Welcome William and Oliver!

On the left we have Robert Oliver Kendall 4lbs 15 oz. Born at 5:38 am. On the right may I present William Alexander Kendall 4lbs 2oz born at 5:37am. Birthday of 12-23-12.

So, both boys are here and safe.  But this was almost not the case.  Let me take you back to the 23rd of December 2012 3:30 in the morning.

If you could just imagine the flashback effect of your choice it would really help me out a lot.  You know fade away, the wavy effect, or a camera shot of the window showing the snow falling then slowly panning to my wife and I asleep in bed.  It wasn't snowing but that seems to be a good one.

Really I've thought about it but I just can't figure out how to do a flash back in blog form. 

Wife: My water just broke.

Me: It's go time.

Wife: This is blood.

Me: That's not good. I'll call 911.

Wife: Hang up, it's probably just blood in the amniotic fluid.

Me: Is that a thing?

Wife: Yes.

This is going to be a bit spotty because I had a lot of adrenaline pumping and Flash Bulb memory is a tricky thing.  If you don't know what flash bulb memory is then look it up, it's kind of fascinating and I don't want to get to off track.

Anyways, we were able to get a hold of a friend that was nice enough to speed over and keep an eye on our littlest while she slept.  As we got ready to leave my wife pumped a few quarts of blood out, which was scary as hell.  It might not have been quarts but it sure seemed like it.  

On the way to the hospital the wife and I reassured each other and held hands.

After arriving at the hospital we were rushed into the operating room for an emergency C-section.  We had planned on having a C-section all along but we were planning on doing it in a few more weeks. 

While they were preparing her for the operation there was several attempts at giving my wife an IV.  Usually 

my wife is an easy stick so we were both confused and frustrated by this.  We found out later that it was hard to insert the IV due to her blood loss.  I suppose I can tell you at this point that we were not really aware of how serious the situation was.

At one point I remember one of the doctors asking if the wife wanted her tubes tied regardless of the outcome.  I answered quickly in the affirmative not realizing that the question indicated that there was some pessimism as to whether or not both boys would survive.

William was born about a minute prior to Oliver.  His team had him wrapped up and in my arms pretty quick.  Oliver's team worked on him for what seemed like a really really really long time.  

Eventually both the boys were stabilized enough to be moved to the nursery while the wife was moved to recovery.

At this point I asked for a debrief on everything that had happened medically speaking.  I was informed that my wife had experienced what is called a placental abruption.  In a nutshell, my wife had been bleeding to death and if we had been 10 minutes later to the hospital I would have gone from being a married father of five to a single father of one. We may have lost the twins and I probably wouldn't have much legal claim to my older two kids due to them being my step children.  This means both that I am not their biological father, and they starred in the Step Up film series.  

This experience has led to a new rule in my marriage.  That being, "Whoever is bleeding the least gets to make the medical decisions."

Today everyone is healthy and recovering well.  We hope to have the boys home early next week.  

If any of our readers would care to visit please remember that the boys are medically fragile.  That means that if you are sick, stay away.  If you do not have current flu shots, we love you but please do not visit yet.  If you or your children are not up to speed on your vaccines, we love you but do not wish a visit until this is corrected.  Again, everyone is healthy and we hope to keep it that way.  Please give us a heads up if you plan to visit and try to keep your visit brief as energy is on the low side.

The attention and quality of care we have received from the nursing staff and doctors has been nothing short of excellent.  

We will try to keep everyone posted on our progress. I am certain that I am missing many details which will be filled in over the next few weeks.

Thank you again to everyone for support .  Particularly; a cousin who I haven't seen in over a decade that offered to purchase a car seat for us, mothers and fathers who have dedicated time and funds to assist us, as well as family and friends who have lent time and effort to keeping us sane.

More as our journey continues.

L&P  

The Name Game

Well my wife has reached levels of discomfort that can not be fully understood by anything packing testicles and that can mean only one thing, the twins are almost here.  We are not yet fully prepared as the boys' room is still lacking a couple of essential items and the college funds are presently imaginary.  That being said, we are getting excited.  The lack of activity on the blog of late has been largely due to our time being dedicated to trying to tie up those last few loose ends. We apologize but there always seems to be more chores than time.

One of those chores has been to zero in on a name for these little buggers.  Naming a child is one of the trickiest things about preparing for a new addition to your family.  The twin factor adds another layer due to the fact that many parents of twins choose to go with a rhyme scheme or theme.  Also, the fact that we give people two names seems a bit strange to me.  I understand the legal and logical reasoning behind a first and last name.  But what is the purpose of the middle name?  Is if the vice name, seated to take control in the event that the first name is assassinated? A backup name in the event that the first name fails due to technical difficulties.  I suppose I can research this later.  Anyway we have pretty much zeroed in on what we are calling these kiddos and since we may be meeting them any day now, I thought it would be a good idea to introduce them to you.  Well at least the names.  But first, the runners up.

Steven Harris - We liked this one because Steven is a family name and since we are fans of Dexter it would be fun to use the name Harris as a nod to a character in the show.  Steve Harris is also the name of the bass player for Iron Maiden.  Almost snuck that past the wife. Almost.

Danger - I have been fortunate enough to have several of what I can classify as best friends.  Maybe a dozen over the years.  Two of these chaps go by the names Daniel and Gerald (Jerry for short).  If I cut the first three letters off both names then smoosh them together we get the name Danger.  This would have been a middle name of course.  Shot down because it may be setting this little guy up for a life of crime.  Or of being to awesome.

Gotlob - I have a cousin that is really into our family history.  While hunting through our family tree together he showed me that I have an ancestor that went by the name Gotlob.  I liked this name because I like the idea of going through your whole life and NEVER meeting another individual of the same name.  The wife never gave this one a chance.  Probably because it sounds terrible.

Clark - I love me some Superman.  This one would have been paired with a first name that would have coincidentally given the boy the same name as a famous explorer.  A little bit of research revealed that this explorer was a real dick to his slaves and was in fact, the only member of the Oregon Trail party that thought it would be appropriate to brings a slave.  Moving on.

Saxon - This was only bandied about for about three days.  Three awesome days.  The wife came up with it and I was totally on board.  Mostly because I loved the idea of naming one of my youngsters after an early 80s metal band.  Part of the reason this got rejected was that if we named one of them Saxon, the other one would probably have to be Stryper.  That borders on child abuse.  

Max - This would have been paired with Danger.  Maximus Danger, Max Danger.  This fell into the same trap that Saxon did. If we named one Max Danger the other would have to go by something like Total Destruction, or Mass Damage.  Fun yes, but also a set up for a youth spent in juvenile detention.

Fletcher - One obstacle of naming a child is bad associations with otherwise fine names.  We both liked this name.  I even worked with a Fletcher that was a stand up guy.  But she knew a guy named Fletcher that was kind of a perv.  So Fletcher was out. 

Dexter - Again, big fans of the show.  But naming your kid after a serial killer, even a fictional one is a little nutty.  Also last season was a little meh.

Harrison - This was a strong candidate but one of our best friends who is due right about the same time we are already called dibs.  According to the shotgun bylaws, the laws which govern all childhood rules up to and including who gets the front seat of the car, we had to respect the dibs. 

Stephen - A family name.  A solid name.  The list of the Stephen's that I admire includes, Stephen Colbert, Dr. Steve Novella, Steve Tyler, Stephen Hawking, Stephen Fry, Stephen King, and the guy that sang Magic Carpet Ride.  We went with another family name to honor this same person.

Archer - More on Archery later, but this is also the name of one of my favorite super spies.  

The Winners

Robert Oliver.

Robert is my first name, my father's first name, his father's first name, the name of the guy that played Iron Man, the name of a famous sea captain which explored much of the North West, and yes a sparkly vampire.  But they can't all be winners.  It's flexible too, lots of ways you can go with Robert; Rob Robby, Bob.  None of these matter though as we will be calling him by his middle name.

Oliver is a classic name.  It is also the name of the Green Arrow who is one of my favorite super heroes.    Archery is not only the only sport that I am any good at but also an excellent way to calm your mind.  It was a big part of my childhood and something that I still enjoy today. Also, the initial's will spell ROK. 

Say no to drugs

William Alexander
William is my brothers name, my father-in-law's name, one half of Wild Stallions, Dr. Huxtable, the science guy, an infamous gun slinger in the old west, and arguably the greatest playwright ever to have lived.  I could go on but there really is a crazy long list of famous folk with the name William. William is a flexible name like Robert; with your Bill, Billy, Will, Willy, and Will.I.Am.  But this kid will go by William.
Alexander is a classic name and I have always admired the story of Alexander the Great.  That dude did more in his life than any 10 other people.  Needless to say, I will expect him to conquer most of Persia by his 30th birthday.

When we play D&D I will only let him play a Bard

 Again, sorry about the lack of activity as of late, babies will do that to you.

L&P

The Night of a Thousand Panties

As most of you know I am currently pregnant with twin boys.  I am now in my 33rd week and quite enormous.  It has actually been a fairly easy pregnancy other than the discomfort of two babies wrestling for space.  This week I think baby A is head down, directly on my bladder and baby B has his head in my ribs and bum on my bladder. As a side note:, unless you have been pregnant with twins or more, there is no comparison to 4 arms, 4 legs and two heads fighting for space inside my belly, no singleton pregnancy is like this no matter how big the baby. Needless to say, I have to pee about every 30-45 minutes and my bladder has shrunk to the size of a pea. 

Earlier this week I came down with a bad cough, sore throat, nasal congestion, sneezes, all of the crummy winter cold symptoms.  Because of being full of child(ren) and having already birthed 3 babies, I am wise to the fact that I may "spirtz" occasionally and that crossing my legs while sneezing or coughing is always wise.

Nothing could have prepared me for the "spritzing" that happened this week.  I mean, it was more like a damn sprinkler.  I went to bed Tuesday night around 9 with a mild cough and I woke up at midnight with spazmic, body shaking, hacking coughs that came out of nowhere and every time I had a coughing fit I wet my pants.  No amount of leg crossing could stop the veritable Niagra Falls that would occur when I coughed.  I was so feverish and out of it I could not think clearly enough to do anything but change my panties and pajamas as needed.  I would change, and then immediately need to change again.  I was sitting in the bathroom with the shower on the hottest setting in hopes that the steam would clear the gunk from my lungs, so fortunately for my husband, I never "wet" the bed (although I did have a coughing fit while sitting on the couch, oops).

So when morning came, my loving husband insisted that I call the doctor.  When I called the nurse asked me if I was "leaking fluid", meaning amniotic fluid, you know, like if my water had broken.  I said no, but that I was wetting my pants, when I had a coughing fit.  She wanted to know if I had felt much movement from the babies, I responded that I had not felt as much movement as usual, but that I assumed they would be less active since I was ill.  She said she wanted to check with the doctor and call me back.  So the doctor called me back and insisted that I go to Labor and Delivery at the hospital for monitoring of the babies and that they would figure out how to check my lungs there. 

I cobbled together some dignity, took a shower and when I got dressed, I realized I had gone through all of my "sensible" panties.  All I had left was my "sexy" panties.  When you go to Labor and Delivery you know they will be seeing your panties.  Really, who wants to see a woman who is 33 weeks pregnant with twins and having frequent incontinence wearing a lacy tanga or a filmy thong?  I found a semi-appropriate boy short that was mostly ruffles and headed to the hospital.  Oh, I forgot to mention that Maggie had an important appointment  so Casey took her and the baby and I took our 14 year old with me,  again, what 14 year old wants to see her mother in any kind of anything other than a granny panty. 

After I was checked in and dressed in a gown, they hooked me up to the monitors, exposing my panties to my 14 year old and the nursing staff.  Anyhow, I texted my husband to let him know that I was in Labor and Delivery room 4, he thought I was "in labor", and texted back that he was on his way and should he starting calling family.  Shoot, I meant I was in the Labor and Delivery part of the hospital.  Major text miscommunication.  I called him immediately and let him know all was well and no babies yet. 

I repeatedly told the staff that this was an over reaction and that I was fine and just needed some antibiotics.  Nope, they tested me in all the uncomfortable ways, and then the doctor came in.  He was a man.  Dignity once again lost.  He informed me that it was an over reaction and I was fine.  He gave me a prescription for antibiotics and sent me on my way.  He also suggested in the most pitiful way, that incontinence would likely be resolved once the twins were born or the cough was gone. Yeah, I figured as much. 

Sorry if you were hoping for a more provocative post.

L&P

Thanks and Help

Hey readers, I hope you have been enjoying this blog as much as we have enjoyed writing it.  Our original goal in our writing has been two fold.  First of all, to share the many nearly unbelievable stories of our lives as well as our more benign but silly thoughts with you all.  Secondly, as we are a large and still growing family we are in need of a second income.  I feel that we have done a good job of meeting that first goal but our second goal will require some assistance from you, the reader.

We are about to cross the two thousand mark on page views, that is pretty exciting.  We started this blog over the summer and considering we have really only relied on word of mouth that is a pretty great accomplishment.  Unfortunately, in order for us to produce any kind of income from our blog we require about 15 times that many hits a month.   

Helping us won't be difficult, we aren't really asking much.  Only that you spread the good word.  Some of you have done so and I hope that we have adequately thanked you.

If you look toward the bottom of the screen you will see that there are a few buttons that you can click representative of Facebook, Twitter, Google+ (whatever the hell that is) among others.  If you happen to read an entry and it makes you chuckle it would help us out a lot if you clicked that button so that others may learn of our hilarity.

On the other hand, if you read something that really offends you on our blog, well by jimminy you better click that button so you can show everyone how wrong we are and share you rage at us. 

Then again, if you read something that makes you think, oh that poor family, I should pray for them.  Well I don't claim to know the mind of god, but it seems that if one prayer is good, then fifty might be better!  What better way to get the attention of the almighty than to click one of those buttons that shares our tales with the world? 

Finally, I didn't want it to come to this, but if you don't click on one of those share buttons following a blog entry, I will club this baby seal.

His name is Henry

We thank you for your support, and Henry thanks you.

L&P

Adventures in Maggie Reering Volume 1

Throughout my tenure as a parent to a special needs child I have learned many valuable lessons.  One of these lessons can best be summed up in a quote by Albert Einstein. I include his first name to ensure that you do not confuse this Einstein with the purveyors of my favorite coffee and bagels at Einstein Bagels.  By the way Einstein Bagels, endorsement deals are available for your fine products.

Anyways, Albert Einstein once said, "Only two things are infinite, the Universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former."

This was brought into glaring clarity several months back when talking to a co-worker.  We had some down time and conversation turned toward our children and eventually, as any proud father would do, I began to show off pictures of my kids. When I got to pictures of Maggie the co-worker turned to me with a concerned look on her face and asked, "Whats wrong with her?"  Being the eternal optimist that I am I assumed that something was smeared on the picture so I looked at the picture, finding nothing wrong with it I asked her to clarify.  At this co-worker made a gesture to her face and stated, "Her eyes."

"Oh, she has Down syndrome." I responded, not really thinking much of it.
I should point out that this co-worker is of Asian decent so the next part I was going to chalk up to her unfamiliarity with the Kings English.  After all, what other reason could there be for her then saying, "Oh that's bad."

Again, being the eternal optimist I was going to let her clarify since, at least at this point.  She couldn't possibly mean what it sounded like she meant. She continued, "My sister found out that she was going to have one of those and she told that doctor to take it out she didn't want it.  It's really bad."

I'm going to stop here to clarify something because I am treading on delicate territory.  I am not going to go into anything about reproductive rights, or when life begins, or anything like that.  That is not what this blog is about.  Moving on.

At this point in the conversation I was faced with two choices. The first choice was that this woman is a stone cold stupid bitch.  I mean bitch on the Ann Coulter level of Bitchdome.  That reminds me of a joke.

Ann Coulter walks into a bar, the bartender says, "Why the long face?"
Then the bartender beats her senseless with a softball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

The second choice was that what I might be experiencing was a difference in how various cultures view those with special needs.  I have been told that in the past the Japanese viewed any physical deformity with great shame.  I thought to myself that perhaps this was a view that was prevalent in many Asian cultures.  I didn't have time to look it up mid conversation, so I gave my co-worker the benefit of the doubt and assumed that she was not being rude, just responding to an  individual with Down syndrome in a way that is appropriate in her native culture.  Not unlike a person who is told that being gay is an abomination their entire life without ever actually meeting a gay person may respond.  If an individual grew up never having that "truth" challenged then why would they not think that homosexuality is an abomination.  Then again, a few lines after that verse in the bible it also says that shellfish is an abomination and I have yet to read a news report on Red Lobster being protested by the Westboro Babtist Church.

Moving on.

The academic that I am I was excited for the opportunity to educate her, "There is nothing wrong with her, she just has Down syndrome."  To me, and many other parents of children with special needs, this statements makes perfect sense.  To her it must have sounded like I was saying, "What do you mean your computer is broke, it's just in two pieces now." I make this assumption based on the look of confusion that spread across her face.  She then asked if my wife had known that our daughter had Down syndrome prior to giving birth.  I did not have the time or presence of mind to capture my wife's elegant thoughts on this question which can be viewed here.  I informed her that, yes, my wife did know.

She then asked, "Well why did she have it then?"  in retrospect I am impressed at my ability to not turn from loving and caring father into a machine that's sole purpose is to dispense neck punches to undersized Asian women.  After all, what parent doesn't love having their child referred to as "it".  This coupled with a display of arm movements which can best be described as flabbergasted.

I put the question back to her as to why wouldn't my wife have her, after all, there was nothing wrong with her.

The conversation ended here due to the fact that we were suddenly expected to do work of all things.
I am still unsure if her response to my daughter was ignorance driven, some good old fashioned prejudice, or culturally driven.  Which brings me to my next point.  Other cultures are stupid.  Dammit out of time, I will have to tackle that one next time.


L&P 

It's the Little Things

Typically I use this blog as a soap box to allow my brain to vomit out random tidbits of hilarity that I think the readers may find funny, or to share with you the trials and tribulations that our family endures.  Incidentally, have you ever heard of anyone facing a trial without a tribulation?  It seems that you can have a trial without any big to do.  Trials happen every day like your shoe lace breaking or your gas light popping on to say hello right after you realize you are stuck in traffic and late to work.  Does your gas light have a British accent by the way? Mine does.  Tribulations only seem to come with trials.  I'm not sure that I have ever had a tribulation.  They seem to prefer to frequent famous athletes of African American decent. 

Back to my point,  this is the last day of November and a popular theme on Facebook this month has been thankfulness.  I thought it would be appropriate for me to take a minute and use the opportunity that this blog provides me and spout out a list, (one per day seems to be the appropriate number) of little things that I am thankful for.

1. My family- first and foremost, my motivation for going to work, improving myself and keeping food in the fridge.
2. Gravity - Without it my family would probably leave when annoyed by me.  Gravity keeps them close by.  It also keeps my atoms from getting all up in everyone's business.
3. Spell check 
4. SCIENCE!!! Mostly for thumbing it's nose at the I before E except after C rule.  I is before E and it is placed directly after C... suck it grammar.  Also vaccinations, space exploration, sanitation, and providing pretty much all modern day conveniences.
5. Warm stuff- Included in this is laundry fresh from the drier and a large stack of fresh photocopies.
6. Kneecaps- Anytime I'm watching a movie and some dude gets shot in the kneecaps I think to myself, "Glad I got these beauties."
7. The Movie Predator- If not for this movie it would be weird for me to text my siblings odd hours with the phrase, "GET TO THE CHOPPA". 
8.  The internet - seriously, how much easier is it to not leave the house than it was 15 years ago.  
9. Fudge - Love me some fudge.
10. Giant asteroids- Yeah we don't want one visiting anytime soon.  But I have noticed that my morning commute is pretty light on large reptiles capable of swallowing me whole.  
11. Forgiveness- the reason that my wife does not spend a large portion of her free time slapping me.
12. My parents- good people, dirty minds.
13. Superheroes- I like having an ideal by which to measure myself.  Even if it is a fictional ideal.
14. Orthodontics- Sure, the Brits have Shakespeare, but we have better smiles.
15. Halfway points.
16. Pain medication - There was a time when the best way to deal with getting a limb sawed off was biting down on a leather strap.  No shit.
17. Friends- Really should have been higher on the list, but part of this exercise list is to help us all realize the things that we take for granted.  They really deserve their own blog they are so awesome.
18. Nunchucks - The best way to defend yourself against the Brides of Christ.
19. Time- Although there never seems to be enough of it, it does keep everything from happening at once.
20. Dancing - Both the best way to make my children laugh, and the best way that they can make me laugh.
21. Rubber Gloves - Keeping me millimeters from disgusting stuff.  But important millimeters.
22. My job - I work with quality people and make a difference in the world. Yes I get spat at and punched at, but I get to use my degree and my co-workers are extra rad.
23. Big toes - Just try standing without them, you can't.  Also you look kind of stupid falling all the time.
24. Podcasts - These keep me learning and protecting me from the tyranny of terrestrial radio.
25. The Lottery - Yes I am aware that I am most likely never going to win.  But spending a couple of bucks a week to make my dream of a real life bat cave that much closer is totally worth it.
26. Chocolate - The other reason that my wife does not spend a good portion of her free time slapping me.
27. Jon Stewart & Stephen Colbert
28.  Toilet paper - My number one reason for turning down any opportunity to travel into the distant past.
29. Yo Gabba Gabba - Helping me keep my 1 year old entertained so that I can wash the dishes or do any other task that requires 20 minutes.
30. Lists - Seriously, how difficult would it have been to convey all of this thanks without putting it in list form.

 L&P

 

Turkey Day Leftover Ideas

It seems to happen every year, we get this giant turkey, cook enough food to stuff an army, eat as much as we can but try as me might we just can't get through all of the left overs.

That is why today we are doing a special feature on what you can do with your Turkey Day left overs.

1. Are you feuding with your neighbor? Nothing says keep your dog from doing his business on my lawn like a heating duct full of week old yams.
2. Speaking of lawn trouble, are gophers tearing up yours? Fill an old gym sock with some frozen cranberry sauce and offer it to a hobo as a weapon/ payment. He'll gladly bludgeon those rodents and have a thanksgiving of his own as he feasts on the remains.
3. Hey kids? Do you have a teacher that doesn't grade fairly? Maybe Mr. Zastrow will be a little more generous with the A's after you use the remaining turkey bones in a Voodoo blood letting ceremony.
4. Can't find a parking spot? Try mixing week old cranberry sauce with some old mashed potatoes, place in a microwave safe container and heat for about 13 minutes on high. This will form a bubbling boiling pseudo napalm that you can toss into the eyes of rival motorists. Maybe next time Mr. BMW won't be so quick on the gas pedal.
5. Parents, do you have to many children? But your not sure how to choose which ones to get rid of? Good News! You don't have to make that heart wrenching decision, let mother nature take care of it for you! Blind fold those youngsters and cover your excess uncooked pork in brown sugar, (kids love brown sugar!). Let the feast begin and watch the magic of toxoplasmosis. You'll have fewer mouths to feed and less Christmas presents to buy. Thanks Charles Darwin!
6. Does someone in your neighborhood put up their Christmas tree way to early? Take some common wood screws two pounds of glazed ham, and their family cat. Whats fun about this project is you can be creative with it. If you have letter shaped cookie cutters you can either use them, or just cut the ham into the letters you want to use. Together with your family pick out a fun phrase to get your point across. “It's not December yet bozo!, or Give it a rest!” Screw the ham to their front door late at night or when they aren't home (be sure to spell check). Make sure you use screws and not nails as the sound of a hammer will most likely get you caught. After your done with this project, kill their cat and stuff it through their mail slot.
7. Do you get the feeling that the government is listening in on all of your conversations? Soak some .22 rounds in gravy, and shoot every television, computer, phone, and just to be safe, mirror, in your home.
8. Tired of the local fast food restaurant messing up your order? Take the uncooked gibblets from your Turkey and drop it in their ice machine. Salmonella smoothie anyone?
9. Gypsies are a problem that I think every household has to deal with several times a year. Well they won't be spitting curses on you family or picking your pocket after they feel the wrath of your HAM CANNON! 
10. You can also shred the left over turkey and use it in a soup.

Nature, Nurture, and Naboo

Being a psychology enthusiast I am very familiar with the nature vs nurture debate.  If you are not I will give you a quick overview.  The equation that makes up our personalities is as follows.

Genetics + Environment = You

To put it simpler.  

Your Parents + Your Home = You

The debate is between how much genetics contributes to ones personality versus how much an individual's environment contributes to their personality.  So if you grow up in a great neighborhood, have wonderful teachers, are raised by wonderful people, and have awesome friends, but one of your biological parents lived their whole life thinking that they were Napoleon then there is a good chance that you may be a half a bubble off. 

The genetic contribution is typically downplayed for several reasons.  One of the reasons that we try to play our DNA down is that we are control freaks and like to pretend that we have more control over our lives than we actually do.  I am currently at the age that I realize that I am slowly becoming my parents.  I am lucky in that my parents are pretty awesome.  If I was someone that had less than awesome parents I might really resent the fact that I as slowly beginning to resemble what I despised and deny all evidence that supported that idea.

Another motive for a lack of support for genetic contribution to our individuality is that as American's we tend to embrace the idea that we are all beautiful and unique snowflakes.  The fact that a good portion of what makes us who we are is just a result of a DNA cocktail, it feels like it takes a bit of the magic away.

Lastly, it seems a little racist.  African American's are overwhelmingly represented in our penal system.  Much of what contributes to this fact is poverty, poor education, lack of opportunity, and some good old fashioned racism.  If it is said that part of our actions in life are determined by our genetics then it kind of sounds like individuals of one ethnicity, are more likely to be criminals than others.  This is NOT what the genetic contribution is to personality is saying.

The reason I am bringing this up is that, as I raise my kids, I have found myself in many ways mirroring my parents, (mostly my dad's) behaviors.  Some of this is conscious.  I remember games that my dad played with me and play them with my children.  Other games I play don't realize were games that my parents played with me until my folks fill me in after the fact.  

I am curious as to what traits I will pass along to my offspring.  Whether down the genetic line or through exposure while in our home.

The following is a few examples of conversations I am certain I will have with my kids.

Nurture aka Environment

Kid: Why do I have to roll these dice again?

Me: Because your making a Paladin for D&D.

Kid: But I don't want to make a character.

Me: YES YOU DO!!!

Nature aka Genetics

Kid: Why can't I hit a curve ball dad?

Me: Because you come from crap stock kid.  Now go get your laptop, we are going to play some Castle Wolfenstein.  

Nurture

Kid: Why do I have to clean my room?

Me: Because it's a mess.

Kid: That's a dodge, I want a real answer and supporting evidence.

Me: I'm your dad that's why.

Kid: That's a red herring logical fallacy.  Give me a real answer and cite your sources.

Me: Because your mom will kill us both if you don't.

Kid: Compelling, I'll get it done.

Nature

Kid: Dad there is a girl I like at school.  What should I do?

Dad: Do you think she likes you back?

Kid: I don't know.

Dad: What have you done so far to get her attention?

Kid: I did a weird chicken dance thing.

Dad: I'm... so proud.

So based on my contributions to these little rascals I can fairly safely predict that they will be odd, funny, not exactly athletic, and nerds.  Thank goodness my wife is half the mix.

L&P   

Babies are Expensive!!!

Yes, babies are spendy, I don't just mean just the feeding, clothing, and baby proofing.  I am referring to the fear based industry of baby safety products.  Cribs are the particular focus of my ire today.  When we found out we were pregnant with our current youngest, the wife was excited because some months earlier she had convinced me that we needed to keep the crib that had been collecting dust for a decade in the garage.
I suppose I should point out that "excited she won the crib discussion" was not her first reaction to discovering that we had a baby on the way.  That would make her a petty sociopath.  It was probably in the top 20 among the whirl wind of emotions though.  Moving on.

When I attempted to assemble the crib I found that several parts were missing.  This being the age of  "you can find anything online if you are willing to put in the time and effort" I did a quick google search and learned that our particular crib had been discontinued and the company responsible for said crib was no longer able to sell the supporting parts. Truth be told I could have continued to look and probably would have found the parts I needed.  But if I ever venture into the black market I would like to think it will be for something more exciting than crib parts.  A freeze ray perhaps, or maybe even the thigh bone of one of the Beatles.

Sweet sweet Hippo Bacon, someday you will be mine.

The reason that the crib had been discontinued was that it was found to be unsafe.  This surprised me due to the fact that most products have to go through some pretty extensive safety testing prior to hitting the market.  I imagine this to be even more crucial in baby centric products.  I would think these tests worthy of a CSI montage to demonstrate the passage of several weeks of different models of cribs in wind tunnels and having heavy weights dropped on them and maybe even some animal testing.  Nothing cruel mind you, maybe just fill it with bunnies, you know, for science.

Obviously I want any product that I'm going to lay my offspring in to be as safe as possible.  This is where they get you.  Parental fear is one of the most powerful forces in the universe.  It is a useful force as it kept our ancestors from decorating their children with meat necklaces.  While they were fashionable at the time; they also attracted sabretooth dingos like no bodies business.  The evolutionary advantage of parental fear is what causes us to spend top dollar for the best safety products for our kids.  The evolutionary disadvantage of parental fear is that it also causes us to spend top dollar on things that are trendy so our kids don't get turned into social outcasts.

No matter how ugly

 Back to my original point.  The crib was a lost cause, apparently it was made by someone who obviously hated babies and probably greased some palms to get it pushed through safety tests.  I imagine that previous crib models were recalled due to being burlap sacks filled with rusty nails, wicker baskets packed with cobras, or just a balance beam that the baby was placed on over a wading pool filled with scorpions.

It helps the baby with balance.

So we had to buy a new crib.  Being thrifty and on a budget we did save the old mattress.  The 51 inch mattress.  Which it would turn out, does not fit new cribs as they require a 52 inch mattress.  Now the following may invite judgement but to you I say bring it on.  We just used the mattress and crammed the gap with pillows.  You know what happened?  Not a damn thing.  Yes, there was a small chance that she could have got an arm wedged in it, she didn't.  Of course we did tilt the odds in our favor by using the crib primarily for clean laundry storage, (what you put your clean laundry in your dresser right away? Weirdo!).


So again, we must pump more money into the fear based baby safety industry in order to ensure that our kiddo does not smother herself in her sleep.  For one more inch of mattress.  Dammit.

I know I'm just frustrated about having to spend money and on a logical level I understand that the rules evolve that govern such things as cribs.  As more information is gathered about what is safest I want changes to be made and I certainly do not want to advocate for unsafe equipment to be used by babies.  But supposedly the son of god was born in a barn and he seemed to do pretty alright. Right?


L&P

Racism from Beyond the Grave

I am a fan of zombie movies.  I was a late comer to the genre having been "bitten" by the zombie bug while watching the remake of Dawn of the Dead.  Since then I have enjoyed both of Max Brook's books on the impending zombie apocalypse and several movies of the same flavor.
Fan of the genre is putting it mildly, I have developed a martial art style with the sole intention of fighting the undead.  I also developed a power point presentation and held a seminar.  No shit.

I started reading the graphic novel series the Walking Dead several months before I heard that it was to be adapted for television.  Though there are many differences between the two story arcs, I have enjoyed both.
If you have been meaning to start watching the series I'm going to warn you now that there are spoilers in this post.

One of the reasons that I am fascinated by the zombie genre is that I like seeing individuals work together that would otherwise have nothing to do with one another.  Call me sentimental but when I see strangers unified for the greater good I feel that it is a glimpse into the best parts of humanity.  Like when an entire theater of people collectively yell "Shush!" at the one dickhead that didn't mute his cell phone during the movie.

Being that I am a psychology enthusiast one of the things that I find most interesting about zombie movies is the backgrounds of the characters in the survivor group and how they interact with one another.  The relationships and their interplay can be an interesting insight into the mind of the writers.  For instance, if Hitler had written Starwars, it's a good chance that the main bad guy would have been name Emperor Cohen.

Wait... is that a yamaka?

   As a writer, you want the audience to connect with your characters.  One of the ways that a writer may accomplish this is to ensure that the reader, or viewer, sees elements of themselves in the heroes so that on a subconscious level, it is easier to identify with them.  Ideally you want broad enough appeal among your characters so that you can sell your product.  If all of your survivors were of middle eastern decent and worked as interns at a toothpaste factory, then you would really sow up that middle eastern toothpaste worker demographic.  But you may find difficulty in other markets.  

Now to my point.  There is a running stereotype in horror movies that there is always a black male character.  This character is typically amongst the first of the casualties.  To it's credit, the zombie genre has done a good job of steering clear of this featuring African Americans in many lead and positive supporting roles.  For instance the original Night of the Living Dead featured an African American in the lead role and he was a bad ass.

Undead huh? I got this shit.

That is why, when I began watching and reading the Walking Dead series I was not surprised to see an African American in the cast, but disappointed to see that he seemed to be filling the role as the, "token" black guy.  This is nothing against the actor IronE Singleton.  He did a damn fine job despite having been born with a silly name.
The following is a series of excerpts from the personal journal of Mr. Singleton that I was nice enough to write for him beginning with the day he was cast in the role.

 Day 1:  Dear Journal, I got the part! I'm a little bothered about the fact that they named the character T-Dog though.  I mean seriously, could they come up with a more racist name for my character? They might as well have named him Black Guy.  Oh well, still excited for the opportunity.

Day 30: Well we've been shooting for a while now, I'm feeling pretty confident that my character will stick around for a bit, no other black actors in sight!  As a matter of fact, there is only one other minority, an Asian guy.  Kind of surprised they didn't make him a ninja with all the racial sensitivity they've treated my character with.   Oh well, nice to have a steady pay check for a while.

Day 60: We just wrapped up season two and I haven't seen the last episode but I'm pretty sure I'm still the last black person on the planet.  Not sure how to feel about that.

Day 61: Shit, well that was a curve ball, apparently there is another black person but she's miles away from me and get this, SHE'S A NINJA!!!  If I was the Asian guy I'd be a little pissed.

Day 75: Well, still no other black actors, but the script says that we just found a prison.  I am worried about where this is headed.

Day 80: OK, for almost three whole episodes there was me and two other black guys.  One of them died.  Still stay'n strong!

Day 85: I'm a little concerned with the frequency and gusto with which the writers are eliminating the other minority characters.  There were five guys in the prison, three black guys, a hispanic(ish) guy, and a white dude.  Guess whose still alive?  Me, one of the black guys, and the cracker.  Me and the other black guy are a little nervous.

Day 90: Shit! I KNEW it wouldn't last!  Another black dude shows up and sure enough, I get bit and die!  Fuck this, I'm calling Tyler Perry.

In case I am not painting a clear picture.  I'm a little bothered that Walking Dead didn't keep T-Dog around.  Yes I like that the show is not afraid to kill off main characters because it keeps the viewers on their toes.  I like that it stays close to the source material.  I think I am just a little disappointed that, in our day and age, the writers still feel like we the audience might feel uncomfortable with more than one black male in the surviving group.  Especially T-Dog... he was one of the good ones!
 

I may have a Gypsy Curse

You may ask why I am sitting here soaking my feet in beet juice.  You also may ask why I have a bra on my head and why I have shaved my head or why I have applied my wife's make up to my face.  Well the answer dear reader is simple.  I am attempting to appease a gypsy curse.

If you have been following our blog then you may have noticed that my family and I have had a streak of bad happenings.  I'm a fan of statistics and I have studied the frequency of these unlucky events and as far as I can tell the odds of this much misfortune happening to one family in this small amount of time is roughly the same amount of chance that Hellen Keller had of winning a Darts Championship.

Yesterday I discovered that I have shingles.  Upon the advice of many of my co-workers, upon finding out that my wife and I were expecting twins I began to squirrel away all the sick and vacation time I could.  I currently  have just enough saved up to keep my wife from murdering me for abandoning her with three children under the age of two when I do return to work.  I am going to have to dip into that reserve... awesome.

Also our dryer broke again and had to be fixed.

Also Maggie broke the shower door.

Also the door on our minivan broke.

Also one of my headlights just went out.

Also Maggie hasn't been sleeping so I have been staying up with her and she is scratching her head like she has lice again.

Also Maggie appears to be getting sick.

I understand that the series of inconveniences that my family is struggling with is nothing compared to those who have lived through hurricane Sandy, or those individual's who live in areas where their is a general lack of food, water, and safety.  I did want to acknowledge that my problems are first world problems and temporary.  That being said, this knowledge does little to alleviate the frustration I feel at my current situation.


My working theory for why my family keeps finding misfortune is that I have somehow offended a gypsy.  According to the research I've been doing, appeasing a gypsy curse is more of an art than science.  But from what I can tell it involves some humiliating acts, turning around in circles, and spitting over my shoulder. 

Excuse my while I yank out some chest hair with these pliers.

I think pain is probably supposed to be involved with atoning for whatever offense I committed as well. 
Again, more art than science.

Perhaps I was overheard badmouthing the show, "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" or any of the other Gypsy based reality TV shows. Which, incidentally strikes me as a REALLY niche market but seems to have lots of followers.  Or perhaps I cut someone off in traffic.  Or perhaps raisin cookies is a favorite among the gypsy community and my inane online ramblings ruffled some feathers, or scarves.

Pardon me again while I down this glass of vinegar and cat hair... yuck.

So whatever it was that I did and whoever you are among the Gypsy community that I offended, I hope that I plan on watching the movie Gigli several times in the next twelve hours.I hope that you are satisfied.

L&P

P.S.

Upon completing this entry I handed it to my wife to proof read.  The baby cried and I picked her up.  Shortly thereafter I was bathed in baby puke.  Not only is the gypsy not appeased, but I am done with fete cheese for a while. 

Change is in the Air

So as my other half has mentioned our family is expecting twins.  This change will be happening, at most, nine weeks from now.  If you are a regular reader then you may already have an idea as to the particular flavor of chaos that we typically wade through.
If you are a first time visitor, I will give you a few minutes to catch up... there you go.

Being that I am not the one constantly knocking things off of the counter with an ever expanding tummy, getting poked at by doctors, or being betrayed by my body and emotions, I occasionally forget that these little bundles of joy are on their way.

This is not to say that I am not excited as I absolutely am.  But it's a special kind of excited.  A terrified kind of excited.  Also, we found out that they are boys.  This is a particular brand of awesome because if I start feeding them protein shakes now then by the time they are 18 they can be professional wrestlers. I imagine that this is what Lewis and Clark felt like as they set out on the Oregon Trail.  Like they were about to discover things, things that they will introduce to the world.  Things that they would be responsible for.  Much like the some of the discoveries of Lewis and Clark, things that may eventually turn hostile and do their best to kill me.  I just vetoed my own protein shake idea.

If they both have goatees then we are f'd.

I am not so much concerned about my ability to parent boys.  I've been parenting girls for a  few years now and as far as I can tell the only real difference is I substitute Princess stuff with ninja stuff, ballerina stuff with football stuff, and Taylor Swift with Pantera.

My real concern is that my wife and I are already stretched so thin.  Attention is the currency of parenthood.  It is how we pay our kids.  You can typically tell how well some children are compensated by their parents.  If you see a kid in a McDonalds play land with his lips wrapped around the ketchup dispenser pumping liquid red into his gaping maw while his mother absently texts standing three feet away from him then it is safe to assume that child is under paid.

On the other hand, a child that smells of Purell, whose hair always looks freshly cut, and whose sense of entitlement makes you feel for some reason that you forgot to bring him something, that kid is overpaid.

It's the kid that has a couple of stains on his shirt, good manners, and a temporary Buzz Lightyear tattoo on his cheek that is properly maintained by his keepers.  That is the balance that I strive for.

Every parent that has more than one child struggles to find a way to balance time between their offspring.
For some parents, such as ourselves, one child demands more payment (attention remember) due to medical needs or the likely hood of reorganizing the food in the kitchen.  On a side note, Maggie insists that bacon need not be refrigerated.  I have found little success at convincing her otherwise.    
My oldest has grown with this reality.  Though there never seems to be enough of either my wife or myself to go around, she has managed to become a remarkable and well adjusted kid.

The baby has served as an attention tax on the other kids as well as the on the attention we are able to pay to one another.  This is pretty much the babies job so you can't resent her to much.  This is where the fear  portion of the new additions to my family arises from.   In short, I am worried that the twins will overtax the other kids and they will throw both my wife and I into the Boston Harbor.  I hope if they do this they have the good sense to not first dress as Native Americans as it would be racist.

Adorable, but also racist

In the Lord of the Rings trilogy, Bilbo Baggins states that he feels like butter spread over to much toast. We are already feeling like that and I'm worried about how being spread in two more directions is going to affect our family. 

 Life has handed my family our fair share of challenges and I like to think that we have handled each struggle with poise, grace, and a lot of swear words.  I know we will rise to this challenge as well.  But, like Lewis and Clark, I don't have a map or a really great idea as to how we will get there.

L&P

Covert Evil

The first post on this blog was about my hatred of peanuts in peanut butter cookies.  If you have not yet read it I'll give you a few minutes to click around...

There, now as you are now aware, I am THE authority on all things cookie.
Today the weight of this responsibility weighs heavy as I will now discuss another snack related topic.  
I speak of the horrid happening of raisins masquerading as chocolate chips in muffins, cookies, scones, and other snack type things.

Would you care for a mouthful of disappointment?

 First and foremost, no one likes raisins in things.  A la cart, or in trail mix, raisins are barely passable, which is to say that eating them is preferable to starvation.
If someone tells you that they like raisins they are lying or living with oppositional defiance disorder or depression.  In other words, they are being contrarian because they were abused as a child or do not believe that they deserve good things in life

A grape may be thought of as any high school graduate; full of potential and life and dreams, and excited about what tomorrow may bring.  The raisin is that same graduate fifteen years later with an amphetamines problem working as a bagger at Winco.

Raisins being a terrible excuse for food can be traced back to biblical times.  I mean the word sin is right in the name.  For generations scientists and philosophers have debated as to whether evolution or a higher power is responsible for the mouth crime that is Raisins.  The Hopi Indians had a legend that the grape had bested the Sun at Mario Kart, and was thus punished.

 
Yeah it may be a bit sweet, but it's the wrong kind of sweet, like the little kids in the video for Black Hole Sun. 

Creepy

Not only are they the wrong kind of sweet, but they are small and dark and, due to my general optimistic nature, when I see something small and dark embedded in a treat, I expect it to be a chocolate chip.  Much in the same way that when someone hands me a glass filled with a clear liquid I expect it to be water, or vodka, not hydrogen peroxide.

More evidence of the guile present in raisins is their wholesale attempt at gaining mainstream acceptance by attempting to leech off of the innate coolness of African American culture.

This is basically fruit in black face.

Allow me to take this time to remind you that if you find yourself disagreeing with me then you may take comfort in the fact that you are incorrect as I am THE cookie authority.  Yes, they may be frequently found in the company of oatmeal.  I have warned oatmeal several times that people WILL judge you by the company you keep.  I feel that in this way oatmeal is like a misinformed Luke Skywalker.  Oatmeal senses that there was once good in the raisin.  But unlike Vader, all the righteousness and virtue has been baked out of the snack formerly known as tasty.

I have my own theory. Raisins may suck due to their origin.  A grape is plump, juicy, and sweet.  Wine is a classy way to get drunk.  If you take all the fun out of a grape by sucking out it's nectar and robbing it of the ability to get you tipsy, then you are left with a husk of all of it's awesome potential.  A raisin reminds us on a psychological level of what may have been.  You are not just tasting the raisin, but also the dream of you playing center field for the Red Sox, or your band hitting it big, or that attractive person that you were going to ask out and never did.  You are tasting your failure.

L&P

Ode to my 14 Year Old

First I would like to apologize for the lack of activity on the blog as of late.  However if you have been keeping up with our downward spiral as of late then you would have been able to predict of that of course the battery to the laptop would crap out.  So really you only have yourselves to blame.

If these things are real then I need... all of them.

Moving on...
We spend a lot of time on this blog speaking to the challenges of special needs parenting and trying to manage our toddler.  We spend a lot of time greasing our ill lubricated wheels since they are the squeakiest.  I wanted to spend some time complimenting the wheel that helps keep us traveling smoothly.  I am speaking of my oldest child.
 Whenever I take my kid to school late (which is often) I have to walk her in and fill out a little form that states that I am excusing her tardiness and the reason for the late arrival.  I assume that the motivation for learning why we are late is so that they can make some kind of spread sheet or bar graph depicting how many kids were late and for what reason in order to determine what, if any action can be taken by the school to reduce late arrivals.
One may safely assume that the heavy hitters on such a study would be; slept in, traffic, and alarm clock malfunction.  Due to the radness of my child, there will be a few new categories that must be added to this study. Included in our reasons for being late are; had to destroy Deathstar, zombies, elves, all that jazz, ninjas, dragons, the mummy, sparkly vampires, tardis malfunction, and bears.

True, it is more likely that all of these crazy awesome, if not 100% accurate reasons for arriving at school late will probably be swept under the excuse rug under the heading of "other", but this is just a small example of the all consuming coolness that is my daughter.
When I look at her I am struck with an emotion which can only be described as equal parts pride and envy.  I call it Prenvy.  Pride at how mind bendingly, reality splitingly, life changingly amazing she is.  Envy at the fact that she is miles ahead of where I was at her age.  My kid is 14 years old and is already better at everything that I wanted to do when I was 18.
At 14 years of age she is surfing, winning archery tournaments, playing Dungeons & Dragon's on a regular basis, and en route to becoming a legitimate professional entertainer.  At 14 years of age I was still pretty sure that there was some way that I could become a real life Batman.

Without the nipples though

She has lived her whole life knowing that her sister's health is fragile and any plan that she has made may be shelved due to Maggie's crap immune system.  She has taken this reality of her life with grace and minimal whining.  Well, much less whining then I would have done... still do.
It's weird looking up to someone that you are raising, but it is something that I find myself doing regularly.  

L&C

Adventures in You Can't Make This Shit Up Volume 4...Sigh

It would appear that fate, much like the Hells Angels, Bears, and Muslims, does not appreciate being called out.  We closed our last post recapping our hellacious week with the words, "bring it on" directing this taunt at the coming days.  Oh how we have lived to regret that decision.

At about 9:30 this morning we received a call from Maggie's school informing us that she'd fallen and had a seizure.  We still do not know how she fell but I have my suspicions.

I'll get you you sumbitch!

   This was particularly scary because even though Maggie does have Down Syndrome, chronic pneumonia, asthma, a history of recurring periorbital cellulitis, has had three heart surgeries, a diaphragmatic hernia, extensive dental surgery, ear tubes, adenoidectomy, and is non verbal, a seizure is a new trick for her.

Long story short, we are home and she is fine as far as we can tell.  The last few posts that we have put up have been about how life has crapped on us.  I don't want to do that today.  Today I am going to try to be thankful for what I do have.  This may be because I watched part of "Half the Sky" last night and I am very aware of how lucky I am in most things.

Also, apparently there are advantages to educating women.

 I want to talk a bit about how thankful I am to the paramedics who rushed to her school. I am also thankful to the doctor that busted her ass in medical school and I am guessing accrued a crazy amount of student loan debt, that assessed my daughter.  I am thankful to the nurses that have also worked hard through school and most likely accrued a crazy amount of student loan debt.  I am also thankful to the scientists that developed the medications that were used today.  I am also thankful to the scientists and engineers that developed the and built the CT scan that we would have used had Maggie been able to sit still long enough to use them.

Thank you for the long hours you spend away from your families, for the long nights you spent studying, for the times that you get soaked in any number of bodily fluids, for the verbal abuse that you must endure from angry and frightened families when the news that you must deliver is not good.  Thank you.

So please, next time you talk to a doctor, give them a hug.  If you are in your local coffee shop behind someone in scrubs and can afford it, buy their drink for them.  If you are at a party and you meet someone that states that they work in a lab and are researching medications, offer that person a hand job.  Assuming you have consent and it is gender appropriate.  Also, if they work in a lab, odds are they need the love'n.

L&P
  

Adventures in You Can't Make This Shit Up Volume 3.5

It wasn't over. We thought things had gone to hell and surely we must be on the rebound. Certainly hives, sinus infections, whooping cough scare and all the stuff that had happened was enough.

We were wrong. So, so wrong.

After the hives scare and an all around hellish week, I was making dinner and I looked over at our oldest and thought she had a scratch on her scalp. Instead, it was a louse.

Hey, How's it go'n?

I hate lice. I am a little obsessive about germs and bugs. I experienced one of my worst battles with depression after my girls had lice about 7 years ago. I was so freaked out by the lice warning sent home from my oldest daughter's summer camp one summer, that I treated my whole family with the chemical lice stuff with out ever seeing a louse or a nit. During that process, Maggie would not look up so I could rinse her hair, she got the chemical in her eyes and it burned the retinas in both eyes. We went to the emergency room to have her eyes rinsed and thankfully, the physician who saw us was a mother and totally sympathetic to my crazy obsession with keeping lice away.

If she had lost her sight, we would have blamed soap poisoning

Anyway, my sweet husband was at work so I took all the kids with me to the pharmacy to pick up the treatment stuff. We got home and I proceed with sheet changing and putting Merritt to bed so I could treat the bigger girls while she was sleeping. Are you kidding me? Nothing ever goes as planned. Merritt was no sooner asleep than she began throwing up. Not fricking joking. Lice and the stomach flu.

I run down stairs to do change the laundry. Umm, the stuff in the dryer isn't dry at all. Just a wad of wet clothes. Could it be? No, could the dryer have stopped working? Surely no. Yes friends my dryer was broken too.

So between the vomit and everything else, no one got treated for lice that night.

The next morning I had an early morning Dr. appointment to check out the twins, make sure they were growing and do a fetal echocardiogram. It was a 4 hour appointment, but things look terrific. Babies look healthy and strong. I am healthy and strong. Hooray! A win for the week.

On my way home, I was struggling with my cell phone to let my husband know all is well, and I get pulled over. A $110.00 ticket for being on my cell phone while driving. I know I deserved it, but come on!!!!! I was seriously too bitter to even muster up tears. I even thanked the officer for ticketing me. It was just too much.

When I got home I wrangled all the laundry and the children into the mini-van and headed to the

pediatricians office to check out our oldest child's hives. That all went fine, although I was practically catatonic at that point. We got to the laundromat, and I unloaded the acres of unclean laundry into the washers (wait, did I mention I am around six months pregnant with twins and not exactly graceful or nimble). Took the kids to dinner at Subway where our youngest spent the entire time bullying Maggie by stealing all her food. We jumped back in the van and headed back to the laundry mat where our youngest began throwing up again.

At this point, our oldest was sitting in the car with the baby and Maggie and just sobbing. The week was to much for her too. I would not have made it without her. She was so compassionate, so helpful and she kept the mood mostly light with her witty observations.

I know I am only at Tuesday, but the rest of the week was a blur. I know Maggie had to be sedated and have an MRI, blood work and some other tests. We don't have results yet. Our youngest has a terrible cough and green nasal discharge, thankfully the pediatrician took pity on us and prescribed antibiotics over the phone on that one.

I believe there was more than a few major poopy things that happened that included stepping in some.

What kind of storm would we call that?

 I can't write about it. I am trying to forget. But at one point, I sent my husband a text that said, “you will never know how awful this night has been or what the girls and I have gone through”. That was Tuesday night. Between the vomit, the lice, Maggie's diarrhea, and my tears, there is no way to articulate the horror and despair that was my week. I was actually jealous that my husband got to go to work and spend his days and evenings with mental patients.

We are fine now.   Bring it on next week.

L&P

The R Word

As we go through life our experiences shape who we are.  For instance, I used to hate the flavor of coconut.  Then one magical night I got pretty tipsy on Malibu rum and cokes.  Now I just hate the texture of coconut.  
I am the parent of a special needs child.  Prior to this experience I had, on occasion used the R word. Many of us have done it, and lets be honest there was a time and a place when we all laughed at it.
Needless to say, now that I am the parent of special needs child, I abhor it's use and have since taken corrective action.
I have heard the use of the R word defended in many instances.  Please read the following points and counterpoints. 
Point

I'm not actually making fun of the retarded, they can't help the way they act, I'm just making fun of people that act like them that should know better.

Counter Point

“Ray I'm not saying that you are black, I'm just saying that you are late to work... you know, like a black guy would be.” This would get you face punched.

By Kimbo Slice

 Point

They don't know any better so how could it hurt their feelings?

Counter Point

Sometimes they do know, and even if they don't it is an interesting insight into the type of person that would be terrible to another human being because they could get away with it. Using this same logic we just lost the faux paux on roofies inspired date rape and sticking your room mates toothbrush into your asshole.

Point

I have a cousin that has cerebral palsy, so I get a pass.

Counterpoint

No, HE gets a pass.

Point

Carlos Mencia does it

Counterpoint

Carlos Mencia does it

Point

I think that it only really offends the people that are their advocates, fuck those guys.

Counterpoint
Those using this defense either have no idea that we advocates are involved in a daily battle simply to keep those close to us alive or are simply assholes that know that they are in the wrong but are to damn stubborn to admit it.

Point

Oh I don't mean it that way.

Counterpoint

When I ordered a Diet Coke what I really meant was coffee. Words mean things. They have definitions. The only thing keeping the dolphins from taking over are thumbs, language, and the fact that we know better than to bet on the Chicago Cubs. Keep a stranglehold on the shit that tumbles out of your mouth because people will and do judge you on what you say.

Point
It's a technical and/or medical term.
Counterpoint
Yes, at one point in time this was a socially accepted term.  Given the proper (medical) context, it occasionally still is. Language, like everything else, evolves.  It is no more socially acceptable to call an individual with Down syndrome the R word than it is to call a black person the N word or Anderson Cooper a "confirmed bachelor".

Sorry Ladies

Conclusion

Using the R word is inexcusable.  Worse than that it is a missed opportunity. You are trying to inform an individual usually of an opposing viewpoint that they are of less than average intelligence. Going to the insult well and coming up with retard is hack. You can do better. Take that round out of the clip and replace it with a few new ones, try them out and wait until one sticks. If you need to take someone down a notch, lets not do it by comparing their actions and opinions to those that were born with an extra chromosome and are doing their damnedest just to get by. Lets pick a new, more deserving example of drool inspiring simpletonism.

One Suggestion

One of the ways that the LGBT movement gained momentum was by getting out of the closet and letting their friends and neighbors know that they they were indeed, friends and neighbors.  In other words, it's a lot more difficult to claim to hate gay people when you find out that one of your best friends is gay.  Familiarity breeds acceptance.  In keeping with this theme I would like to introduce you to Maggie in hopes that the next time you consider using the R word, she crosses your mind and you reconsider.

She loves anything with Disney Princesses, Abba, They Might Be Giants, the movie Grease, and pretty much any other musical.  I have been lobbying for introducing her to the South Park movie but her mom has thus far shut that plan down.
She has two sisters.  One is a year older and infinitely patient and loving.  The other is a honey badger.
She is mostly non-verbal but does have a limited vocabulary and can use some sign language.
She has an infectious laugh and smiles with her whole body.  
She loves loves loves to dance.
That is Maggie.
I recommend attempting to replace the R word with the word Ridiculous.  This way you can get one syllable in and still turn it around.
L&P