Dear Mommy

Doug found Brenden in his room trying to sound out the words "sorry" and "yelling."  How sweet is he?  No parent prompting required.

Brenden Reading

 

Comments

I don't know how many of you read the comments on my blog, but I received the following comment in my "Law of the Garbage Truck" post.  I feel almost famous that people actually read my blog!

Thanks for posting this great story! My name is Chris, and I work with David J. Pollay, the author of The Law of the Garbage Truck™ - Beware of Garbage Trucks™! I just wanted to stop by and let you know that you can read the original story on David’s blog. I know he’d love to have you stop by!

Also check out the video of people in New York City taking the No Garbage Trucks!™ Pledge: bewareofgarbagetrucks.com. It’s pretty cool.

Thanks again!

Chris

Unsuccessful missionary work

The other day at work a few of Doug's co-workers were asking some questions about Mormons.  The topic of swearing came up - they were asking what Doug's response was to filleting his hand with a chisel a few weekends ago (he put it right through that little fold of skin between the thumb and first finger).  Doug responded that Mormons generally do not swear, but an exception is made for mechanics and farmers.  One of the other pharmacists whirled around with an astounded look on her face until Doug could no longer keep a straight face.  They stopped asking questions after that.

Yesterday, I failed to include that I also had a love note prepared for my departure on my "hot date."  Brenden was hiding it until we were headed out the door.  This morning, I also had a note on my pillow when I woke up.  It said, "I (heart) you mom and dad.  I will give you a big hug and kiss.  I love to see you on the morning.  (heart), Bren"  I find it interesting that the notes always say "mom and dad," but are always given to me.

My 5 year old monster returned this morning, but not in the form of the thoughtful monster.  Doug sent Brenden down to get dressed and make his bed.  I went down a while later to check on him because I hadn't seen him in a long time.  When I opened his bedroom door, the dog he had trapped in there escaped and I was verbally punished.  Brenden was indeed getting dressed and I also noticed his entire floor was covered in love notes for me.  I did not scold him for not being dressed after all of that time, I simply apologized for letting the dog out of his room and left.  A little while later, he arrived upstairs all dressed and I praised him for that.  He was only missing his implant.  I asked him where it was and he responded that he didn't know.  I told him to go find it.  A little while later he returned screaming and yelling that he didn't know where it was and I told him to go back downstairs and look for it and that I did not lose it.

About the implant: Brenden loses it every day while getting dressed in the morning and putting on his pajamas at night.  Usually it is somewhere totally visible, but as I said before, his idea of looking for things involves sitting in one place and crying.  He has come to expect that no matter where he leaves it, mom or dad will find it.  He has been told numerous times to put it in a safe place and he even has a special green and blue striped box to store it in.  He is certainly old enough to keep track of it himself.  For some reason, every time it is lost it is MY fault.

He came back upstairs with the love note I had written to him and proceeded to make sure I was watching, tear it up and wad it in a ball and kick it around the living room while verbally abusing me.  At this point, I was in tears and retreated to my bedroom.  Doug took over and trekked downstairs to assist Brenden in finding his implant.  It was in the middle of his floor.  Yes, the MIDDLE of a perfectly clean floor, thus and therefore, there was NOTHING HIDING IT.  Amazing.

After a little "talk," we consented to be nice to each other and be respectful and responsible.  He then showed me my love notes from all over his floor.  My very favorite said, "To the bist mom and dad."  I'm glad he occasionally thinks so.

Drunk on Ambien

Doug and I hired our first non-related teenage babysitter tonight.  Well, I guess once we hired one, but we stayed home while she watched the kids in the basement.  Other than family members, we have only had our closest friends watch the kids - but I don't think we have even done that since we've had Ethan.  Mandi, you're the only one who would know that, I think.  Did you watch Ethan?  I think by that point, I had reached my grumpy, antisocial point during and just after my masters where I didn't see or talk to anyone for about a year and a half.  Tonight we actually left the house!  Unfortunately, there is nothing to do here and all we did was go to Home Depot (but without any screaming or whining from our children).  Hot Date, I know.

My front yard has it's first snow of the year.  I got a GINORMOUS griddle in the mail the other day.  Early Christmas!  Thanks, Jim and Linda!

Last night, Nolan informed me at dinner, "I'n tired mommy."  Yes, "I'n," I did not misspell that.  So, I jumped at the opportunity of a lifetime and put him and Ethan in bed at 5:30.  What kind of a mother am I?  I turned a movie on for Brenden, got him some popcorn, and told him I was going to bed.  I am pretty sure Nolan and Ethan were still awake when I fell asleep, but they were in the safety of their child proofed, toy free bedroom.

This is where the drunk part comes in.  As Doug and I were headed home tonight, we were following a drunk driver.  I have never been drunk nor has a taste of alcohol ever touched my lips, but if being drunk is like taking an ambien, no thank you.  When I take an ambien, it hits me quick and strong.  Within 15 minutes, I have blurred vision, slurred speech, and require assistance to walk.  

When I was pregnant with Ethan, I couldn't sleep and took an ambien.  I had to hold onto the wall in order to make it to my bedroom and then decided it would be a great idea to change the batteries in my bathroom scale.  I don't remember it, but somewhere along the line, Doug's dad called me.  All I know is that we had some sort of jibberish conversation and then he told me I sounded tired and to go to bed.  Sometime later, Doug came home to find me sitting on my bed pushing the buttons on my scale and saying over and over, "I can't read the numbers."  Next is the part I actually remember.  Doug took the scale away from me and told me he was staying there in the room with me until I fell asleep.  I told him I needed to take my prenatal and brush my teeth and he wouldn't let me.  I was so mad that he did not understand how important that was and that I was not allowed to get out of bed.  I felt like I was 5.

So last night, knowing I needed some sleep, I took an ambien at 6:00.  I then washed my face, brushed my teeth, and took my other pills.  I put a "do not disturb - ambien in progress" sign on my door.  By this time, the staggering and blurred vision hit.  I staggered into bed and then realized I needed a drink.  It was a miracle I made it to the kitchen and back without falling flat on my face - and my bedroom door is attached to my kitchen, there isn't even a hall I have to go down.  I laid down and I was OUT!  A while later, Doug called and Brenden answered the phone.  He answered, "Daddy?" and then had a little conversation where Brenden told Doug my door said "do not disturb."  I have no idea what else happened.  A while later, Brenden came in to ask me a question and I guess I responded that Dad would be home soon, ask him.  I must have sounded ridiculous because Brenden told Doug how hilarious I was talking in my sleep.  To me it sounded alright, but then again people who have their wisdom teeth out think they are making perfect sense as well (clearing throat and mumbling: Jeremy, Greg, and Marinda - okay, mostly just Jeremy).

Now the unfortunate part about the ambien hitting so hard and so fast is that it doesn't last the 8 hours it is intended to.  By 10:45, I was wide awake - perhaps it was the fact that I also took a laxative - a combination I do not highly recommend nor did I initially intend.  I wanted to leave out that little detail of the story, but Doug just thought it was too funny that I took the 2 drugs together, he insisted I add it.  Doug had removed them by this time, but informed me I had had love notes from Brenden draped across my whole body when he got home (pictures follow).  So, I took another ambien and went back to bed.

We missed most of the morning session of conference today because we weren't prepared by 8:00 A.M.  I caught up at about Brother Uchtdorf's talk.  It sounded similar to the RS one, but something I could probably apply in my life.  It seemed like many of them were.  I realized that quite a bit of what we heard were things I say over and over in seminary, but fail to implement in my own life.  I really liked the idea that prayers are not a single occurrence, but one long conversation with God.  It sounded a lot like a blog to me!  I guess that is how I related it my own life.  I think we might be re-watching the morning session later or reading it in the Ensign.  It is hard to hear on the computer while there are children running rampant.  

Tonight when Doug and I got home, I had another love note from Brenden on my pillow, along with a box of raisins.  Better than a mint on my pillow, in my opinion.  He is such a thoughtful little boy.  I can count on at least 5 love notes a day, usually in different shapes, sizes, and forms.  My children, although monsters, are sometimes very sweet monsters.

If you can't read it, it says, "I love you. We love you Mommy and Daddy. I will give you a big hug mom and dad. From Brenden. To Mom and Dad." Followed by, I think I counted 12, I love yous. 

As long as I am scanning pictures, I had to share this one.  It is called "Dog Show."

To the left is a dog swimming, then there is a dog jumping through the hoop, one standing, one sitting up, a dog sitting down, and then a dog laying on his bed.

Law of the Garbage Truck

So, after all of my whining, I open my email to find this email. I am sorry for dropping my garbage on all of you.

One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!' This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck.'

He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets. The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so...Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don't. Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent how you take it!

Have a blessed, garbage-free day!

More audiology woes, but this time, NOT the audiologist.

**Before you read this, please note I love my children and would not trade them for anything in the world, no matter how much grief they cause.  You will nearly never hear me discuss the challenges of having 2 deaf children AND being a sleep deprived seminary teacher, but every now and then, I just need to let it all out.  God only gives us the challenges we are fit to handle, right?  I think he got me confused with someone else.**

Monday Doug picked up Brenden's "fixed" hearing aid (I use the quotes because I'm not so sure I believe it is true).  So, Tuesday, I asked Brenden's teacher to send home his FM so I could make sure they were working together.  (An FM is a microphone device that transmits the sound straight from the teacher, or whatever is near the microphone, to his hearing aid and cochlear implant.)  She didn't get my email.  So, Wednesday, she emailed me and said she would send it home.  Near bedtime, I took the FM out of his backpack and asked Brenden for his hearing aid.  He said he didn't have it in and that he had left it in the living room.  So, I crawled around the living room acquiring piece after piece of the dismantled hearing aid (thank you, Ethan).  I found all of the pieces but the battery and the FM boot and shoe (ridiculous names, but that is how the FM is transmitted to the hearing aid - they are two very tiny pieces).  I was really freaking out about the battery because if Ethan swallowed it, he could, well, here this website says it better than me:

Swallowed batteries can tear or burn the throat (esophagus). If the battery has poisoned the child, there may be pain, vomiting, or bleeding. The airway can be obstructed, organs can be damaged by poisoning, and in rare cases, death can occur.

So, I crawled around for a while more and called Doug to see if he would be home shortly.  I continued to crawl around the living room, then proceeded to the dining room, kitchen, up and down the stairs, through the boys' room (with a flashlight), and throughout the whole house - now I know the downside to a 3300 sq. ft. home - I always thought it would be the cleaning.  

Finally, I was relieved to find the battery, but the FM pieces were still missing.  I was less concerned about those except they belong to the school district and cost around $2600.  By this time, Brenden had gone to bed, so I woke him up and asked him where the pieces were and he shrugged and went back to sleep.  I asked if he would rather we throw the hearing aid away and he said, "Yes, then do I get 2 implants?" (he hates his hearing aid, I think because he gets little to no benefit from it).  

Then Doug came home.  He helped me search for a little while and then woke up Brenden to come help us.  By this time, Nolan was also up and on the hunt with the flashlight.  I think Nolan was more help than Brenden.  Brenden's form of searching involves sitting in one place and crying - no matter what we are searching for.  Finally, after nearly 4 hours of searching, we went to bed.  (I was mostly mad because I missed 4 hours of the very little precious sleep I get - usually only about 5 hours.)

The next morning, I called Brenden's Deaf Educator and his teacher and told them the shoe and boot were lost and he would not be wearing them.  I was preparing Ethan to go get an x-ray, incase they were ingested.  I put away breakfast and opened my pantry.  My pantry has spice racks on the doors.  I glanced down and in the very bottom compartment, there were no spices, but 2 pieces to an FM.  Ethan's favorite spot to play is in the spices (as I mentioned in the post with the picture of the green face).  I had opened all of the other cupboards the night before, but not the pantry.

We headed out to the car and there was some sort of charger on my front lawn.  I thought maybe it belonged to one of Doug's power tools and put it in the garage.  We drove quickly to Brenden's school and got all of his gear up and running (funny quick side note: when we lived in Pocatello, one day at church a little boy in my Sunday school class asked me why my son got to wear spy gear to church every Sunday).  His teacher then mentioned that the charger for the microphone part of the implant was not in Brenden's backpack.  I had totally forgotten about the charger in the lawn at this point and told her sorry, I didn't have it.  Then it occurred to me.  So I packed the little boys back into the car, drove the 20 minutes home, got the charger and drove back.  The charger, by the way, was covered in frost, leaves and dirt - it too belongs to the school district.  It must have fallen out of Brenden's backpack the day before.  (Another side note: by this point, it was 10:30 and only 28 degrees!)

So, now Doug is in search of a high school student to hire to watch the children so I can actually get something done.  My elliptical and treadmill have been virtually untouched since we moved, the house is a mess, and I am a sleep deprived, moody mom.  Consider this a "Help Wanted" ad.  (Although I refuse to hire anyone because I feel like less of a person for not being able to handle it all myself - it is my full time job after all).

Help Wanted 

Job Requirements:  Must be able to cook 3 square and evenly balanced meals a day, clean, play monster trucks and dinosaurs.  Must be able to read aloud tongue twisting Dr. Seuss Books for several hours on end without any interruptions or pauses for water to quench the dry mouth caused by such task.  Must be an expert in hearing devices and education of children wearing such devices.  Must be able to balance checkbooks and pay bills on time.

Tasks: Potty train a stubborn 2 year old, keep a 1 year old from eating or throwing everything in sight, and make a 5 year old responsible enough to keep track of the small items that should be attached to his head.  Teach values and decipher lies from truths.  Homework help and additional meaningful educational experiences for the children are required on a daily basis.  Grocery shop in town with three children and leave the store with sanity still in tact.  Flawlessly coordinate the sleeping habits (naps and bedtime) of two children who share a room with meals and bus stop pick-up and drop off.  A parent led Friday preschool would be a desirable addition.  Some occasional "just for fun" activities desired, but not required.

Pay: Nothing, nada, zip, zilch.  

(I suppose except for the gratification of seeing your children grow and progress everyday from your efforts - oh, and watching them sleep - that is when it all seems worth it.  Can't forget the sweet, constant "I Love You.")

Retakes?

Okay, so here is Brenden's school picture.  To retake or not to retake?  They are so darn cute I don't want to give them up, but at the same time, what in the world is he doing?  He got off the bus and said, "I have pictures, you are going to laugh so hard!"  I have added a poll to my sidebar.  Let me know what you think.