New Covenant Family

Sometimes you just wake up and things are just different. It really is the first day of the rest of your life. Often you have been expecting it, but sometimes it just takes your breath away to realize your stepping out in an unknown direction. The point of this rather obvious insight is to share how our life as a family suddenly switched directions recently.
My big kids are all having some difficulties at school, not academically but rather in the social, emotional, and “wait your turn” aspects of schooling. These problems persist and poke through the veneer of routine and repetition despite ongoing support in therapy and my constant “on-call” status to go to the school and translate/negotiate/comfort/discipline whoever is struggling the most in any given day.
Last week, literally in the midst of me crying in my car in a most childish manner about our lack of good schooling options, my cell phone rang. It was our priest’s wife — a dear friend and godparent to the Peas — letting me know that she was definitely retiring from 30 years of elementary teaching and that she wanted to talk to me about serving as a private tutor for my children. Isn’t it amazing how God sends comfort, a new direction, and hope for tomorrow at the moment you need it? Doesn’t it take your breath away to know that when you cry out for help (even with snotty sniffles and choking sobs) that He really hears you?
It’s a big shift for us, and there is still much work that needs to be done in order to make this change, but it looks like my children will be homeschooling next year with private tutoring.

Can you still call him the baby if he’s two? I don’t know, but regardless he will always be MY BABY! Check out the video below for some fun. Even if I am taking a rather large corner of space in the foreground. Weightwatchers works for me…..I just wish it would work a little faster.

The Family Signing the Happy Birthday Song

Happy Adoption Day To YOU!

Today we celebrate the 5 year anniversary of Sky’s adoption. I was looking at her in the rear view on the way to school this morning…. Trying to be cool mom and not let her know…. She is so big, and such a young lady at almost 8 years old. Where did the time go?
Just yesterday, I picked her up for the first time and slid her very first pair of sparkly sandals on the tiniest not-quite-two year old feet I had ever seen. She had never really had shoes before that I guess, because oh how she loved those shoes from the moment she saw them. Never one to go barefooted, even indoors, she would point her shoes out to everyone, everywhere….and I mean everywhere.
Those questions that everyone likes to ask a toddler — “Hello, little girl, what’s your name? How old are you? — were all met with “I Skylar (which sounded like Tyla in her little voice). See my SHOES!” The emphasis was on SHOES and she would say nothing else until you acknowledged her footwear with a statement about their beauty. This would open a floodgate of conversation from her…..but until you commented on her shoes all you got was the above phrase repeated ad nauseum. I took to warning people in advance about this little quirk so often accompanied by a foot pushed into their chest. (Sky lived in my arms or in a wrap for the first year or so that she was home, so a quick thrust with her foot could plant her sparkly purple sandal right in our companion’s bosom.
She’s grown so much and become such a fine girl, but she still loves her shoes. Mommy went to the Goodwill this morning and spotted a pair of practically brand new Nike’s with rainbow trim. Perhaps one more time I can hear “I Skylar. See my SHOES!”

Okay… technically this post is going to cover 2 reasons I hate Walmart.

I was in the Walmart in my town yesterday. They are clearing out the fabric area. After having driven every one else that handles fabric in my little suburb out of business, they are now going to quit carrying fabric because their profit margin isn’t high enough. It’s a little thing, I know, but still….

This morning, I left the house with Silas and realized that I had forgotten his sippy of juice. We needed to go to the pediatrician’s this morning, and its a long wait, so I went by the Walmart in our neighboring town on the way to see the ped. I got what I needed and left. Arrived at the pediatrician’s office and discovered that we only had one of his processors. HE HAD CHUCKED OFF ONE OF HIS CI PROCESSORS IN WALMART!

Double back to the Walmart….and start trying to search for them while holding an almost two year old.

I stopped at the cart area. The well-meaning people there were too busy to help me look for the processor, but weren’t too busy to ask me twice what it looked like while I held up the matching one and said IT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE THIS. The 8 cart boys on duty apparently hadn’t brought in any carts since I left and weren’t bringing in any now. (They were flirting with the cashiers instead. ) So the cart area attendant encouraged me to look in the parking lot some more.

I went to the customer service area. The two little girls behind the counter said no one had turned it in. They stared blankly at me and fiddled with their text phones while I tried to explain what it was, what it looked like, etc. I had to ask them twice to give me a sheet of paper to leave my name and number. They never offered to page the PA system and ask folks in the store to keep an eye out for it.

At this point, I’m somewhere between hyperventilating and sobbing. I’ve called Silas’ baby sitter who was going to meet me at the pediatrician’s and she comes to help me with Silas while I search. No one in the store is actually helping me look. Although they can all give you very good reasons why they can’t leave their “posts”, these reasons don’t keep them from leaving their posts to stare blankly at you while you search frantically for your lost piece of medical equipment. The cart boys can’t be found to help you search through the carts (hundreds of them that all look exactly alike). They are on their “break”. They’ve only been on their shift for 30 minutes, but they are “on break”.

I spent two hours in the Walmart this morning. Mostly alternating between crawling on my hands and knees and holding my son while I sobbed. Only in the last 20 minutes of this death march did anyone offer me any practical help. One of the little cashiers got someone to call out over the PA system about the lost “hearing aid”. Finally, the cart attendant who couldn’t leave his post to help me look for the darn thing came strolling over and handed it to me. The cart boys finally came off their “break” and one of them found it in the carts he was trying to shove in the little cave at the front of the store.

Thank the Lord it was found… But it is astounding the number of people who can and will just stand around and watch another person struggling in misery and do absolutely NOTHING but stare at them. I know this isn’t a WALMART exclusive issue. But their customer service leaves a lot to be desired when a customer requires genuine help.

I think I need a drink.

Tomorrow we go to N.O. to get Silas’ processors. We officially start the part of this journey that involves actual hearing. I’m nervous, excited, a little scared for my little boy as he enters a part of the world that he has been oblivious to since birth, and very, very humbled at my small part in God’s great plan for my baby.

We got an inoccuous looking little envelope from Ochsner’s Saturday, very much like the half dozen envelopes we received from them before. Inside was a statement detailing the costs of little man’s implant surgery, letting us know what they were filing with our insurance. You may be intrigued to know that the gift of hearing via bi-lateral cochlear implants comes with a price tag of $180,000.00! I laughed so hard at the absurdity of us being able to pay anything close to that amount that I thought I might wet myself!

After deciding to keep the statement for Silas’ scrapbook, I got to thinking about that exhorbitant price and how absolutely worth it the possibility of hearing is. What I would give to be able to fix all of my children’s issues for such a trifle…. How thrilled I am to be given the opportunity to give to my children, to a future that will live on far beyond me…. And how humbled I am that the Lord has blessed us to be able to make this surgery possible. Praise God for his indescribable gift, for my precious angels with smiling faces, ringing laughs, and robotic ears.

The title is a line from a corny C&W song…. Some Days You’re the Windshield; Some Days You’re the Bug. Silly, I know, but apt to describe my day. I spent 4.5 hours in a doctor’s office this afternoon trying to get an explanation for why Silas suddenly has developed a bloody nose four nights in a row. My reward at the end of what I am hereafter referring to as “The Death March of Dora the Explorer Scrubs” — a prescription for glorified NeoSporin from a pediatrician who cannot for the life of her remember our last name (despite the fact that she sees ALL of my kids) and refers to me as “the library lady”. *smirking eyeroll here* Then, in trying to follow her advice, I reopen Silas’ scabs in his nose and he begins GUSHING blood all over me, spurring me to call my hubby home from gymnastics class with the girls. The disruption to our schedule sent Paige into a panic that spiraled quickly into a tantrum complete with growling, slobbering, kicking the walls, and throwing herself in a heap on the floor. Needless to say, I did not handle this as the crowning glory to my already extra-ordinary day and responded in a less than grown up manner. She finally calmed down enough to fall asleep about an hour ago. Some days you just are the bug. Today was my day.