Celebrations!

Last Wednesday, Hunter started Junior High School and 7th grade. So far his year is starting off very well and I have received only two phone calls from the school.

The first call was from the school social worker letting me know that Hunter had been chosen to take a special MEAP test this fall. The second was to tell me that Hunter and another child ran into each other in gym and Hunter scraped his shin and needed ice.

WHEW!

Today is my dad's 69th birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad! (Even though you have no idea this blog exists!)

Be Still by Story Side B

the good times and the bad
(some good and some are bad)
I'm still holding on to you
some days I wanna run
and times I come undone
but I still belong to you
thats how I know that

When I feel like caving in
my heart my soul is wearing thin
I just want to give up
nothing seems at all to add up
can you hear me Lord?
my face is down upon the floor
its then you whisper in my ear
be still and know I'm here

I see a side of you my friend
the same struggles that I have
my heart goes out to you
I know its hard to feel alone
and this world's so unforgiving
I've been feeling that way too
but I can tell you

Is that you?
Is this me
It's sometimes hard to believe that
I am not alone
its not just you
and not just me

we all need to believe that
we are not alone.

~ Story Side B ~

Community Service

Last spring, right before school let out for summer vacation, Hunter had an incident at school where he broke a glass (yes, GLASS) chalkboard. Subsequently the police were notified, a police report was written up and Hunter was ordered to appear before the Juvenile Court's referee. Henry and I fully supported the chain of events and together, the three of us, appeared before the referee.

It was quite obvious that the referee we met with had been dealing with juveniles for a very long time and Henry and I left the meeting quite impressed with the way the referee spoke to Hunter and even more impressed with the way Hunter comported himself in front of the him.

Because Hunter was a "first time offender" and, Henry and I believed, the referee was also impressed with Hunter, he referred us to a mediator to resolve restitution.

Recently, Hunter and I met with two mediators as well as the principal of his former school. The five of us sat down and talked about what lead up to Hunter shattering the chalkboard in a fit of anger, then we discussed what Hunter could do to make reparations.

We came out of the meeting with Hunter having to write a letter to his new teachers to let them know how his body feels when he starts to lose control, what they can do to help, as well as what not to do (causing him to escalate out of control). Additionally, Hunter must perform 15-20 hours of community service.

For the past two days, as well as tomorrow, Hunter and I have been volunteers at an arts and crafts booth at a very large, and annual, festival in a neighboring town. By the end of the weekend he will have satisfied 15 hours of his mandatory community service and his file will be sealed.

Although an "arts and crafts" booth (actually a long table under a tent) sounds like an easy way out, there really is much more work to this particular one than even I imagined. And I'm a crafts-person! (In looking for a volunteer activity for Hunter it made sense for me to select something that interested me, too.)

Our booth is located inside "Kids Village" ~ directly in front of the main entrance to that fenced-in area. Being that the craft project is free, we have served a LOT of kids the past two days and I am certain tomorrow will be just as busy, if not busier being that it will be the last day of the festival.

The company hosting the booth gathers recyclable materials from area businesses and travels to schools, scout groups, birthday parties ~ wherever kids are ~ to provide bits and pieces of things to turn into works of art.

The art project we are helping the kids create is called a "Windjammer".

Using remnants of gaskets for automobiles (black foam circles with one sticky side), Popsicle sticks (as a handle), multicolored ribbons of paper (to dance in the wind), shiny black ribbons of video cassette tape (from a television station), and a box full of odds and ends (ticket stubs, beads, buttons, wooden letters, etc.) to decorate it with.

When the child has finished decorating the "face" of the windjammer we pour "Pixie Dust" (green, glittered sand) over it to remove the remaining stickiness so it doesn't get stuck in hair or on clothes. The kids LOVE it!

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Every now and again Hunter will say something to me that totally knocks my socks off. Yesterday, as soon as we figured out which area of the festival we would be in and he discovered several carnival rides, he asked me a few times if he could ride the rides. Of course I refused him because he was there satisfy his community service requirement, not play.

By the end of the day both of us were tired from being in the sun and heat, and overstimulated by the busy-ness of the booth and five different music booths competing for attention by attempting to be the loudest, so all I wanted to do was hop on the shuttle bus, get our vehicle and go home.

As we left "Kids Village" Hunter turned to me and remarked, "I don't deserve to ride the rides today because I didn't help you as much as I should have."

I. Was. Floored.

Granted we forgot Hunter's medication before we left the house and I had to have Henry drive it up to us, but Hunter had a terrific day anyway. To hear him say he didn't "deserve" something really blew me away.

After I picked my jaw up off my shoes I replied "You're right, Hunter and I am pleased to hear you recognize that in yourself.

Today, while dealing with a VERY crazy-busy crowd of kids, Hunter said this: "I have to say, Mom, you are really great with kids!"

That's MY boy!

Number 20

My eldest son, Matthew James, turns 20 years-old today. WOW.

Around this time, twenty years ago today, I was just getting off work at the distribution center and driving to my mom's house.

At this time in the morning, twenty years ago, I was having consistent contractions and unable to sleep.

A few hours from now, twenty years ago, I woke my mom to let her know today would be the day I would be bringing her very first grandson into this world.

What did we do first, you ask? Each of us showered, then we painted our fingernails and our toenails and as soon as the mall opened we walked the halls; stopping regularly to breathe through the contractions that were slowly increasing in intensity.

When I wasn't able to walk very far before the next contraction forced the wind out of me we decided to go to the hospital to find out how far I had progressed. They kept me.

Twenty years ago today, around 3:15'ish in the afternoon, I brought ten-pound and 23 inch long Matthew James into this world.

The first of my four sons.

Best thing I ever did. EVAR.

Bittersweet September

September is upon me once again. One of these days I believe this month will swallow me whole.

I have an enormous love/hate relationship with this month because in the midst of celebrating a few important birthday's (Henry, Matthew, my dad, and grandmother), I mourn the birth and death of Alexander Lee on September 13, 1995.

It's been 14 years since I held my teeny-tiny son in my arms. Wishing for him to cry, praying for the miracle of all miracles ~ his life. Knowing the harsh reality that he was too tiny for anything to be done. I still have difficulty reconciling the truth with the hopes I once had for him.

As much as I believe that things do, indeed, happen for a reason and as much as I believe in a higher power and His will, I am constantly tripping over the powerful grief that, 14 years later, still overwhelms me.

Time truly does not heal all pain. There are some sorrows that sting like hell no matter how much time passes.

Memories of that day and night are still crystal clear in my mind. Time has not put a fade on them either.

The anguish I feel over not having been enough, physically, for him to continue to grow in my belly shreds me to pieces. Although I knew the probability of carrying him to term was low, due to an incompetent cervix, terminating the pregnancy was never an option. In all honesty, the thought did stroke my brain for all of 2 seconds, I just couldn't do it.

Hindsight? Yeah, it's almost always 20/20. In this instance, and as much as intense agony as his premature birth and subsequent death caused, I wouldn't trade holding him and his beating heart for anything.

So, happy birthday, Alexander Lee, my angel baby.  I held you in my arms briefly, once-upon-a-time, yet you will live in my heart and soul forever.

How to Save a Life

On Wednesday, September 2nd, I put to use a skill I learned through lecture, book work and a few (pretend) practice moves.

The Heimlich Maneuver.

As a rule, when lunchtime rolls around at the office, I prefer to leave the building and eat lunch elsewhere. I am a firm believer in the change of scenery doing a body good and I even take it to a higher degree by walking around one of the two large chain department stores nearby.

On Wednesday, however, I changed my routine. Although I left the building with the intention of having lunch outside of it, I wound up buying my lunch and returning to the office to eat it in our break room.

Initially I was eating lunch with three co-workers; two front desk staff and another Medical Assistant but we were soon joined by one of seven physicians in our practice. She, too, had purchased her lunch and brought it back to the break room to eat it.

As we talked about this and that ~ complete with laughing and giggling ~ the physician, who was sitting next to me, made what the rest of us thought was a laughing-with-soda-coming-out-of-her-nose kind of sound.

Grasping at her neck, we very quickly learned she was in serious trouble with something lodged in her throat.

As Dr. H scrambled toward the wastebasket and started wildly grabbing for the door to open it, I jumped up from my seat, wrapped my arms around her middle and gave her two quick thrusts dislodging the object (a piece of chicken) from her throat and onto the floor. (Later the Office Manager would describe it as a "text book" Heimlich.)

After the crisis was over the five of us returned to the table in an effort to resume eating our respective lunches. Sitting next to each other again, Dr. H quietly picked at her food as we glanced at each other several times. Neither one of us could believe what just occurred but we tried to make small talk anyway. Rubbing my arm, and in between quiet coughs, she thanked me for my help.

I was still overwhelmingly stunned, and the massive adrenaline rush was still flying through my body at warp speed, and I sat there with my body visibly shaking. I shook the rest of the day.

Soon, lunch ended and we were back to the craziness of another busy day. Every time Dr. H and I were near each other that afternoon, a look passed between us that spoke volumes without a word being said.

Once, she hugged me tightly and thanked me again saying she would like to take me out to lunch. I told her that that wasn't necessary and that although I preferred she didn't do that (choke) again, I had her back if she did.

Another life saved.