Thursday, May 29, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
He looks like crap in the picture above doesn't he? Oy!
We had to leave early for the appointment and the "Trail of Tears" at the zoo became just that. He cried almost the entire way to the doctor's office, because he wanted to see more animals. As we pulled into the parking lot he passed out.
They took his blood oxygen level (pulse/ox) and it was 90%. Our doctor will hospitalize at 94%, so the 90% was not a good thing. Thank God the treatment they did worked wonders and Griffin had a 95% at the next pulse/ox. Not great, but no hospital . . . but lots of steroids. So, I'm back on nursing detail. I just wish my patient didn't find the liquid steroid repulsive.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
Will let me know all of this around 5:30 on Friday, therefore I couldn't get everything cleared up. So, today I had to call the Mr. Ashton, the music teacher, to confirm that all of this really took place. It had and of course we can't rip the line away from Paul, so Will will not be saying a thing, just singing.
Now the plot thickens a bit. Will did get an invitation to Paul's birthday early last week. He asked me on Thursday when the party was, so he could mark the calendar and make sure I bought a gift in time.
All of this is worrisome to me. Did Will purposely get out of saying the line with the birthday party excuse or was he really mixed up? He put the party in the calendar. He knew it was a Sunday. What gives!
Monday, May 5, 2008
At first I was looking at the bathing suits, and I couldn’t decide if Anna is the kind of bear that would wear a bikini or a tank, so Patty got a call. Oddly enough Patty didn’t know either, so I went with the sundress. Patty laughed at me when I realized there weren’t any shoes and I had to hang up and call the company and add them to the order.
I felt a little weird after Patty's response to my problem, as if my inner eight year old was showing TOO much. I called Build-a-Bear and the representative answered. At this point I would like to say thank God there are other freaky people in the world just like me.
“Build-A-Bear, how can I help you?” she said in a very upbeat voice.
I explained what had happened, “Hello. I just placed and order for a sundress and realized I didn’t get any shoes.”
“My goodness! We can’t have that, can we?” She says in an overly excited, but genuine tone. She asked for my order number and brought it up on her computer. “That dress is adorable. What shoes would you like to add?”
“Well, I was thinking the White Butterfly Espadrilles.”
“Definitely! They will look to cute with the dress. Now do you need to add any panties?” She inquires.
It almost killed me to say this because I had to use the “P” word, but I replied, “No. My bear is the fat bottomed variety and the panties wouldn’t fit.”
“Oh, that’s horrible. People kept telling me that. I’m going to put in a request for a different panty design for the big bottomed bears. I’ve meant to do it and keep forgetting.”
“That’s great thanks. Hopefully it will happen.” We finished the transaction and I think to myself that lady’s inner eight year old is out and running around all day. The best part is she gets to be an eight year old with other adults. Can you imagine how many conversations she has on a daily basis, just like ours. What fun! I want to do something like that when I grow up . . . . not entirely grow up.
I like my inner eight year old. I’m glad she’s surrounded by thirty-eight year old so my house isn’t filled with Build-A-Bear stuff and I don’t spend the day dressing and undressing a stuffed bear. But this inner eight year old keeps life fun and kooky and if she grows up I’m totally going to miss her.
Friday, May 2, 2008
--Major Topic Shift—
First of you will need to know my stance on homosexuality. I have no problems with it. I believe a hundred and fifty percent that being gay is not a choice. I witnessed too many gay friends struggle with coming out to believe anyone would do it on a whim. Well, except for Anne Heche, but that’s another blog.
Just as I do not want to see my heterosexual friends get it on, I wish not to see my gay friends get it on. So everyone keep your sexual preference in the closet or at least the bedroom, maybe the family room or the kitchen, well, keep in your house. I also feel if your sexual preference is your main source of conversation you probably need to get a good therapist.
So much more defines us as human beings, be it hetro or homo, we’re sapiens. With that said, no need to try to convert me to another thought convention. I’m sticking with mine. You needn’t leave a comment blasting me, for I am closed-minded in my open-mindedness.
Why all this gay talk? Well, there were major developments at our house the other night. Gus reported that he knows what being gay is and even has a compound word “gay-bo” in his vocab. We had a lengthy discussion regarding the subject on Wednesday night. I assume it's being volleyed around the playground quite a bit. I can't believe I have someone in my house asking me these questions, but thank God he's willing to ask.
When he throw it out that he knew "gay-bo" I said as nonchalant as possible, "But, you can't use that word." Just like any wide-eyed child, he asked why. As I went on to tell him, I realized that in explaining the word I would have to also have to let him know that some people think homosexuality is wrong. “So, it's mean to use gay-bo, because it’s derogatory.” For course I had to explain derogatory next. Just saying it’s derogatory means showing criticism or low opinion. This little clarification could influence him. But I don’t want to sway this kid in any practical direction. I want him to decide what he believes for himself. At the same time I also feel he should know my beliefs and Joe’s. Our opinions can differ greatly depending on the subject matter.
I like to think we’ve taught the kids to treat others with love and kindness. They have been exposed to so many different types of people through Griffin’s deafness. It’s nice to believe that exposure creates an open-mind.
It would be wonderful if my kids got to form their own opinions about the world round them. I would love to have no influence on what they find interesting, beautiful, repulsive, satisfying, or whenever. That I believe is impossible. Unless, we never have a meaningful conversation again.
It’s funny but it reminds of giving the kids their first foods. You’d open the little jar of squished whatever. Put a happy face on and try to influence your little person. Try to make them love this stinky mess. “Yum, yummy, peas. You want some. They’re so yummy.” Sometimes it worked, the show was good enough, the audience was willing, peas went in and they were enjoyed. Other times peas ended up all over the place.
Sometimes that world does not present peas or bananas. Sometimes it squished veal. I can’t do veal. I won’t do veal. Even though my children may have loved it, it has never entered my house. It never crossed their lips. I influenced them with my opinion. Joe loves it, but I won’t let him order it in a restaurant, and obviously I don’t make it at home and Joe didn’t buy the baby food. So our children will miss out on something because I detest it. I don’t now if it’s right or wrong, but I know it’s happening.
So back to Gus sitting on my bed telling me about gay people and what he knows. I asked him what he thought. Coming from a scientific vantage point he says, “It’s stupid, because you can’t have any kids if you marry a man and you’re a man.”
Will listening to the whole thing says, “Can a man marry a man?”
I replied, “Well, yes in some states people voted and decided it was o.k. But in other states they decided it wasn’t.” Here, we go again.