The Pumpkin Walk that had no Pumpkins.

One of Deak's therapists' gave us an invitation a month or so ago to a "Pumpkin Walk" for kids and families involved in Early Intervention. I thought it sounded like fun, (well - not exactly "fun," but something to do:) so we headed to Murray at 9:30 am last Saturday.

There were fun activities like...

Wind Chime - making.

Large furry creature - greeting.

Park - Playing, or in Deak's case Grass-Eating

..And, Radio Disney teenage dancers whom Abby told me, "came from the High School Musical 3 Movie." Considering she is kind-of an expert on the topic, I believed her.

But, no pumpkins.

You might think that the other fun activities would've prevented my daughter from throwing a fit and refusing to move from the grassy area.

Nope.

She wanted a freaking pumpkin.

I tried to say things like, "Well, they must have changed their minds" and "There are a lot of kids here, I don't think they had the money to buy all of them a pumpkin." I finally told her that this was a good lesson of the evils in false advertising. She didn't care.

I began to realize that this was a problem that logical reasoning was not going to fix; Not really a surprise considering logical reasoning and Abby are not typically friends.

The solution came in the form of a minature dog and the promise of popcorn.

AKA - The raffle.
Composure was gained, and crappy attitude was lost when we won movie tickets to see Beverly Hills Chihuahua this Wednesday. There is nothing a Disney B-rate movie cannot fix for my daughter. (I also won a new Scentsy candle and my mood improved tremendously. What does that say about me?)

Over all, a good morning with good people. There is nothing that reminds me more of how lucky I am to have Deak, then when I am in the midst of people whose children struggle so much just to survive. My perspective changes in an instant and I feel such joy to be where I am at with my family at this moment. I could use reminders like that each Saturday...as long as I can get a guarantee on the pumpkin giving.

Happy Birthday Dad.

We hope you have a good day.

Thanks for being a supportive father and fun grandpa.

We appreciate you, and are lucky to have you in our lives.

Five Weeks.

This is a picture of Deak very intently watching "Yo Gabba Gabba."

I had to take a picture, because it is one of the few times he is actually sitting still, and I am afraid very soon I may have a little shadow following me around.

One of Deak's therapists came to our house on Monday. It had been about a month since she had seen him last. She worked with him for about 15 minutes and then turned to me and said, "What the heck happened this month?"

I smiled because I had been waiting for this response and asked, "What do you mean?"

She said, "His muscles are stronger through his shoulders and he is moving in ways he could never do before."

I finally said, "I know. He started his growth hormone treatment about a month ago."

She said, "Oh my gosh. You kept saying it would be like this, but I cannot believe the difference it has made already."

She then began mentioning different muscles and transitional movements that weren't really working for Deak a month ago. They work now. They are also getting stronger daily.

• Deak can turn himself in a circle with his hands and legs while sitting.
• He can go from a sitting position to crawling.
• He can get up on all fours consistently and for long periods of time.
• He is rocking and moving his hands forward in crawling position.
• He only needs a reminder nudge to sit himself back up from lying on the ground.
• He can stand and balance for long periods of time while only slightly holding onto something in front of him.
• He is also consistently pointing to many different pictures in his book.
• He is saying "I love you." and most recently today, "All Gone." (As he threw his FULL cup of apple juice across the room.)

Seriously - Five weeks into the treatment.

Even I am amazed at the results, but at the same time I am angry. I am angry at the doctors and insurance companies (who still have not approved his treatment). I am frustrated in a medical system that doesn't see human faces, only dollar signs. I am angry my son had to wait this long to see this happen for him.

But then I look at this little face and remember it isn't important to be angry.

He isn't angry - even if he could understand the process and what he has been waiting for, he still wouldn't be angry. He would most likely tell them he loved them, and blow them a kiss.

It becomes easier to forgive with that kind of an attitude around.

It's Okay - Right?

It's okay to ...
1. Watch "The Biggest Loser" while eating a gigantic piece of fresh peach pie with whipped cream - as long as you are cheering them on in your head.

2. On that note...Count a forfeited church volleyball game against the Spanish branch as hard core exercise.

3. Be excited when your husband sleepwalks at 2:30 am and ends up on the couch...because now you just may have all the covers to yourself. (No judging - I followed him out to make sure he landed in a safe spot and didn't attack the children in some night-terroristic rage).

4. Announce at the pizza party that you may/may not have been throwing for your church class...that the only two rules are, "No running with the red soda, and no showing your underwear."

I am not quite sure when the dress up clothes got pulled out...somewhere inbetween the ping-pong tourney (that Blair literally drew up a bracket for) and Guitar Hero.

This kid rocked at Expert Level. Very Impressive.

You might wonder what this is.

That would be my daughter, along with 7 or so 11 year old girls, trying to pull the socks off the boys. Abby was dragged (only because she would not let go) across the room screaming, "Give me your socks! Give me your Socks!" You'd think the 5 year age and gender difference would equate a toughness disparity. Not so; she totally got all the socks from the boys.

5. Not have any sort of conclusive ideas about where/when/what if/when our house sells.

6. Blog at work.

Right?

Gentlemen, start your engines.

People are Good.

I genuinely believe this is true.

I have learned this in life over and over again; growing up in California, working for Youth Corrections, and counseling families now.

I do also admit that there have been times my belief has wavered...but, I have usually discovered in those moments that my doubt lied within.

Moments like this remind me of our true human nature.

This is a picture of Deak in a "real-life" race car. (Actually, a world-record breaking royal purple streamliner - thanks Dad:). The people who built this race car have known my dad since he was a kid. My dad grew up around racing, and has a lot of buddies who still contribute to the sport. Deakon also seems drawn to it - and loves to watch the races on TV with my Dad. The men who built this race car are also in charge of the Utah Motorsports Foundation, and have generously offered to help us out with some of our crazy insurance expenses for Deak's medicine.

I was greeted with a hug when I walked through the door.

People are Good.

Just for Kicks

I know many of you saw this...but worth a look again.

One Thing Right

This is not a political stance.
Frankly, I don't have one.
I have opinions on issues, but not party lines.
So, with that respect - I wanted to post this link to a portion of CBS's Evening News last night. (http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=4437975n - I will post it as a video later...)
Sarah Palin's nomination has allowed the media to take a closer look on families with special needs children. There was an excellent report given last night on the way parents are treated when they choose to continue with a pregnancy of a chromosomally abnormal child.
Many of you know, I was counseled to abort Deakon several times, and given several options on how to do it. I was told he would not have any kind of quality of life, and that I was doing a diservice to him and my family by bringing him into this world. After, I gave her (Yes, my doctor was female) my absolute decision to have Deakon, I was patronized. I was sent via email, two ridiculous research articles done on aborted fetuses who had been given the same diagnosis as Deakon. There was no medical literature (that they would help me find)on children who had been born - and if I were to find some, I was told, "That would not be the case with your son. He will die." In fact, my original specialist sent a different doctor to see me on my last visit to her office. I guess we had a mutual feeling of disgust for one another.
I have since learned that Perionatlogists are trained to offer abortion of a choromosomally abnormal child as being the only logical decision. They often don't even bring up any other options, or offer resources. Because of that, more than 2/3 of the children are aborted.
I am not judging those who choose differently than I. I empathize with them. We are told such horrendous things about our babies, that it is almost a harder decision to continue with our pregnancies. My life would not be the same without my Deakon. He has brought sense to a world that I often don't understand; and any hardships that have come along with him will be endured, and okay.
So, Sarah Palin's nomination, even if you may not agree with her politically, has done one thing right. It has created a voice for a minority of people in our country who teach us more about feeling human than I ever knew existed.

"Ah, La, Ya."

Deak's first sentence.

It took me a few days to realize what he was saying...and then it hit me. The phrase he hears most often - because truly, with Deak, there isn't a need to say much more.

"I love you."

or in Deak's words...

"Ah, La, Ya."

This kid is an angel.

Just Because.

Deakon has missed his Abby.

Abby passes in and out, on her way to school, dance, soccer, and friends' homes.

Deak and I wait patiently for the moments she gives us, and cross our fingers (or in Deakon's case, toes) that they will not include drama.

It was nice that Ab begged to sit by him at Tasty's today after her first game of the season. His eyes lit up and he began mimicking everything she did. He was included in her world, and it made his day.

On a different note, I remembered that there actually was a time when I used to sit by my husband at restaurants. I think it must've been a long time ago, because it seemed a tad tight on our end of the booth.

The First Step is Admitting you Have a Problem.

I have a problem.
Seriously.
I have had some experience working with drug users. I have seen what they do when they need a fix. I have been amazed at the extent of their sacrifice to get what they need to feel better.
I am there.
I woke up this morning, a work morning, and remembered that I didn't have any caffiene left in my fridge. (I had drank the last one around 11:00 the night before) I felt my heart flutter a bit.
"Crap...what am I going to do? I don't have time to stop."
Peace ensued when I remembered I had some cash in my wallet and I could buy a drink at work in the lounge.
I got to work, realized I had the wrong time for a meeting (a.k.a. I missed it), and saw my pile of clerical "to-do's" that didn't look fun. I knew it was going to be a long day. I walked Ab to class and then reached for my wallet. I basically sprinted into the lounge, put my money in the machine and pulled out my nice and WARM diet Dr. Pepper.
"What the Hell?"
I turned to my friend, a fellow addict, and said, "Do they seriously think we can make it all freaking day with warm drinks?" She just shook her head in agreement and felt my pain. She understands me.
This is when I began looking for a score. I grabbed all my $3 and started looking for a teacher who could leave and get me a drink. I stepped outside my office door and peered around the corner. "Aha, Tonya is here. She'll do it." Unfortunately, she was standing in the main office, right in front of my new Vice Principal. I didn't care...the risk was worth the reward. I quickly handed her my money and quietly said, "Go. Get me a drink on your prep. I can't make it - there's no way."
She whispered, "Okay, I will. But, I don't have one until 1:00."
"CRAP!" (I actually yelled this outloud, for all to hear.) "What am I supposed to do?"
Tonya said, "Just go Jenny. You have to. I'll get you another one at 1:00."
I then grabbed my purse and announced to our secretary, again in the main office, that "I have a problem, and have to leave. I can't do it anymore."
The panic in my voice was apparently very strong. Everyone inside the office turned to look at me with eyes popping out of their heads. I realized then that they probably needed to know that the problem was that I needed caffiene, not Herion. Oh well - whatever I did worked. The unanimous response was, "Go."
So the story ends. I am good now. I have my fix and I have conquered the first step. The problem now lies in the fact that I am most likely going to tell all the other steps to kiss off. Especially the one that says you have to quit.