The Latest

* Okay so we made the decision to accept the HHP's in Wellington
as opposed to moving him down here.
It feel like a good fit and we're hoping that's what it turns out to be.
I did the best I could.
And that has to be enough.

* On the way up to Loveland this morning,
to return Dean,
the snow started coming down
and we (Nana and I ) saw
fifteen (!) car accidents within two miles
of highway.
That's just when Nana started counting.
I was white-knuckling the steering wheel
and traffic was slowed to 35 mph.

* The yahoos are praying for a snow day tomorrow.
Me TOO!
I would love a day off work that didn't involve
driving several hours and/or meetings of any kind.
A day to sleep would thrill me.

* Speaking of work--
I had the Best day ever on Saturday
with our designer, Karen.
She let me in on the new happenings with the store--
painting, new furnishings, AND
I got to have some input too
which I loved!
She just returned from the Dallas Market
and we're getting a ton of new stuff in the store
(Sue, I haven't forgotten the contest you won--
I wanna send something really cool!)
it's kinda like Christmas when she comes back
from Market.
Fun, Fun, Fun.

*Last Friday night,
I stayed up with the girls until midnight
watching
"Buffy--the Vampire Slayer" on dvd.
I'd never watched it before,
and now I know why.
Also, I see where Stephanie Meyers got her inspiration.
Too bad she didn't get the young David Boreanz
instead of that mop-haired fellow for Edward.

*It's supposed to get -19 below tonight.
and more snow.
I did buy some Sweethearts today for Valentines.
They're in Spanish, how cool is that?!

Why Me? What Have I Done to Deserve This?

I went up to Loveland today.
Well, actually, I went further north to Wellington
because that's where a Prospective Host-Home Provider lives.
I'd gotten a call last week,
from Dean's case worker that there was a PHHP
who has offered to have Dean as a client.

After the two PHHP interviews this last week,
I just wasn't feeling super confident that we'd found
the right home for him,
but still,
because they're both in the Springs,
I fostered the belief that when it came time to make a decision,
I'd feel it in my heart and mind
that we'd know which to choose.

With the third offer,
I have a new choice in the mix.

First, the good things about the PHHP--
Dean knows their family already,
as two members of the family work at his day program.
He's stayed in their home before.
They're experienced--they've been doing this for 6 years.
They live out in the country
with chickens,
and a horse,
a pool and a hot tub,
they're an active family too--
and they're willing to make seeing Dean easier on us--
offering to meet us halfway between
their home and ours
and even driving Dean to see us.

We have never had that.
We've always been the ones to go and get him--
and so that right there,
makes the extra distance bearable.

The Mom is caring and responsible.
Her home was tidy and lovely.
She radiates goodness.
And she wants to provide a stable environment for my son.

Dean wouldn't have to alter any of his day programs--
his life would have little change.
But
he'll be further away from us.
And that makes me sad.

On the other hand,
we're to meet the other PHHP's down here tomorrow.
And the pros and cons of these two are the same:

The good thing:
they're here in the Springs.
Which means we'd get to see Dean more often.
Weekly.
The gamble is this:
they've never been HHPs before.
It's not even a "known" if they're going to like it.
One couple has never had children of their own yet.

The other is a smidge older than me,
have raised a housefull of kids,
are now empty-nesters,
altho the Mom of the household works
at another job,
so Dean's primary caregiver would be the Dad.

And I just don't know if he's realistically up for this.

But they've both prepared to take clients
and have said they'd love to host Dean.

But it's kinda like trying on shoes,
to some people,
as to whether or not they're going to like
being a HHP.

That's a gamble for us.
And I am so so not a gambler with Dean.

But I still feel calm that when a choice is made this week,
we'll make the best one for Dean and with Dean.
This time,
I'm going to give Dean a chance to choose for himself.
If you are inclined to pray,
I would surely appreciate your efforts in our behalf.
Thank you.

And here's a rambled thought I had on the way to Loveland today--
I think only my family would appreciate this,
but here goes:

When Dean was born,
I went to alot of Doctors with him
over the years.
At almost every initial consultation,
the question was asked:
"Was this a normal pregnancy?"
It was a normal pregnancy,
it felt normal, however stressed I was,
with two young children already,
a husband in school full-time and working,
and living far away from any family.
Still, I didn't have any pregnancy-related problems.

The only thing that was different in that pregnancy
was my indulgence for a Snickers bar
almost every day.

Snickers bars.
That was the only thing different
that I could think of.

When Dean was first diagnosed with cerebral palsy,
I begged with all the energy of my soul
for the tests to be wrong,
for a miraculous healing,
for my son to be made whole,
for forgiveness of whatever it was that
I had done
to have deserved such a tragedy.
My heart so heavy, I couldn't breathe,
my eyes welled over with tears,
I asked:
"Why  Lord? What have I done to deserve this journey?"

And for a long long time,
I felt like my son's handicap was a punishment
and in some very weird, immature way,
I blamed my selfish indulgence of Snickers
for his disabilities,
so willing was I to take responsibility.
However ludicrous it was,
I blamed myself.

That was a hard burden to bear
in my heart.
And it was unnecessary.
Eventually, I realized I had done nothing
wrong.

Dean's life is a gift to me.
He has taught me more about my self
and my Heavenly Father
and what is really important in this Life
than anything else could have in Dean's place.

I am honored to be his mother.
I am grateful to have received the blessing of raising
a special needs child.
My awareness and perspective of all phases of life
is deeper and has greater clarity
because of this journey with Dean.
He is my child-like teacher and his patience with me
is profound.
The question is the same these days as in the beginning:
"Lord, why me? What have I done to deserve this journey?"--
but it's from a totally different point in the path--
it's 25 years down the line
and my eyes, though full of tears,
are tears of gratitude.
Why me, Lord? What did I do to deserve so much love?
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Sometimes, when we don't understand our trials as gifts,
we try to make sense of them
in our own limited and very mortal way.
As we come to understand our Heavenly Father's love for us,
we know that the blessing of the Atonement of Christ,
wasn't just for our sins, but for our sorrows and trials too.
That understanding alone is a blessing.

I'm Just Gonna Say It

January 2011
came in like a bull in a china cabinet--
just wrecked up any residual holiday-happiness
and in general, sucked.

I'm ready for February!
I am going to make it a point to stroll
down the aisles of Target
and soak in the hearts and cupids,
reds and pinks
the "I love you's"
and
"Be Mine's"
forever and ever
amen.

I WILL soak it all up
on purpose--
the colors of love
the chocolate-y goodness
and
Sweethearts tarts with their
love words stamped on each one.
Valentines and
long-stemmed red roses
and all the commercial gush--
after January's lashing
I want it ALL.

Let's get this Holiday going, peeps.
Good-bye, January 2011.
You stunk on ice.
pun-intended.

A Hippo in the Livingroom

and other evidences
that children live here:

 The Boofus' duct-tape slippers in the bathroom.  

 The Caboose's sleeping buddy, Isabelle, tucked in bed.

 The Caboose lines up her favorite Build-A-Bears Friends' alongside her bed, 

because she gets scared at night, and they keep her safe, dontcha know?

 Barbies all dressed up to play in the front room.

 Barbie bathtub in the kitchen,

just in case, 

ya know.

what?

please tell me you know.

Mis-matched gloves on the table...no partners found. 

And an empty cream-o-wheat bowl.

Hey, at least it's empty.

And yes,

a Hippo in the livingroom.

You thought I was kidding?

A Winter Awakening

It was BRRRR-freaking cold yesterday morning,
so I thought I'd take the hound for a walk.

The walk was really for me.
Things have been so busy,
as you know with
Dean and Dani and Nana ( medical stuff with her)
it was just time to get outside and walk
and breathe.

 Of course, I hit the trail behind our neighborhood.

 Since everyone else had the common sense
to stay indoors in the freezing temps,
Kota and I were the only ones there.
Which was great
so I could let her off the leash
and she ran around like only a lab can do...
zig-zagging,
hopping over brush
tearing up the trail
her tail wagging in delight and exhilaration!

I noticed every little thing...
like the shadows of weeds in the sparkly snow...

 the cactus (yucca?) still green
waiting for summer, like me.

 Kota noticed every.thing.too.

 And there's the little pond that my yahoos spend most days in the summer.
Barren, frozen, snow-covered.
The only sign of life
was the beaver's lodge on the north end.

 Ahhhh....those mountains.
I love those mountains.
You can't see Pikes Peak in this shot...
because it was hidden in the clouds.
But I feel better just knowing it's there
still the same.
Which reminds me how I feel about my faith
in Heaven and Heavenly things
and my Heavenly Father.

 I haven't seen His face,
but I've seen His miracles....
just like Hilary Weeks' sings about...

And when I turned to come home,
I came to this fork in the way,
reminding me
that I always have choices in Life,
and again,
feeling grateful that I know the way
Home.

Where do you go when you need to breathe?

Maybe it's me.
Maybe I've lost my parenting skills
like I lose my car keys once in awhile;
but last night
I went to bed feeling awful
and I'm still thinking about it
this morning.

This is how it went down:

Mr Wonderful and I had a Stake Meeting
and on the way home in the car,
we do what we always do--
talk about the direction our family is going,
discussing each child and their needs, etc.
And the things that needs improvement
and how we can go about making those improvements.
You do this too, right?

Well, one of the major issues we've had around here
lately,
has been the chore of
"dishes".
Each of the 4 children at home
has a "dish week"--
we had to do that because
"dish nights" weren't working for us.
Mainly,
they were just being ignored as kids went off to play or to bed
and unless I micro-managed them,
read "got on them",
I'd wake up to a sink full of dirty dishes.
And I hate. that.
And the arguments from that situation always began with:
"[They] didn't finish last night,
so why do I have to do their dishes tonight?
No fair!"
I found that to keep from dealing with an argument,
I'd just do them.
I know. Stupid.
Shot myself in the foot right there.

So we changed it to "dish weeks".
Well, I'm sad to say,
it didn't make it any better.
Only now, we know who doesn't do their dishes,
because of whose week it is.
And the attitude of the older girls has been the worst.
They could care less.
"I'll do them in the morning."
"I'll do them later."
"I wasn't even here for dinner."
"I didn't eat."
and on and on.
So, I've been doing them. Again.

So I've had enough of waking up to dishes in the sink.
Mr. W and called the kids together last night
to discuss the new rules and consequences of "Dish night."
Basically, I told them that I'll be working every day this week,
in addition to running around Colorado interveiwing people for Dean
and I want more help with Dish Night, so this was the New Deal:

Do them on your night,
or get them for a week
AND
we custom-made the consequences
for each child:
Diana--the 20 year old, has to pay me $5.00 every time
I do her dishes.
Daisie--the 15 yr old, gets to hand over her phone for the day.
The Caboose and Boofus--no playdates that day.

Well,
it got ugly.
The two oldest led the rebellion
and I couldn't believe what happened.
They were smart aleck and disrespectful
to us in front of the younger children.
I still, this morning,
don't know what I've done wrong
to raise two girls to think that way.

I'm a tough ol Momza.
I try to parent with logic and love
but wow! this stung.

The girls' answer to my wanting more help
and accountability,
was to question me with what I do all day long?
"You're here most of the day. Why should we have to clean?"

Yeah. I know.
Mr. W was boiling.

I re-stated my expectations
and then went upstairs for the night.
Angry and hurt.

Apparently, I suck.
Apparently, my efforts aren't appreciated.

I told them I am On Strike this week
so they can see what all I do when I don't do it.

And, after this, I realized it's time for the oldest
to leave the nest.
She's twenty.
I think it's time she pay her own light bill
and all the other responsibilities that come with
adulthood.
You don't get to undermine your parents
and live in their home.

Has anyone else gone through this before?
What have I done wrong?

What Makes a Good Host-Home Provider?

As everyone who knows me knows,
we're trying to place our special-needs son, Dean
into a new host home.

A host home is exactly as it sounds--
providers host a special-needs client
with room and board
and facilitate the client's activities in the community.
I think of it like an exceptional Foster Home.

Dean has been living out of our home since he turned twenty,
in 2005.
He'd lived at the same host home for 5 years until
this past September,
when the host home provider's care became less than ideal.
Simply put, she took in her ailing mother,
her husband lost his job,
a grown daughter committed suicide
and that's just the stuff I know.
Dean did well in their home,
and we appreciated all that they did to enrich his life,
but the quality of his care declined
so it was time to move him.

He's been in 2 homes since then.
And due to circumstances beyond his control,
and ours,
we're moving him again the first week of February.
To say I'm heartsick about this
is an understatement.
It's always on my mind.
I go through the day--
taking care of a house and family,
working,
church stuff
whatever else,
and if I sit for two minutes without a thought,
that one surfaces.

This past week, I interviewed two potential host home providers
here in the Springs.
I had told the agency what Dean's needs are,
and what I thought an ideal host home would be
and we went from there.

Here's what makes a Good Host Home Provider:

1.Personal  Safety.  
The home needs to be a safe place.  Basically child-proofed for personal safety.
The HHP gives meds appropriately and with care.
If the Rx says "with food" or "without food", it is noted and followed.
The HHP provides constant supervision both in and out of the home.
One HHP asked if it were okay to let Dean go to the Mall by himself. Seriously.

2. Well Being.
The HHP provides a stable environment and respects the Client's needs on all levels.
The HHP's home is Clean.
I've been to HHP's that was so filthy
I have no idea how they even got approved to be a HHP.
I wouldn't let them take care of my hamster, let alone a child.

Non-Exploitation. One of Dean's early HHP's took Dean's personal money and lent it out.
He also said he "lost" Dean's birth certificate and Social Security card.

The Client's room should be bigger than Harry Potter's closet.
 I interviewed one Potential HHP,

and the space they'd designated for a client was just big enough to fit a twin bed inside.

No dresser. 

A tiny closet.  

It's as if the P-HHP thought the client was going to be a pet or a ninja with one outfit. 

No "R" or "X" or "Un-cut"- rated movies allowed. 

It affects Special Needs persons perhaps more than it affects anyone else. 

We noticed that Dean's language had gotten really rough this last year, 

and we couldn't figure out why. 

Until we moved him and came across a stack of disgusting slasher movies in his possession.  

I couldn't believe it.  

Why would anyone who has stewardship 

over a special-needs person, 

known to have the mental capacity of a 3-8 year old child,

 think that exposing them to that kind of media would be a good/healthy thing??  

We tossed all of them out, and replaced them with "Spider Man", "Harry Potter", "Superman", "Scooby-Doo" and other Disney-like appropriate movies for a young person.

The HHP Provides proper nutrition.  One of Dean's early HHP's took him to the store and let Dean choose whatever food he wanted.  Imagine my surprise when I found a 10 pound bag of jelly beans in Dean's room on a visit!  Uh, no.  Not appropriate.

At Dean's longest HHP, one of the signs that Dean's care declined 

was the lunch he carried to his day program--

he was arriving with rotten fruits and vegetables.  

Thank goodness that the program's mentors noticed and reported it, 

otherwise we would've never known.

3. Hygiene.

Ever go to the Mall and see special-needs people with their caregivers?  

What tells you that client is well-cared for or not? 

Their outward appearance.

 I'm particularly sensitive to this...

I look to see if the client's hair is clean and trim, 

their nails are also clean and trimmed, 

and if male, they are clean-shaven,

 teeth are brushed,

ears are clean, 

shoes fit and are clean, 

laces are tied;  

pants fit well--not baggy or too short or too long. 

A belt is used if needed, no holes or stains.  

Zipper is zipped.  

I notice if the woman's hair is at all styled, 

whether in a ponytail or short style--

it doesn't matter--

you can tell if their hair has been brushed that day or not, right?

In short, the client blends into the crowd, 

except for their sometimes obvious handicap--

like a walker, wheelchair, 

slow or peculiar gait 

or the look on their faces.  

They otherwise look like everyone else 

in their dress and appearance.

Except for those on the fringe of fashion--

 that dress like it's Halloween everyday,

and pants down to their knees that cause them to walk like they're a cowboy.

I also notice if the caregiver is engaged with the Client.

Are they talking or smiling at each other?

Is the caregiver several steps ahead of the Client, 

who is tagging along way behind?

I'm looking at all of that.

We buy Dean's clothing, and replace the old and worn with new.  

I shop for Dean as often as I shop for the other children.  

He loves new shoes or "footwear" as he calls it. lol  

He has shown up at our house with clothing that wasn't his, 

even women's jeans that were inches too short for him. 

Shoes that didn't fit, Shirts that were holey, stained, too small, too big, etc.  

And we all wonder:

"Who let him leave like that?"   

I spent all of Dean's childhood making sure 

he presented himself well to the world 

so that he would be treated well.  

And out in public, 

it is evident

that Dean is WITH us.

I expect that HHP's will continue to show the respect.

4. Communication.  

The HHP needs to have excellent communication skills--

with both the Agencies and those who are personally involved with the Client--his family.  

Let us know if there are problems or challenges regarding Dean. 

We know him best and can help.  

And when we call, please answer the phone or return calls ASAP.  

The breakdown in communication was a HUGE factor

 in removing Dean from the longest HHP.

She simply stopped answering the phone or returning calls 

or answering emails.  

That is unacceptable.

5. Facilitate.

HHP's need to provide stimulation and opportunities for the Client to learn and experience life, as their abilities allow.

Dean isn't a piece of furniture or a new pet.  

Don't assume he's going to want to sit in his room alone 

all day long and watch TV or play video games.  

Some Clients want to be alone in their own space 

and some want and need more interaction than that. 

Dean has interests and abilities that

 when explored and nurtured, 

give him great self-esteem and happiness.  

He's participated in Special Olympics since he was little and able, 

also in community events like the Loveland Special Orchestra--

where he played a violin and loved it! 

Sure he sounded like chalk on a blackboard--

but his smile was a mile wide and 

he even gave an Encore to the audience!  

He was also in the Loveland Ballet Company Special Community production of 

"The Nutcracker"

and loved it so much he took extra bows at the end, 

with his white Santa wig half-on, half-off his noggin, 

and again with the mile-wide smile.  

He's also been in the Festival of Corn Parade, 

where he walked along and tossed candy to children and 

even took a moment to personally come over to greet his family!

The boy loves an audience!

A Good HHP gets the client involved in the community. 

Makes those phone calls and connections 

so that the Client has access to whatever his/her abilities allow. 

5. Patience and Expectations.

A Good HHP has realistic expectations of the Client 

and knows their limits clearly, 

without imposing more limits on them. 

Dean needs Consistency, Structure, and Acceptance. 

Chances are, he may not value the same things in the same way you do.  

He won't care how expensive your home or your car or your clothes are 

or what they mean to you.  

He won't care what religion you are...

one home he was in briefly, was an Evangelist home--

where the HHP thought that placing her hands over his head every morning 

while he sat in a chair listening to Joyce Meyers 

and drinking a cup of coffee 

(he'd never had coffee in his life! 

and yes, they knew we're LDS, 

so I'm guessing she was trying to pray that outta him.), 

would help him not wet the bed and sleep longer--(coffee is a diuretic! sheesh!).  

Nevermind that was the first week of his life 

away from his home in a host home, 

and he missed us severely.  

She would say her chants/prayers over him, 

practicing her own form of faith, 

and it didn't phase him.  He was there 4 weeks.

His longest HHP (the 5yr one), was a Catholic.  

He can do the head-chest-shoulder-to-shoulder thing 

when he prays,

because the HHP did that and hey! that was fine.  

Dean is not a respecter of persons or faith or money.

He was also briefly in a home (the 2nd placement) 

where the HHP spent alot of money on Dean's bedding and linens.  

Somehow, she expected that to mean something to him.  

When it did not--he still left the towels on the floor--

she took that to mean he didn't respect her or her things.  

Yeah, he was there for 2 weeks.

Nice people, unrealistic expectations. 

This is also the HHP that thought taking Dean to their local swimming pool for 15 minutes,

once in two weeks accounted for "exercise".  

Dean was used to exercising nearly everyday

at the YMCA near our house.

The HHP Dean had this past October was upset 

because on Halloween night, 

as Dean passed out candy to the trick or treaters, 

their dog got out and Dean didn't tell anyone.  

A neighbor brought the dog back. 

 "He didn't even tell us."  

He also made note that Dean's self-care had gone down, 

and wrote, "He acts like he's three years old."  

To which, I responded: 

"That is a known. Dean's mental-cognitive ability is around 3 years old." 

and I have to say that while I didn't write "DUH" in there, 

it was implied. 

So, Patience and Realistic Expectations. 

Read the Client Profile that comes with my child.  

Read it cover to cover.  

I have written pages and pages of information in there just for you, HHP. 

 How Dean grew up, what he was taught, etc., as well as his other caregivers input.  

That's invaluable. 

Like an Owner's Manual, if you will. 

Read it so there aren't surprises....like your dog getting out 

and that Dean doesn't feel the slightest responsibility for it.

The more you give to Dean, you will see it returned in ways you may not recognize right off, but if you pay attention and learn what to look for, you'll be very rewarded for your efforts.  He is happy, funny, loving, helpful, self-less, generous and just plain Good. 

What Makes a Good Great Host Home Provider?  

Heart. Commitment. Active Participation in the Process.

We love our Dean. We want what's best for him to have a fulfilling, exciting life while he's here to enjoy it.

It's a hugely emotional responsibility to choose a proper HHP for him. We need to trust that all of his needs will be met; that he will not be exploited, that he will be safely and respectfully cared for...and sometimes we wonder if that's too much to ask.  But oh how my mother-heart leaps when I see others willing to help me care for my boy until I can provide the best home for him, in time.  I can't thank them enough.

If someone reading this would like more information about HHP's and/or our experiences, you may leave a comment here with your email address or email me directly.

In God's Timing OR Where'd that IUD go?

You know how,
when you were young,
you made Plans for your L.I.F.E.?

What you wanted to do.
Where you wanted to go to school.
Who you wanted to marry.
How many yahoos you wanted to have;
and to show a particular sense of responsibility,
choose birth control to govern when those yahoos
would make an appearance
in this mortal nest.

Yep.
All planned out like a 15 year old
going to her first prom.

Life.
You live long enough and you realize
Life is funny sometimes.
Sometimes you do get the dream boat of your affections,
and sometimes you get a tug boat.
And sometimes you get into that school of geniuses
n' sometimes you go to community college.

But you know,
you work things out.
You work with what you've got
and go from there.

I married young.
Twenty.
We lived in Houston, Texas.
Just over a year later,
I had my first baby.
I was over-the-moon-in-love
with his baby-ness.
But man-oh-man,
was I tired. And sore.
But I was happy.
Did I mention tired?

At my 6 week check-up,
I found out I was pregnant again.
I know.
After I sucked it up in the ob's office,
I went out to my car and sobbed
feeling like a very cruel joke had been played on me.

I had just gotten used to nursing,
washing more laundry,
sleep was not happening,
I had no support system
as my husband was in school and working
full-time,
and no family nearby.
And,
we were moving to another State
the following Spring
for more schooling.

I found out that the La Leche ladies
had lied:
breastfeeding is not a "natural" birth control.

Ten and a half months later,
Danielle was born
in Independence, Missouri.
She was an easy baby.
She slept thru the night
from nearly the beginning.

Thirteen months later,
and one failed "sponge" contraceptive,
Dean was born.

If you're keeping track,
that's three babies
in two years.

That's when I learned that God was in control.
Either that, or I was an idiot.
But we kid around here,
that I needed Dani in-between the two boys
to keep me sane.
She was my right-hand man
and the Lord knew I needed some help.

The next child didn't show up until 6 years later.
After much trying in years 4 and 5.

So where's this going?
Well, a couple of weeks ago,
I went up to Dani's to see the beautiful Ninja baby,
since they'd spent all of their Christmas break
with Mr. Idaho's family.
She had been ill while on vacation--
but so had the rest of his family,
all with the stomach flu.

The stomach flu was not the only thing she had.
Missing a cycle while up there,
she went to her OB when she got home,
where it was discovered
somewhere in time,
her Mirena IUD came out,
and in it's place,
is an 8 week old little fetus.

She didn't tell us any of this before
she first brought out
the ultrasound!
Diana and I just grabbed her
and hugged her tight!
Yea! a baby!
We love babies!

Mr. Idaho is still in denial.lol
He hates doctors and modern medicine.
He feels betrayed,
because he was "Responsible".
No more kids until graduation--
maybe three years from now...
because he's going onto get his Masters.

Danielle is handling it better, I think,
than I did.
She said, "God's in control."
followed by a "dang it."

I told her it's kharma--
total payback.

She's due in mid-August,
while they are in Houston, Texas
for Mr. Idaho's internship.

God laughs when we make plans.--
I think I heard that maybe once or a million times.

So here's where you share your stories about failed birth control
or the plans that you made that took detours!
Dani will appreciate them.
And poor Mr. Idaho too.

HEY! I'm Over Here!

http://www.mormonmommyblogs.com/2011/01/non-jersey-shores-situation.html

Your Neighbor's Bull --A Para-bull

There was a woman who had a bull.
This bull gave her much grief,
for it was a cross, angry bull.
It was unprofitble in every way.
When the bull saw the woman coming out to the field,
it ran away from her,
or stomped in her direction--
warning her to leave him alone.

At night, the bull hopped the fence
to get into another's pasture.

When this happened,
the woman called her good friends,
"Help! I don't know what to do! My bull has jumped the fence,
and I cannot bring him home without help, please help me."
So her friends dropped everything they were doing,
and ran to help.
When they got to the pasture where the bull was--
ready to help the woman,
it was discovered that the woman,
whose bull it was,
did not show up to help.

A phone call was made to the woman,
"Why aren't you here to retrieve your awful bull?", her friends wanted to know.

The woman replied that she didn't really want her friends to bring her bull
back to her,
she wanted to bull to return to her at the sound of her voice.

So she stood at the edge of her pasture,
day after day,
night after night,
calling, pleading, begging the bull to return to her pasture,
leaving hay and barley for the animal
that ate it every night from his side of the fence,
and each day when the bull didn't return,
the woman called her friends--
"My bull will not return to me. Please help. I don't know what to do."

This carried on for a decade--
most of the woman's friends stopped answering their phone
when she called.
Just one good friend remained loyal
and continued to try to help with the woman's problem--
that of trying to get that nasty bull back into his proper pasture.
Yet, everytime the friend showed up to help with the bull,
the bull stomped about the mud,
splashing the neighbor!
The woman still refused to help herself,
and would only stand at the edge of her pasture,
calling out to the bull to return to her.

Finally, realizing that the woman really didn't want
help from another,
the last loyal friend, stopped answering the phone.

To this day,
the woman stands at the edge of her pasture,
calling out to the awful bull.

****

The moral:
If your neighbor won't step in her own pasture,
to claim her own bull,
you may be left standing up to your knees in mud.


So I came up with this little analogy
last weekend
when Daisie and I were talking about one of her
friends who frequently laments that
she has no friends who truly care about her
struggles.
Altho Daisie has repeatedly reached out to this young woman,
in an effort to help her with her "bull" or problems,
the young woman doesn't accept Daisie's help.
I told Daisie that it doesn't sound like it's  Daisie's help
or attention that's wanted by this friend.
Perhaps it's someone else's attention that her friend can't get
so she releases her frustration in the way she does.
N' I told Daisie to just step back and let her friend figure things out.


Friends share one another's burdens--
this is true,
just be sure that the burden you are willing to
share with your friend,
is one they want Your help carrying.


What advice would you give to Daisie?

Joseph and His Hats of Many Colors

See this Boy? This boy loves hats.

 Your son at five is your master, at ten your slave, at fifteen your double, and after that, your friend or your foe, depending on his bringing up.  ~Author Unknown

He who can be a good son will be a good father.  ~Author Unknown

 Be careful to leave your sons well instructed rather than rich, for the hopes of the instructed are better than the wealth of the ignorant.  ~Epictetus

 Giving your son a skill is better than giving him one thousand pieces of gold. 

 ~Chinese Proverb

 When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.  

~William Shakespeare

I asked him why he wears a hat every.single.day.


He just shrugged his shoulders, as if he didn't know.
"So I don't have to brush my hair?"
And that question in his voice made me wonder,
perhaps it's not just the hats that he loves.

Come N' Get It

We had some pretty good dinners this week--
since I am working only part-Part-time for awhile
I've had more time to think about meals n' such.

This week I took requests and made them:

Stuffed Pork Chops (Mr W)
Stuffed Cabbage Rolls (Nana)
Hawaiian Haystacks (Me)
Shrimp Fettucine Alfredo (Boofus, Dani, and Nana)

Two nights were Taco Bell (tortilla with cheese, meat and vegetables in some form or other)
Papa Murphy's Pizza.(Hawaiian pizza, Cheese pizza and Veggie Calzone)

Here are the recipes I used:

Stuffed Pork Chops


Easy Stuffed Cabbage Rolls:
Preheat Oven to 375o
Head of Cabbage
ground meat (turkey, chicken, beef or pork will all work)
2 cups of rice
Spaghetti sauce
Italian Cheese (provolone, mozzarella, whatever)
Salt & Pepper


Get the Rice boiling. (2c rice to 4c of water)
Cut the core out of the Cabbage.
Place in Steamer and cook until outer leaf is soft, almost transparent.
While that's steaming,
brown ground meat, season to taste, drain off fat.


When the cabbage is done,
rinse with cold water in the sink, drain.
Gently peel off the number of leaves you want for the rolls.
Then, shred or cut up about 2 cups of cabbage leaves.


When the rice is finished,
Add meat, cabbage to it in a big bowl.
Now you have a choice:
You can add the spaghetti sauce to the mix right then,
OR
You can pour the spaghetti sauce over the rolls once they're 
ready to go in the oven.
We do a little of both.
Half in, half over.
Okay, 
so to make the rolls,
take a 1/4 to 1/2 cup of the rice mixture
and plop in the center of a cabbage leaf,
then roll it with the natural curve of the leaf.
Place it in the pan, open side Up.
Repeat.
Sprinkle Cheese over top.
Bake for about an hour, until leaves are tender.


*****


Hawaiian Haystacks 


3-4 lbs of Cooked Chicken, cubed or shredded
2 jars of chicken gravy (I've also heard cream of chicken soup works too)
2 c Rice (throw that on to cook first)


Add Ons:
shredded cheese
chunk pineapple
water chestnuts
chopped up celery
crunchy chow mein noodles
slivered almonds
chopped green onions or red onion, chopped
Bell pepper in any color!


So you make the rice,
put some chicken on top
then stand back and let every one top it 
with whatever they want,
however they want.


Easy Shrimp Fettuccine Alfredo


Bag o' Shrimp, cooked or uncooked, you decide.
2-3 Jars of Alfredo sauce ( we like Newman's Own or Bertolli's--whichever is on Sale)
Box of Fettuccine or Linguine noodles 
Parmesan Cheese
Seasonings like garlic salt, salt and pepper


So look at that, basically 3 ingredients. Love it.
Get the water going for the noodles.
Dump the sauce into a large enough pan that will hold the shrimp too.
If you have time, let the shrimp thaw and drain off the water
before adding them to the sauce.  It'll thin out if you don't.
Once the shrimp are drained and you can even pat them dry,
add them to the sauce.
Cook the noodles how you like them, drain.
And serve like you would spaghetti!
Top off with parmesan cheese, serve with garlic bread and a salad.


****


Dinner time is my favorite part of the day.
Yes, it's noisy and busy and everyone's hungry--
but the conversations around the table are worth 
the planning and prep time.
Most days.
Some days, it stinks on ice too.
Afterschool is a busy time for anyone who has yahoos--
which is why our Mutual night was Taco Bell
and the one night I worked and ran errands was Papa Murphy's.
Which is fine by my standards.
The important thing is we ate together.


Gotta keep your eye on the ball.
What about your week?
Any great recipes you wanna share? 

Qualability

as in...
"She is a person of high qualability."
That's a word that Daisie made up
when she was around 3 years old
and we still use it.

We have lots of "words"
and phrases that are unique
to our family.

"Pompalope" is cantaloupe. (Daisie)
"Cerrin" or "Seerin" is cereal.(David Scott)
"Yark" = vomit.(an old bf of Dani's)
"Peetzta" = pizza.(David Scott)
"Runners" = tennis shoes.  As in, "Go get your runners on, we're leaving soon!"(David Scott)
"fish-eye-to-the-sky" = gratitude for a blessing.  As in, "Did you give a fish-eye-to-the-sky when your prayer was answered?" (Kent)
"Bahooey"= bum, butt, behind. (Joseph)
"You F-R-O-T-O-P!" = an exasperation with someone.  Our special-needs son, Dean taught us that one.  He tried to spell a naughty word and that's what came out.  Yeah, we still use it.
"thingers"= fingers (Dani)
"Da Stoy"= the store (Nana) Used in a sentence: "Ok, I'm headin' out to da stoy, be right back."
"Peet" = feet.  (Joseph)


And loads of others.
Does your family have their own language too?