When I was looking through pictures to find that shot I used in my last post, I used Picasa's "people" tab to look only at pictures of Connor. What surprised me while I scrolled through the photos he is tagged in is how expressive his face looks. In the larger scheme, it doesn't seem like Connor is very expressive, but in that small format, there is such a range of expression on his little face. It made me really happy (and emotional) to see.
So about 20 minutes ago, he was chilling in his chair while I turned on my music on random and cleaned up the kitchen. The first song was from a musical (of course). The second song started, and with the water on I couldn't at first hear the intro. Connor let out a really loud noise. At first I thought I had made some noise that had set off a seizure, but the noise settled down, and I realized that it was just him expressing himself, the tone of his voice turning down as the volume decreased. Almost like an, "Awwwwwwwww..."
I looked at the TV screen, and the song was "Jessie's Girl" and it was a recording of my with my old band, Gonzo's Nose.
I had to laugh. I'm pretty sure he was trying to say to me, "Not this song again." We must have performed that song 500 times when I was in the band, and who knows if it still gets played now at their shows. I also sang that song a capella when in college with my group, the Virginia Belles. It's a song that has been around me and in my life for a very, very long time. It's been 12 years since I left the Nose, and it took me almost all of them to get to want to hear that song again. Now Connor is telling me he doesn't want to hear that song.
Anyway, it's nice to have something pleasant to post :) Have a great rest of your weekend, friends!!!
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
It's not all about me!
Today, one of Connor's former teachers posted a link (which I'm including here at the end) about what it is like to be a special education teacher. It made me think, and I wanted to share this, and write something about the wonderful educators who have opened up our lives.
When Connor was about 2, the social workers who worked his case with the County (since he received County services for therapies, he had a case worker) started preparing us for his entry into preschool. Despite his whole life being this way, it hadn't occurred to me that he would have a preschool to attend. We were expecting Drew at the same time, so we went back and forth between getting ready for baby and prepping Connor, and ourselves. As I've mentioned before, Connor had great caregivers at daycare, and it was hard to take him out of there. But we did, and Miss Christy was established with us, and then, the big day came.
(This is Connor in his Transportation Approved Chair. That's his dad, of course, and then that half moon on the right hand side is my belly, courtesy of Drew. I totally cried when he was put on the bus, and I also totally blamed it on the baby in my belly.)
Anyway, his first teacher, Rachael, was with him for a year, and truly educated him and us. She got us on track, helped us to understand the IEP process, and kept us informed all the time as to what was happening with him. She was, and is, wonderful. It surprised me at the end of the year that he wasn't staying there. But Rachael, like the champion she is, helped us navigate through to the next school, and teacher, Robin.
Robin had Connor for 2 years, and while her communication style differed from Rachael's, we always knew what was going on, and we could tell how much the school loved having Connor's class there. Then he had to move schools again. Another new teacher, this time, Bianca. Bianca had Connor for 3 years, and he worked so hard for her. If she called me (which happened frequently) the call almost always, always started with "No emergency." After Bianca came Liz, or H as she's called in the schools, and he's tried really hard with Liz, too, who has had to navigate around Connor's increased seizure behavior, a school change, a time change, and also her own life. She's with him now, and should be with him for another year, and then we're off to the next school, and program, and teacher (I suspect).
Each of these women have taken on so much, and we have placed our trust in them unequivocally. I marvel at their energy and love for these students, these children who cannot show their true feelings sometimes, or raise their hands in greetings. I am so, so blessed that there are people in this world whose goals are to ensure that those whose bodies have somewhat disenfranchised them still can find their voices, and express themselves, even in a small way. They each have individually, and collectively as a group as well, an amazing and collaborative spirit that is missing from many parts of the world today. We should hold up all teachers for what they do. But here, at my house, we hold up Connor's teachers a little higher. It's probably not a fair thing to do, but so far, it's what works. I hope they know, every day, how much their hard work, their frustrations, their creativity, and their love means to families like mine. It's a debt I won't ever be able to repay.
Blog posting about Special Education teachers: http://www.friendshipcircle.org/blog/2012/02/01/the-top-10-challenges-of-special-education-teachers/
When Connor was about 2, the social workers who worked his case with the County (since he received County services for therapies, he had a case worker) started preparing us for his entry into preschool. Despite his whole life being this way, it hadn't occurred to me that he would have a preschool to attend. We were expecting Drew at the same time, so we went back and forth between getting ready for baby and prepping Connor, and ourselves. As I've mentioned before, Connor had great caregivers at daycare, and it was hard to take him out of there. But we did, and Miss Christy was established with us, and then, the big day came.
Anyway, his first teacher, Rachael, was with him for a year, and truly educated him and us. She got us on track, helped us to understand the IEP process, and kept us informed all the time as to what was happening with him. She was, and is, wonderful. It surprised me at the end of the year that he wasn't staying there. But Rachael, like the champion she is, helped us navigate through to the next school, and teacher, Robin.
Robin had Connor for 2 years, and while her communication style differed from Rachael's, we always knew what was going on, and we could tell how much the school loved having Connor's class there. Then he had to move schools again. Another new teacher, this time, Bianca. Bianca had Connor for 3 years, and he worked so hard for her. If she called me (which happened frequently) the call almost always, always started with "No emergency." After Bianca came Liz, or H as she's called in the schools, and he's tried really hard with Liz, too, who has had to navigate around Connor's increased seizure behavior, a school change, a time change, and also her own life. She's with him now, and should be with him for another year, and then we're off to the next school, and program, and teacher (I suspect).
Each of these women have taken on so much, and we have placed our trust in them unequivocally. I marvel at their energy and love for these students, these children who cannot show their true feelings sometimes, or raise their hands in greetings. I am so, so blessed that there are people in this world whose goals are to ensure that those whose bodies have somewhat disenfranchised them still can find their voices, and express themselves, even in a small way. They each have individually, and collectively as a group as well, an amazing and collaborative spirit that is missing from many parts of the world today. We should hold up all teachers for what they do. But here, at my house, we hold up Connor's teachers a little higher. It's probably not a fair thing to do, but so far, it's what works. I hope they know, every day, how much their hard work, their frustrations, their creativity, and their love means to families like mine. It's a debt I won't ever be able to repay.
Blog posting about Special Education teachers: http://www.friendshipcircle.org/blog/2012/02/01/the-top-10-challenges-of-special-education-teachers/
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Sorry for the long silence
December was busy, and lots of celebrating and happiness occurred. So did Connor's IEP meeting, which was not as awesome as we could have dared dream. It's very hard to feel that you are a part of the team which determines his goals when the person dominating the meeting is a therapist who doesn't even work with him, but was there representing her colleague who actually DOES, and spent an inordinate amount of time talking about how he cannot meet his goals so they are going to reduce his therapy time.
Very frustrating, and emotionally devastating. I am lucky, we are lucky, that we can be aware of this drainage, though, and process our anger separately from the meeting. Connor needs the advocacy without the attitude (usually). Then again, sometimes attitude can actually make things better!
It's time I made an admission. There have been many, many days when I've thought of abandoning the regimen of medications Connor takes to see if it makes a difference. In the mornings, he takes 4 different medications - Prevacid to control any acid reflux, and Keppra, Clonazepam, and Topamax to control his seizures. In the evenings, he takes 3 - just the seizure meds. But his dosages make the actually pill intake 12 pills (the Keppra is a large lozenge-shaped pill that we have to break in half for safety, the dosage of the other meds required multiple pills of each), and in the evening, 11 pills.
It's a lot of medicine to force this little boy to consume. There are so many days when I don't want to, I don't think he wants it. But I steel myself, and remind myself that it's necessary, and that his regularly tested blood seems chemically intact.
And then, in one night, I know why my gut won't let me take him off the meds. We forgot one night. Just forgot. No reminders to each other, no double check (which is what we typically do). In the morning, I was feeding him breakfast and he was showing these mini-tremors with extraordinary frequency, and it was very much out of character with his norm. There could be only one reason. We talked, and confirmed that we'd failed to medicate him the previous night, and he was 12+ hours off of his maintenance dosage.
Through that day, he recovered, got his chemistry back where it needed to be and calmed down. And I knew immediately that no matter how badly I feel like throwing in the towel on the medications, I just can't watch him endure anything more aggressive than he had that day. Now I have an alarm on my phone. It's a simple thing, and I could have done it years ago.
The other boys have become really sensitive to the seizures. If something bangs in the house, they will run over and say, "Fight it off, Connor!" like a cheerleader or "Oh, no, buddy..." in a sad voice, and console him. And me. It consoles me. Recently, while they were running around being the strange little people they are (current favorite game - Egg Game, where they sit on their "eggs" until they hatch and stay covered in blankets) and Tucker ran past Connor, then came back, kissed his cheek, and went on. To Tucker, it was just what he felt, so he ran with it. I lean over and kiss Connor all the time, but I'm his mother, and he doesn't tell me not to. He's at the age now that he would, were he able to talk, I think. So I lavish him with affection to make sure he knows.
Last note, and one of great pride for me: in the coming weeks, Drew's class will be doing projects on Famous Americans, and one of the people from the group he can choose is Helen Keller. He told me that he learned some about her at Library, and he wants to do his project on her because he thinks it is amazing that she could not see or hear, but still worked so hard and learned so much and was a leader. I said, "You know, people who are blind or deaf like Helen Keller was are considered disabled." He nodded, and said, "I want to learn more about her."
Gulp, and sniff, and thank God for children like you, kiddo.
Very frustrating, and emotionally devastating. I am lucky, we are lucky, that we can be aware of this drainage, though, and process our anger separately from the meeting. Connor needs the advocacy without the attitude (usually). Then again, sometimes attitude can actually make things better!
It's time I made an admission. There have been many, many days when I've thought of abandoning the regimen of medications Connor takes to see if it makes a difference. In the mornings, he takes 4 different medications - Prevacid to control any acid reflux, and Keppra, Clonazepam, and Topamax to control his seizures. In the evenings, he takes 3 - just the seizure meds. But his dosages make the actually pill intake 12 pills (the Keppra is a large lozenge-shaped pill that we have to break in half for safety, the dosage of the other meds required multiple pills of each), and in the evening, 11 pills.
It's a lot of medicine to force this little boy to consume. There are so many days when I don't want to, I don't think he wants it. But I steel myself, and remind myself that it's necessary, and that his regularly tested blood seems chemically intact.
And then, in one night, I know why my gut won't let me take him off the meds. We forgot one night. Just forgot. No reminders to each other, no double check (which is what we typically do). In the morning, I was feeding him breakfast and he was showing these mini-tremors with extraordinary frequency, and it was very much out of character with his norm. There could be only one reason. We talked, and confirmed that we'd failed to medicate him the previous night, and he was 12+ hours off of his maintenance dosage.
Through that day, he recovered, got his chemistry back where it needed to be and calmed down. And I knew immediately that no matter how badly I feel like throwing in the towel on the medications, I just can't watch him endure anything more aggressive than he had that day. Now I have an alarm on my phone. It's a simple thing, and I could have done it years ago.
The other boys have become really sensitive to the seizures. If something bangs in the house, they will run over and say, "Fight it off, Connor!" like a cheerleader or "Oh, no, buddy..." in a sad voice, and console him. And me. It consoles me. Recently, while they were running around being the strange little people they are (current favorite game - Egg Game, where they sit on their "eggs" until they hatch and stay covered in blankets) and Tucker ran past Connor, then came back, kissed his cheek, and went on. To Tucker, it was just what he felt, so he ran with it. I lean over and kiss Connor all the time, but I'm his mother, and he doesn't tell me not to. He's at the age now that he would, were he able to talk, I think. So I lavish him with affection to make sure he knows.
Last note, and one of great pride for me: in the coming weeks, Drew's class will be doing projects on Famous Americans, and one of the people from the group he can choose is Helen Keller. He told me that he learned some about her at Library, and he wants to do his project on her because he thinks it is amazing that she could not see or hear, but still worked so hard and learned so much and was a leader. I said, "You know, people who are blind or deaf like Helen Keller was are considered disabled." He nodded, and said, "I want to learn more about her."
Gulp, and sniff, and thank God for children like you, kiddo.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Thanks
It's been just about a year since I started doing this regularly, and I thought a little reflection might be good. The coincidence of it occurring around Thanksgiving is a happy and welcome thing.
First of all, I am grateful to my husband, Lee. He's given me this enormous gift of our life and our family together, and he's stuck with us through every moment. I would find it easy to disassociate myself if he had done so, but as we learned at our wedding, this is FOR-EV-ER (Thanks, Father Kevin!) and every day, he stands shoulder to shoulder with me. Sometimes, it's a metaphoric shoulder-to-shoulder because we're all over the place, but of all the teams I participate on, this is my core team. Us against it all.
I am grateful for my children, and for their health. All my boys bring me different kinds of joy, each day. Seeing lights in their eyes, and smiles on their faces - it just makes me feel right. I know that the "health" part sounds strange, given the original purpose of this blog, but honestly, my sons are actually quite healthy. I don't know how long Connor would have made it had he not been to otherwise healthy. Even on days like the past week when he's congested and his only recourse to remove the congestion from his body is a violent upchucking, he's still solid in the germ department. And his brothers fight on those lines with him. They've never had anything more serious than a cold, except when Drew had walking pneumonia and even that didn't seem to do much except exhaust him. He slept that off - not a lot of coughing or other complications.
I am grateful to my family. It's likely that most of you know that I am a part of a large family, but for those of you who don't, well, I am. We are now 11 strong (14 if you count the boyos) and each and any of them pick up the phone when I call. Last week, when I had a stomach virus and Lee was away, my sister contacted me and offered to come cover me between when our nanny left and when they boys had to be in bed. No hesitation, even though the last time she was around us and there was a stomach virus it walloped her. My siblings and my parents accept my foibles and pigheadedness and remind me that inside is a good person working hard to get out.
I am grateful to my friends who let me vent about my ridiculous first world problems. If I didn't have anyone to talk to, this would be a much more schizophrenic blog.
I am grateful to you online who read this. Most of you I say I know, but there are people I've known for 75% of my life who read this, and with whom I am friends on facebook, and who I haven't seen or spoken to since 1991. Really? Why is that? Why am I waiting for something electronic to connect me when the audience is there? For the people who knew me when I was 9, 13, 16 - and FAR more pigheaded than I am now, and who didn't dismiss me as that annoying girl from school, I am truly grateful. Your support here has reminded me that the world is not as cruel as we make it out to be. You remind me that my community goes much further back than I ever imagined it would.
So tomorrow, I will sit with most of my family, and break bread, and be happy, and give thanks. I hope that each of you has a similarly warm and wonderful holiday.
First of all, I am grateful to my husband, Lee. He's given me this enormous gift of our life and our family together, and he's stuck with us through every moment. I would find it easy to disassociate myself if he had done so, but as we learned at our wedding, this is FOR-EV-ER (Thanks, Father Kevin!) and every day, he stands shoulder to shoulder with me. Sometimes, it's a metaphoric shoulder-to-shoulder because we're all over the place, but of all the teams I participate on, this is my core team. Us against it all.
I am grateful for my children, and for their health. All my boys bring me different kinds of joy, each day. Seeing lights in their eyes, and smiles on their faces - it just makes me feel right. I know that the "health" part sounds strange, given the original purpose of this blog, but honestly, my sons are actually quite healthy. I don't know how long Connor would have made it had he not been to otherwise healthy. Even on days like the past week when he's congested and his only recourse to remove the congestion from his body is a violent upchucking, he's still solid in the germ department. And his brothers fight on those lines with him. They've never had anything more serious than a cold, except when Drew had walking pneumonia and even that didn't seem to do much except exhaust him. He slept that off - not a lot of coughing or other complications.
I am grateful to my family. It's likely that most of you know that I am a part of a large family, but for those of you who don't, well, I am. We are now 11 strong (14 if you count the boyos) and each and any of them pick up the phone when I call. Last week, when I had a stomach virus and Lee was away, my sister contacted me and offered to come cover me between when our nanny left and when they boys had to be in bed. No hesitation, even though the last time she was around us and there was a stomach virus it walloped her. My siblings and my parents accept my foibles and pigheadedness and remind me that inside is a good person working hard to get out.
I am grateful to my friends who let me vent about my ridiculous first world problems. If I didn't have anyone to talk to, this would be a much more schizophrenic blog.
I am grateful to you online who read this. Most of you I say I know, but there are people I've known for 75% of my life who read this, and with whom I am friends on facebook, and who I haven't seen or spoken to since 1991. Really? Why is that? Why am I waiting for something electronic to connect me when the audience is there? For the people who knew me when I was 9, 13, 16 - and FAR more pigheaded than I am now, and who didn't dismiss me as that annoying girl from school, I am truly grateful. Your support here has reminded me that the world is not as cruel as we make it out to be. You remind me that my community goes much further back than I ever imagined it would.
So tomorrow, I will sit with most of my family, and break bread, and be happy, and give thanks. I hope that each of you has a similarly warm and wonderful holiday.
Friday, November 15, 2013
To get attention...
I understand that this writing here - everything on the blog and most of the things I post on Facebook and Twitter are, at the core, about getting attention. It's one of the reasons I don't post more. I don't want to be viewed as someone who requests or requires too much of your attention.
Tucker, though, is not as refined. Of course, he's 4 (4 and a HALF when you ask him), and like his brother Drew, excellent with language. However, Tucker is also the bruiser in the family, and it's starting to burst out of him like solar flares. They are happening with a great deal of unpredictability: they strike out and then back in, and they are white hot anger.
Lately he's been frustrated at school. Seriously, seriously frustrated. But, instead of using language to tell someone, he decided that the best option is to lash out. Slapping. Kicking toys. Kicking people. Throwing chairs.
People, I am not trying to raise Bobby Knight.
So we've addressed this, but the anger keeps flaring, and anyone in his path is a potential target. I fear that he is getting filled with jealousy because his brothers get more attention - Connor needs the care, and Drew needs the supervision for his homework time. I wish they didn't, but they do. And we have to uncover ways to give equal attention to Tucker. 10 minutes in the car after I've dropped off Drew in the mornings is not enough "Mommy-Tucker Time" as he calls it.
Board games and puzzles with him seem to be working. Solo baths or showers (ie - not sharing the parent with his brothers) is helping. Sitting with him when he eats lunch or dinner even when it takes him an hour. Helping him make his Lego How To Build videos (he actually NEEDS a parent for that...) Other ideas?
Tucker, though, is not as refined. Of course, he's 4 (4 and a HALF when you ask him), and like his brother Drew, excellent with language. However, Tucker is also the bruiser in the family, and it's starting to burst out of him like solar flares. They are happening with a great deal of unpredictability: they strike out and then back in, and they are white hot anger.
Lately he's been frustrated at school. Seriously, seriously frustrated. But, instead of using language to tell someone, he decided that the best option is to lash out. Slapping. Kicking toys. Kicking people. Throwing chairs.
People, I am not trying to raise Bobby Knight.
So we've addressed this, but the anger keeps flaring, and anyone in his path is a potential target. I fear that he is getting filled with jealousy because his brothers get more attention - Connor needs the care, and Drew needs the supervision for his homework time. I wish they didn't, but they do. And we have to uncover ways to give equal attention to Tucker. 10 minutes in the car after I've dropped off Drew in the mornings is not enough "Mommy-Tucker Time" as he calls it.
Board games and puzzles with him seem to be working. Solo baths or showers (ie - not sharing the parent with his brothers) is helping. Sitting with him when he eats lunch or dinner even when it takes him an hour. Helping him make his Lego How To Build videos (he actually NEEDS a parent for that...) Other ideas?
Tuesday, November 05, 2013
Annual Civics Lesson
I love Election Day - I have since I was little and my mother worked for a member of Congress (he holds a higher office today...and is from Delaware...). When I was in high school, the 1988 Presidential Election was held, and my Social Studies class held a mock debate between the candidates, Vice President George H.W. Bush and Governor Michael Dukakis.
I was 15. So of course, I had to be sophomoric. I was on Team Dukakis, and I made fake eyebrows for everyone on the team to wear. Mrs. McKinley, my teacher, was not amused. Then again, little seemed to amuse her. She was a dedicated educator. When I look back at the teachers I had in high school, I don't have any "good" stories about her (beyond this one, which isn't much of a story) but I do think of her as the one I learned the most from. And really, that was the point, wasn't it? Anyway, I made my teammates wear these. They were made of a piece of paper about 1 inch high by about 5 inches long, and to the "front" I glues small pieces of black yarn to create a unibrow.
God, I was so funny. I turned the Debate into a Marx Brothers event.
Anyway, I love being a part of an Electorate. I took Drew with me last year, and he asked if he could go again tomorrow to see me vote. Tucker also wants to go, but he has preschool in the morning, so I told him that he can go with me next year when I vote. I hope I am able to show them how important it is to make informed and education choices, and to participate in the government.
And that leads back to the government shutdown a month ago. A good friend, a long term friend, has asked me if the Affordable Care Act is the best way. She's a doctor, and knows FAR more about the business side of health than I do. I know that I need to know to advocate for Connor, but I don't know the breadth and depth of health care.
I don't think the the Affordable Care Act is the best way. I do think it's better than nothing. I do think that everyone deserves to have coverage. I do not think that companies should be permitted to reduce everyone's status to part-time to avoid the financial costs of health care, but that's my liberal showing. I know it. I'm ready for your commentary.
When it comes to the shutdown, though, I do think that the current members of Congress are wasting valuable time and energy trying to force their will over something already encoded in LAW. Sure, they may not have been voting members when the Affordable Care Act passed from Bill to Law, but surely any person of reason can see that the electoral equivalent of holding your breath to get your way is childish and ineffective. The more appropriate, and certain more lawful, way to handle this would be to methodically chip away at the encoded law with updated versions. Change this. Move that. REMOVE ALL THE FAT. I may be a liberal, but a 1000+ page bill might be going too far. No, wait, it's beyond too far. It's farce.
I want people to be able to get care, and I want them to be able to get it without negatively impacting the costs for everyone else (aka, uninsured people's emergency visits). And I want that care to not be restricted. If a woman needs certain types of care in her child-bearing years, so be it. Cover it. We are humans, which means we are all different, and have different needs, and placing us in boxes is ridiculous and demeans any dignity we may have. We are also an enormous population. You can point to other countries with nationalized health care, but have you compared their populations?
UK. Canada. Brazil. Rwanda. Thailand. South Korea. Moldova. Kuwait. Chile. China.
We are larger in population than many of these, and are First World where many of them are emerging economies or, in the case of Rwanda, still Third World.
Basically, I don't have the answer. But last night, hearing that one of the candidates for Governor of Virginia was pinning his election on the government shutdown and reversing Obamacare. REALLY? I stopped what I was doing and put my head in my hands. It was your party, asshat, who shut down the government to bully the rest of the government to reverse a law. Not a perfect law. But it's a law. It went on down to Capitol Hill, went to Committee, went to a vote, went to the Senate and started all over again, then stood in line to BE A LAW SOMEDAY.
So. I hope you voted today. And let's get fixing.
I was 15. So of course, I had to be sophomoric. I was on Team Dukakis, and I made fake eyebrows for everyone on the team to wear. Mrs. McKinley, my teacher, was not amused. Then again, little seemed to amuse her. She was a dedicated educator. When I look back at the teachers I had in high school, I don't have any "good" stories about her (beyond this one, which isn't much of a story) but I do think of her as the one I learned the most from. And really, that was the point, wasn't it? Anyway, I made my teammates wear these. They were made of a piece of paper about 1 inch high by about 5 inches long, and to the "front" I glues small pieces of black yarn to create a unibrow.
God, I was so funny. I turned the Debate into a Marx Brothers event.
Anyway, I love being a part of an Electorate. I took Drew with me last year, and he asked if he could go again tomorrow to see me vote. Tucker also wants to go, but he has preschool in the morning, so I told him that he can go with me next year when I vote. I hope I am able to show them how important it is to make informed and education choices, and to participate in the government.
And that leads back to the government shutdown a month ago. A good friend, a long term friend, has asked me if the Affordable Care Act is the best way. She's a doctor, and knows FAR more about the business side of health than I do. I know that I need to know to advocate for Connor, but I don't know the breadth and depth of health care.
I don't think the the Affordable Care Act is the best way. I do think it's better than nothing. I do think that everyone deserves to have coverage. I do not think that companies should be permitted to reduce everyone's status to part-time to avoid the financial costs of health care, but that's my liberal showing. I know it. I'm ready for your commentary.
When it comes to the shutdown, though, I do think that the current members of Congress are wasting valuable time and energy trying to force their will over something already encoded in LAW. Sure, they may not have been voting members when the Affordable Care Act passed from Bill to Law, but surely any person of reason can see that the electoral equivalent of holding your breath to get your way is childish and ineffective. The more appropriate, and certain more lawful, way to handle this would be to methodically chip away at the encoded law with updated versions. Change this. Move that. REMOVE ALL THE FAT. I may be a liberal, but a 1000+ page bill might be going too far. No, wait, it's beyond too far. It's farce.
I want people to be able to get care, and I want them to be able to get it without negatively impacting the costs for everyone else (aka, uninsured people's emergency visits). And I want that care to not be restricted. If a woman needs certain types of care in her child-bearing years, so be it. Cover it. We are humans, which means we are all different, and have different needs, and placing us in boxes is ridiculous and demeans any dignity we may have. We are also an enormous population. You can point to other countries with nationalized health care, but have you compared their populations?
UK. Canada. Brazil. Rwanda. Thailand. South Korea. Moldova. Kuwait. Chile. China.
We are larger in population than many of these, and are First World where many of them are emerging economies or, in the case of Rwanda, still Third World.
Basically, I don't have the answer. But last night, hearing that one of the candidates for Governor of Virginia was pinning his election on the government shutdown and reversing Obamacare. REALLY? I stopped what I was doing and put my head in my hands. It was your party, asshat, who shut down the government to bully the rest of the government to reverse a law. Not a perfect law. But it's a law. It went on down to Capitol Hill, went to Committee, went to a vote, went to the Senate and started all over again, then stood in line to BE A LAW SOMEDAY.
So. I hope you voted today. And let's get fixing.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Laryngitis
I have a cold. I got a medium level cold that hasn't bothered me much, but has killed my voice. And I haven't posted in a while, so my electronic voice is creaky and underused, where my actual voice is croaky and overused. Time to balance out again!
Since my birthday, I've had the pleasure of celebrating my middle son's 7th birthday. He celebrated it in a way I hope he never repeats - school trouble. I have managed the "Government Shutdown Crisis" fairly well, given that none of us work for the government (though many, many friends and some family members do). I've weathered an entry into Scouting and a dinner strike by the youngest. I've prepared us somewhat for Halloween, helped clients find homes (both to rent and to buy), gotten very busy, and lost sleep.
So...the usual. Why the quiet, then?
Well, possibly it's because turning 7 indicates the age of reason? One week after he turned 7, Drew asked me while I dressed Connor one morning before school:
Mom, who will take care of Connor when you and Dad have died?
Despite an alarming lack of caffeine in my system at the time, I managed to not blurt out: that's what you and your brother are for.
Instead, I took a deep breath (during which I silently cursed Lee for having the audacity to get showered before work and leave me alone for conversations like these) and said, "Well, we've made arrangements so that Connor will always be taken care of. And he's lucky because lots of people love him and will want to be sure he is taken care of and will help." Another big breath. Then, "And, Drew, you know that people who are sick can die, right?" He nodded. "Well, it's possible that Dad and I may live longer than Connor does." (Internally, having a HUGE hissyfitmeltdownsnit. Externally, still dressing Connor and maintaining an extraordinary lack of eye contact with my children.)
Oh.
That's all he said. End of conversation. Hasn't come up again. But when Lee came downstairs, I told him he wasn't allowed to leave the room ever for something as stupid as a shower.
When we found out that Tucker was a boy baby, the first thing I said to Lee was, "Ha, ha! I never have to have The Talk." He hung his head. I would gladly trade The Talk for this. Sex? Easy? I would be HAPPY to discuss your private parts in great, gory detail. Your brother dying? Ugh, um, ask your father.
Connor will be 10 in a few short months. I find it hard to believe that we have been doing this for 10 years. A decade. And he has missed so much. It makes me so angry on his behalf that he can't experience life or express himself in the way that we are designed to. It makes me so grateful that we are able to care for him, and make sure his needs are met, and have families (extended and non-related) who just love him with every fiber of their beings and support us through our good times and our less-than-good times. Neighbors (who are friends, of course) who take the other boys on without a second thought when we need a little time to get something done.
I am tired, have no voice, and am a weird yin-yang of gratitude and angst. Gotta get them balanced again so I can get this voice back!
Since my birthday, I've had the pleasure of celebrating my middle son's 7th birthday. He celebrated it in a way I hope he never repeats - school trouble. I have managed the "Government Shutdown Crisis" fairly well, given that none of us work for the government (though many, many friends and some family members do). I've weathered an entry into Scouting and a dinner strike by the youngest. I've prepared us somewhat for Halloween, helped clients find homes (both to rent and to buy), gotten very busy, and lost sleep.
So...the usual. Why the quiet, then?
Well, possibly it's because turning 7 indicates the age of reason? One week after he turned 7, Drew asked me while I dressed Connor one morning before school:
Mom, who will take care of Connor when you and Dad have died?
Despite an alarming lack of caffeine in my system at the time, I managed to not blurt out: that's what you and your brother are for.
Instead, I took a deep breath (during which I silently cursed Lee for having the audacity to get showered before work and leave me alone for conversations like these) and said, "Well, we've made arrangements so that Connor will always be taken care of. And he's lucky because lots of people love him and will want to be sure he is taken care of and will help." Another big breath. Then, "And, Drew, you know that people who are sick can die, right?" He nodded. "Well, it's possible that Dad and I may live longer than Connor does." (Internally, having a HUGE hissyfitmeltdownsnit. Externally, still dressing Connor and maintaining an extraordinary lack of eye contact with my children.)
Oh.
That's all he said. End of conversation. Hasn't come up again. But when Lee came downstairs, I told him he wasn't allowed to leave the room ever for something as stupid as a shower.
When we found out that Tucker was a boy baby, the first thing I said to Lee was, "Ha, ha! I never have to have The Talk." He hung his head. I would gladly trade The Talk for this. Sex? Easy? I would be HAPPY to discuss your private parts in great, gory detail. Your brother dying? Ugh, um, ask your father.
Connor will be 10 in a few short months. I find it hard to believe that we have been doing this for 10 years. A decade. And he has missed so much. It makes me so angry on his behalf that he can't experience life or express himself in the way that we are designed to. It makes me so grateful that we are able to care for him, and make sure his needs are met, and have families (extended and non-related) who just love him with every fiber of their beings and support us through our good times and our less-than-good times. Neighbors (who are friends, of course) who take the other boys on without a second thought when we need a little time to get something done.
I am tired, have no voice, and am a weird yin-yang of gratitude and angst. Gotta get them balanced again so I can get this voice back!
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