tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75512595208790243122024-03-21T05:56:59.980-04:00Scattered Brainstorms<center>Meandering thoughts about life, as told from the perspective of a parent to a gifted 11 year old girl and an autistic 9 year old boy.</center>Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-78254548153098037912014-05-30T09:29:00.003-04:002014-05-30T09:29:43.944-04:00Parenting in poverty.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Over a year ago, Jeff was laid off. This brought about many changes, including a necessary move that has left us reeling and scrambling to make things bearable for all of us. We moved from a 1400+ sq ft house with large rooms and lots of storage to a 1200 sq ft mobile home with tiny rooms and almost no storage. Hey, at least the yard is nice!<br />
<br />
We own, rather than rent, which means that all of the repairs are our responsibility. We've had to repair plumbing, door seals and the HVAC. We still have so much more to do and the funds just plain aren't there.<br />
<br />
Jeff has been sending out resumes, contacting temp agencies and even applying for retail jobs with no luck. His contact at the company he translated for moved to another job and the new person felt that they needed to keep the localizations in-house. After more than a year, he's just defeated and depressed. I can't blame him, especially when we go out somewhere and I'm offered jobs out of the blue. Unfortunately, between my health issues and the umpteen meetings and specialist appointments for the kids, I would require too much time off. Retail is a fickle thing and there are umpteen college kids scrambling for summer jobs with better availability than I can provide.<br />
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We try to focus on the good things - we have a roof over our heads, food in our bellies (thanks to multiple food banks in our area) and all of the utilities are still on. The stress of NOT having those things still looms and there's just nothing we can do. We budget and we sell things. We make do.<br />
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Still, we find time to celebrate and go on adventures. We prioritize and ask for help. We muddy up our timelines a bit and fight to make things happen. Birthdays are celebrated early and we redefine what constitutes a gift. <br />
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During times of uncertainty, sometimes peace of mind is the best gift of all, even if it is fleeting.<br />
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<br /></div>
Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-14846215765712891102012-10-12T09:39:00.001-04:002012-10-12T09:39:14.590-04:00A Life Less Organized<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I mention my adventures in cleaning almost every single day. My friends (and some family) must think that my house is show-ready every single day. They couldn't be further from the truth! I am often overwhelmed by laundry (there is just as much clean laundry piled up as dirty), one load of dishes in the dishwasher doesn't mean that my sink is empty let alone scrubbed clean, and cleaning the livingroom consists of moving things from one place to another and hoping that I've actually put those things in what should be their permanent home. <br />
<br />
The ugly truth is that my house will never be spic 'n span, spotless, white-glove ready or any of those cutesy terms. We live here, and we live HARD. Of course, we're also still cleaning up from the previous tenant's lives (remind me to tell you all about my adventures in grungy kitchen cabinets), so it feels like we take two steps forward only to trip and fall a step back. <br />
<br />
The worst part of all this is that I am a crappy organizer. I can organize a bedroom closet or linen closet but organizing all of the small things is beyond my capabilities. I have a major junk drawer and no plans to clean or organize it until/unless I absolutely have to. I have a 9-cube storage center and it's full of board games, shoe-size bins of beads and jewelry thingies and miscellaneous office/craft supplies. I want to get this under control but, honestly, I'm just happy that it's all in bins and in one place. I can organize when I have time, which feels like it'll be never.</div>
Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-67741006066556916682012-09-09T16:37:00.001-04:002012-09-09T16:38:22.603-04:00What Was I Thinking?!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I look around my [messy, cluttered] house and wonder what the hell I was thinking when I decided to: take that nap, foster those kittens, make that big [sloppy] meal, let the kids play "school", try to get all of the laundry done at once, etc. I wonder why we agreed to let the dining room be the man cave/game room. I wonder why the kitchen table seems to be the catch-all for papers, projects and miscellaneous junk. I wonder why I don't have the energy or motivation to Keep Up With The Jones'.<br />
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Frankly, all of these things happen because I love my family more than I care about what others think of me. I nap so that I can recharge from the umpteen-million things that <i>need</i> to get done. We rescue and foster animals because it is a hands-on learning experience that teaches my children to care about what is happening in the world by taking care of animals that can't take care of themselves and to take pride in a job well done. That big [sloppy] meal was made because it was requested by someone that I love more than I love clean clothes and counters. I let the kids play "school" because I love that they still want to play together and because it teaches essential social skills for both of them. I do as much laundry as I can in one sitting because it's anyone's guess as to what may come up at any given moment. The dining room wasn't as important to me as my husband's sanity. The kitchen table is the catch-all because the kids are proud of their accomplishments and want to share those with us. <br />
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All of those things are why I don't have the energy or motivation to be someone that I am not. I'm pretty proud of the person that I am and I'm happy with the way my life turned out. <br />
<br />
...does anyone want a kitten?</div>
Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-31623790946094496372012-09-05T10:43:00.003-04:002014-05-30T08:54:57.156-04:00Parenting in an Atheist Household<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'll start this off by saying that our household is just like everyone else's. We're a little unorganized, a little messy, a little pressed for time to do all of the things we'd like to do but somehow we manage to make it all work. We love hard and fall hard; be it from disappointment or hurt feelings. We base our actions on facts because there's safety and comfort in knowledge. <br />
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We don't focus on spirituality or religion. We do discuss those things when we're faced with them; for example: when used as teaching material in History class or when we have someone come to our door wanting to share their "good word". Openness and honesty dispel the myths and fears that come along with those things. <br />
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We live in the present. We encourage each other to reach for our dreams and fight through the obstacles that may show up because there's no "ever after". This is the only life we get and we should not only appreciate the hell out of it but we should encourage others to do the same and lead by example. Find your happiness and never let go, and then offer others the support to find theirs.<br />
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We are good people. We have morals and ethics. We don't fear divine retribution. We work to avoid disappointing ourselves and those we love. We think of the long term effects of our actions. We hope for change and enlightenment among mankind. We lead by example and show our children that rewards come from hard work and honesty, not lies and fear. The onus lies with each one of us to make our own choices and either reap the benefits or face the consequences. That is how we learn and how we teach.<br />
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We live our lives in a way that we hope would make our ancestors proud and give our grandchildren the drive to emulate us. We are your friends, neighbors, classmates, partners and even the stranger who stopped to help you when you were in need. We're not evil.</div>
Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-65392338748546019952012-03-01T08:14:00.004-05:002012-03-01T08:36:34.882-05:00Home is where the mess is.<div>I know that most people say "home is where the heart is" but, in my case, my heart is in pieces scattered across the country and carried in the pockets of the people I love. Instead, I find that home is where the mess is. The dinner dishes piled in the sink, laundry to fold, Legos scattered on the floor, composition books filled with child-like drawings of animals tucked into the couch, books stacked on headboards and end tables and furry dust bunnies lurking in every corner. To me, this is the sign of a home that is lived in.<div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I wish my house was that perfect home that was always clean and presentable in case someone wanted to just drop by. However, I'm realistic. I have kids, pets, a husband and multiple health issues that force me to clean in spurts. Plus, who's really dropping by my house? My family is multiple states away (and in multiple states), as are my friends. My husband's family is also some distance away, except for his mother with whom we don't speak. Instead, I let my house be lived in by the people who live, and love, here. If someone drops by, they'll just have to understand that we're busy having fun!</div><div><br /></div><div>So, this is my life. A yard filled with swings, a trampoline, a "clubhouse", shoes and toys tossed haphazardly on the ground, chairs that are never in the same place twice and a trash can that our crazy dog seems to think is her personal toy. I wouldn't change it for the world.</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFEgVARDlAPEzeuVvPMrMSptVoLYVABrbCTPrvKydL09liZ3XBr_E5TMda-XT_xnJd5UmMiygactAr11Kh9J7FcRbRp3A8ZJ-6UfMlBV0k38ejnTkWBdwZDcaqufLYbeL4cWIyLEoNXiG/s1600/TheronDogs.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFEgVARDlAPEzeuVvPMrMSptVoLYVABrbCTPrvKydL09liZ3XBr_E5TMda-XT_xnJd5UmMiygactAr11Kh9J7FcRbRp3A8ZJ-6UfMlBV0k38ejnTkWBdwZDcaqufLYbeL4cWIyLEoNXiG/s320/TheronDogs.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714921783443941250" /></a><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjnHl7nYqsgs9dWv3OHw6wUPBpGXsM0uOLo0TCcA0TLxfm7d2xd-ltvvx9FCBFlbsfoMy8O9kY21TzimjmJ9q93GADi-9sbsxUfW0tipm-95kOygxjL5b5w1IpyTQ03vwiN6PwYAV-zusM/s1600/TheronLaundry.jpg" style="font-size: 100%; "><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjnHl7nYqsgs9dWv3OHw6wUPBpGXsM0uOLo0TCcA0TLxfm7d2xd-ltvvx9FCBFlbsfoMy8O9kY21TzimjmJ9q93GADi-9sbsxUfW0tipm-95kOygxjL5b5w1IpyTQ03vwiN6PwYAV-zusM/s320/TheronLaundry.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714921777967261554" /></a></div></div><div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfivJE0DaxdiyZG2CSGNhJuhW8pxSgLCddImAgSIS-VIHqibnGxn2hyBUTlb7A7OMla2VyinGHY2F3fdkAFyttBwMpU5_6BsguMIHkoUzZ-teECUh3006P5gsF95LMFSZ7jA99cUyrltYU/s1600/ErilynSleep.jpg" style="font-size: 100%; "><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfivJE0DaxdiyZG2CSGNhJuhW8pxSgLCddImAgSIS-VIHqibnGxn2hyBUTlb7A7OMla2VyinGHY2F3fdkAFyttBwMpU5_6BsguMIHkoUzZ-teECUh3006P5gsF95LMFSZ7jA99cUyrltYU/s320/ErilynSleep.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714921770907384722" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-38803438542555991662012-01-31T06:23:00.000-05:002012-01-31T06:49:33.043-05:00The turtle and the hare.I can't seem to break out of this turtle/hare routine. (Think of it as my own personal Jekyll/Hyde disorder.) Some days I can barely get out of bed. Dog-hair tumbleweeds invade the living spaces, bird toys scattered around the floor and dinner is thrown together rather than planned. Those are the days when the dishes <i>might</i> get done before bed, a load of laundry is only done if someone needs a specific article of clothing and the bedrooms look like a natural disaster hit. I'm not proud of this, of course. I have reasons. Migraines, back pain, crippling depression, nausea and dizziness that I can't seem to shake. It's been this way for so long that I've become accustomed to it.<div><br /></div><div>After a day or two of that, it leads me into a manic state where everything has to be done <b>right now</b> and I obsess over the end result. Are the canisters and wine bottles all facing forward? Is the kitchen table centered on the far window? I clean with a vengeance; using toothbrushes to scrub the edges of the sink, scrubbing tubs, toilets and floors and causing blisters on my hands from scalding water and caustic cleaning solutions. The house, for a time, is presentable. No matter, if someone stops by, I'll still apologize for the mess. I over-analyze, obsess and generally throw myself into a tizzy over things I can't change.</div><div><br /></div><div>Every day I long for the in-between. The days where I can relax but still have the motivation to stay on top of the housework, doctor appointments, school meetings and sibling interventions that inevitably creep up. I want to step away from the internal struggle and find some kind of balance. I want to be me again.</div>Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-699568611984976622012-01-10T07:53:00.001-05:002012-01-10T07:56:12.101-05:00WonkySo, the scheduled posts that I've had in the wings haven't posted. Not sure why (one was from my phone, so I can understand that one) but I'll blame it on user error (ie: my fault) and move on. I'll try to recover the text files I saved everything to but, failing that, I'll just start over fresh and you'll have a few lovely new posts to read. Yay!Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13682414540347769311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-86048375340612314342011-07-25T13:13:00.000-04:002011-07-25T13:23:15.762-04:00Have a heart.<div style="text-align: left;">This is the time of year when the kids are away on vacation, visiting various family members for a few weeks. No matter how many times it happens, I still miss them terribly. Can't-breathe, cry-at-everything, sleep-in-their-rooms kind of miss them. I know that this time is the perfect opportunity to get my "To Do" list whittled down (and I'm doing that, I promise) but my heart just isn't in it. It's a thousand miles away right now. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYgOZ-XwHDuFLXVvW8aWdTbOMn4n_H-uuvJ6g9sSAviuL4srFe_ONycJUfV7d7Jynqc9_3g8Elhyphenhyphen_fiCrA-1HANwQz5tAy9vD7zLXjFu0GoLLI0NV0mnDzp_CkWi8R4lWQGnXRi2cncUIJ/s1600/DSCF0555.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYgOZ-XwHDuFLXVvW8aWdTbOMn4n_H-uuvJ6g9sSAviuL4srFe_ONycJUfV7d7Jynqc9_3g8Elhyphenhyphen_fiCrA-1HANwQz5tAy9vD7zLXjFu0GoLLI0NV0mnDzp_CkWi8R4lWQGnXRi2cncUIJ/s320/DSCF0555.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633341384716701730" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-42450027875707451462011-07-07T17:29:00.000-04:002011-07-07T17:47:59.793-04:00Ouch!Theron has been getting allergy shots for a little while now, and we're past the initial period where we just wait and see how he tolerates a single dose. Oh, no. Now his dosage increases with every visit, which means they're just filling the syringe a little more each time. Considering how badly this stuff burns, I wasn't surprised that Theron actually cried this time. It did, however, break my heart. He's been so stoic, even when getting injections in, or very close to, already bruised skin. (Two shots, twice per week, in the backs of his upper arms only gives them so much room to work with.)<br /><br />Today was his breaking point and I can't say that I blame him. He had at least three of the nurses in tears, too. He's always been so good about his shots and has invited every nurse out for ice cream at least once (and two he tried to move in with, oy vey). I think his breakdown was so unexpected that it caught them off guard. It certainly did for me. Maybe it's easier for them to ignore when they know the kid will scream and cry and fight them. Who knows?<br /><br />There's a catch 22 in all of this, which is that the kids leave in one week to visit their father. This is the first year that we've had to try and coordinate a doctor, let alone a specialist, while they're up there. (My insurance will only cover emergencies while they're up there and their father has a very high deductible since he rarely gets ill and the kids have never needed medical attention while visiting.) Their step-mother gave me the name of an allergist up there, which turned out to be the only immunology office in the entire town. Oh, but the allergist that she knew of had retired and left the practice to someone else. Someone who still has not called me back. <br /><br />Obviously, I don't trust my child's life to someone who can't pick up the phone, or even ask one of a dozen or so people who work with him to do it. Factor in that Theron's actually having reactions now, no matter how minor,and it's a no-brainer. Luckily, his father and I are in complete agreement. So, for the three weeks that the kids are visiting their father, Theron gets a break from his shots. We may have to back up a dose or two, but I'll take that over the alternative any day.Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-87523761468911737402011-05-23T08:48:00.000-04:002011-05-23T09:23:34.781-04:00What a week!Park! Field Day! Mud Mania! It's been a whirlwind of a week, but here are some pictures from the park:<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMxqxMRF5ZNoXSH0exBzKKWsAHguKAf_dKxcZ-f2MNG3loSYIqy69JGIkihQDKXQ6aL8WW9wPVbdc0oh0NVqYmFXuKQqHTZgGzeZiY5xJfJkkAgNVwOeLf64zlZLgD5sq39OxmRvIvkHE/s1600/DSCF0016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMxqxMRF5ZNoXSH0exBzKKWsAHguKAf_dKxcZ-f2MNG3loSYIqy69JGIkihQDKXQ6aL8WW9wPVbdc0oh0NVqYmFXuKQqHTZgGzeZiY5xJfJkkAgNVwOeLf64zlZLgD5sq39OxmRvIvkHE/s320/DSCF0016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609896315610884194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXARxYZAhmZnAC4jNdMb9lEOzxMDldQur23npRN18FlOOMvb0y2Kr443r7fELE1_Zv27piFsIZF5U0Yn1oZJDpvvyN3mePX5zivqEqp6dg5NfDYvJzGf3OAUdJo2IC1QmFA9ZXuIcbkeX5/s1600/DSCF0004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXARxYZAhmZnAC4jNdMb9lEOzxMDldQur23npRN18FlOOMvb0y2Kr443r7fELE1_Zv27piFsIZF5U0Yn1oZJDpvvyN3mePX5zivqEqp6dg5NfDYvJzGf3OAUdJo2IC1QmFA9ZXuIcbkeX5/s320/DSCF0004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609896305200980866" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8Qxh_og3hILLGjYA0qtuWelChfOxaTg27ILdvtM1NRsjb94yIiGGmNWfpxmQ_DIy0Dmm5Xc8YAQNgefTmZsGpcc-cKHJeRFKZy1zleZMoAIMlHa7-iVt9IFJdDFVq0Ry8C4YYnfVSS70/s1600/DSCF0003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8Qxh_og3hILLGjYA0qtuWelChfOxaTg27ILdvtM1NRsjb94yIiGGmNWfpxmQ_DIy0Dmm5Xc8YAQNgefTmZsGpcc-cKHJeRFKZy1zleZMoAIMlHa7-iVt9IFJdDFVq0Ry8C4YYnfVSS70/s320/DSCF0003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609896301162103074" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Field Day injury and Mud Mania pictures to follow!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-32300402814457601372011-04-13T12:05:00.000-04:002011-04-13T12:54:00.933-04:00'Tis the season for the wheezin'!So, it's allergy season again. This year, we decided to celebrate by getting Theron tested for specific allergies. About 6 weeks ago, I flat-out asked his doctor to do the damn test since autistic children are known to have far more food and environmental sensitivities than the average child. Lo and behold, the blood test came back "high positive". That's the point where my stomach sank.<br /><br />Per the blood test, my boy was showing reactions to:<br /><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="messageBody"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Milk</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">Wheat</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">Peanut</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;" class="text_exposed_hide"></span></span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Soybean</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">Codfish</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">Egg White</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">Cat Dander</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">Dust Mites (listed as Derm Farinae)</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">Cockroach</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">Dog Dander</span><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">Mold Spores (listed as Alternaria Tenuis)</span></span></span></span></h6>Per the grid test he had done on Monday, he showed reactions to:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tree Pollens:</span> Eastern 8 Mix<br />Eastern Oak Mix<br />Elm Mix<br />Maple/Box Elder mix<br />Hickory/Pecan Mix<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Grasses: </span>GS 7 Grass Mix<br />Bermuda<br />Bahia<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Weeds: </span>Ragweed Mix<br />Cocklebur<br />Rough Pigweed<br />Lamb's Quarter<br />Dog Fennel<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Inhalants: </span>Mite Mix<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Epidermals:</span> Cat Epithelium<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Fungi:</span> Alternaria<br />Aspergillus Mix<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Foods:</span> Peanut<br />Soybean<br />Fish Mix<br /><br />So, the allergist put him on Zyrtec (which he'd been on before the testing) and Singulair and we follow up in 6 weeks to begin immunotherapy shots. Right now the main restrictions are environmental; he can't go outside on days when the pollen levels are high, we have to damp-dust every day, and he can't be around perfumes or smoke. Because his allergies affect his asthma, he has a standing prescription for Albuterol and can't use most soaps, perfumes or lotions. We use castile soap for him, or Dove Sensitive in a pinch. We use single source oils (Vitamin E, Jojoba or Olive) after his showers and DermaSmooth when his eczema acts up. <br /><br />All of this has been relayed to the kids' father, aunt, grandmother and former stepmother, so here's hoping that they're able to keep up with the routine. I realize that it's a lot to handle if you're not used to it, but once you get the first major cleaning done, the rest is just maintenance. <br /><br />In the meantime, I'm requesting a blood test for gluten and casein allergies, as per the allergists recommendation. Heaven help us if any of that comes back as reactive. He adores milk and pasta!Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-38335141774418322052011-02-04T10:57:00.000-05:002011-02-04T11:37:23.541-05:00It's love.Jilly Bean, our little rex bunny, is one of the most uplifting parts of our family's day. She's sweet, silly and happy, with a personality all her own. She never fails to make us all smile.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIGNNWPYJhkBq3xDQ7kqjWCmQ6ui99huY4njfzh7rw_7XgRt6JTeEUWOhks4upSsE-CBRUHQeFU3KD3nC7tGelhAgUOL06_snos1Sh83_whkxV7CcMaGcybIiZOk6QUWqWJgF25U9ZUfYB/s1600/Jilly1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIGNNWPYJhkBq3xDQ7kqjWCmQ6ui99huY4njfzh7rw_7XgRt6JTeEUWOhks4upSsE-CBRUHQeFU3KD3nC7tGelhAgUOL06_snos1Sh83_whkxV7CcMaGcybIiZOk6QUWqWJgF25U9ZUfYB/s320/Jilly1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569869355511275730" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br />Well, today I decided to put a belled, breakaway cat collar on her in order to keep track of her whereabouts. (She has full run of the livingroom but can get into the back of the house since she's small enough to squeeze through the bars of the hall gate.) Oh, she did NOT appreciate that one bit! After being fitted with the collar, I set her down and she was a flurry of hopping and kicking (a bun's way of showing annoyance) and scratching at the collar. So, like the good bunny mama that I am, I took pictures. With my phone. Because that's how I roll.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Uu6o3y3ogtc7AS9BarxPulw3K03qgWblmQFHzdyvNpmRss1HWmhqd1Z3jcD-wgb5gi3WsSCqy8tR6M3TUgr3M2VWuALZMaNfTMZnjPx3Cd5jXe_ySNTBowcc68wlJdhU138Jy7i3Ad2-/s1600/Jilly4.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Uu6o3y3ogtc7AS9BarxPulw3K03qgWblmQFHzdyvNpmRss1HWmhqd1Z3jcD-wgb5gi3WsSCqy8tR6M3TUgr3M2VWuALZMaNfTMZnjPx3Cd5jXe_ySNTBowcc68wlJdhU138Jy7i3Ad2-/s320/Jilly4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569870163824040498" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"Not cool, ma. Not. Cool."<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUKTZmkTL8mKG43pZTG1WI1Q_HTGDEyIWFAQj6PY7kso9ImJ1N3t1vLs1gkhKwQPkec0L6F2lEYTuOkFqId14hMPnoj4vVNu8PhmH1AC8s1Ya7ljR4y4QRZLtzfGj29P8Uxin8Zxa_iQ7K/s1600/Jilly2.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUKTZmkTL8mKG43pZTG1WI1Q_HTGDEyIWFAQj6PY7kso9ImJ1N3t1vLs1gkhKwQPkec0L6F2lEYTuOkFqId14hMPnoj4vVNu8PhmH1AC8s1Ya7ljR4y4QRZLtzfGj29P8Uxin8Zxa_iQ7K/s320/Jilly2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569869765752853186" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />She got over it pretty quickly and went to check out her toys. Then I went and rearranged stuff, which always catches her interest. After a little while, I realized that the collar doesn't do anything but get the cats and dogs worked up, so Jeff and I took it off. After quite a while spent primping (probably to counteract the abject humiliation we'd subjected her to), she stretched,<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_d5TUnN8bLSd0vmgj_B1aoVBAr2jybXL_WIDHkYJ4A3wZiKr0DZr2hRKwB74NpaegyjX37kXek6om4OSU99WnSoHI6kff5uHL0s2NgUccd596NQSH9aB5Vej5tnnBE6Y0pHcMSqSjfzgv/s1600/Jilly5.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_d5TUnN8bLSd0vmgj_B1aoVBAr2jybXL_WIDHkYJ4A3wZiKr0DZr2hRKwB74NpaegyjX37kXek6om4OSU99WnSoHI6kff5uHL0s2NgUccd596NQSH9aB5Vej5tnnBE6Y0pHcMSqSjfzgv/s320/Jilly5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569873534299629634" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />And then settled into a fuzzyhoverbun and promptly fell asleep.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfBuTUc9sgC-EEnzKg6tB0ggNcHVgl9QRTEkKaGeSlR5-QSOompeNR1QRkbtIzZndVGEFxGJYohggp-MfYwuAb2lfCv6UXlM1vshD9bEH8AwwcaHLtk3d4Xq1j9FjErTJiXggijIuAKpXz/s1600/Jilly6.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfBuTUc9sgC-EEnzKg6tB0ggNcHVgl9QRTEkKaGeSlR5-QSOompeNR1QRkbtIzZndVGEFxGJYohggp-MfYwuAb2lfCv6UXlM1vshD9bEH8AwwcaHLtk3d4Xq1j9FjErTJiXggijIuAKpXz/s320/Jilly6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569873888536312658" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />D'awwww! (Yes, bunnies sleep with their eyes open. Freaky.)Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-64195814111545867162011-01-20T21:08:00.001-05:002011-01-20T21:18:56.164-05:00Oh, brother.So, tomorrow begins a new chapter for Erilyn. She's decided to go back to brick & mortar schools and we got a hardship transfer approved so that she can attend Theron's school. Now, this is amazing for her as well as us but we have no idea how Theron will be able to handle knowing she's there and not being able to play with her. It's made worse by the fact that she's such a great sister and actually likes to help out and spend time with him. I guess we'll just see how it goes.<br /><br />She has the choice of attending Strings, Chorus or General Music and she's choosing GM in order to keep her experience low key. Hey, I can't complain about that. The kid has enough going on, you know? <br /><br />My only concerns are going to be Spanish. She took French for 3 years and Spanish for a half year and is coming into this pretty late in the game. I want her to be ready for 6th grade but I know she'll struggle with Spanish due to both the lack of experience and the fact that she prefers French anyway. Another "wait and see" thing, I guess.<br /><br />I'm excited but I still feel like I'm holding my breath. After all of the bullying and administrative issues on top of her medical issues, I can't help but hope for the best while preparing for the worst. I know that some things will be a non-issue (the AP at this school HATES bullying and the school has won so many awards that they're running out of room to display them all) but some things are totally out of our control. Those are what scare me the most.<br /><br />A parent never stops worrying, right?Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-36905785090164279892010-12-16T07:12:00.000-05:002010-12-16T07:23:07.650-05:00The flip side.'Tis the season, right? Glittery and shiny ornaments. Brightly wrapped gifts. Rosy cheeks. The smell of evergreens and peppermint in the air (and snow, if you're in that clime). And the bitten-back curses when you step on one of those ornaments, get a papercut from wrapping those bright gifts, split your wind-chapped lips from smiling as your child exclaims about yet another strip-mall Santa and/or the allergies to said evergreens.<br /><br />Since having kids, I've learned how to curse creatively. I'm not fooling anyone, but I'm not getting dirty looks or letters sent home from the school, either. Here's a list of my most common alternative curses:<br /><br />Jiminy Christmas<br />Son of a Monkey Shoe<br />Cruddup.<br />Cripes.<br />Fadoodle.<br />Shish-ka-bob.<br />Hades.<br />Shih-tzu. <br />Dagnabbit.<br /><br /><br />What about you? Do you have any creative alternatives that you use when you're frustrated/angry/hurt?Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-85429452268663554432010-12-03T06:51:00.000-05:002010-12-03T07:14:34.682-05:00With Stars On...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f230/chanteltheelf/2010-11-28202120.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 640px;" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f230/chanteltheelf/2010-11-28202120.jpg" alt="" border="0" /> </a><br /><br />Theron put the star on the tree this year. I think my heart almost burst watching him. He was so excited and so proud of himself. Decorating the tree was a family affair and we all did our part. Erilyn put on the first ornament - the one she picked out for this year. Then we all put on our individual ornaments before filling the tree with happiness and color.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f230/chanteltheelf/2010-11-28195101.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f230/chanteltheelf/2010-11-28195101.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />But, the star on top has always been the biggest honor. I remember my older brother and I fighting about who got to put it on. In my mind, he <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> got to put it on but I have pictures to prove otherwise. There's a picture of my dad holding me up (I was 4 or 5) to put the star on. I'm so glad that I got a picture of Theron putting it on. Next year will be interesting since it'll be Erilyn's turn and she's tall enough to do it without a stool. Ack! Where did my babies go!?Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-43759036219249732592010-11-17T07:21:00.000-05:002010-11-17T08:06:10.558-05:00Slacker.I am such a slacker. It's been almost two months since I've posted anything. Honestly, the only reason I'm posting anything now is because I feel guilty. So much has been going on and I haven't shared it with you all. (Okay, if you're on my Facebook, you know some of it. That's worth something, right?)<br /><br />I'll start small. I showered. I smell like cherry blossoms and Pert Plus. Yesterday, I did not. Since last Wednesday, I have smelled very much like a convalescent home. You see, my lovely loonies, last Wednesday I was putting Theron on the bus and bent to pick up the cat before she bolted out the door, which started a chain reaction in my spine that brought me to my knees and made me beg for painkillers. <br /><br />Now, I am usually very stoic, especially regarding my back pain. Bulging, herniated and ruptured discs are just part and parcel of my life. Sciatica? Yep, got it. Muscle deterioration? That too. Official diagnosis? Degenerative Disc Disease. I'm a walking house of cards just waiting for the big bad wolf to huff and puff and blow me down. Apparently he sent a cronie this time and, boy, did she deliver a whopper. However, I am medicated and it's helping, although it's really put a hitch in my stride.<br /><br />In other news, the neighbor's daughter (friend of my daughter) has been having some kind of breakdown. Her grandfather was very ill and we didn't think he'd make it. Then a boy started sexually harassing her at school, bringing back memories of a molestation that happened years ago. Then, to top it off, she became the target of one of the nastiest bullies at the school. It was too much to handle and the poor child just shattered. She's getting the help she needs, which is great, but it's thrown some things into sharp relief for us. <br /><br />Erilyn is 10, and a brand-new 10 at that. The neighbor girl is almost 13. Three years might not seem like a lot, but right now it really is. Erilyn isn't into boys yet and she hasn't outgrown some of her little-girl hobbies and behaviors. To make matters worse, she's a geek. She loves computers and books and video games and so on. She's not an athletic kid, although she is active. This neighborhood is all about bike riding, soccer, baseball, football and whatever else the kids can think up. We're working on getting Erilyn to ride a bike since it will allow her more freedoms, and that may be the key to bridging the gap. In the meantime, she has an amazing best friend who is only a few months older than her and is into all of the same things. Thank goodness!<br /><br />Forgive me, folks, my mind is a bit frazzled. I know that there's more to share but I can't seem to pull it out of the fog. I'm sure I'll remember later.Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-26253092457894803142010-09-25T16:11:00.000-04:002010-09-25T16:14:43.559-04:00I will be teaching this to my children daily.This broke my heart and then gave me the courage to start mending it again. I hope you all are inspired to find your own "real". I sure am. <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Please, click below.</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://www.danoah.com/2010/09/disease-called-perfection.html" target="_blank"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpmC7s_9HDtJFxGRZxXyTkNLbDUTGI9_2iFqA6Oadyx8SdYimsE7WpdL1J1wIsiq5Au6fda1-jlwaLgNfa2h6XtibtmUx0AVwtFpchAZHT1s3fd7kujFT5-hl6Mf1kP1PlO27HgVdDXfY/s1600/disease-called-perfection-4.png" border="0" /></a></div>Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-40756883832872746512010-09-17T07:27:00.000-04:002010-09-17T07:29:56.808-04:00Loving this! Doing this. Won't you do it, too?<h6 style="font-weight: normal;" class="uiStreamMessage" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span style="font-size:130%;">We all know that I'm not a religious person, but we also know that I'd do whatever I could to help children in need. This is such a simple thing and I am totally going to do it. Just thought I'd share!</span></h6><a href="http://megduerksen.typepad.com/whatever/2010/09/vitamins.html">Vitamins for Kroo Bay!</a>Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7551259520879024312.post-33618918738889532972010-08-23T09:50:00.001-04:002010-08-23T10:25:55.651-04:00In the beginning...I'll save everyone the gory details of my life B.C. (before children) and just hit on the high points. I'll likely elaborate on certain subjects anyway and I'm always open to questions.<br /><br />I'll try to just hit the highlights each week but, of course, the kids and I will weigh in when something noteworthy happens. Of course, "noteworthy" to a child is very subjective!Chantelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00471960105135960088noreply@blogger.com0