It Really Is That Black And White

I've learned a lot about black, white, and grey in the last few months.

I have a tendancy to think in black and white.  Things are good or bad, right or wrong; there is no in between.  I am slowly learning to notice the 'grey areas' - the 'just okay' or 'not the best' or 'it was fun except'.

But sometimes there are no gray areas.

I don't think I have to name names for people to know who I'm talking about when I refer to the little boy who died when his father left him in a hot car all day recently.  I don't think I have to rehash the details of the case for people to recall the evidence.  If you've read it or heard it once, you haven't forgotten it.  By now, enough evidence has come out to charge the boy's father with homicide.  It is my professional opinion as a public health scholar that the decision to charge the father is the only one supported by the evidence.  It is my personal opinion that there is nothing more horrifying than thinking a parent could ever do this to their own child.

This horrific case has called the entire nation's attention to an even larger problem: dozens of children die this way each year.  I can't even imagine how many animals die in the same way.  And even if someone manages to get to them before they die, being trapped in a hot car is pure torture.

How do I know?  Well, today I watched the video of the veteranarian who locked himself in a hot car for 30 minutes.  And it made me think.  That man looked pretty miserable.  But it was only thirty minutes.  And he wasn't in a rear facing car seat, the sun shining down on him through the rear window... and the windows were cracked, as he stated, like you would crack them for a pet.

How much worse must it be for a child, strapped into a rear facing car seat for hours, with no open windows whatsoever?

So I decided to find out.  This is the part where I post really horrible pictures of myself to prove a point.

It's only 81 degrees outside today.  The day that little boy died, it was 92.  Eleven degrees hotter.  Here is a snapshot of the weather when I began my experiment:

Not bad at all.  Nice day for a walk or a bike ride.  Not really even hot enough that I would want to go swimming.

To recreate common conditions, I turned my car on and let the air conditioning cool it to a temperature that was comfortable to me in the front seat.  I installed a rear facing car seat in the center back seat of my car, exactly how I would install it to transport a child.  Then I turned the car off and got in.

When I started out, everything was pretty normal even a minute or two into the experiment.

1:52 pm:  The temperature in the car was about 30 degrees Celsius, which translates to about 86 degrees F.  For comparison's sake, it dips to 25 C inside my air conditioned house.  This was taken only a couple minutes after turning off the air conditioning in the car.

1:57 pm (5 minutes elapsed):  My body temperature was normal.  98.5 degrees F - just about perfect.

I made notes to myself in my cell phone along the way.

At 2:00 (8 minutes elapsed), I wrote "getting hard to breathe".  The air was a bit thick but I settled in and started to read my book.

At 2:11 (19 minutes elapsed), I wrote "Hard to think about anything else".  I meant anything other than how uncomfortable I was and how much I wanted to get out of the car.  I couldn't believe how quickly my formerly air conditioned car was becoming unbearable.

At 2:18 (26 minutes elapsed), I wrote "sweating all over".  I later laughed at that note, because really only my legs had began to sweat.  My legs were most directly in the sunlight and I'm not a heavy sweater so I didn't really expect to sweat from anywhere else.

2:20 pm (28 minutes elapsed):  I took the first picture of myself.  I looked... okay, well, I looked horrible, but to be honest I was actually already pretty uncomfortable when I took this first picture.  It had been nearly a half an hour and had the circumstances been different I would've already gotten out of the car for some air even on this cool day.  But only my legs were perspiring and my skin tone is fairly even.

At 2:21 pm (29 minutes elapsed), I write "Stopped reading".  At this point I had become unable to focus on the book I was reading and set it aside in favor of slouching down in the car seat and closing my eyes.

2:23 pm (31 minutes elapsed):  The thermometer reads approximately 35 degrees C, or 95 degrees F.

2:24 pm (32 minutes elapsed):  The first real beads of sweat begin to roll down my legs.  My body temperature reads 98.8.

At 2:27 pm (35 minutes elapsed), I write "Stifling and pouring sweat, dripping down both legs."  Little did I know I would later yearn for the time when only my legs were sweating and the temperature remained in the double digits.

At 2:34 pm (42 minutes elapsed), I notice "[the] breath I exhale feels like cool breeze".  It occurred to me at this point that an adult would start fanning themselves, but a toddler wouldn't know to do this, so I didn't do it either.

2:39 pm (47 minutes elapsed):  I'm starting to look pretty worse for the wear, my face is blotchy and shines with tiny pearls of sweat.

At 2:41 pm (49 minutes elapsed), I note "it is getting really hard to breathe".  I remember it occuring to me that I should elaborate on that more, but I didn't have the energy.  I wanted to describe how close the air felt to my face, like when I was a little kid and I was hiding from the monsters in my room with my head under the covers trying to breathe through my comforter.

2:51 pm (59 minutes elapsed): Nearing the one hour mark, I take another picture.  These are starting to get pretty bad.  I note that "all [of my] skin [is] wet and clammy, [and the air] feels suffocating."  This is the point at which it actually started to feel like someone was pressing a pillow over my face.  I knew I wouldn't be able to stand much more.

At 2:55 pm (64 minutes elapsed), I comment that "beads of sweat [are] popping up all over [my] legs".  I take a few pictures over the next five minutes.  My thinking has become disorganized and confused, the methodical approach to my experiment deteriorating.

Sweat running down my leg

Beads of sweat like pox marks on my shins

I know my face will soon be pouring sweat as well.

After this point I make no more notes.  I lack the energy and mental capacity to complete this simple task.  What remains are only pictures.

3:01 pm (69 minutes elapsed): The mercury is reading close to 40 degrees C, or 104 F.  Remember, it is only 81 F outside!  I take a series of pictures.  My face, my drenched arm, my crossed legs with sweat beading all over them, the beginnings of drips of sweat on my face.  I am disoriented and take more pictures than I intended to.

3:05 pm (73 minutes elapsed):  I'm pretty much continually taking pictures at this point as I notice new issues every moment.  My face is now dripping with sweat.  My legs look like I've been caught in a rainstorm.  Sweat drips down my back and chest and soaks my clothes.

3:08 pm (76 minutes elapsed):  I decide I'm done with the experiment and start to get a few last pictures.  The thermometer is reading over 40 C so I know it is at least 105 F in the car.  I take my body temperature and it comes out to 99.1.  The final few pictures of myself show me literally pouring sweat.  I remember hearing it drip from my elbow onto the seat of the car, and wondering what made that noise, before realizing that *I* was actually dripping onto the car.

At this point I'm shaking so badly I have to take nearly all of the photos twice.  I take a short video of myself to show how bad I am shaking which I am not adding at this time as I haven't watched it and I know I was pretty delirious.

I can't get out of the car fast enough.  I fumble with the lock.

At 3:12 pm, after one hour and twenty minutes, I emerge from the car.  The outside air at 81 degrees feels crisp and like life itself and I drink it in.  I am suddenly overcome by an aversion to being in the car or even near it, even though my rational mind knows I was in control the whole time.  Still, I keep the door open as I gather up my things and move it to a slightly more shaded area.  My clothes and skin are soaked in sweat and all I can think of is the hose beside the house, and how much I want to just turn it on and pour it over my head.

For the sake of research I only splash the hose water on my face, arms and legs before going in the house.  There I change into dry clothes and take a look at the shirt I wore for this experiment.  It's a medium tone, not white, not black.  You can only tell it's wet by noticing the disparity between the sparse lighter, dry portions and the rest.  The back is nearly all wet.  I'm still not thinking clearly.

The final temperature in the car was over 105 degrees F.  In an hour and twenty minutes, the temperature rose to over 20 degrees higher than the outdoor temperature.  My body temperature went up from 98.5 to 99.1, over half a degree and enough to qualify as a low grade fever.  My mental senses began to deteriorate, my body poured sweat, and at the very end, I began to shake so hard it actually scared me as to whether I could get out of the car fast enough.  It was a horrible ordeal that I wouldn't wish on anyone, even though I did it voluntarily.

This is what dozens of children go through every year... only they can't crawl out and peel off their sweaty clothes... they're strapped into car seats, too little to know what's going on... I can only imagine what comes after the shaking.

This is inexcusable.  Look, I know that accidents happen, and parents like the ones who have been in the news lately are the exception, not the rule.  Oftentimes when this happens it is a genuine accident and the grief-stricken parent is left racked with guilt forever.  But this is exactly why we need a wake up call.

Leave your purse, your wallet, your cell phone, your briefcase - something you need, in the back seat next to your child's car seat every time you get in the car.  Start making a habit of looking in the back seat - even if you KNOW you don't have any children with you... because all it takes is one time of being wrong to end a life.  Let's all take action to make SURE this isn't allowed to happen any more.

And as for the people in the news... the evidence speaks for itself.  What they did is horrible in ways that I could not imagine, more evil than I naively thought existed in this world.  There will be a trial, a judge, and a jury, but I already know the verdict.  Dying this way, as dozens of children do every year, is torture.  That it could be anything less than an honest mistake is unfathomable and amounts to intentionally torturing a child to death.  That *defines* murder.  Yes, it really is that black and white.

I Have A Problem With This

In the recent days, I read about a series of events that made me happy - and then sad - and then sadder.  These concerned the activities of Christian children's charity World Vision, and many of you may be familiar with the events to which I am referring.  For those who are not, you may find some information here, or just continue reading and I will briefly summarize the events.

On Monday of this week, World Vision, a Christian charity that offers a 'sponsor a child' program to aid impoverished children around the world, announced a policy change reflecting its intention to hire Christians who identified as homosexual.  In the two days since that information was released, large numbers (some sources says thousands) of Christian World Vision sponsors immediately withdrew or threatened to withdraw their support of their sponsored child through the program.  Facing this backlash and the prospect of having to tell thousands of children that the benefits of having a sponsor were ending for them, World Vision chose to cut their losses and reverse the policy in hopes of keeping its sponsors and maximizing benefit to the children they serve.

Now, I know there were a lot of things wrong with what you just read, but I want to take it one step at a time.  First, though, I want to make one thing absolutely clear.

These "Christians" who withdrew their support for the children they had promised to help over a doctrinal disagreement DO NOT represent Christians as a people, and they DO NOT represent the God we serve.  We'll get to more on why in a moment.

First let's talk about the initial decision - the policy change to allow the hire of homosexual employees.  When I heard about this, I was thrilled.  That decision by World Vision was very Christ-like.  You see, the God I worship wrote a lot of things in the Bible.  Sure, some of them can be interpreted as stating that homosexuality is a sin.  My opinion on that is neither here nor there.  The point that is important for me to make here is that this is not all the Bible says.  The Bible lists a multitude of other things that are considered sinful.  Lying.  Stealing.  Cheating.  Disobeying your parents.  Working on the Sabbath.  Using the Lord's name in vain.  Divorce and subsequent remarriage.  In the Old Testament, where most of the references to homosexuality are found, even things like consuming pork or wearing the wrong type of clothing.  It also states, in more than one place, that God does not consider any one sin 'better' or 'worse' than any other.  This means that murderers and liars are guilty of the same sin, not one more than another, neither more worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven.  None of us sin better or worse than others, we simply sin differently.  So to bar homosexuals - CHRISTIAN homosexuals - from employment, would be no different in the eyes of God than barring anyone who had ever committed any sin from it.  And none among us are without sin - so who exactly would World Vision employ?

Contrary to what the Westboro Baptist folks would like you to believe, God LOVES homosexuals.  He also loves liars, cheaters and even murderers.  In many places the Bible states that never should any one of us stop another person from doing good in God's name because they do so differently, believe differently, or because they are not "one of us".  To stop another person from doing good is to do bad yourself.   In changing their policy, World Vision was following Christ!  Their decision to allow even those whose doctrinal beliefs differ from their own to do good works in the name of the Lord was Christ-like. 

What followed, however, was the opposite.

As I previously stated, following the announcement, a large number of World Vision supporters either withdrew, or threatened to withdraw, their commitment to their sponsored child, citing what they believed was a policy that violated their religious beliefs.  Since this is my blog and it's about my opinion, I can state quite plainly here that they were WRONG.

Further study of the Bible would reveal to these people that World Vision's actions did not violate the beliefs of Christianity in any way - in fact, it is exactly what Jesus would do.  Love every person, encourage them, despite whatever their sins may be, to do good in His name.  You see, God LOVES the world.  He SO loves the world that He gave His Son so that we might have eternal life.  God does not love 'only those without sin'... that's not what the Bible says.  It says "For God so loved the world".  He loves the sinner.  He loves everyone - all colors, shapes and sizes - born and unborn, married and single, gay or straight, rich or poor, happy or sad, clean or dirty.  He loves us all... even the liars, the cheaters, the murderers, the adulterers, even the very people who denounce Him.  None of us is without sin.  He loves us anyways.  God would not have us stop any of these people from doing good in His name - so why would we expect World Vision to do that?

What does violate the beliefs of Christianity is withdrawing your support from an innocent, impoverished child who needs your help because you disagree with some higher-ups about a doctrinal issue.  This is failing to heed the call of the Bible to care for the orphan and the widow, to feed the hungry and clothe the naked.  There is no clause in the Bible for only doing what is right when you get to make the rules.  There is no clause that states that it is more important to judge others for their sins than to do good works.  Yet that is exactly what all those people did by withdrawing their support.  Is that what Jesus would have done?  I think not.  To hear that people had done this, withdrawn support from innocent children, supposedly 'in the name of God'... well, that hurt my heart.  And I know it hurt His too.

So then the news came today that World Vision was reversing its decision... they will no longer hire Christian individuals who identify as homosexual.  This made me even sadder.  Now not only are they also stopping people from doing good in the name of the Lord... we, the church, by allowing this to happen, are sending the world a message about Christianity.  We are sending the message that it is more important to judge than to help.  That charity and being Christ-like take a back seat to judgment and pride.

This is where I want to make a different message very clear.  These people do not stand for all Christians, nor do they stand for the God we worship.  The message they are sending is nothing but harmful to their cause - as it will turn more people off to Christianity, seeing the religion as judgmental and bigoted.  But sadly, these people are the vocal minority.  There are many, many Christians such as myself who supported World Vision's initial decision.  Some of us even sought out the organization to make donations or sign up to sponsor a child because of Monday's statement.  But you won't see any mass exodus of these people now that the statement has been reversed - because they actually value being Christ-like first, and would never withdraw support from one of God's children, or from an organization that helps God's children, over such a disagreement.  Certainly, to me at least, World Vision's reputation has been tarnished by the reversal - but if I had chosen to sign up to sponsor a child, I would not withdraw my support of that child now - the only person who loses when people do that is the innocent child.

It would be easy to assume that since things will quiet down now that the statement has been reversed, that Christian sponsors are happy with the results.  But like I said - the outcry came from the vocal minority.  The vast majority of Christians support both the ministry of World Vision and the equal hiring practices proposed in the initial statement.  We are saddened and disappointed by the reversal - but we won't be taking it out on the children.

So please, I ask you as you read about these things in the news, do not judge all of us by the ones who give us a bad name.  Do not be deceived into believing that we are all judgmental and bigoted - because the vast majority of us are not!  Those who are truly following Christ, even if they believe that homosexuality is a sin, also realize that we are all guilty of sin and that none of us should be judged solely by our sins.  We believe that none among us should be held back from doing good in His name because we sin in one way or another - because who, then, would do good?  We do not value being judgmental - the Bible does not call us to that.  We value being Christ-like, which the Bible does call us to... and He loves each and every human soul.  We truly do believe in asking ourselves, "What would Jesus do".  And in this case, well, as my favorite pastor used to say... "God loves you.  He loves you just the way you are."

So do good in His name.  Let no one stop you - any who try are not doing the work of the Lord.  And know that a vocal and judgmental minority does not represent our religion, or our God.

Too Long

Princesa,

It has been too long since I wrote.  I am sorry.  I have given you reasons before and I don't think you need to hear them again, I think you will understand perfectly well, but I do want to make sure that you know that even when I go a long time between letters, it does not mean I am thinking of you or missing you any less.  I still fall asleep every night snuggling Ellfant and thinking of you.  I still pray night and day for your health, safety, and happiness... and for you to come home.  I still see you in every little detail of my every day.

Yesterday I opened the closet to get out a coat to wear, and saw your flower umbrella that you got for your seventh birthday, and the pink rain jacket we bought because you didn't have one to wear to school, and I wished you were here to use them.  I allowed myself to part with a few of your things - outfits, shoes, things like that - so that your friends J and N can use them.  You should see the pride they take in wearing "A's clothes".  How they tell me they miss you every time they put them on.  How my heart smiles seeing things that used to be yours bringing other children joy.

You're going to be 11 soon.  I thought double digits was hard, but 11... goodness.  The day I said goodbye to you, you were 9.  Little.  11 is a pre-teen!  I hate so much that I have missed these 21 months of your life.  I wonder what has changed about you.  Which of your little quirks you have retained, if you've gained any new ones, what parts of who you were when I saw you last that you have outgrown.

Stores are full of fun spring and Easter goodies.  I long to put together an Easter basket for you, to pick up another pair of adorable Easter socks in the dollar aisle, to take you to the store and have a fashion show to pick out the very best swimsuit for summer.  Mom made Paczki last weekend and the weekend before... and I think about how if you were here, I'd barely get any!  But I wouldn't mind, because it would mean you were here.

I can't look forward to your birthday this year.  It was so very hard for me last year, even though I put a smile on and celebrated for you.  We'll celebrate again this year... but it won't be the same without you.  I'll miss picking out the perfect presents and watching you open them and exclaim "Oh, I just did want this!" even when you'd never seen it before in your life.  I hope you'll have cake and presents and ice cream and love wherever you are.

But I don't want my letter to be all about being sad and missing you because you were never one to dwell on the negative, the things you couldn't control - you were one to seize the day, enjoy the moment we were in.  So I'll fill you in on our 'moments'... on one condition... you tell me everything you can remember that put a smile on your face since I last saw you, when I see you again.

Mom is still working a lot, but she does it for our family and I know she loves and thinks of you all the time.  She's been cooking a lot of fun treats lately that I'm sure you'd be glad to help her out with... at least the licking the beaters part.  She misses sharing her bagels with you in the morning, you helping her dry the dishes.

Danny is going to college now, he's mostly taking general classes because he's still not quite sure what he wants to do 'when he grows up', but he seems to like it.  He plays video games all the time, as usual.  He's also driving now (I know, scary, right?) so there's an extra person to run errands around here.  He had a friend over last weekend... and they, you know, played video games while sitting next to each other, haha.

M doesn't come over every day anymore because she's almost 15 years old and big enough to stay by herself for a few hours - but we get together on weekends sometimes, or even weeknights especially if it's going to be cold in the morning so I can drive her to school.  We go shopping, play games, go out to eat... a couple weeks ago we went to Fort Rapids (the indoor water park I took you to where we saw some of our friends from church) and had a really good time.  Wished you were there.  We'll go when you come home.

I know you'll want an update on the kitties... they are doing good.  I think I wrote to you before that Boo went to kitty heaven, but that I got another kitten and named him Marbles - he's about a year and a half old now.  He and Tiger (or, "Stripey Cat" as you liked to call him) get along really well, even though they beat up on each other and chase each other around the house a lot.  Marbles got out of the house the other day when it was snowing and really cold... Danny and I had to drag him in from under the deck!

As for me... I worked for a few months as a nanny for a 3 year old boy and a newborn little girl.  I quit that job a couple weeks ago because it was just too stressful - funny how other people's kids are so much harder to handle than you guys!  I'm back to looking for jobs and helping Shannon with your friends J and N, and little M who has turned into a toddler since you last saw her, and R who was born last summer.  I love being at their house because they know and understand everything you and I went through.  Shannon understands where you're coming from more than I think you even know.  One day maybe you can talk to her about it.  I've also been doing the same stuff, helping orphans find families and getting them home, and seen a lot of beautiful families in the process.  And I taught myself how to make really cool bracelets and if you were here I'd make you a pink and purple one.  Actually, I do have a surprise for you when you go home... for all our missed birthdays, Easters and Christmases.  I can't wait to give it to you.

I wish I could hear from you and hear how you're doing, what you're up to, who your friends are, how you like school... we're going to have a lot of catching up to do when I see you again!

I love you Princess.  I love you like the moon at night - big, and round, and warm, and bright.

I love you.  Goodnight.

Love you forever,
"Kai"

The Year With No Hugs

I want to preface this by saying that I do recognize and appreciate and love the friends and family who are still in my life.  I give thanks for every one of you, because without you, this would all be so much harder.  My Year With No Hugs wasn't truly hug-free because of you.

It's January 1 again.  Another year passed.  Last year, I had so much to say about the previous year, because 2012 was so eventful for us (and no, not in good ways, for the most part).  This year... there's not much to say.  2013 was not eventful but for that I struggled with my health some more... three more surgeries and a birthday in the hospital, among other things.  But there's one thing that does stand out about 2013.

Since I met A in 2004, as well as since AJ was born in 2009,  there have been a few times when I went weeks, or even months, without seeing them.  Pawns in the cruel games adults played against each other, there were times when I couldn't see them... but they were always temporary, because I was needed.

2012 was the year that all changed.  When I made the phone call that changed our lives, I knew that this could be the case.  I also knew I had to do it anyways.  2012 was the year I said goodbye to my babies.  Gave my last hugs... if only I'd known they had to last this long, I would've hugged a little tighter, held on a little longer...

After exhausting all possibilities of bringing them home, I rang in 2013 with a heavy heart... hurting, because I knew I wouldn't be spending the new year with my babies, but still a little hopeful that things might change, and still glad to say goodbye to 2012.

We didn't get a miracle in 2013.  Things didn't change... not in the way I wanted, anyways.  I suspect they haven't changed at all... but there's no way to know for sure... because 2013 was the first year since I met A and since AJ was born that I didn't see them at all.

Not a glimpse.

Not even in passing.

Many times I thought of them, how I used to hug them close and thank God for putting them in my life... and I wished I could hug them again.  I dreamed about one day when I might get the opportunity to get just one more hug.  But it didn't come.  2013 was The Year With No Hugs.  Not once did I get to hold my babies close, smell the way their hair smelled after bath time, snuggle up and read a book, embrace them because I was so happy to see them again.  Not once.  I didn't even see their little faces.  Not.  One.  Time.

A whole year without hugging someone you love more than life itself is a long time.  It's a hard time.  It's a hurting time.

Maybe that's why I have so little to say about 2013.  When someone you love is missing... not much else matters.

I'm healing.  There will be two squares missing from my little patchwork family until A and AJ are in my life again (however long it takes)... but I'm learning, slowly, how to get by until then.

Who knows?  Maybe this will be our year.  I'm not giving up hope so long as there is breath left in me.  I'm still praying, every day, for our miracle.

Babies, wherever you are... prepare to be hugged, because when I see you again, I owe you a whole year's worth.

Te extraño

In Spanish, it means "I miss you".

And I do.

I know the odds are a million to one that you'll see this.

But sometimes it makes me feel better to imagine that you will...

So I just wanted to tell you that I miss you.  So much.

M said she saw you.  That you looked grown up.

She told you I said "hi" (even though I never asked her to - she knew I would've wanted to tell you hi.)

You said "hi back", and that you loved me, and to give me your kisses.

When M told me I cried.  Not because I missed you, although there are plenty of times I cry for that...

Because you loved me.

Still.

And if you love me, you must know I love you.

I miss you, princess.  Especially right now.  Especially at Christmas.

And I love you so much.

Hasta te veo, mija.

Auto Manufacturers Must Not Have Kids

This is the conclusion I have come to this week.

Why?

Well... remember riding in, say, your grandma's car in the 1990's?  And how she didn't have a nifty button to push to roll the windows down, you had to use that horrible crank thing?  Yeah, that was no fun, right?  Worse, if you've ever had the misfortune of driving your grandma's car, and happened to want fast food, or cold beer (whichever is your choice intoxicant), you know those things require MEGA muscles!  And if the person in front of you at the drive thru is smoking in their car and you want to roll the window up whenever its being down is not vital to your mission, it's doubly rotten.

Boy, it sure is a good thing they developed those nice little switches that make the windows go up and down BY THEMSELVES!  No longer will we have tired arms at every drive thru, no longer will you bump a window crank getting something heavy out of the car, no, now there's a BUTTON!  And better yet, in the driver's door, there's a button that LOCKS all the other windows, so your kids CAN'T even play with them!  One of the best features, by far, about Clyde, the 1990 Honda Accord I inherited (funny enough, it did used to be my grandma's car) when I was sixteen, was those automatic windows... which honestly I didn't even expect in a car that old.

Surely, when I bought a NEW car... when I was lucky enough to get my hands on a 2010 vehicle IN 2011... it would have the same ingenious invention...

But wait...

...........

....................................

......................................................................

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NOT THE CRANK WINDOWS!!!!




So at first I was like... "Eh, okay.  I got this.  I'm a big girl, strong arm muscles from carrying babies.  I can do this."

Then I was like "Man, this is really irritating when the guy in front of me at McDonald's is smoking... but oh well, more exercise."

Then I met Ophlf, who you may remember from a previous post.  Despite being "completely fictional"... Ophlf picked up RIGHT AWAY on those crank windows and what they meant.

The first time I was driving down the highway before I heard the faint whistling sound from the back seat.  'What is that?!' I thought.  'Was one of those creepy abandoned places I visited *actually* haunted, and the ghost decided to hitch a ride??'  I glance in the back seat.  Nope.  Crank is suspciously out of place.  Hmm.  Maybe I bumped it.  Surely Ophlf couldn't have figured that out AND reached it from his 5 point harness car seat!

The second time I was barely down the street because the window was WAY open and I was catching an icy breeze.  Stop to close it.  Notice that it's open just enough that, if he could reach the handle, Ophlf couldn't possibly have pushed it any further.  Hmm.  Maybe it's not the ghost.

Then a couple days ago... Ophlf did not want to get into the car.  No, that's an understatement.  Getting Ophlf in the car was like getting a cat into a bathtub full of water.  Finally wrestling the little goober into his car seat, restraining his upper body at very least, Ophlf commenced kicking.  Kicking everything in reach of his (long!) legs.  I sat and observed.  My first assumption had been right.  Ophlf could not reach the window crank... with his hands... but the feet... right to the window crank.

The normal warning him not to do it again, applying consequences, etc, was completely ineffective.  Ophlf was hell-bent on rolling that window down as far as he could.  Usually when I wasn't looking, so that later, when I was driving alone and could not easily stop and roll the window back up (which requires a yoga-like reach into the back seat, because car manufacturers are dumb), I was stuck with a whistling and/or cold gap in my car's keep-the-outside-out-and-the-inside-in armor.

THIS DRIVES ME CRAZY.

I'll illustrate, because I feel like it, and so you can see how hilariously bad I am at MS paint.

Yeah.  So here I am thinking I'm safe with a nice new car, and THEY'VE PUT THOSE INFURIATING CRANK WINDOWS ON IT!  Combined with Ophlf, I'm doomed to an eternity of bad hair days and frantically fleeing said window.  WHY, car manufacturers, WHY would you do this??

And then it dawns on me.  They must not have children.  To someone with no children, a crank window is merely a mild inconvenience.  To someone with children, crank windows can be irritating.  To someone driving around a child like Ophlf, these sort of windows MAKE YOU WANT TO GO EVEN MORE INSANE THAN YOU ALREADY ARE!

Ever determined, as I am, I was going to put an end to this window problem.  I scoured the internet for some sort of device to child proof this type of window - because if they were still making cars with that feature, some smart parent had come up with a device to child-proof them.

Nope.

Nada.

Nothing.

The best I could come up with was a bunch of guys with beards explaining how to remove the window crank.

'That could work...' I thought.  I didn't want to have to remove it, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

One video featured a fancy little tool, which the bearded man (I assume he has a beard, I'm not sure I ever actually saw his face, that's just how I picture him) assured you could be made at home or bought at a store.  This almost made me laugh audibly.  Broke as I am, and mechanically inept, there would be no tool for me... regardless of how seamlessly easy it made the process look.  Take a look for yourself:

Lacking the fancy tool, I looked for another method.  And I found one, a method using things I already had!  This website advertised that all you needed was a flathead screwdriver and a rag!

I set to work immediately, even enlisting the help of best friend, best friend's roommate, and best friend's ex husband (don't ask).  Not a one of us could get the stupid thing off with a rag.  All we learned is how to break the window crank... which was not exactly what I was going for.  Ophlf could've (and probably would've eventually) done that himself!

Ever determined, I showed the tool video to my brother, who, though he doesn't get enough respect from me (well, I'm his older sister, what do you expect?) is actually kind of a whiz with tools and various other science stuff.

He made me the tool.

I'll wait while you go back and read that sentence again.

HE MADE ME THE TOOL!

Not only that, he went out to my car in the freezing cold, and, though scraping up the door panel a little bit (although our previous attempts had done quite a bit of that, so it's hard to tell what's what), GOT THE STUPID THING OFF!

I almost hugged him.

Now the door panel by Ophlf's car seat looks like this instead:

HAH!  Take THAT, three-year-old!

And now, despite the fact that *I* didn't actually do anything other than look up a video and tear a rag up, I'm feeling incredibly accomplished.  The nap time saga may still rage on, but I WIN the crank window battle.

I think I deserve chocolate.

The Three-Year-Old Napping Saga

This is not funny.  Like I promised.  It's actually quite soul deadening.

Upon their third birthday, children seem to enter some sort of anti-nap vortex, wherein even though everyone with half a brain, child included, realizes they NEED a nap, they do everything in their power to resist the evil nap.  It's as though turning three also instantly changes all their blankets and teddy bears to monsters to be vanquished through the powers of nap resistance.  And all the grown-ups who have unwillingly entered this evil vortex with the child are slowly driven insane.

That's the world I'm living in right now.

Actually, scratch that.  I'm in a special anti-nap vortex wherein the grown-ups involved are all QUICKLY driven to a point of such insanity that stabbing their eyes out with an icepick and setting themselves on fire, thus ensuring a long recovery in a burn unit, sounds far more appealing than continuing the Epic Nap Battle.

Don't worry, I'm not in a burn unit.  Yet.

It could honestly be any day now.  I'm thinking about buying gasoline... and not for my car.

"Why?" you might ask, if in fact you have never visited this particular Vortex of Doom.

Well... let me see if I can illustrate this for you with a friendly timeline.  A friendly timeline of a completely fictional day in the life of a completely fictional person who knows a completely fictional three-year-old named... *tries to think of something non-offensive*  Hmm.  Maybe it should be Biblical.  What were Job's kids' names?

I looked it up.  One of them was named Ophlf.  Which sounds like a sound I might make while on fire.  So that's it.  Also, this Job dude had a lot of kids.  No wonder the guy was tormented... I bet he spent YEARS in the Vortex of Doom.

So, timeline.  Here we go.  Get ready.  It won't be funny, I promise.

12:00 - Ophlf (gosh, that's hard to type) eats lunch.  This goes fine.

12:30 - Ophlf goes potty.  This is starting to sound like a children's board book.

12:45 - Ophlf is put in his bed, read a story, and tucked in with all four of his stuffed animals.  If the previous day's events are repeated, Ophlf will fall asleep right away and sleep for hours.  "Wow," you're probably thinking, "that doesn't sound like the sort of thing that happens in the Vortex!"  But you're wrong, because it does.  Why?  Because little Ophlf likes to keep us guessing.  Some days, you gear up in your battle armor only to find out that the opposing army only wants tea and crumpets.  Other days, you set aside the armor and let your noble steed go for a romp in the field, and the army sneak-attacks you because you got complacent.  They're not a nice army.

12:50 - Ophlf is singing.  OK, that's cute enough, little Ophlf is singing himself to sleep!

12:55 - Ophlf has confused singing with yelling.  Unpleasant.

1:15 - Still yelling.  You ignore the yelling in hopes that Ophlf will tire himself out and fall asleep.

1:20 - Ophlf has now started doing amateur gymnastics on his bed.  You again resist the urge to go up there, because it usually only makes things worse.  That is how three-year-olds work.  They are extremely counterintuitive.

1:35 - Ophlf has turned his light on and is now cheesing for the video monitor in his room, while making loud, sudden noises that frighten any animals within a six mile radius.  Time to go up there.  *You do.*  Ophlf looks jubilant that his attempts at getting you back in his room have finally succeeded.  You mentally start pricing how much gasoline it would take to soak your own body.  As you go back downstairs, with the light off and one teddy bear gone, Ophlf is cheerily fake-snoring while huddled in some sort of weird yoga-ish bear-type pose.  You tell yourself that you are not going back up there for at least another 15 minutes.

1:45 - Waving a teddy bear in front of the monitor, kicking the bedrail away from his mattress, all in the midst of jubilant screeches.  Has it been 15 minutes yet?

1:50 - Steadfastly refusing to speak to him and give any sort of reward for the behavior, you return to Ophlf's room.  It reeks.  Oh, the old poop-during-naptime trick... you know it all too well.  You complete the disgusting job without so much as a word, then return him to his bed.  Another teddy bear gone.

2:00 - Bedrail overturned, Ophlf on top.  Pointy metal things sticking up in the air just waiting for an amateur gymnast to fall on them.  Go back up there.  Another bear.

2:15 - Well, it's not his bed, but Ophlf is actually lying still... on the floor where he kicked the bed rail away.  You opt for as little intervention as possible and stay away.

2:30 - Check the monitor.  No Ophlf.  Thumping continues.  This can't be good.  Go up there.  There he is.  Right under the video monitor, repeatedly throwing a book and his last teddy bear against the wall.  Book and bear gone, you just barely manage to hold your temper.  When you try to put Ophlf back in bed with his  blanket, he kicks it off and begins to whine and cry.  Despite whining and crying usually being negative things to see in a child, you feel just a little bit accomplished.  Maybe you are finally making an impression on little Ophlf.  This time, when you go back downstairs, you steadfastly refuse to look at the monitor or return to the room.  For the safety and sanity of all.

2:50 - Thumping continues.  Refuse to care.  Start wondering where the matches are.  Will one match do it?  If not, will you, minorly burned, be able to light another in order to ensure a good long time in the burn unit?  Should you stuff your pockets with dryer lint to fuel the ignition further?

2:55 - Ophlf is standing at the gate on his bedroom door (you can hear him).  Shouting for anyone/everyone he knows.  Deep down, you know that the nap battle will be lost today.  You wonder if your Giant Eagle Fuel Perks can be used on gasoline meant for self-dousing.

3:15 - Check the video monitor.  It's been too quiet.  There's little Ophlf, emptying out his carefully folded clothes from the dresser drawers onto the floor.  Resist urge to bang head against wall.  Go upstairs, tell Ophlf that he is getting a time out after nap time, and that he will help you pick up the clothes.  Close door, because you  know this makes an impression on Ophlf.  He is not scared, he's just mad that the 'yelling at the gate' option has been removed.

3:30 - Ophlf puts two and two together and realizes he can open the door.  You can tell by the (far too audible) gleeful laughter.  Go back upstairs and close it.  This time, remain outside the door.  Commence temper tantrum.

3:45 - Temper tantrum still raging.  Realizing that Ophlf has been up there three hours now, and that you should've probably given up an hour ago (but who wants to give up right when they think they might be getting through to the kid?), wait for a lull in the tantrum and then enter the room.

Ophlf wins.  No nap today.  Thinking about it, you're pretty sure there's a Shell station down the street.  Oh well.  At least the burn unit will be an improvement over this day.

My Little Boy

I write about A all the time.  Probably because I spent the most time with her.  She needed me the most.  The crisis we faced was HER crisis more than anyone else's.  But regardless of the reason, I talk about her a lot.

I don't talk about her half-brother a lot.  And he was my baby too.  In fact, he was almost more my baby... because when I brought him home at 8 weeks old, no one had ever attended to his needs the way I did.  I was his first secure attachment.  I was the one he wanted when nobody else could calm him down.  I never even realized the gravity of it until my mom told me one day, after the umpteenth person had handed him back to me to handle, "You're his favorite person in the whole world.  Nobody loves him like you do."

And I cried.  I held my baby boy - my first baby boy, and cried.  Because I loved him so much.

First picture... blurry picture... of his first night home.

I was the one up with him all those sleepless nights.  I was the one who comforted him when he didn't feel well (which was often, as he had a rather stubborn case of GERD among other things).  He slept by my side in a cosleeper for six months.  I bought his formula, his diapers, his clothes.  I saw his precious smiles.  I was there for all his firsts.

First bath

First baby food

First time swimming

First trip to the pumpkin patch

First Trick-or-Treat

First birthday

And now, three years after that last picture was taken... my baby boy is four.

And I forgot his birthday until today.

No, it wasn't his first birthday without me.  Yes, it's been over a year since I've seen him.  Yes, I was up to my ears in something else that day.  But when it was his sister's birthday in May, I broke - completely.  And I forgot his.  And he was my baby.

How horrible is that?

When I realized it tonight - that my baby boy turned FOUR without me ever noticing - I knew it was coming up, I never forgot the date... but I missed it - I started to cry.

Four.

Tonight I want to take a minute to talk about my little boy... who isn't such a baby anymore.

He loved mashed potatoes.  And pizza.  And pretty much any kind of junk food... but when he was a baby, peas were his favorite.

His first word was "duck".  And I put a lot of effort into that!  The kid had more ducks than I can count on all my fingers and toes.

My mom used to sing him "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep", and he'd get this serene little smile on his face, like that song just made everything better... even when I teased her after realizing that the lyrics sort of, kind of suggest that it might be about slavery.

His favorite toys were balls, cars, and any markers he could get his hands on.  Thus the following picture:

Once, he dumped out an entire bag of potato chips, and then laid in them.  Some people would've been mad.  I barely managed to stop laughing long enough to take a picture.

He loved his bath... except for the part where I had to wash his hair.  He didn't like water to touch his head... at first I thought it was just lying down, but dumping it was worse.

When he was 18 months old he broke his leg while not in my care.  He had just barely started walking and then had to drag that heavy thing around half the summer... it sucked.  But it didn't keep my little guy down.

This is the last picture I took of him...

My best friend was cutting his sister's hair, and he took it upon himself to find one of her daughter's headbands and put it on - his way.  It was too cute not to take a picture!

He was two and a half when I said goodbye to him.  I had no idea it would be the last goodbye for so long.

He faced so many struggles in his short little life.  I wonder how he's doing now.  If his fits have calmed down or gotten worse.  If his language has improved, or slacked.  If he's still my chunky monkey who was wearing 4T shirts at two.  If he's anywhere near potty training.  If he's going to Head Start.

Even just where he is.

Because that little boy is another piece of my heart, walking around outside my body.  And maybe I didn't have him as long, or as intensely, as I had his sister, but he was my little boy all the same.  And I miss him.  I love him.

Happy late birthday little man.  I know it's no excuse, but if you were here, I wouldn't have forgotten.  We'd have had a party.  Maybe driven down to Nelsonville to ride the train (if you don't like trains, you would have if you'd stuck around me much longer!) like we did when my brother was that age.

One day we'll be together again.  I know it.  Love you much, my little goober pea.

Sometimes

Sometimes, Princess, I wonder what it's like to be you.

One year, three months, and six days ago, you and I had the most difficult conversation either of us have probably had in our entire lives.  A conversation I'd feared would eventually happen for over seven years.  A conversation that confirmed my worst fears.

I will never forget a single detail about that day, or that conversation.  Months later, I was asked how I remembered all the details of that conversation, and I responded, unequivocally, "I will never forget a single word.  I can't."

A sick feeling settled in my stomach that day that didn't go away.  It got better with time - and distraction - but it never completely went away.  Once I knew the truth, I couldn't pretend otherwise.

To this day, things randomly remind me of the immense feelings of that day.  Fear.  Anger.  Disgust.  Heartbreak.  To this day, sometimes, it feels as though I'm living the whole ordeal over again.

Then I remember.  I am the lucky one.  For me, it was just a conversation - albeit the most troubling one I have ever had.  For me, it was only your words that will stick permanently in my mind.

For you, it is your life.  

As much as I'll never forget that day, that conversation, neither will you... and nor will you forget the events that brought it about.  You don't simply have to live with the memory of the words, how they made you feel, but with the horrible memories.

So when something brings me back to that day, makes me feel like I'm living the horror all over again, I wonder... do you experience the same thing?  Do things remind you, sometimes, of what you've been through?  Do you lie awake at night like I do, unable to get the horror out of your head?

My heart breaks when I realize I know the answer.

I remember, a couple years ago, when we all still shared a room, hearing you cry in your sleep.  Rousing you from your nightmares and finding you confused to realize you were in a safe place with someone who loved you, and that this time, the terror was only in your dreams.

Yes, you remember.

And then I think how sorry I am.  Sorry for what you went through.  Sorry that even when you entrusted me with your secret, I couldn't help you.  Sorry that while I live with the memory of that conversation in my head every day, popping back up at opportune moments, you live with the real memory.  The memory of what happened... sneaking up on you all the same.  Sorry that I couldn't put a stop to the chance that something like this might happen to you again.

But then I realize - you're strong.  You're one of the strongest people I've ever known, little as you were.  Stronger than I am, for sure.  When I fell apart... you held it together.  What other choice did you have?  When I cried and asked God "Why?", you just kept going on... no need to dwell on the "why" of a situation you couldn't change.  When I felt as though my joy had been stolen, you went on to find it again wherever you were.

You'll be okay - because you're a survivor.

I just wish you didn't have to survive so much.

I wish you never had those moments that I have, where something hits a little too close to home and brings it all crashing down around you again.

I wish I could shoulder the whole burden for you.

I wish you'd had a chance to just be a kid... none of this weighing on your mind.

But I can't change those things.

So I'll just wait.  Wait here for you, the same place you left me.

Until you come home.

And then we'll make all new memories... and fight the monsters in our nightmares together.

I love you, princess.  Keep your head up, like you always do.  Even when it gets hard.

And I'll keep trying... to be as strong as you.

Surgery... and a plea

Tomorrow I go in for surgery to excise the endometriosis that causes me such extreme pain each month.

This is the same type of surgery that almost killed me two years ago... but the same type that was successful three years before that.

It is a new doctor... a man of God who has helped a dear friend of mine get her life back.

I come to you humbly asking for prayer

...that I will get through this surgery without complications

...that it will give me my life back

...for a smooth and minimally painful recovery.

I also come to you asking for your blessings for some dear friends of mine while I am 'out of commission'.

This is "Annie".

Remember her?  Remember those eyes that reminded me so much of my A when I saw them for the first time this Spring?

Annie is being adopted!

It absolutely thrills me to tell you that God used me and my precious A to help her find her family.

I "met" Amanda shortly after I posted about Annie in May.  She and her husband have committed to adopt her.  It makes me grin just thinking about how it all came about.  A total God story.

Amanda is an amazing and generous person and has launched a fundraiser to help not only her family, but another family bring home their child(ren).  It is a 50/50 wherein you get to vote on which family will receive the other half of the funds.  Amanda and her husband put up the first $100, because they are wonderful, selfless people committed to helping ALL orphans.  Their donation was finally matched yesterday bringing the fundraiser total to $200.  With the donations divided in half, Amanda and her husband would just break even if the fundraiser ended today.

But it doesn't.  There are a little over five days left of this fundraiser.  Still plenty of time to donate for your favorite child or family...

...or just to make your friend Katie smile.

It is my dearest wish that I will come home to a significant bump in the Jones' family's fundraising efforts.  Please check it out here.

Just $5 earns you a vote.  Little more than a bag of potato chips.  Think of the difference it would make if we ALL just chipped in $5.

You can also find their tax-deductible Reece's Rainbow FSP here.

Pretty please?

Time Flies

Sometimes I just can't get over it.

This feels like it was just last week.

It wasn't.  It was years ago.  Those handprints aren't so little anymore.

Those little girls have grown so much.

My baby isn't a baby anymore.

He's probably starting Head Start this year... when it seems like just yesterday his sister was graduating.

She's ten whole years old and going to be in fourth grade this year - I can't believe it.  When I took the above picture, she had just started Kindergarten.  (The date is wrong)

My 'Little A' is older than my M was when this sweet picture was taken.

M started high school last week.

This trip to the zoo was over four years ago.

My babies.  They were so beautiful.

They are so beautiful.

They wouldn't even fit in these car seats anymore.

I love them.

I miss my little boy... my trouble-maker, who will be four years old this year.

I miss my little girl... the one who has seen more than any child should have to... and who finds a reason to smile anyways.

I thank God I still have the privilege of spending time with my big girl... who is turning into such a wonderful young lady.

Time flies.

Kids grow.

Enjoy every minute you have with them.