some nice pretzels, I must say!

Priceless Gifts from the Heart

I am not a sentimental person in general. I can easily have a prized possession one day and sell it on ebay the next. I do have a few things that I hold near and dear though.

My mom's comment for yesterday's feet blog sent me on a search for old pictures. I found this index card my sweet nephew Colin made me a few years ago on my birthday. At that time it made me laugh. This time it made me cry. Boy, do I love that boy.

Isn't this just precious?



Then I went on a mad search for my favorite picture in the world. Colin drew me many pictures but this one by far is the best. I love the little squirrel climbing up the tree. It is wrinkled from the many moves it has endured but it still adorable nonetheless.

Last but certainly not least is a gift from my nephew Sam. Sam has always been the quieter of my sister's boys. Happy to watch while Colin told the jokes and grabbed the spotlight. More on the shy side but just as sweet. Sam gave me this teddy bear on one of the first visits back home after I had moved a couple of hours away. I have kept it close ever since.





Were you to offer me a million dollars for any of these things, I would laugh in your face and walk away knowing I am by far richer.

My Sockless Son

Feet. I have never liked feet. While useful, they along with toes are quite ugly. I don't need to see feet, like ever. In fact, I was the dork on the playground at age 10 with the wonderfully fashionable "jelly shoes", (remember those beauties) and socks. I didn't own a pair of sandals until out of necessity at age 25, I broke down and bought my first pair at Bass Pro Shops. They were the fisherman type brown crosshatch sandals that weigh about five pounds each. I realized sandals are actually fun to wear and if I don't look at my skinny 3 inch toes, I can make it through the day. I now own many different styles and colors of sandals.

After Spencer was born, I found the first pair of feet that I didn't cringe when I looked at them. In fact, I kissed, tickled and held them ever chance I got. I still do, except now he wiggles away from me and wonders why he got the weird mom. I love his cute little feet.

Remember I told you all the odd things he does that he got from my sister? Well, she is just a fun scapegoat since she lives too far away to slap me. One thing he did inherit from her though is his ability to have one sock on and one sock off and still function normally. Many nights after dinner, Spencer decides he only needs to wear one sock. He takes one off and throws it in the corner and goes on with his day. My sister did this at his age too. I often wonder now, like I did then with my sister, how they can do this? I would walk crooked or something. Run into a few walls. My whole balance would be off, well more than normal that is.

I am fairly sure that Tanya has grown out of this by now. Or has she?