by Sarah | Oct 8, 2012 | All About Kennedy, Crap, Random
[flickr id=”5993418909″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]Last year Molly and Kennedy were playing and there was an incident. A finger (or was it a dinosaur?) went astray and Kennedy got poked in the eye. Her left cornea was scratched and after almost a week of pretty hefty pain she was better. The scratch was off to the side and not a major concern.
This morning while goofing off on the bus a plastic folder went astray.
Once again the big beautiful brown eye (the left one) got in the way.
This time the scratch is right over the pupil. It’s still not very large, but the location is a concern. They don’t want it to scar.
Kennedy is miserable.
Molly? Feels horribly guilty.
Guilty to the point of thinking she was going to be on the news for what she’d done.
I reassured her that the news doesn’t cover stories like this.
To which I got:
“So when our house burns down they’ll come?”
Um…our house won’t burn down.
~knocking on every piece of wood I can find~
by Sarah | Sep 27, 2012 | All About Kennedy, Cystic Fibrosis, Failure to Thrive (FTT), Special Needs
[flickr id=”8012257268″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]Since birth the girls have been tiny. Hell, all my kids rock the bottom of the growth chart. Always. It’s in their genes. Up until 3 kids & a hysterectomy totally made my body go haywire I had insane metabolism. I remember hours spent in my pediatrician/allergists office playing with the toys he had on display while he discussed my growth chart (and how I was well below 0%tile) with my mom.
It’s a familiar theme.
One that in standard circumstances is a concern, but not panic inducing.
We eat.’
Tons of food.
We just don’t gain.
Metabolism rocks until it actually works against us. And trust me, as a teenager being asked if you’re anorexic when you eat like a horse is NOT fun. It really sucks.
But this goes beyond personal suckage.
When you combine Cystic Fibrosis with the words Failure to Thrive.
You get a heap of shit-panic-stuff-the-kids-faces-until-they-can’t-eat-any-more to deal with.
Back in June both my CF kids rocked the weight chart. For the first time ever the nutritionist said “we dont’ have anything to worry about here, keep doing what you’re doing. They look great.”
For the first time in her entire life Kennedy looked AMAZING. In the 10th%ile for BMI 10th! Dude, in this family that is some serious awesomeness. Worth celebrating.
Now, just 3 months later we’ve stalled. Flatlined. Kennedy gained almost nothing in the past 3 months. Her BMI is back at the bottom, in below the 5th%ile. Amazing how fast the growth chart swoops up to wipe away previous progress.
Again, in an average situation we’d not panic. But now we have 2 months to get meat on her bones.
2 months. Make sure at school she’s allowed extra snacks, extra time at lunch to finish. whatever it takes.
If we don’t put meat on her bones, they put a g-tube in her belly.
In a society where everything is marketed to keep obesity at bay.
I have to find ways to put weight ON my kids. Lots of it.
So that we can avoid the g-tube. The g-tube is not welcome here.
by Sarah | Sep 22, 2012 | 45 before 45, All About Me, Get Fit - Or Kill Myself - Whatever Comes First
[flickr id=”8011911337″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]When I made up my 45X45 list I put a few things on there that I didn’t think I’d ever accomplish. Swimming with whale sharks, paying off the mortgage – seemingly impossible but you have to have lofty goals mixed in with the more attainable dreams.
Among the “probably never gonna happen” goals was “Run a 5k”.
I’m just not a runner.
Never have been.
Even when I had stamina and did regular cardio through dance.
So this was a pipe dream, but I felt like I had to have it on there.
[flickr id=”8011917340″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”right”]Today I crossed that finish line. I achieved one of the goals I swore would never happen.
There are a LOT of the negative Nellie thoughts in the back of my head. The “I finished…but” phrases.
BUT.
I’m ignoring them today.
Today I completed a 5k.
Not only did I complete it but I raked in an approximate 11.5 minute mile. I came in second in my age division (not far behind the first place finisher for my age division).
I did it.
I really did it.
Cross another one off that list.
Next year I’m setting my sites on one of the color runs…and probably this one again.
I’m still not a runner – but I know I can do this now.
And I want to do it again.
by Sarah | Sep 19, 2012 | 45 before 45, All About Family, All About Me, Changing Tracks, Writing, writing tips
[flickr id=”7809492264″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]We all have dreams.
Some dreams are big – bigger than what our logical minds tell us we can accomplish.
Some dreams are more practical – but still mean something to us.
Growing up I had many dreams. I wanted to be a dance teacher. I wanted to perform on stage in musicals. I wanted to be a vet. I wanted to be a mom.
I was blessed to accomplish some dreams early. At 10 my dance studio let me become an ‘assistant’. Me and my co-advanced-class dancers would help the teachers with the young ones. By 11 we were teaching the classes ourselves for the most part. By 13 we were allowed to choreograph.
When I was in my 20’s I was able to take some courses and training and became a vet assistant. For about six months I worked in a vets office and still think of that time with fond memories.
I became a mom at 21, and again at 29 & 30.
Right after I got married I performed in a series of musicals over the course of the year. On stage. Singing and dancing under the lights.
Then I got wrapped up in real life. I had a husband, kids, bills, work and a home. Dreams went by the wayside as our girls were born and their development took up every spare second of breath and thought in my head. In the moments of quiet when everyone went to bed and I could unleash the stresses, I chose to do them with words.
Writing.
It had never been a dream, but as worlds formed under my fingertips, stories unfolded on the page, and characters breathed life into my soul a new dream formed.
Wrapped up in the realities of life I’d forgotten about me. About how important even the smallest dreams could be.
They give you life, hope, something to look forward to and achieve.
Dreams are life.
Since then I have created a 45X45 list and begun to tackle things on it. Some are small, others seem impossible.
Still, every time I cross something off of that list I feel a sense of elation, I smile for days. I have accomplished something.
It’s not just good for me. It’s not selfish.
My children need to see it. See me achieving goals and dreams. The little ones, and the big ones.
Within 6 months I’ll have proof of one of my biggest dreams on my Nook (and Kindle). Within a year I’ll have physical proof sitting on my bookshelf. Published.
It wasn’t a dream I had growing up. It’s new. Formed just 7 years ago. When I thought it was unattainable, outlandish and crazy.
I’ll never stop having dreams. Achieving this one I’ve formed new ones.
New ones will follow behind.
Never let go of dreams. Always have two – one practical & achievable, and another completely outlandish.
Never give up hope.
Let your children see the hope, and the accomplishment. It’s a prize that lasts for a very long time – and it helps them set their sights on the biggest dreams.
by Sarah | Sep 17, 2012 | All About Family, Random
[flickr id=”7665967864″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]We all have them.
Hidden away in drawers.
Stored in boxes.
Sometimes right out on display.
The toy.
The one toy.
Stuffed animal.
Toy car.
Blanket.
Pretend make up purse.
The toy they grew out of.
But we never grew out of seeing them with.
The one they clung to at night.
Carried everywhere.
Eventually loyalties changed, a new toy took over, a new animal, a doll or a train.
But the toy is still there.
The one that reminds you of your baby.
It’s ragged.
Broken.
Coming apart in places.
Maybe you should toss it.
But you can’t.
It’s a piece of your baby.
The one that’s growing up too fast.
The one that now runs off by themselves rather than holds your hand.
The baby that rolls their eyes and pronounces they are NOT your baby.
But they’ll always be your baby.
So you keep that piece.
That ragged, worn out, tired piece.
And you never let it go.
by Sarah | Sep 13, 2012 | All About Denver, Cross Country, The Teenager
[flickr id=”6087274981″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]We aren’t really a sports family. Denver never really was a sports kid. He played soccer for a while, but then the cost outweighed his enjoyment factor and we let it go. For a while he played an instrument, but again he didn’t care for it as much.
So just before 7th grade he told us he wanted to run.
And he ran.
Last year in 8th grade he excelled beyond measure, his pride in his abilities grew. The kid was on his game. We were proud of him, he was proud of himself. It was a pretty stellar way to end middle school.
This year he’s in high school and joined the team again.
But this year there’s a problem.
Pain in his knees – and a new severe pain in his back are crippling his ability to run. He barely makes it a mile in practice.
So tomorrow we go and do something I never thought this family would see. A sports medicine doctor. Try to help his pain levels before the season is over. So that maybe he can again enjoy the sport he loves so much – and achieve the excellence we all know he has in him.
