Ducky Diaries: 2014

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Eat your banana

Zo: "Abana"

Me: "You want a banana Zo?"

Zo: "Yesh abana."

Me: "Okay, let momma get you a banana." *gets the banana*

Zo: "Dak you."

Me: "Your welcome Zo."

Zo: Walks away with her spoils and begins to touch everything in sight with her 'abana'.

Me: "Zo eat your banana."

Zo: "No".

Me: " Zo eat your banana."

Zo: "No."

Me: "Zo don't rub your banana on the Christmas tree."

Zo: "Cree! Cree!"

Me:" Yes, Christmas tree. Please eat your banana. Stop, we don't touch the Christmas tree with our bananas (WTF?! Why do I even need to say these things.)."

Zo: "No, no need abana."

Me: " Fine, give mommy your banana if you don't want to eat it.

Zo: "No."

Me: walks over and takes banana

Zo: Throws the biggest fit ever.

Me: Gives banana back to Zo.

Zo: Proceeds to walk over to the coffee table and rubs her banana all over the surface.

WTF KID?!

...........


                                                                Clearly she won.


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Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Writers c*ck block

I have a confession to make. 

The last few months I have had some serious writers block. I used to pour my heart out here. The good, bad, ugly, and the funny. I used to be funny and well rested.  What the hell happened?! 

I feel like I have had some serious writers block!

That along with the time constraint bestowed upon me by two crazy ass toddlers.  The constant crying, whining, why's, pooping of the pants.

Finally it hit me tonight. I had an epiphany. I really do believe my writers block is attributed to the serious blocking of the you know what, that is happening here at Casa de Jackson.    
LIKE SERIOUS BLOCKING OF THE OFF THE CLOCKING!!!! 

I think we all know what I am saying here, amirite?  We are having so little sex it's become a negative to the square power......   Seems the second kiddo is pretty much the best birth control ever.

So I has questions for all my kind mommas.  The bed sharers, room sharers, baby wearing, breast feeding, crazy bastards.... I love you, I am you. But..... But......  How do you do it?  Literally. 

Where? When?

You tell me to get creative....

"You just gotta get creative hun." 

You tell me I have to schedule it.  Then I look at you like you're crazy because, HELLO, I'm the one to told you to schedule it......  Ungh.

But seriously, mommas, all mommas, any mommas are you lying? Does it happen as infrequently at your house? DAFUQ?! Is this where you tell me "On Wednesdays we wear pink.". Is there some secret sex having cult that I am not privy to.

Hmmm, maybe not answer that last rhetorical question. I don't need to know.

Anyways.....

Are my children the only kids that can hear a thought and see 'the look' in their sleep?  I fully believe they have these tiny 3rd eyes that sense the very moment we decide to consciously couple (thank you Gweneth Paltrow).  Like they know. They know. 

The moment, scratch that, the nanosecond, you think, maybe, just maybe, yea, let's do *WAaAaAAAAaaaaaAaaaaahhhhhhhHhHHhhHHH!*......  

Mood. Kill. Er.

Then even if you recoup from the list of demands your tiny dictator hands you and attempt to get back to the matter at hand and try to get creative, crazy shit happens....

Let me paint you a picture of what I'm saying. The last time we "Got creative" I fell off the damn washing machine.  No, seriously.  I should never underestimate the height difference between me and the clothes washer.  White girls, can't jump, apparently. We hop up, barely skim the ledge and fall off the side.

If you're 5'5 and under just take my word for it. If you're going to go this route borrow Jr.s step stool.

So other options for "Creativity" could include:

-Shower? 

How the hell is that possible? Do you have a castle sized shower? Standard showers are not made for this shit. And the height difference. What size are you and your spouse, because seriously, I am like literally the perfect mix of too damn short for anything crazy. 

WHO WANTS THEIR FOREHEAD BOPPING OFF SOMEONES ARMPIT?!

Who has enough balance to one leg it in the shower with another person present? No seriously. I need to know.

-Our bed?

Kid in it.

- Kids room?

Kid in there.

-Kitchen?

Way too damn dangerous.

-Stairs?

I can't even successfully navigate every day use.

-Couch?

My feet dangle because I'm not tall enough to be an adult.

-Basement?

See above where I fell off the washer.......
********************************************************************************

Sex life after children should be a legitimate class you have to take before the birth of your first child. Followed by your Lamaze instructor throwing an air mattress at you and wishing you the best of luck......

Because you will sincerely need it. 

Kids are cock blockers.

 photo cooltext1292211702_zpsc9a335dc.png If you like what you just read please click to send a quick vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs- The best mommy blog directory featuring top mom bloggers Don't forget to check out our "Exceptionally Special" page and "Tot Spot" for tips, tricks, and tidbits for the kiddos.

Friday, November 28, 2014

I know what I'm thankful for

What started out as a blind date has become a full blown family of four.

My husband drives me batty, yet somehow I still love him (even after he steals the covers on a cold night.).   He is the one person I can genuinely see forever with. 

One of our children has special needs and the other child is all the needy. We love them without hesitation. The only time either of us thinks of committing ourselves is during their fights and fits, which is where I chalk it up to a win and call it a day.  

Bear has come so far. He can sit independently, crawl, maneuver his wheel chair on his own, and uses sign language. All of which are things he could not do even just 2 years ago. 

Zo is a complete Diva. She can speak using sentences, is working on her ABC's (All the letters are B's and E's), twirls like no tomorrow, calls me Daddy, and loves to dance.

I'm not as skinny as I once was, but that's okay. It's a small price to pay for eating delicious foods and drinking the occasional wines. And I'm thankful for the changes my body made to accommodate the growing of my wee ones.

We have come so far, this little family of mine.

And if this is what I have to look back on every year I'll take it because I am ever so thankful.


 
Happy national leftover day!


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Sunday, November 9, 2014

Answers edition: Why do my friends with disabled children never leave the house?

What a perfect title for today's blog, especially since I haven't written a single thing in over a month! 

Reclusive friends, relatives, who have children with disabilities. "Why do they never leave the house and or come to things I invite them to?" 

I know at times it can feel like an attack or an all out un-caring attitude, or that we just don't want to be around you. However, I can mostly assure you that this is not the case (I can't speak for everyone).....

There is a decision making process that comes along with every trip we plan and every outing we attend, and I'd like to break it down for you, in hopes that you, my friends know we really do love you.  And like the post date text, "It's not you, It's us.", it's really true.

So without further ado, here we go:

-"Is the amount of physical work I have to do to make this trip possible worth the amount of physical work I have to do to make this trip possible?" 

Basically the equation goes like this, ab x's yz squared / 13 = NO!

The mass of things you have to drag along for children is astounding when en route to an outing. Throw in wheel chairs, walkers, gait trainers, braces, adaptive equipment and or gear, adaptive eating utensils, tube feedings, oxygen tanks,  and any number of things needed to accommodate a special needs darling and well, it's just sometimes a whole lot easier to stay home.  That's just the truth.  Plain and simple.

-"Is this outing not only welcoming of special needs children, but accommodating? Will there be activities for my child?"

Basically speaking, is my kid going to be stuck in his wheel chair the entire time, staring as all the other children are running, dancing, climbing, jumping and or playing games that involve and require full body movement. 

-Will there be other special needs children and how many children in general are going to be present?"

This. This question has a more complicated answer.... 

Will there be other children, like my child? Someone he has the potential to relate to and bond with. Often times there aren't and we are brought to the next question.  How many other children are expected to be there, that we don't know. 

Because unfortunately , every child that doesn't know my child will have at least three moments of pointing, whispering, or just flat out asking me as many questions as they can, rather than asking my son.  Which yes, I understand, children are inquisitive. It is natural.  And it's embarrassing for you as the other mother, because, how do you answer?

Here's what you don't understand. My son is fully aware of your precious buttercup and the scene they are causing. He is fully aware of everything that is being said and asked about him. And quite frankly I can only explain, to your child that sometimes things happen and babies are born with boo boos in their head and that it hurts their legs, so many times. 

Roughly around the fourth time your precious buttercup circles around us like a hungry shark pointing and asking their millionth question while you chat up another mom, and when all I want to do is exert the physical energy needed to help my child play, I get dangerously close to yanking precious buttercup by the arm and furiously telling them to get lost. 

Sorry, that's just the truth.  It's not my place to teach your child. The first and second question are always welcome, anything after that my child starts getting upset as, do I.  Again, I'm sure it's not comfortable for you as the other mom, but it's not comfortable for me either.

And lastly, for us,

-"Will there be things, sounds, sights, feels, that will send my child into overdrive and result in a meltdown? If so is there a place I can take my child to calm them down?

Again this really falls into the accommodation zone. What accommodations are made for children like mine? Is this trip worth the possible physical anguish my child will endure if they accidentally touch play-doh?

And there you have it. Some of the many reasons why parents of special needs children opt more times than not to stay home. Home is where we have some semblance of control. Where the environment has been carefully tuned for our children. Where we don't have to answer questions or stare into the eyes of our sad confused child when other's won't or refuse to play with them. 

No one alienates our children in their own home. Home is safe. That's why we stay. 


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Wednesday, October 8, 2014

What you think you saw isn't really what you saw....

You saw a scene in the grocery store the other day. I saw you as well.  Standing with your mouth open, shocked.  Appalled even.  You looked at me like I was the devil.

But did you see what you think you saw? Did you really see.

Let's recap, shall we? 

You saw my poor, pitiful, small, helpless handicap child sitting in his wheelchair in the aisle as I walked 10 feet ahead with his little sister in a cart. 

You heard me say " Momma's not going to push you, you can do it. Use your wheels."

And of course you saw my poor, pitiful, small, helpless, handicap child pitch a fit. 

I'm not going to try pull up the imagery of your thoughts. I don't need to. Your face said it all.

However, your actions derailed my teaching. 

You see, had you continued to follow us after I turned around and wheeled my son away from you, your baby talk, and your accusing eyes, you would have seen it. 

Not even 15 minutes later while checking out my poor, pitiful, helpless, small, handicap child wheeled himself approximately 25 feet away from me and the checkout counter. He wheeled his self, over to a table full of baked goodies and plucked a package of cookies off that table and turned around to show me, his way of asking for them. I laughed and he smiled big.

Moments like that are awesome and celebrated, so of course I bought the damn cookies.

I wish you would've been watching. I wish you would've seen him.  Wheel all by himself. 

He can, you know? Wheel by his self.  Sometimes he doesn't like to, because he does physically tire out quicker than you and I, and sometimes because he doesn't want to. I can tell the difference. I know you may not think so, but he's been my son for quite some time and I do in fact know his limits.

So next time, maybe think twice about interfering, because, I could be teaching.

My son is a three year old with Cerebral Palsy. He is a whole three years old in his brain.  He gets redirected, disciplined, taught life lessons that a three year old can understand. And while  he is limited physically,  I'm teaching him ways around those limitations.  I'm teaching him every day.

You see, it's because one day he is going to grow up. And maybe I won't be here, maybe I will but I'll be older and unable to do what I can now. He'll be an adult in a big world. Maybe he'll have aides to help, maybe he will be able to do everything on his own with minimal assistance.

But the thing that won't change is his disability. He will always be disabled. He needs to be ready for this world.

That's why I left my small child in his wheel chair in the grocery aisle, because I don't see him the way you do.  That's why I'm his mother. I expect more from him than you do. I know what he is capable of, I've seen it.

Keep that in mind the next time you see a similar situation unfold and stay out of the way.

A child is being taught.



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Thursday, October 2, 2014

Beautiful Preciousness

So the last time I left you guys I was really having a rough time after finding out Bear's M.R.I. results.  And then I got to do a really awesome give away on this here blog. Which I was thankful for because it allotted me a little more time to deal with my feelings and not have to talk about "it" for a little awhile. 

But I'm still here, still grieving, feeling angry, and just really taking things one day at a time.  Which is why today I want to write about something that makes me incredibly happy. Silly happy. Because truthfully, I need it.

                                     *********************************************

There is only a handful of things on this earth that can make me squeal with pure delight...

: Baby bunnies, kittens, fat bellied toothless puppies, sneezing baby pandas, and fat babies, all fat babies. :

 I love fat babies in the same way that I love chocolate ice cream or  deliciously seasoned oven roasted chicken, or pink moscato , meaning I want nothing more than to ingest them.  So yes, hide your fat child from me.....  Because try as I might, I cannot resist putting a fat roll between my teeth and pretending to chew on said fat roll while making weird growling and 'num, num, num' noises.  And since it would obviously not be okay to actually chew on a child you should probably keep yours away from me.

However, more than I love all that, I LOVE fat baby artwork.  I cannot help it.  I could cry just looking at it's preciousness. I have to save it all.  Literally.  I've gone into the trash to save my precious after D.I.C. has thrown it away.  It's bad.  My addiction needs an intervention.

I've got fat baby artwork hanging all over our home.  It looks so tacky, but it is beautiful to me.  Similarly in the way that R-Pat glimmered in the sunlight as a vampire.

 Fat baby artwork is diamond level preciousness. 

I  am always apologizing to D.I.C. for my insane need to hoard child doodles.  One day I'm convinced we'll die in our cat hair covered recliners while suffocating in 40 year old children scribbles.

So to finalize my rant and stop drooling on my keyboard I'd like to apologize to the hubs.

Dear D.I.C.,  I'm sorry that my love for every scrap of colored cardboard has made our house look like an eclectic crazy flea market.  I know you still love me though.  It's probably mostly because I am an excellent cook, but still, you love me.  And for what it's worth, you need to cut off an addicts source.  You should call the preschool, really, none of this is my fault.

And also when you ask me this question, " What is it?". 

The only answer is, "Beautiful preciousness". 







 photo cooltext1292211702_zpsc9a335dc.png If you like what you just read please click to send a quick vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs- The best mommy blog directory featuring top mom bloggers Don't forget to check out our "Exceptionally Special" page and "Tot Spot" for tips, tricks, and tidbits for the kiddos.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

And the winner is!!!!!


First, a big huge Thank you goes to Colleen over at www.youniqueproducts.com/ColleenFoster for making this give away possible and for literally bringing my confidence back with a product so simple, yet brilliant!

Also a big Thank you to the folks who created Rafflecopter for making it possible to do awesome giveaways!

Now to the big winner!

Jamie Raspotnik come on down and claim your prize!!!  

 photo cooltext1292211702_zpsc9a335dc.png If you like what you just read please click to send a quick vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs- The best mommy blog directory featuring top mom bloggers Don't forget to check out our "Exceptionally Special" page and "Tot Spot" for tips, tricks, and tidbits for the kiddos.

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Be Younique - 3D Moodstruck Fiber Lashes review and giveaway

D.I.C. likes to say I'm the Captain of our ship, and he's right.

I am.

I handle everything; housework, finances, scheduling, child rearing, laundry, and feeding a family of four. I am a personal alarm clock, chauffer, professional boo-boo fixer, security blanket, and a wife. 

Point is, I'm busy.

And my mornings are just as hectic if not more so than the rest of my day. I get approximately 5 minutes to myself after I wake before there is a vibration in the force that signals the mother ship is ready for take off.  After that all bets are off and fingers start appearing under the bathroom door. 

That 5 minutes includes making myself presentable to the outside world, which results in my having to pull out the big guns.

Deodorant. Mascara. Coffee.

It's my goal to smell decent, look alert (and somewhat alive), and to stay awake. However, as hard as I may try to avoid it, by the end of my day the reflection staring back at me rivals a rabid Raccoon.

Am I'm just asking too much of my mascara?...

Possibly, but what's a girl to do when she has tried almost every mascara on the market? I mean is it really too much to ask for a magical wand whose sole purpose is to keep my lashes from looking like the sad, sparse, scraggly hairs that they are?

How long do I keep jumping from brand to brand?

I guess maybe I wasn't born with it because this is so NOT easy breezy.

Heck, I even tried false eyelashes as a last resort, but the only thing I succeeded in doing was gluing my own eyelashes together and getting the falsies stuck on the end of my eye shadow brush. True story! 

                                      ***************************************** 

So imagine my skeptical delight and trepidation when I recently got the offer to try Younique Moodstruck 3D Fiber Lashes mascara. 

After a major battle erupted in my brain I decided to give it a try, because really, after the false eyelash fiasco how much worse can things get?

However upon receiving my Younique Moodstruck 3D Fiber Lashes, I was a little intimidated because there were two tubes and 3 steps. As we all now know, anything with more than one step ends with a body part glued to a non body part, but, it was SO simple to use my 3D Fiber Lashes. I couldn't believe it!

Step 1: Just apply your Moodstruck Transplanting Gel (as you would your mascara).

Step 2: Apply your Moodstruck Natural Fibers (as you would your mascara) until you reach your desired level of volume and length.

Step 3: Re-apply your Moodstruck Transplanting Gel, think of it as your sealer (don't worry, no body parts will end up glued to non body parts).  And VOILA! 

In literally less than 2 minutes I had voluptuous, sexy, dark lashes! No fuss, no mess, no smudging.  Rabid Raccoon was vanquished and there was no looking like the tired mom I felt like!   Seriously, check out my before and after!


                                                              Before 3D Fiber Lashes

                                              With 3D Fiber Lash - Without 3D Fiber Lash

The difference is absolutely astounding! I am wearing NOTHING other than Younique Moodstruck 3D Fiber Lash mascara! No fillers, no false glue on lashes sitting awkwardly on the middle of my eyelid. Just the 3D Fiber Lash! 

I'm a believer!!!!!! 
And I want you to be as well, which is why I am teaming up with my friend Colleen at www.youniqueproducts.com/colleenfoster , to give one lucky reader the Younique Moodstruck 3D Fiber Lash experience for free!!!!! 




Enter to win your 3D Fiber Lashes here (available to U.S. and U.K. residents only)
a Rafflecopter giveaway





Hop on over to Colleen's site, at www.youniqueproducts.com/colleenfoster  to check out all Younique has to offer!  You'll find everything from Minerals Pigment Powder eye shadows to full make-up sets and more. I think you'll be amazed that you'll never have to shop anywhere else for your facial needs!
                                                Younique Moodstruck 3D Fiber Lashes
 photo cooltext1292211702_zpsc9a335dc.png If you like what you just read please click to send a quick vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs- The best mommy blog directory featuring top mom bloggers Don't forget to check out our "Exceptionally Special" page and "Tot Spot" for tips, tricks, and tidbits for the kiddos.

Friday, September 19, 2014

Diagnosis Editon : Answers


Yesterday we had an appointment with Bear's physiatrist.  We also went over the results of his brain M.R.I.

For so long we've gone the route of everything but the M.R.I. mostly because of my fear that my baby wouldn't wake from the sedation. Yet, we decided (even though I was ridiculously terrified) it was best, when Bear turned three to have it done to see if it could help identify or dispel a diagnosis. 

We were told we probably wouldn't see anything, mostly because he was "full term" when he was born. 

However, we did see something.....  Plain as day.  There it was.  The scar tissue evident of a brain bleed which happened shortly before, during, or right after birth.

Bear has been diagnosed with Congenital Diplegia.  Also known as Spastic Cerebral Palsy, or Little's Disease

On one hand, it's a happy thing.  It is what it is. It will not progress, it will not change. The brain damage is as it always will be.  We have an official diagnosis. We can be done. There will always be specialists and most likely surgeries and appointments, but now we know. We have a name. 

We have a name. We have a diagnosis. No more wondering. No more fear of something fatal. We have a name for the beast we have lived with for three years. Relief, we can breathe a sigh of it.

On the other hand, I'm angry. I AM MADDER THAN A BAT OUT OF HELL!

I AM MAD!

I am mad at my OB for stripping/sweeping my membranes during a standard prenatal appointment,
without   my knowledge or consent and causing me to go into imminent labor potentially before my unborn child was ready.

I am mad that I was left stalled at 9.5 centimeters for over 5 hours during labor.

I am mad that my son had Torticollis in the womb, yet it went unnoticed and most likely ultimately caused a nerve to be pinched during our vaginal delivery.

I am mad that after a big bleed, the flu, my son's small size,  and two prenatal specialists monitoring my son's kidneys and brain ventricles I was still not considered a high risk patient.

I am mad that I was unable to have an epidural because my white blood cell count pointed towards an infection during labor. An infection caused by a urinary tract infection.

A urinary tract infection that went unnoticed by my OB office even though I had to pee in a cup at every. single. appointment.

Apparently they can scan you for drug use, but not ensure you don't have a fucking U.T.I.

I am mad that my son came out 'sunny side up' and yet after 15 hours of horrific labor, no one but my husband thought to tell me! 

I am mad as hell at the nurse who gave my newborn son his hearing test.  You told me he failed the first time in his right ear, but passed the second try "with flying colors".  I wish I could talk to you now and have you explain that to me, especially since at 3 years old my son is deaf, in his right ear..... 

Must have been one hell of a flying color show, or close to break time? 

I am mad that my spastic newborn with ridiculously tight muscles was hailed as advanced for his age, doing things (like crawling and lifting his head- which was really just spastic movements) and not evaluated at 4 days old.  We were informed simply, not to leave him on a couch alone.

Thanks, that's some grade A advice, doc.

I am mad that what was most likely a seizure was laughed about and then explained as "Moro reflex".

Because first time mothers are idiots who don't know the difference between something being seriously wrong and your baby's 'startle reflex'. 

I am mad that I was undermined so many times in the first year of my son's life.

I am mad at myself for being so scared of sedation.  I am mad at myself for inadvertently causing our family prolonged emotional pain when we could have had answers 2 years ago had I  agreed to do the M.R.I.

Most of all, I am mad that not a single thing will ever be done about any of the things I am mad about.
                          ********************************************************

So, this, is where I am at right now.  Maybe in a few days I'll be in a better more Zen, accepting place. But for now I am back in the thick of grief and that's okay.

To quote a fantastic book : "Pain demands to be felt."

Now if you'll excuse me I am going to continue to stare at these pictures of Bear in a swing because his facial expressions cause me great joy.

And make me laugh like a Hyena on cocaine. 






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Sunday, September 14, 2014

When the silence gets too loud





Dear Sensory Processing Disorder, potential Cerebral Palsy, muscle spasticity, abnormal gait, microcephaly, hypertonia and hypotonia,

I hate you.

Dear Severe Expressive Language Disorder,
I hate you the most..... 

I hate that out of all the things you take from my son, each day, you took his ability to speak. To be heard, to relate, to articulate his thoughts into vocabulary. 

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. 

I hate you when I ask my Bear how his day was after school.

I hate you when I peek into his folder to know how his day was at school.

I hate you when he gets upset that we're not understanding him.

I hate you when my heart aches to know what his sweet little words would sound like.

I hate you when he reaches for someone to get their attention and they walk past because they didn't notice him.

I hate the look on his face when he feels ignored.

I hate you when the only sound he can make is Mmm for everything.

I hate you when I wonder how he feels and never truly know.

I hate you most when the silence gets too loud.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.





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Friday, September 12, 2014

Our first communicable disease




Ungh....   

This lovely nugget was sent home in Bear's folder yesterday.  Shigellosis is the name of the game and apparently it is pretty much full on dysentery.  Mucous diarrhea, stomach cramps, fever.  Contracted through poop, things that have touched the poop, things that have touched the person with the poops,  food, and water touched by the person who has the poops.... 

Being that Bear is 3 and in preschool, I am totally confident that we will be just fine. 


 
What ever happened to good old fashioned Lice outbreaks?

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Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Pocketful of Zozies

 
 
Now that Bear is in school I 've gotten to spend so much more time with this lovely little.  And it has been an absolute blast. 
 
I'm not going to lie, only having one child to care for, Monday through Thursday is nice.  It's become our special girl's time.  We go out to lunch, shopping, check out our parks and Library.  Zo is my partner in crime and I really cherish these moments we get where I can be hers, completely, with undivided attention. The moments seem so fleeting, especially when compared to Bear having me all to himself the first 2 years of his life.   There's definitely something to be said about going from your first child to multiple children. 
 
You are always there, tending to everyone, but spending quality one on one time with all of your littles is difficult and can definitely leave a parent feeling a little exhausted come bed time.
 
Yet on the same wave length, I really miss having one on one moments with Bear that I haven't gotten since Zo-zo was born.   I keep telling myself to get a sitter for Zo and pick Bear up from school for a date...  It's a catch 22.
 
One of these days I might figure out the secret equation for spending alone time with both kids, but probably not today. There's not enough coffee flowing.  So for now, I'm just going to enjoy my time with Thing 2  and not feel guilty about it.  
 
 

 

 



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Thursday, August 28, 2014

Bear goes to school. Edition: Pre-K

Monday, my little Bear started Pre-K. Official school.

Okay so maybe not Kindergarten level official, but you know, truancy officer level official. 

So basically my heart has been walking around outside of my body for all of 4 days.  It's okay though.  We're okay. 

The first day we weren't.  No way.  It was bad. Gnashing of teeth, Defcon level 1, bad.  There were tears. 

Bear was lifted onto his shiny yellow bus in his wheel chair and was a little unsettled.  As he was being wheeled to his lock in position he realized mommy and daddy weren't coming with him. 

The next thing I know the screams start.  Then I see my 3 year olds tiny hands gripping a rail with all his might and pulling himself in his chair back to the door to see us.  All the while screaming in. 

It was horrific.  Definitely not a great thing for an uneasy mom and dad to see.  I had to repeatedly turn my head to keep him from seeing my tears.  D.I.C. was fighting the urge to yank him off the bus with a big ole' "Nope...... Maybe tomorrow.". 

It was like legal kidnapping. 

However, it was fine, we were all fine. Maybe not that first day, but all the subsequent days have been fine. Awesome even.  Bear loves his class and all his teachers.  And I'm officially up at the crack of dawn making lunches. 

We're officially a school family. 

Now, without further ado, here are the obligatory first day of school photos that you know you want to see. 

You're welcome. 




 
 
Looking for more reading material? Check out http://www.duckydiaries.com/2014/02/bear-goes-to-school.html.  

 photo cooltext1292211702_zpsc9a335dc.png If you like what you just read please click to send a quick vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs- The best mommy blog directory featuring top mom bloggers Don't forget to check out our "Exceptionally Special" page and "Tot Spot" for tips, tricks, and tidbits for the kiddos.