*Big Guy in a Little Coat**

*Word changed to preserve healthy relationship with husband.

** This post has been approved by Blair. :)

We are trying to save money lately - you know, due to the "economy" or whatever good excuse the media has given us for our lack of cash flow.

This new found love of money-saving has forced some of our "wants" as a couple to be pushed aside in order to pay for more important things, really important things...like Abby's new-found love of cheer -leading classes, or my forever love of well-carbonated soda and Key Lime Pie.

Blair, being the nice sacrificial father/husband he is, has been reduced to wearing underwear with vampire like slashes through the buttocks, and digging deep into his closet to find appropriate church attire.

If you call this appropriate...

Over the past few weeks Blair has mentioned that he still has some old "mission" suits he's "sure" will still fit, as long as they're "taken out just a little bit."

I guess he forgot how old he was then.

You see, this has been an important discussion because Blair has worn his more recently purchased suit (as in like six years ago) with a hole in the crotch to church a significant number of times. Thankfully other tears began appearing in the seams, so the suit was deemed out of commission, and tonight's fashion show ensued.

And a mighty fine fashion show it was.

OH... how Abby and I laughed, and took pictures (she with her Fisher Price camera), and laughed some more.

At the conclusion of the show, Blair mentioned to me that he "thinks the pants will work."

Abby looked up with a rather disgusted look and said, "Umm yea, they'll work if you call not buttoning them up working."

Poor guy. I think a new suit just might be in order...at least one from Ross.

Sensitivity Chip

We are all wired with some brand of sensitivity chip, or at least I believe we are.
Mine is rather large and cumbersome, and Blair's is somewhat small and shaped in the form of the word ESPN. Deakon's is very measurable...(I woke up to kisses and "Ah La Ya" this morning), and Abby will get in your face and tell you to kiss off if you ask her how her chip is "feeling."

This week I have been doing lessons in my classes at school about feelings. As I was teaching Abby's class about the differences people may have in terms of disclosure of feelings, I mentioned that I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve. Abby then said in a mocking tone, "Yea...She even CRIES when Scott sings on American Idol...ha ha ha." (A different student then mentioned his mother cries when his Dad is home late for work, so at least I was trumped.)

Abby is right though...my sensitivity chip has seemed to have tripled in size since having Deak. I truly have no control over myself if I am watching someone overcome obstacles, especially obstacles involving different levels of ability. I have cried during several newscasts with feature stories done on an Autistic child making the winning goal, or a young man with Downs Syndrome joining a team sport. I cried today during an assembly at our school when a young Autistic boy stood up with a lead part and participated with his grade level's program with appropriate skills.

This sensitivity chip of mine happens to come with a rather quick trigger - one that can fire bullets I didn't know existed. This has gotten me into trouble quite a few times, and today it was no different. I noticed a "Facebook" status where someone had mentioned that Scott (The blind young man) on American Idol was "killing her" and someone needed to "put some glasses on him or something." A person then commented that she thought he was receiving sympathy votes.

I was lit up.
I had no choice but to comment, and in doing so, probably completely offended whomever wrote the status. But, I don't really care; those people needed their sensitivity chips broadened a bit. A whole lot of bit.

I think I need to attend some sort of 12 step program for people with too much emotion.
Let me know if you find one.

*PS - I take it the Dino Nuggets and Corn dogs weren't that enticing? Hm mm ...I wonder why? I am so happy to make some fun surprises for the winners. I will be in contact soon...

Good People-Good Tag.

I have titled a post like this before, but I feel the need to do so again.
Many of you have noticed a "Craft" tag going around. I am always up for "free" things, and apparently not shy about coming out of my blog-stalking cocoon to become eligible.
Case in point:
My friend's sister has a fabulous blog with recipes and craft ideas, and I need lots of help in this area, so every so often I stop by to see what's happening. Yes, I've never met her, and yes, even though I know it happens, I've never been brave enough to admit my spying aloud.
Well, I did....and entered this contest....and although I was quite embarrassed and called "Crazy Stalker Lady" by my husband, I still left a comment so I could win.
I did win.
Not only did I get my very first apron ever, (and DARLING at that)...I got lunch with two really good people. Good people who drove to meet me because I was at work.
It made me so happy.

So...I am now going to offer the same service to you all...
I definitely do not promise anything exciting, and like I said to Ash, you very well could end up with Dino Nuggets and Mini-Corn dogs...
But, you might not.
You might get some yummy treats....or something else.

The FIRST FIVE people to comment will get something...I will even mail...(oh yea...no immediate family allowed - You get treats all the time:)
*Rule...you must then post it on your blog and play again. If you don't have a blog, that's okay...just re-give in a different way.

I promise you will have fun!!!

Looking In.

I've been kicked out of Deak's Speech Therapy.

To be honest, it probably should have happened a long time ago. I was recently told by his fantastic Speech Therapist, that I "talk for him way too much." She is right.

But, how do I stop?

I know him.

I love him.

And, I don't want him to stop needing me.

I take care of things for him. If I am distracted enough fixing others' issues, most specifically Deakon's, I don't have any time to worry about my own. The problem with this coping strategy is the "Ticking Time Bomb" after-affect. There is only so long one can shove all the personal stress to the bottom of the pile, before the bomb disengages and explodes.

My bomb likes to light a lot of fires lately, and it is not the kind of fire that involves marshmallows and chocolate.

Yesterday was stressful. It was manageable stress, but the fuse on my bomb was very thin by the time yesterday came around, and it couldn't stand the heat any longer. After a long morning of desperate tears, missing earrings and answered prayers, I was called to respond to a Crisis at a local Elementary School. The crisis I was dealing with involved death, and I had to quickly de-fuse my bomb, and "fix" a room full of first-graders. The innocent eyes and toothless smiles quickly smothered any residual heat left over from my earlier explosion.

During this experience yesterday, I got the opportunity to visit with a Grandmother whose daughter is experiencing a possible chromosomal abnormality diagnosis with her own daughter. Another friend (who just happens to be a licensed therapist) was with us as we engaged in this discussion. As we began to talk, I immediately put on geneticist hat, and spoke of my own experience using scientific jargon, and unemotional words. This very perceptive therapist spent a lot of time listening, and after I was finished she said something that I have needed to hear...probably for a long time.

"Jenny, you have become a reluctant geneticist, haven't you?"

She nailed it, and I knew exactly what she meant.

I cope with Deakon's struggles by becoming a "fixer." I research, I write, I understand every single component of his syndrome. It's just what I do. I do it to push away the trauma and emotions I felt, and still feel, coping with his diagnosis. Those emotions I keep very private; they are too dark.

I have often said I wouldn't change Deakon's diagnosis, and I mean that whole-heartily. The heartache, the appointments, the sleepless nights, and hospital visits do not even come close to comparing to amount of love and joy his spirit brings into my life daily. Over this past day though, I have discovered that I still am not quite finished grieving.

I am not sure I ever will be.

The thought of him going to school four days a week next year, being attended to by therapists without my guidance, leaving me all alone is terrifying. I keep telling myself, "Oh, he's not ready for that... He can't do it alone yet... He needs me there."

But, I am comforting me, not him.

The truth is that Deakon is prepared and can handle it. Although I hoover as close as possible to the viewing window, Deak has been wonderful on his own in Speech Therapy. He is learning to "fix" himself, and soon I need to learn to do the same.

(I do love it when he practices "Mama" with his therapist and looks for me in the chair I once sat in during therapy with him. I am pretty confident he will always want me around, even if he doesn't need me.)

Issues.

My computer went psycho a couple of weeks ago.
I had turned it off, and a few hours later it was emitting alarm-like noises which I imagined to sound like the alarms warning of impending bombings.
I have tried to interpret the possible parallels that may have into my own life, but it got too depressing.

So, my computer died and I was without my little friend. Thankfully I have a computer magician for a father-in-law, and although he couldn't make my old one reappear, he graciously brought a new, fancy, and fast one over instead.
I am so grateful. So is Blair. A lot less venting will be directed towards him now.

Many a blog posts have surfaced and been pushed aside as of late...
So, we shall see if I can resurface any.

If anyone cares, besides my mom and dad.

Did someone slip me something?

...A roofie, acid, or maybe even just a whole lot of NyQuil?

I'm asking because there has to be some logical reason behind these "unique" experiences I've had over the past few days...

1. When I heard Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana's new song on the radio last night, I cried - and it was because I thought the lyrics were so inspirational.

2. Snoop Dog is haunting me - for real. The real OG himself is making a statement and appearing in my dreams every single night. Sometimes he helps me with a drive-by, sometimes he is just hanging out in my living room, and almost always he is smoking weed. My Psychology degree can't decide if these dreams are warning me of impending danger, or providing enlightenment as to the wide array of medications available to treat my daily stresses.



3. I swear to the Heavens (and Hell) that I saw one of the Jonas Brothers skateboarding down 11th Ave. today while on my way to Shriners with Deak. This young man had the ever-popular long bang swipe, a turquoise shirt, capri's, and was skateboarding with intricate ability. And, we all know how the Jonas' brothers' talent is all-encompassing.

I was going to end this post with the question, "What is wrong with me?" But, decided that would be against my better judgement.

It Came Back.

So, I haven't blogged a lot lately.

Yea, I have been busy...but, more importantly; I have been discouraged.

I don't like it when I feel that way, and I didn't want to spread the "gloom."
But, today, as I have felt the stresses and issues beginning to be more than I wanted to handle, I sat down to write and ... a few things happened.

The Issues.

1. The "Preschool" lady came to our home a couple of weeks ago to visit with me about Deakon's future services with Special Education. Deakon turns three in May, and the thought of him going to preschool frightens me to death. I came into this meeting with huge reservations, knowing that a five minute "lookey-lou" at my son, would give this woman no information on his level of ability to function in a preschool classroom. Let's just say, my reservations were not in err.

After hearing that my son had "severe" needs, and just "might do best" in a classroom where only children with severe needs belong, I began to feel extremely protective and enraged. What in the HELL does a woman who saw my son lying on the floor, falling asleep (after having three appointments that morning), and playing quietly know about my son's needs? So, after biting my tongue on a few occasions, (especially when I was told that "if my son is as smart as you say he is, then we won't have a problem"), grilling the idiot on what testing she was using to assess my son's cognitive ability, watching her face grimace when she began to realize that A. I actually knew what the hell I was talking about and B. She wasn't going to see me back down, I retreated and let her leave (without walking her to the door.) This is going to be a long couple of months. Just when I think I have won the battle with his growth hormone treatment, another more meaningful battle ensues. Although I am sure it is going to be uphill for a while; I am in for the long haul.

2. The economy sucks. It's been very humbling for me to see that education and experience don't always provide the guarantees of a comfortable lifestyle that I once longed for. Blair and I are both still very grateful to be employed, but are feeling some of the effects, as we all are, none the less. We have made choices, some of which probably could've been better, but have done the best we could considering our circumstances and priorities. Who would've known that two months after moving into our affordable home, I would be given life-changing news about our expectant son, and our lives, financial life included, would be forever changed? I certainly didn't expect it, and have developed a strong desire to be better prepared in the future. I definitely have learned how quickly life can change. We are trying to sell our home, in hopes that we will be able to do a better job saving, and downsize our lives and expenses. I have been trying my best to keep up with the constant showings, and feel comfortable that it will eventually work out.

The Motivation.

1. This Kid. (Quick shout - out to DJ Lance.)

I really thought things were crappy this morning. He knew it - he understands me, and his sweet little heart, holes and all, wanted to help me feel better.

"Ah La Ya."

It came back.

He told me three times this morning and smiled very sweetly.
He hasn't said it since, but that's okay.
It's all I needed.

2. This Kid.

We got out the bike, she hopped on, and rode.

The riding was only occasionally interrupted with bouts of frustration, and she totally has the hang of it.

It was awesome, and I am so proud.

3. This Sweet Girl.

She and her parents are amazing.

Emily is now a sweet angel who I believe gets to watch over my Deak and all of our other friends with Ring 18 Syndrome. After spending some time talking with her mom today, I feel stronger and better - more grateful for what I have, what my son can do, and my faith.

Through my discouragement, frustration, and sadness these past couple of weeks, I have gained more strength. It always, always, seems that every time I am down; it is just because I want to be there. I am the only one who can choose to think positively, and keep fighting. That is what I am determined to do.