Thursday, May 28, 2009

Fatal Attraction

See this cute little puddy tat?

She likes to torture things. Like this one that she blinded and then watched as it slammed itself into things.

And then decapitate them and drag them into our basement. Thankfully this one didn't fit through the kitty door.

I'd almost be disgusted, except that Momma's vegetable garden and flowers have been virtually untouched. And Hubby, who "hates" cats, now has a strange fondness of this one because she comes when she's called, snuggles with his boys, and kills things. Apparently his priorities for females aren't very high.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Smart Ass

[Comment: I changed one of the names but couldn't change the one that was crucial to the story.]

We were putting on jammies, and as always, we were noticing and pointing out things we probably shouldn't along with discussing who inherited what from whom.

Daddy, slightly disappointed, "Bubba's got the Smith butt..."

Me, never failing to correct Daddy, "No, he's definitely got a Harry butt."

Bubba interjects angrily, "No! I don't have a hairy butt!"

And like the whole thing was scripted, Mooser looks at Daddy, casually gestures his pointer finger at him, and states clearly, "but you do!"

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Three Words and Then Some

A few days ago, Mooser came up to me, hung over my back and smooshed his face up to mine. "I wuv you mommy," he purred. And after I said "I love you Mooser!" and kissed him, he rolled around in my lap, over my shoulders, down my back while experimenting with the phrase. After one final big momma smooch on the cheek, he gave me his infamous sideways glance and happy-danced towards his Legos.

This morning, Bubba stretched with his rear in the air, his head cocked slightly, and his shoulders hunched to allow his arms full reign to zap the remaining sleepiness through his fingers. He then bounced out of bed, only to return to intently sing "I love you mommy," before leaping back out of bed and crushing whatever was in his path, my "I love you too Bubba," following him as he darted out the door.

I must be doing something right. Or I just haven't done anything wrong in awhile.

Saturday, May 16, 2009


Bubba has quite a long list of Bubba-isms. I guess Moosie is trying to make up for lost time. While we were fishing, he was climbing on a fence near the street. While I asked him to get down because I didn't want him to fall in the street, he shrugged and casually stated "I no get hit by a car yet..."


And then today we watched a drum and fife group parade down the street in Old Town. When we urged him to leave after the group had passed, he adamantly pouted "It not over yet!" as he 'happy danced' while the cars impatiently putted behind the group. He didn't believe me that the 10 cars or so were not part of the parade. I think I may have tried to convince him that cars were a parade at some point when we were stuck in traffic some time ago in order to avoid a meltdown. Whoops.


And in case you think I just torment my youngest baseball today Bubba was talking to a little boy's dad whose son was born without eyes. The dad was trying to explain the "fake eyes" and I piped up how Pa Pa (Hubby's dad) has one glass eye. I was trying to relate it to something he knew about to make it easier to understand. But apparently he didn't know, because it looked at me like "What the fuck? Grandpa has a glass eye?" And he definitely didn't understand.

Foot in mouth. Again.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Education Bill Containing Seclusion Language Passes


Missouri, May 14, 2009

A comprehensive education bill that contains language regarding the use of seclusion rooms has passed. This bill moved extremely fast.

Unfortunately this language is not what we would like to see. We recommend legislation that includes all the provisions recommended by the NDRN report and will continue to advocate for such.

House Committee Substitute No. 2 for Senate substitute for Senate Bill No. 291

Section dealing with seclusion:

1. The school discipline policy under section 160.261 shall prohibit
2 confining a student in an unattended, locked space except for an emergency situation while
3 awaiting the arrival of law enforcement personnel.
4 2. By July 1, 2011, the local board of education of each school district shall adopt
5 a written policy that comprehensively addresses the use of restrictive behavioral
6 interventions as a form of discipline or behavior management technique. The policy shall
7 be consistent with professionally accepted practices and standards of student discipline,
8 behavior management, health and safety, including the Safe Schools Act. The policy shall
9 include but not be limited to:
10 (1) Definitions of "restraint", "seclusion", and "time-out" and any other
11 terminology necessary to describe the continuum of restrictive behavioral interventions
12 available for use or prohibited in the district;
13 (2) Description of circumstances under which a restrictive behavioral intervention
14 is allowed and prohibited and any unique application requirements for specific groups of
15 students such as differences based on age, disability, or environment in which the
16 educational services are provided;
17 (3) Specific implementation requirements associated with a restrictive behavioral
18 intervention such as time limits, facility specifications, training requirements or
19 supervision requirements; and
20 (4) Documentation, notice and permission requirements associated with use of a
21 restrictive behavioral intervention.
H.C.S.#2 S.S. S.B. 291 73. The department of elementary
22 and secondary education shall, in cooperation
23 with appropriate associations, organizations, agencies and individuals with specialized
24 expertise in behavior management, develop a model policy that satisfies the requirements
25 of subsection 2 of this section by July 1, 2010.

USE OF SECLUSION ROOMS: This act requires school district discipline policies to prohibit confining a student in an unattended, locked space except for an emergency situation while awaiting the arrival of law enforcement personnel. By July 1, 2011, each school district must adopt a written policy that addresses the use of restrictive behavioral interventions as a form of discipline or behavior management technique, as described in the act. The Department of Elementary and Secondary Education must develop a model policy by July 1, 2010 in cooperation with associations, organizations, agencies, and individuals with specialized expertise in behavior management.

This provision identical to a provision contained in HCS/SB 79 {passed senate as well as house education committee, currently in house rules committee} and is similar to SB 445 {2nd read and referred to committee – no hearing was ever scheduled}. (Section 160.263)

Friday, May 1, 2009

A Lost Love Letter

Dear Mom,

This week (well, Hell actually the past few years) has been really hard. I feel so lost, and when trying to find my way, I think of you. And then I get confused because I can't remember you being my mom the way I want my boys to remember me being a mom. And I don’t know where to go from here, so I keep trying to remember.

I remember that one time I threw up in your car and I got in trouble for eating too much cereal. We had to stop at the mall so you could buy me some new clothes. I remember riding in your car on the way to your work and the brakes not working and you throwing the car in park to stop it. I remember going inside your work once.

When I lay trying to sleep at night and let the dots connect and the neurons obsessively fire off, I remember bits of you crying when you ran over a kitten and me chasing you up the stairs as your body collapsed in grief, you eating brown rice, you knitting me two little stuffed kitties for my birthday (I still have them), but telling me they were socks when I caught you (I believed you). I remember eating at a restaurant, getting a letter from you at Girl Scout camp. I remember sleeping under your bed because I was so frightened by a nightmare I had and I wasn’t supposed to be out of my own bed.

And of course later, I have memories of you being sick, and laying in bed. I have memories of you in the swimming pool, you putting on mascara, and you laying on the couch telling me and my cousin to be quiet while we were playing. I remember visiting you in the hospital, somehow excited by the fact that kids were not supposed to be able to leave the waiting room, but for a reason beyond my understanding, me and Sister got to go in the hospital and into your room.

I remember not grasping the meaning of the visit or the importance of the fact that this was the last time I would see you alive. I remember you laying there, eyes closed. I remember seeing you look similar later at the funeral home, but you somehow looked happier and more alive than that day at the hospital.

But what I don’t remember, no matter how hard I squeeze my eyes closed or try to drift into some childhood coma, is you ever hugging me or physically comforting me, whispering in my ear, telling me you love me. I’m not saying it never happened, I just can’t fucking remember it no matter how hard I try. I see pictures here and there, but I still can't remember.

While there are many who give support, offer advice, pray for me, think about me--there is no one who can give me my mother’s love, my mother’s touch. And I think that’s what I need right now, mom. I need to remember a hug, a touch. Just one time--just one time so I can feel what it was like to have not just a mother, but a mom. Maybe that would help me not feel so lost as I try to be not just a mother, but a mom to my own boys? Maybe?

I am now older than when you were when you died. Your grandchildren are nearly the same age as Sister and me when we lost you. And I think about the depression, the self-reflection, the passion, the anxiety, the whacked-out emotions that I have and how everyone says I am just like you. And I think that maybe you felt this lost, like me, as a mother, and never got to grow past it, to work through it, to embrace it. The thing is you never got the chance to figure yourself out, and more than anything, I think I mourn this for you.

And I think this has been holding me back somehow. Somehow, my map of motherhood ended with your last breaths of life, and I have reached the point where I am on my own, without a guide. It’s time for me to move past this. Not that I am there yet mom, but I think I’m finally not afraid to live past your life. Almost. And maybe someday it won’t hurt so much to live the life you never got the chance to live and to love the way you never got a chance to love. Maybe.

Forever you daughter,