Immodest.

My daughter asked me what "immodest" meant today after picking her up from school.

I sat there a second, looked at my gorgeous, pure, little girl and her darling outfit, and knew instantly why she had asked.

This morning we had a little bit of "Spring Fever" in our home, and I told Ab she could wear her cute new Easter shorts, new flip-flops, and a sleeveless shirt.

Hence, the immodesty question.

In my usual rational fashion (ha ha...), I immediately questioned her as to which friend told her she looked immodest - to no avail. She wasn't going to tell me this one. So, I laid off a bit on the NYPD Blue character and let her know the definition of modesty. I said that one might choose to wear clothes that don't show a lot of our private skin areas. I told her that her arms were not private skin, and she looked beautiful. I let her know that I would buy her clothes that I felt were modest and appropriate for her. A little while later I explained some about why I choose to wear the clothes I do, and I why I feel it is important to be modest.

But, I was pissed. Not at the child who used the term, but at the parent who failed to teach it appropriately.

Modesty is value I want to instill in my daughter, but more importantly, I want to teach her that what feels comfortable for her is okay, even though it might be different for another person. I want her to make choices due to her value system and comfort level, and not due to a religious set of rules one might be deemed to obey in order to be a good church going member. It is such a fine line really; a line that is crossed too often around here. A line that leads to judgement of others' levels of worthiness, and un-invites to neighborhood barbeques.

I know that I screw up a lot as a parent, and I know some of you will disagree with my opinion on this topic. I also know that I am not worthy enough to ever judge an other's intent of heart by looking at their arms.

Arms much like my six year old daughter"s.

Arms which were apparently cause for chastisement after eating her chicken nuggets at lunch.

Really, people...that's not what my value system is about.

No!!!!

I just came across this story and it broke my heart.

Apparently, due to our fantastic economy, Shriners Hospitals are going to have to close six of their facilities.

I would just die if they were closing the one in Utah. I do not know what I would do. Those patients in the six facilities are now going to have to be placed in other Hospitals in other states. It truly must be devestating for those families.

This is one of those times I wish I had an endless money pit.

Please pass the word along, and if anyone can, maybe think about donating.

My son is now walking and talking because of them. I can't imagine my life without them.

For the full story click HERE.

To Donate Now...

Click HERE.

Good Genes (I hope).

My mom turned 50 last week, and looks like she easily could be ten years younger.
My mom has always looked great, and taken fantastic care of herself. I remember watching her do her Jane Fonda workout tapes as a young girl, and trying to do the moves before I quickly lost interest and moved onto something that most likely involved eating. (Some things never change.)

After my mom was treated for Breast Cancer 7/8 years ago, she became even more involved in taking care of herself. She is now a gym Nazi, and spends nearly every morning of her week there...sometimes up to three hours. I don't need to say, because the pictures speak for themselves, but she is sure one fabulous 50 year old.

I sure hope it's completely genetic, and not due to countless gym hours.

We went to dinner to celebrate with her...and now she is off celebrating in the Caribbean on a cruise.

The Birthday Girl, and my sister Kelli.

The Cutest New Member of the Albright Clan, Crosby.

My Dad, Deak and Curt.

A real crappy picture of a really cute family...(Sorry guys).


Typical...

Riding the Saddle...

The girls thought Grandma on the saddle was hillarious, but Deak did not. He screams when they yell, "Yee - haw" and is nearly inconsolable. So, he went outside during this part of the festivities.

Happy Birthday Mom.

My Big Boy.

I've been trying to capture words to describe my feelings today, and none seem to be sufficient.

So, I won't write many.

This is my baby boy, who is doing his best to catch up with the world.

I watched him take his first steps without human hands supporting him today.

We were at Shriners, at a therapy session I nearly cancelled due to my crazy schedule and lack of ability to ask for help often enough.

He concentrated hard with his little tongue out, and laughed.

I sat back, watched and knew this feeling I was feeling right then was as close to heaven as I could ever get.

My boy is ready world.

Watch out.

Whole Heart.

Miracles happen.

I know with my whole heart they do.

After a few hours of testing this morning, Dr. Everitt, came into our room with a smile.

A smile even she was surprised about.

With the exception of today, each visit we have ever had with Dr. Everitt has given us similar news: The left side of Deakon's heart was getting bigger to compensate for the hole in the right side, and the hole was not getting smaller. Age "three" had always been the big number...the magic age where Dr. Everitt would decide which procedure to use to close the hole in Deakon's heart. She did not want to see his heart increase in size any more.

Dr. Everitt said hello to Deak, turned to us with her sweet eyes and said, "Guys...the hole is gone."

I was in shock. Deak had had a chest x-ray done at Shriners a few months ago which indicated the hole in his heart was still there.

Now it wasn't.

I told Dr. Everitt that I couldn't believe what she was saying..."I'm not quite used to getting this kind of news," I said slowly.

"I know. I am quite surprised too. I checked all his old photos to double check...the hole is completely sealed and the left side of his heart has returned to it's normal size."

"Wow."

I couldn't say more, the tears were too close. I turned to look at Blair...the tears were pretty close for him too.

Dr. Everitt then went on and on about how much she was going to miss seeing Deakon and his happy spirit. She was going to miss him because he never has to go back....EVER.

His heart is now perfectly whole.

(Deak with the blanket given to him from the cardiology unit today.)

Darius.

Deakon had therapy at Shriners this morning; nothing atypical, just our regular Wednesday morning routine. He spent an hour in occupational therapy, and a half hour in Speech. Both therapists gave great compliments saying how much progress Deakon was making, compliments of which I desperately needed to hear.

Deak and I have developed a pattern of eating lunch in the cafeteria each Wednesday after he is finished, and we were headed in that direction when I heard a voice..."Hey." I turned to the side to see who was calling me, and was unexpectedly greeted with a pair of the brightest, most beautiful brown eyes I have ever seen.

"Hey," I replied, "How are you?"

"Fine. What's his(Deakon's) name?"

"Deakon...What's yours?"

"Darius. What's he in the hospital for?"

I then explained that Deakon needed help walking and talking and so he was receiving therapy. Naturally, I then asked why Darius was in the hospital.

"Ummm...because of this thing on my head....it's called a Halo," as his eyes gazed upwards in an obviously joking tone.

Darius' aid chuckled at his response, and I couldn't help but smile.

It was clear to me why Darius was there. He was a sweet six year old, confined to a wheelchair that had a contraption which held his head in place with his spine; not allowing for much movement and freedom.

I then told Darius I had a six year old daughter, and he wanted to know everything about her and what she was doing that very moment. I could see his need to live vicariously through her, albeit momentarily; his desire to understand that there is a world outside of backless gowns and cafeteria food. His yearning for normalcy.

As we got to the elevator, I mentioned to Darius that I was so glad I had met him today.

"See ya..." he said, and he was off. Off heckling one of the doctors he had spotted down the hallway.

I wanted to stay longer with Darius. I needed to be reminded that the precious life I was holding in my arms was not just progressing well, he was alive - and that was enough. A gift of which I will be reminded of tomorrow as I listen to Deakon's heart beat through the magical machines at Primary Children's.

Deakon meets with Cardiologist tomorrow, and I am awaking at night with panic attacks. Deakon was born with a small hole in his heart, which is not terribly uncommon, but for Deak it is considered to be more serious.

I first learned of the hole in Deakon's heart while I carried him. I was sent to Primary Children's to see Dr. Su, a renowned cardiologist who was going to determine if my son's heart was healthy enough to carry him into our world. Dr. Su was an answer to my most sincere prayers at that time, telling me that not only was my son's heart okay, but after looking at my Deakon's entire body, he felt strongly that the baby I was holding was not just going to survive, he was going to thrive.

It was the first time I had heard that from a medical professional, and my heart burst open.

Fear, Hope, Joy, Faith, Anger, Disbelief....so many of those feelings simmer so closely to the surface each year when I walk through the doors in the cardiology unit. Tomorrow I will most likely find out if Deakon will be receiving heart surgery. A surgery that I have known was possible since the first time I saw his little imperfect heart beating inside his body.

Science and logic lend me their understanding of Deakon's possible surgery; they tell me it is routine and "easy." They tell me that Deakon will be just fine.

But, my heart is just so afraid of a life without his little imperfect heart in it.

Science and logic can provide comfort, but not peace, and my heart was in search of something stronger today.

My heart found what in needed in a sweet little six year old angel boy named Darius, and now can begin on it's journey to finding some peace tonight.

A Little Improv.

Picnic in the Living Room due to the weather's bipolar disorder manifesting itself. I told Abby I was pretending to be on a beach in San Diego. She said, "I am not there because the seagulls will eat all my lunch."

Ever the realist, that daughter of mine.

Abby is also boycotting the weather's behavior by staying in her pajama's all day - hopefully it works. (Okay, I can't lie, I am sitting here in sweaty gym clothes...the weather has left me unmotivated to shower as well.) She has been really cute with her brother lately, as they are able to interact and communicate more now. It is so fun to watch them together.

Deakon thought eating lunch on the floor was the funnest thing he has ever done in his life. He could pull Abby's hair and eat all at the same time. He kept looking up at me and saying, "Num Num Num!" I love his little voice.

Proof lies in the pictures...

(Banging on plate, unaware of camera.)

(First glance at camera - Happy)

(Second glance at camera - Excited.)

(Third Glance at Camera, and he's working it. Try to not notice the fact that he is almost stabbing himself with a fork. I apparently ignored it, and he survived.)

Winter is not welcome anymore, even if that means the seagulls will eat our lunch for real.