Right and Wrong

As some of you reading this may know, our firstborn son, Glenn III, was diagnosed at the age of 6 months with a terminal genetic disease called Spinal Muscular Atrophy type 1, also known as Werdnig-Hoffmann disease. Children with Werdnig-Hoffmann typically do not make it to the age of 2. This disease affects voluntary muscle movement, and because it is a progressive disease with no cure, the muscles continue to get weaker and weaker. Children with this disease cannot lift up there head, roll over, sit up, or walk, and as the disease progresses, they lose the ability to swallow and the respiratory muscles get weaker, eventually leading to respiratory arrest. Our precious Glennie passed away when he was 20 months old, and our time with him on this earth was exceptionally short. As I said above, children with SMA type 1 typically do not make it to the age of 2, but there are exceptions. There are children who have beaten the odds and are now 4 or 10 or even 22 years old.

My sister-in-law, Sarah, has stage III brain cancer. She is a beautfiul and all-around amazing woman, wife, and mother of 3.

It makes me livid and sick that under Obama"care," people like Glennie and Sarah as well as anyone with a disease classified as "terminal" will not get the care they need. They will have no hope, as they are "doomed" anyway. I am so extremely thankful beyond words that we did not have this plan while Glennie was alive and that we were able to get him the medical care that he so badly needed. I am exceptionally thankful for the already-too-short time we had with him, and that that time was not cut shorter than it was. I am thankful that we did not have to sit and watch him starve to death because we would have been unable to get him into surgery for a gastric tube when he became unable to eat by mouth. According to this "kill bill," he would have been expendable just like anyone else with a termianl disease, and just like our elderly with health issues that have gone beyond a certain point. And how about the funding for abortions? We can pay to kill our unborn, and to save money on healthcare we can kill those who are supposedly beyond hope.

I honestly can say that I have never been so angry at something in all my life. This bill is as un-American as it gets. I will admit that I do not understand much about politics, even though I have been married to a staunch conservative for the past 8 years who amazes me everyday with how much he knows. But in my politically-limited mind, I know that this kill bill is a bunch of bunk, to put it lightly, and is completely and utterly wrong. It is moral-less and thoughtless. To quote Glenn Beck, this health care plan is not about health or caring. This shouldn't be about right or left, Democrat or Conservative. To me, no matter who you are it is simply about right and wrong, and we need to do whatever we can to make sure this bill does not pass. Babies will die, and our loved ones who need good medical care will not get it.

And one last thing: I wonder what would happen if President Obama ever was diagnosed with one of the many "hopeless" diseases. Would he be able to get treatment? I think so, as he is apparently not as expendable as the rest of us are. You better not get sick, people, or you become a liability to society and will lose your right to life.

Knock, knock

Our two year old has starting telling knock knock jokes. He learned them from Jeff, and it is the funniest thing to watch Jack tell his "jokes." This is how it goes:

Jack: Gock, gock (pushing his fist out in front of him as if he is banging on a door).
Me: Who's there?
Jack: Appow (apple).
Me: Apple who?
(a pause)
Jack: Gock, gock.
Me: Who's there?
Jack: Appow.
Me: Apple who?
(another pause)
Jack: Gock, gock.
Me: Who's there?
Jack: 'Ana (banana).
Me: Banana who?

And so on and so forth.. He learned the joke from Jeff, but actually it is Jack's version of the old "orange and banana" knock knock joke. The other day, I asked Jack if he wanted orange juice with his breakfast, and he paused for a moment and then said, "Gock, gock!" ready to launch into the joke at the sound of the word "orange." The boy never fails to amuse us.

Pee pee in the potty!!

I would just like to write a quick note to mark this momentous occasion. Jack went pee in the potty! We got him some Elmo big-boy underwear and put them on him after we got back from the beach today and, I might add, after he had already peed on the rug upstairs. About 20 minutes later, I asked him if he had to go pee, and he said yes. Glenn put him on the potty, and the rest is history. Yay, Jack! I will be so ecstatic to not have to buy diapers anymore, at least, and then to not have to constantly clean up his messies.

July 4th

Hey everyone, I know I don't post here very often, but I had some things to say, and I don't have my own blog.

Today is Friday, July 3rd, the day before what should be the most celebrated holiday on the calander for every American. However, I have really heard very little about it this year. I have become concerned in the past couple years about my country. Not about the economy, not about the jobless numbers, not even about N. Korea or Iran. I am concerned about the lack of patriotism in America today.

I remember growing up, July 4th, it was a lesson in patriotism from my father, and the fireworks. I never had a doubt that my father was proud of his country, even after coming home from Vietnam to the rediculous "welcome" our wonderful American people gave him (being spit on, called a baby killer, etc...) my father never lost his pride in his country. From a very early age, both my parents instilled in me a great sence of pride in America. Now, I see kids (early 20's) who think that the Canadian health care system is better then the greatest healthcare system in the world. I see people who think France and Germany's social programs are "the way it should be". When did this happen? The only thing I can think is that as parents, we are not doing enough to instill the values of patriotism into our children.

Tomorrow, I will be taking my children to the fireworks. But I will ensure they know why we are celebrating. Great men fought and shed blood for this great country. The least we can do is pass it on to our children.

Glenn Sinclair

NO MORE!!!

For at least 6 months now, our now 2-year-old, Jack, has been taking off his diapers quite often. At first, it seemed like he was just doing it because he could, but I have reached the point where I simply will go crazy if I have to clean up any more poop or pee. I tried putting them on backwards, using Pull-Ups, putting onesies or one-piece pajamas on him (which was really the only thing that worked, but it is currently way too hot to put those PJs on him). This morning, he had taken off his poopy diaper when he woke up and then sat on his brother's bed. After I put him to bed this evening, he took it upon himself to take his diaper off before he went to sleep, and when I went to check on him, his sheet was soaked. NO MORE, I say. NO MORE. I think we are going to try with him what we did with older brother Jeff. When we potty-trained Jeff, we just threw some underwear on him and took away the diapers. After a few accidents, he got the hang of it after just a few days. It sure beat putting him in Pull-Ups for several months beforehand, which didn't do a thing. I figure it can't hurt to start the potty training process, since I am always cleaning up after him anyhow. He might as well be learning something as long as I have to clean up his "messes."

Losing a child

Last week, my husband came home from work and told me something devastating. A Marine he worked with in San Diego (and whom I had met at the squadron Christmas party along with her two little girls) was set to be stationed here in Pensacola. The Marine, Delia, was on leave visiting family in the Midwest and was going to be headed down here when she was in a tragic car accident. She was in the car with her two young daughters, ages 2 and 4. Delia was critically hurt, and her sweet 4 year old daughter was killed. The 2-year-old was, thankfully, okay. I was jolted and heartbroken to hear this news. All I could do was pray and pray for Delia and her family. I also couldn't help thinking that for the most part I knew what they were feeling, and I also wished that there was some way I could take the suffering of losing a child away from them, though I knew I couldn't. In a way, I sit here and think to myself "I just can't imagine," but I can. I guess I can't imagine such an unexpected and violent loss. With Glennie, we knew his passing would be coming. That doesn't make it any easier to deal with, but I guess it's the shock value that gets to me. Our shock came more when Glennie was diagnosed, and it had time to dissipate a little before he passed. Still, losing a child is losing a child, whether you see it coming or it comes suddenly and shockingly. Either way it happens, God has a plan for it and plans to use it for good, whether we realize it or not. I am thankful to know this, and I pray that others who lose people they love will know this, too. Whenever I hear of tragedies like this, whether it be somebody you worked with or Michael Jackson or Farrah Fawcett, I pray fervently that the families of the deceased will turn to God in their sorrow and not away.

It Has Been A While

It has been quite a while since my last blog, almost a month. We have been quite busy in that time. We left San Diego to move to Florida on June 9th. We drove down here in separate cars; me with little Jack in my van, and Glenn with Jeff. The trip went pretty smoothly, and I only got lost once. That was in downtown Baton Rouge. It was nighttime, and I had just gotten stopped by the police for tailgating Glenn. I was following so closely so that I didn't lose him. The cop let me off easy with a warning, and from then on I was terrified of getting stopped again, so I kept my distance. That was where we got separated. Glenn called me to tell me to get over to the right to stay on I-10, but by then it was too late. Off I went into downtown in the dark of the late night. After a few failed attempts at getting back on the freeway, I parked in a school parking lot and told Glenn to turn around and come get me. Fun times.

We are still settling into our little rental condo and will be moving soon anyway. We had planned to buy a house, but since that didn't pan out we are now either moving into base housing or renting another place. We are looking forward to a few changes in the next few months, one of those being the move. I am also looking for another job and hopefully will be working from home again soon. We are also set to send Jeff to preschool in August! I am very excited and also nervous. I know I will be more sad than he will on that first day of school. I am excited because I know he will LOVE school. He adores going to Sunday School at church and interacting with other kids and being in the school environment. Ah, our first experience with sending a child to school.

I just had to post to let anyone who reads this know that I am back to blogging!

Late at night

You know, I always feel a little guilty for staying up late at night. On one hand, it is a time where my husband and I can have some down time after the boys go to bed. On the other hand, we stay up so late! I have always been a nighthawk anyway, so I don't know what to think about this.

Tonight while tooling around on my blog, I have seen things that remind me of Glennie, and remind me of disease and pain and strength and courage. Take Jonah Williams. Jonah is a 3-month-old baby boy with Epidermolysis Bullosa. EB is an extremely rare genetic condition where pressure on the skin causes painful blisters and other problems. You can read about Jonah by clicking on the "Pray for Jonah" button on my sidebar. Many babies with this disease don't make it past one year. Jonah is a beautiful boy, with big blue eyes that remind me a little of Glennie's. Lately I have been drawn to stories of children with serious illnesses. I'm not sure why; I guess I want so much to help in some way. It's amazing to me to see such fragile-bodied children like Jonah and Glennie with such strong and courageous spirits, children who can glow and smile and laugh through what they are enduring. It is also amazing to me the lessons they can teach us and the lessons that God is trying to teach us through these precious little lives.

I don't mean to be a downer, but I really felt the need to write this post. It is at times like this when I wish I had more money or more resources so I could give it away to those who need it the most. For starts, I will pray every day for children like Jonah and their families. I know all to well what it is like to be told your baby is going to die due to a disease you have never heard of. Even if I didn't, prayer is still necessary and needed.

Scrumdiddilyumptious Oatmeal Raisin Cinnamon Chip Cookies

Here is what you need to do: Go to the grocery store, and see if you can find some Hershey's Cinnamon Baking Chips. They are in the baking section next to the chocolate chips. If you can find them, buy them then use this recipe:

http://www.hersheys.com/recipes/recipes/detail.asp?id=6197

I am on a baking kick lately and really seem to like baking and cooking new things. I am always on the lookout for treats that don't involve chocolate but are still tasty to me, as Glenn hates chocolate and I like to make things that everyone can enjoy. I made these in bars, and though they were too crumbly to really cut into squares, they are absolutely delicious. Everyone had a taste, and we are going out again to the grocery store tonight to get some vanilla ice cream to eat with them for dessert tonight. I think I myself may skip dinner and just go for the Oatmeal Raisin Cinnamon Chip bars with vanilla ice cream and a cinnamon dolce latte made from my Dolce Gusto. Making stuff at home rules!

Mother's Day

Our precious boy Glenn III passed away on May 6, 2004. It was a Thursday. We held his memorial service that Sunday, which was Mother's Day. It was a warm, sunny May day that had a surreal feeling about it. Here we were, going to our baby boy's funeral. Come to think of it, Glennie's burial outfit was quite fitting for that day. He was wearing a one-piece outfit that had "Mommy's Little Hero" on the front. We were overwhelmed by all the people that packed into his service to show their love and support; family, friends, Marines from Glenn's squadron, Glennie's doctors from Children's Hospital of Philadelphia and his home care nurses, all who so lovingly cared for him during his illness.

Since that Mother's Day in 2004, there has been a certain uniqueness for me on this day. It is hard to explain, but it is almost like a unique, heavenly sense of peace and comfort. That's all I can think of to describe it. I am very thankful and blessed to be the Mom to my boys Jeff and Jack, and on this day more than anything I just like to enjoy my day in their presence. I also know that I am the Mom of an angel, and I reflect on that more than ever on my very special Mother's Day.

Thank you, Lord, for my three boys. Thank you for their spunk and wildness and laughter. Thank you for choosing us to be their parents. Thank you for Glennie's life and the time we had with him, and thank you for choosing us to love him and care for him. Thank you for my Mother's Day.

The Hand We Are Dealt

Our first son, Glenn III, was born September 16, 2002. Like any parent, it was a day that changed the rest of our lives. He was born without incident and was beautiful, and we were thrilled to take him home and start our new life as a family of three. Throughout the several months after Glennie was born, we had noticed a few strange things about him, but being that we were brand new parents and that his doctors never seemed very concerned, we dismissed the issues. They were things like how Glennie seemed to really breathe hard from his belly and how by 4 months he couldn't lift up his head. At his well-baby appointment, the doctor said that Glennie was just slow in developing and told us to give him some more tummy time to strengthen his neck muscles. Glennie hated tummy time and cried the entire time, but we believed it was for his own good. He also began to sweat when he nursed around that time as well.

When Glennie was 6 months old, we took a trip to New Jersey to visit Glenn's family, and after taking one look at him, Glenn's parents knew something was wrong. A few days into the trip, they convinced us to take him to the Emergency Room at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. Once we got there, the doctors knew right away that something was wrong as well, and Glennie was admitted. He lacked muscle tone and was not meeting his milestones.

Throughout the next year, there are some details I remember with absolute clarity and some I don't remember at all. I remember the morning after Glennie was admitted, a doctor named Dr. Finkel came in to talk to me. He was the head doctor on the Neuromuscular Clinic, and his special interest was in Spinal Muscular Atrophy. I don't really remember all that he said, but basically he did say that although the final diagnosis was not made yet, Glennie most certainly had Spinal Muscular Atrophy, type 1, the worst kind. He said usually babies with type 1 don't make it to the age of 2. I was alone in the room at the time Dr. Finkel came in, as I had spent the night there with Glennie. The next thing I can remember from that time is being with a group of people in the hospital room. I know Glenn was there, Glenn's parents, some relatives, and also a few friends from church, and I remember we were all sobbing at this grave news, huddled together knowing that Glennie would die before he had barely even begun to live.

The next year was spent in and out of the hospital. At first, Glennie had to get a gastric tube put in his stomach, as it wouldn't be long before he would lose his ability to swallow. He lost this ability shortly after the tube was placed at about 7 months of age. He never was able to hold up his head or roll over. He could move his hands, feet, fingers and toes and the muscles in his face, and that was all. Such is the nature of SMA, it robs children of the ability of movement and eventually the ability to survive.

Glennie was diagnosed in March of 2003. Over the spring and summer, we spent more time in the hospital than out of it due to surgeries, a colon blockage, and respiratory viruses. Even a cold could be deadly to Glennie, as he had no muscle strength to swallow or to cough up any secretions. One simple cold or virus could cause blockages in his airway and would cause partial collapses of his lung. He would need to be intubated so that he could recover and would have to be slowly weaned from the ventilator, and this process often took months.

From August to December of that year, we were able to spend a miraculous five months at home. Glennie was staying well and although the disease is progressive, he was doing well with our home care nurses and with Glenn and I taking care of him. He received numerous medications and feedings through his G-tube, as he could not take anything by mouth. He received respiratory treatments every 4 hours, which consisted of using an in-exsufflator to pull secretions out of his airway and then suctioning them out. He wore a BiPAP for naps and to sleep at night. Glennie's lungs and weak respiratory muscles worked hard to breathe every day, so the BiPAP machine provided his lungs some rest as he slept by helping him breathe. It also helped rest his lungs if he was sick and wasn't intubated.

A couple weeks before Christmas of 2003, I was awakened in the wee hours of the morning by shouts of our night nurse, Pat. "GLENN!! AMANDA!!" she yelled urgently, twice, before I realized what was going on and leapt out of bed. Glennie was in dire straits. His O2 and heart rate were dropping fast, and Pat was able to get him stabilized as Glenn called 911. One of many fast and furious trips to the ER was made, again, this time by ambulance. Yet again, we waited in the ER with family, wondering if this was going to be the day, wondering how many times in their life a parent can do this, can watch their child, their baby, struggle for life and breath.

That was one of many times Glennie was able to be stabilized, and one of many times we were able to breathe a shaky, temporary sigh of relief; temporary because we knew that unavoidable day was going to come.

Glenn, Glennie, and I spent our Christmas there at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, our little family of three. Once again, we were in and out of the hospital that winter and spring, and were able to go home yet again at the end of April 2004.

On May 6, I knew that day that something wasn't right with Glennie. He seemed tired, and he had seemed tired since we had been discharged from the hospital at the end of April. He was struggling that day, and by late afternoon the nurse and I were rushing him back to his bedroom to get him started on his O2. As our nurse Angela worked at one side of Glennie's crib, I stood at the other, talking on the phone to one of his doctors from CHOP. As I stood there on the phone, I watching Glennie's numbers plummet once again. I told the doctor I had to hang up and call 911, and she told me to keep her posted. This was the first time in my life I have ever called 911. The paramedics rushed to our apartment, and Glennie was loaded onto the gurney, where I distinctly remember one of the paramedics strangely asking me if Glennie was blind. I think she was taken slightly aback by his very bright blue eyes. We rushed Glennie out of the apartment.

I followed the paramedics and Glennie out of the apartment, and gave Angela a quick hug, as she was going to stay behind and finish her required paperwork at the end of her shift and lock up the house. I walked behind the gurney, and everything almost seemed surreal. I noticed the kids who lived in the apartment below us had come out onto their porch and were watching what was going on. The medics loaded Glennie into the ambulance, and as they did, the bottom of the gurney hit the bottom step of the ambulance, jolting the gurney. I noticed that Glennie did not move. I climbed into the front seat and waited as we prepared to get going. I noticed that it was almost 5 o'clock, according to the clock on the dash. We did not go to the ER at CHOP, as there was not enough time. Glennie just needed to get to the nearest hospital. At some point during this time I had called Glenn, and Glenn and his parents were en route, their phones glued to their hands.

Once we got there, the medics were performing CPR on Glennie as we rushed in. Once in, they got him into a room that became so flooded with medical personnel that some were asked to leave by the doctor in charge. I was taken to a small family waiting room where I met Keva, the social worker. I will never forget her name as long as I live, nor will I forget her beauty and her gentle spirit. I told her about Glennie as we waited and silently prayed. It wasn't long before the doctor came in and gently and sadly told me they were doing all they could and still had some things to try. She left and Keva asked if she could pray with me. We did, and silently in my mind I asked God to take away Glennie's pain, to not let him be afraid. I wanted to be in there with him so that he wouldn't be scared, but I knew I couldn't.

The doctor came back in. With tears in her eyes, she told us they did what they could, but that Glennie was gone. At this point, my mother-in-law had arrived at the ER and raced into the room. "He's gone? HE'S GONE?!" my mother-in-law screamed, as we fell into a heap on the waiting room couch, sobbing hysterically. I cannot even explain that moment, that day, where the sky fell down on top of us.

I was allowed to hold him one more time if I wanted, and I said yes. They cleaned Glennie up a little bit, and I was allowed in the room, the room where Glennie quite possibly breathed his last breath. I sat in a chair and held his body as people began showing up. My father-in-law, and Glenn, who ran into the room frantically and in a panic in his softball gear, only to find out Glennie was already gone. Glenn's sister Sarah came in, as well as our Pastor Joe and our old friend Shari. Shari has known Glenn and his family for a very long time as the mother of Glenn's best friend, Jim. We all stayed for a while, and it was decided that Glenn and I should be the first to go and that our family would do whatever was left to do there at the hospital.

The rest of the day was numb. We went to stay at Glenn's parents' house, as Glenn and I did not want to go back to our own apartment with Glennie's now empty room. I remember we went home and turned on Survivor, our favorite show, just for some mindless entertainment and distraction from the day, but we were pretty much numb to everything. There is not much that can be said at all on the day your child dies.

Glennie died on a Thursday. We held his memorial service that Sunday, which was Mother's Day. We held his burial the next day, on Monday, as I did not want to bury my son on Mother's Day.

A few weeks later, my mother-in-law told me that she knew something was horribly wrong as she ran into the ER that day. She said everywhere she looked, everyone was crying. Doctors, nurses, receptionists, even the EMTs standing out by the ambulance were crying. You simply wouldn't be human if you were not devastated by the struggle of this little boy, this baby.

It wasn't about the struggle Glennie faced just that day, but the one he faced his whole life. He depended on machines to help him breathe, or to breathe for him. He depended on machines to feed him and to keep his airway clear because he didn't have the strength to do it himself. He depended on me, his mom, to exercise his arms and legs every day because he couldn't even move them. He depended on doctors and nurses and even his family to save his life numerous times throughout his 20 months of life because SMA is that cruel and harsh and devastating. This is the nature of SMA, crippling and progressive and fatal and, at this point, incurable. He depended on Glenn and I to do what we thought was best for him and to make life-and-death decisions on his behalf.

There are so many horrific stories that can be told about SMA, even just the ones that Glenn and I and our family experienced firsthand. There were so many times we and our families watched Glennie suffer terribly due to Spinal Muscular Atrophy, and there are many others like him and many families like us who face these devastating circumstances and heart-wrenching decisions every day, families who face uncertainty and know the pain of a broken heart on a daily basis and can feel death at the door.

This post is long, but is only the tip of the iceberg, only a small glimpse into the life of a family who deals with Spinal Muscular Atrophy. I felt moved to write it through the pain and tears because I want others to know about SMA and that we need to do what we can to cure it.

http://www.petitiontocuresma.com/

The signature goal for the Petition to Cure SMA is 100,000, and it is currently at 57,200. We need more signatures!

http://www.fsma.org/

http://www.smasupport.com/

http://www.our-sma-angels.com/

SMA

From time to time, I hear about the passing of another child with Spinal Muscular Atrophy. Tonight I read about a boy named Jarred. He was 9 years old with SMA Type 1 and passed away a few weeks ago. With each child, my heart breaks all over again, because I know exactly what it is like to lose a child to this disease. I know what it is like to go to bed that night, broken and knowing nothing will ever be the same. I know what it is like to wonder, "Where do we go from here?" No words can express what it feels like to lose a child, whether it be to SMA or something else.

Tonight I was looking at the Children's Cancer Association web site, and they have a Hero Kids section. So many kids, including Jarred, who fight daily battles with SMA or leukemia or a number of other horrific things. It's amazing and mind-blowing to me to see the courage and strength and determination of these precious children who are dealing with their fragility and pain and mortality on a daily basis. They show us what life is about, and truly what it means to be strong and have courage. They inspire us to be strong no matter what hand we are dealt in life.

http://www.childrenscancerassociation.org/hero_kids/

When our Glennie was diagnosed with SMA, and throughout his life and even now, me and my husbands favorite verse is Joshua 1:9-

"Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

Words to live by.

Cleaning and Junior Fawf

It has been a while since I posted, so I will give a brief update. We went to NJ, where Glenn headed to MSG School in Quantico, VA. We were dropped from the course due to medical issues, and the few weeks he was there was a difficult time, and I will spare you the details. It was difficult because we were unsure every day what was going to happen, I was missing him terribly and also missing my home. However, I think we learned a lot during that time. I learned to lean on God more and to wait for His timing. I also feel that now after living with my mother-in-law, I am managing my time better at home, and I think also keeping up on the laundry a little better. I have OCD with things like germs and checking things, but I think she has OCD with laundry! I also witnessed her going on a cleaning spree at midnight one night that lasted until 3 am, and I actually assisted her with this spree until I got scared and fled for my life, fearful that I would end up in the garbage can with the piles of stuff she was almost blindly chucking away. Oh, and it also happened to be about 1 AM.

So, we are back at home now after 2.5 days on the road. It is nice to be home and in the San Diego weather again. Every day when I get up I just soak in the sunshine and warmth and the light, cool breeze.

Anyway, while we were on our trip home, the second and last hotel we stopped was in Tucumcari, NM. We stayed at a Best Western and woke up early the next morning, eager to reach home that night for a few reasons, one of them being that we couldn't afford another hotel. We got in the van, and Glenn drove up to the hotel entrance to check out. As me and the kids sat there in the waiting car, Jeff said to me, "I have a new name, and it starts with a K now." I asked him what his new name was, and he said, "Junior Fawf." I couldn't understand what he was saying at first, so I asked him a few more times, and finally realized that, according to him, his new name was Junior Fawf. I figure maybe the "K" is silent, like Kjunior Fawf? I asked him where he got this new name, and he said, "In the bed at the hotel." Did God come to him in a dream and tell him that he shall now be called Junior Fawf? I guess we will never know.

My funny guys

The other night, Jeff asked Glenn and I if we wanted to play hide n' seek, and we agreed. I was "it" first, so I sat on the couch and counted to 20. I heard Glenn and Jeff run upstairs, and as I finished couting I announced "READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!' I started up the stairs, and as I did, I could hear, "Hee hee. Hee hee hee." from the bathroom at the top of the stairs. "Hmmm, I wonder where Jeff is," I thought to myself, and found him in the shower, giggling. Jeff was the next one to be "it" so he counted to ten twice (he didn't know how to count to 20) as Glenn and I ran upstairs. I hid in the boys' closet while Glenn hid in ours. I heard Jeff come up the stairs and go into our room. He came back out and then went downstairs again. I then heard a crash and Jack say "Uh-oh", but I suspected it was the high chair that we had put over the gate (so Jack couldn't climb on it) being pushed over. For the next few minutes, I heard nothing except the sounds of Jack playing. I began to get nervous, wondering if Jeff had duped us into playing hide n' seek so that he could wreak havoc downstairs. I crawled out of the closet and found Glenn, and he went downstairs to see what was going on. Apparently, he was still looking for us downstairs I guess, but I still don't know.

At that point, we confined the game to upstairs and decided it was better to have Jack play upstairs. I was "it" again by this time, so I counted to 20 on the landing and went upstairs. As I climbed, I heard Jeff say, "Will you stop it?" I followed the voice into our room and noticed Jack standing by a laundry basket full of clothes. He was poking the clothes on top, and then pulled some of the clothes off the top. There was Jeff's little face, looking up at me from the laundry basket. "I found you!" I exclaimed, as Jack flopped his little hand around in a wave to his brother.

The game went on several more rounds. We decied to quit when Glenn would hide and Jack would stand, crying and screaming, "Daddy!" or when I would hide and he would scream "Mommy!" I know I will never forget the sight of Jack poking the clothes and revealing Jeff's hiding place. Too funny!

Tonight, as I waited for Jeff to get undressed and into the shower, he ran behind the partition wall towards the bedrooms because he didn't want me to see him get undressed. He then came out, naked and giggling. I called him silly, and he pointed at me and said, "You have a silly willy!" I explained to him that I don't have a willy, that I am a girl and girls don't have willys. He then pointed at me and said, "Yes you do, you have a willy in your pants!" I really did not know what to say to that and decided to let Glenn do the willy talk, so I just told him to get in the shower. This kid......

One of my favorite things

Every night when he goes to bed, Jeff asks to sleep in our bed. We allow him to more than we should, I'll admit. But I love to get my work, chores, and shower done before he goes to bed so that I can lay down with him and watch TV. He loves to watch America's Funniest Home Videos ( "funny videos" to him) and shows like "Destroyed in Seconds" ("crashing show") where things crash and blow up and basically get destroyed. What a boy he is, and quite possibly a future Marine. Sometimes he falls asleep watching TV, but when he doesn't, I will turn it off, kiss him goodnight, and give him a "nighttime toy." I will always come back later and lay down with him while he is sleeping and watch TV. I love to watch him sleep. Any mischief or trouble he got into during the day is as good as gone as he lays there sleeping. I like to get into bed a little before Glenn does just so I can lay there for a few minutes, and if we get there at the same time, I tell Glenn just to wait a few seconds before carrying him off to bed so that I can see him.

As for Jack, I stay up late, until at least 12;30 AM so I can change his diaper. Otherwise, he will be swimming by morning. I change his diaper, and then brush his teeth since he usually goes to bed with a sippy cup of milk. Bad for teeth, I know, but that is why I brush them when I changes his diaper. Anyway, when I finish changing him and brushing his teeth, I cover him back up with his blanket. He immediately takes his blanket and stuffs a small part of it into his mouth to suck on, like he just cannot get enough blanket into his mouth.

Men of many hats

November 2007

February 2008

February 2008

Summer 2008

Jack's bin-hat

Halloween 2008

Cowboy Jeff

Christmas "boing" hat

Classic toddler room...toys and clothes strewn about, closet doors askew, and toddler running around with a drum on his head.

This is called big brother's underwear hat

The drum hat is back...and shortly after this pic was taken, Jack turned the pajama pants into a hat

Funnies and the dentist

For Christmas, Glenn got a couple of Best Buy gift cards, so he went and bought a speaker-bluetooth that clips to the visor of the car instead of one that you have to try to keep stuffed in your ear. Now, our car rides often consist of the following:

GLENN: Call. Mom. Mobile.

BLUETOOTH VOICE: Did you say, "Call. Buc. Mobile?"

GLENN (shaking his fists): NO!

He shuts of the bluetooth, then turns it on and tries again:

GLENN: Call. Mom. Mobile.

BLUETOOTH VOICE: Did you say, "Call. Mom. Mobile?"

GLENN: YES!

Sometimes, it takes a few tries to get it to dial whoever he wants to call.

This morning, as I was getting ready to head out with the boys to go to their dentist appointments, I heard Jeff in the living room saying, "Call. Dad. Mobile. NO!!" "Call. Jack. Mobile. YES!! Haha, that kid does not miss a thing.

I also think that Jack may have been having flashbacks today about his previous surgeries and stays in the hospital for his cleft lip and palate. When we got to the dentist today, we were called back into the exam room, and Jeff was going first. As soon as we walked through the door of the exam room, with the dentist chair/bed, medical equipment, and doctor-type atmosphere, Jack immediately started bawling. It was sad and funny at the same time. Poor little guy, I really do wonder if he was having flashbacks of some sort. He had his finger in his mouth at the time, so I guess it is possible that he had bitten his finger accidentally or something, but I don't know. He certainly didn't like it when it was his turn for a cleaning, which was really just a brushing and some fluoride, but Jeff did extremely well and was just excited he got to lay down and watch Dora the Explorer and got a toy and a toothbrush. While Jack was getting his exam done and crying and hollering on my lap, Jeff came up to pat his brother on the arm and say, "It's alright, Jack. Don't cry."

Speaking of the dentist, tomorrow will be my first dentist appointment in about nine years. I have not been to the dentist since before Glenn and I were married. I am anxious to see what the dentist will say, and I am hoping I will not get yelled at for not going for so long. We have been a little busy since we got married in 2001, with our dear Glennie, and moving many times, and then with Jeff and with Jack and his cleft lip and palate, so I really didn't give much of a hoot about me going to the dentist. I will be extremely proud of myself if I have no cavities, which I don't think I do at this point.

Wanna hear the most annoying sound in the world?

Okay, I will probably get flak from Glenn about this, but I can assure you this has absolutely nothing to do with him at all. We have been on our computers for a couple hours now, as Jack went to bed and Jeff was coloring and playing with his train here in the office before he went to bed. Glenn is playing WOW and doing an "instance," which is just a fancy way (to me, anyway) of saying "I am gonna team up with other players and we as a group are going to go kill a bunch of stuff and try to kill the big boss guy." He is on vent, which means that we can hear other players talking, and if Glenn hits the control button and speaks, they can hear him. For the past couple of hours during this instance, as I have been working and now am blogging, these other guys on vent (not Glenn) have been yelling and cursing and insulting each other as young, immature, I-have-no-life-so-I-am-on-World-of-Warcraft-at-2-AM-ET-because-I-don't-have-a-job guys do, I suppose. I have told Glenn I would pay him just so I could get on vent and tell these guys to shut their pieholes. There is a chick he and other people have been playing with lately whose voice is not gracing our office tonight, and I thought she was bad. She talks and talks and talks and talks and talks and talks, and is not exactly the quietest as she does so, and she is not half as bad as these clowns that are on tonight. I think I will be happy to hear her voice again. I never, ever thought I would say that. I cannot even express how annoying they are. I really wonder what many of these people would do without WOW. I wish I could stay and continue listening to the happenings that are going on in the instance, but I think I will go lay in my bed and watch "Whose Line is it Anyway?"

Christmas pics

Here are some of my favorite pics from Christmas. I realized about a week before that it was Glenn's first Christmas with Jack, as Glenn was in Iraq last year. As far as the captions are concerned, I am always very meticulous about lining everything up just so so that everything is even, but I am tired of trying to line them up. I don't know if it is just me or my blog, because nobody else I know seems to have a problem with pics and stuff.

Jeff is happy that Santa came, and that he ate his cookies and milk!

Glenn and Jack watching Jeff.

Jack trying to get the hang of the opening-presents thing.

Yay, cool toy!

Jeff trying out Dad's new massage cushion.

I wonder when I will warm up to the fact that we are going to another country soon. Ok, so our lives will become enriched at the chance to travel and experience different cultures, etc. But honestly, I like my home. I like the US. I like insignificant stuff like watching Survivor, going to the Coffee Bean, and being among people like me. I really have absolutely no idea what to expect, wherever we go, which is difficult because I like what I know. I love my job and am a lot worried that I won't be able to be hired from overseas due to security issues. Three years of not being able to type dictations from Indian doctors and mumbling Americans, come on! I love that stuff!

On a different note, every time I post I am reminded of my mother-in-law saying to me last winter when I left NJ about how I need to keep up with the blog and post pics of the boys and tell stories. I ought to keep up on that, but since it is 1:01 AM PT, I need to go to bed. Sorry! I really like the picture I took last night, though, of Jackson with his older brother Jeffrey's CARS underwear on his head. So, I may post that one just for kicks, as well as some others. However, I need to get going to change Jack before he pees through his PJs and sheet and then get to bed so we can get up early tomorrow and go get a certified copy of Jack's birth certificate so we will be able to go get our passports for wherever the hell we are going. Maybe we will go to India and I can work in a hospital, haha.

So, I guess I am pretty bad at keeping up with my blog. I guess the problem is that it is so busy around here with 2 kids, a DH, and a job, especially for the last couple of months I have been working more because we needed some money for Christmas. Now that the holidays are over, I may slow it down a bit, but then again, I will only be working at this job for about six more weeks, and then we are off to NJ for two months and then overseas. I don't know if I will be able to work as an MT from home outside of the US, and that saddens me greatly, but oh well. No matter what happens, I know that God is ultimately in control.

Speaking of God's control, I find that I keep thinking about Jett Travolta. For those who don't know, he is the son of John Travolta and Kelly Preston, and he died a few days ago after having a seizure and hitting his head on the bathtub. He was 16 years old. Having lost a son ourselves, I keep thinking of the unimaginable pain that his parents are experiencing right now. Jett was always there for 16 years, and now all of a sudden he is gone. In a way I know what they are going through, but at the same time, I don't know what it is like to have and know a child for 16 years and then have them suddenly and tragically gone. I read stories about how John and Kelly are Scientologists, and may have dismissed the fact that Jett was autistic, because Scientology does not recognize autism as a disease. Either way, it doesn't make the situation any less tragic. I just hope that this suffering can and will bring them to their knees and to the Lord.

I don't mean to be depressing; this is just one of those news stories that you hear and that makes you think and that touches your heart more than any other.