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Monday, May 24, 2010
Hannah
When we saw the GI dr she wanted Hannah to have an upper GT to rule out reflux, to see if her nissen has come loose or undone. Saturday night she started doing the mouth moving thing kinda like chewing nothing that I am not sure about and getting the hiccups. She had been acting like she didnt feel good all day. the chewing thing and hiccups went on all night and through this {monday) morning. I had given her pedialite yesterday and overnight..she seems much better today, back to full feeds. Does that sound like reflux? she also hadn't had a bm since thurs and finally had a good one this morning. Not sure what to think but glad her upper GI is this friday!
The Last Christian by David Gregory
A.D. 2088.
Missionary daughter Abigail Caldwell emerges from the jungle for the first time in her thirty-four years, the sole survivor of a mysterious disease that killed her village. Abby goes to America, only to discover a nation where Christianity has completely died out. A curious message from her grandfather assigns her a surprising mission: re-introduce the Christian faith in America, no matter how insurmountable the odds.
But a larger threat looms. The world's leading artificial intelligence industrialist has perfected a technique for downloading the human brain into a silicon form. Brain transplants have begun, and with them comes the potential of eliminating physical death altogether --- but at what expense?
As Abby navigates a society grown more addicted to stimulating the body than nurturing the soul, she and Creighton Daniels, a historian troubled by his father's unexpected death, become unwitting targets of powerful men who will stop at nothing to further their nefarious goals. Hanging in the balance --- the spiritual future of all humanity.
In this fast-paced thriller, startling near-future science collides with thought-provoking religious themes to create a spell-binding "what-if?" novel.
This book is a must read for every Christian. It's very thought provoking. I never thought about what the future might look like..this book gives a very real picture of how things could be. I suggest you read this book
to read the first chapter:
to buy the book
http://waterbrookmultnomah.com/catalog.php?isbn=9781400074976
for more info on blogging for books
this book was provided by waterbrook multnomah
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
another for SN moms
moms tell their kids to wake up and get dressed in the morning. And they do it.
Special needs moms put on battle gear to get our kids ready to start their day.
Regular moms ask their kids if they brushed their teeth.
Special needs moms prompt, “Brush your top teeth. Brush your bottom teeth. Did you get the sides?
Open your mouth. My God, give me that toothbrush! You’ve left half your meal in there!”
Regular moms wave goodbye as their kids run off to catch the school bus.
Special needs moms get awesome door-to-door bus service for their child.
Regular moms know the names of all their friends.
Special needs moms know most of their friends by their username.
Regular moms judge other moms when kids have tantrums in stores.
Special needs moms say to themselves, “Hmm, I wonder which disability he has?”
Regular moms complain about driving their kids to sports and recreation classes.
Special needs mom grin and bear the weekly trips to tutors, doctors and therapists.
Regular moms’ kids have a teacher.
Special needs moms’ kids have a team.
Regular moms talk about accomplishments.
Special needs moms talk about skills, as in play skills, conversation skills, life skills, social skills and vocational skills.
Regular moms relax with their kids during the summer.
Special needs moms start their second job as home teachers, therapists and skills coaches.
Regular moms think accommodations refer to hotels.
Special needs moms have memorized the top 20 accommodations for their child.
Regular moms hope their child finds a good career.
Special needs moms are hopeful someone gives our child the chance to work.
Regular moms soak in the tub when they want to unwind.
Special needs moms consider a bathroom break a luxury.
Regular moms enjoy reading the latest best selling book.
Special needs moms should receive an honorary degree for all the disability books they’ve read.
Regular moms go out for dinner and a movie with their husbands every month.
Special needs moms have a date night with their husbands every…wait, what decade is this?
Regular moms complain their kids won’t eat their vegetables.
Special needs moms are so desperate we consider chicken nuggets to be a legitimate meat product
and throw in ketchup as a vegetable.
Regular moms’ kids go to play groups.
Special needs moms’ kids go to therapy groups.
Regular moms meet for a ladies night out.
Special needs moms get together at support groups and forums.
Regular moms have medical claim forms that fit in one file folder.
Special needs moms will tell you a small forest was cut down so we could receive our claims.
Regular moms think OT means overtime.
Special needs moms know more acronyms than a NASA engineer.
Regular moms complain their husbands sit on the couch while they do all the work.
Special needs moms…well how about that? Some things do stay the same!
Got more? Let’s hear them! Send your “regular moms versus special needs moms” to info@oneplaceforspecialneeds.com
Dawn VillarrealAbout the writer
Dawn Villarreal runs One Place for Special Needs, a national disability resource that lets you find local and online resources, events and even other families in your neighborhood. She is also moderator of Autism Community Connection, a Yahoo group for families in Illinois. Dawn has two awesome kids and strives for a day when communities can effectively reach out to support all special needs. Reprint permission granted by including: Reprinted with permission from One Place for Special Needs http://www.oneplaceforspecialneeds.com
Popularity: 5% [?]
Special needs moms put on battle gear to get our kids ready to start their day.
Regular moms ask their kids if they brushed their teeth.
Special needs moms prompt, “Brush your top teeth. Brush your bottom teeth. Did you get the sides?
Open your mouth. My God, give me that toothbrush! You’ve left half your meal in there!”
Regular moms wave goodbye as their kids run off to catch the school bus.
Special needs moms get awesome door-to-door bus service for their child.
Regular moms know the names of all their friends.
Special needs moms know most of their friends by their username.
Regular moms judge other moms when kids have tantrums in stores.
Special needs moms say to themselves, “Hmm, I wonder which disability he has?”
Regular moms complain about driving their kids to sports and recreation classes.
Special needs mom grin and bear the weekly trips to tutors, doctors and therapists.
Regular moms’ kids have a teacher.
Special needs moms’ kids have a team.
Regular moms talk about accomplishments.
Special needs moms talk about skills, as in play skills, conversation skills, life skills, social skills and vocational skills.
Regular moms relax with their kids during the summer.
Special needs moms start their second job as home teachers, therapists and skills coaches.
Regular moms think accommodations refer to hotels.
Special needs moms have memorized the top 20 accommodations for their child.
Regular moms hope their child finds a good career.
Special needs moms are hopeful someone gives our child the chance to work.
Regular moms soak in the tub when they want to unwind.
Special needs moms consider a bathroom break a luxury.
Regular moms enjoy reading the latest best selling book.
Special needs moms should receive an honorary degree for all the disability books they’ve read.
Regular moms go out for dinner and a movie with their husbands every month.
Special needs moms have a date night with their husbands every…wait, what decade is this?
Regular moms complain their kids won’t eat their vegetables.
Special needs moms are so desperate we consider chicken nuggets to be a legitimate meat product
and throw in ketchup as a vegetable.
Regular moms’ kids go to play groups.
Special needs moms’ kids go to therapy groups.
Regular moms meet for a ladies night out.
Special needs moms get together at support groups and forums.
Regular moms have medical claim forms that fit in one file folder.
Special needs moms will tell you a small forest was cut down so we could receive our claims.
Regular moms think OT means overtime.
Special needs moms know more acronyms than a NASA engineer.
Regular moms complain their husbands sit on the couch while they do all the work.
Special needs moms…well how about that? Some things do stay the same!
Got more? Let’s hear them! Send your “regular moms versus special needs moms” to info@oneplaceforspecialnee
Dawn VillarrealAbout the writer
Dawn Villarreal runs One Place for Special Needs, a national disability resource that lets you find local and online resources, events and even other families in your neighborhood. She is also moderator of Autism Community Connection, a Yahoo group for families in Illinois. Dawn has two awesome kids and strives for a day when communities can effectively reach out to support all special needs. Reprint permission granted by including: Reprinted with permission from One Place for Special Needs http://www.oneplaceforspec
Popularity: 5% [?]
If you are an extraordinary Mom of a special needs child...this one is for you!
thanks to my friend colleen for this
If you are an extraordinary Mom of a special needs child...this one is for you!
Mothers Lie
By Lori Borgman
Expectant Mothers waiting for a newborns arrival say they don't care what sex the baby is. They just want to have ten fingers and ten toes.
Mothers lie.
Every mother wants so much more.
She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin.
She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly.
She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57, column two).
Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by the billions.
She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class.
Call it greed if you want, but a mother wants what a mother wants.
Some mothers get babies with something more.
Maybe you're one who got a baby with a condition you couldn't pronounce, a spine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palate that didn't close.
The doctor's words took your breath away.
It was just like the time at recess in the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming, and it knocked the wind right out of you.
Some of you left the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, took him in for a routine visit, or scheduled him for a checkup, and crashed head first into a brick wall as you bore the brunt of devastating news.
It didn't seem possible.
That didn't run in your family.
Could this really be happening in your lifetime?
There's no such thing as a perfect body.
Everybody will bear something at some time or another.
Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, therapy or surgery.
Mothers of children with disabilities live the limitations with them.
Frankly, I don't know how you do it.
Sometimes you mothers scare me.
How you lift that kid in and out of the wheelchair twenty times a day.
How you monitor tests, track medications, and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear.
I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, the well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionally questioned if God is on strike.
I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy columns like this one-saluting you, painting you as hero and saint, when you know you're ordinary.
You snap, you bark, you bite.
You didn't volunteer for this, you didn't jump up and down in the motherhood line yelling,
"Choose me, God. Choose me! I've got what it takes."
You're a woman who doesn't have time to step back and put things in perspective, so let me do it for you. From where I sit, you're way ahead of the pack.
You've developed the strength of the draft horse while holding onto the delicacy of a daffodil.
You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July, counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule.
You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability.
You're a neighbor, a friend, a woman I pass at church and my sister-in-law.
You're a wonder.
This One Is For You
Mothers Lie
By Lori Borgman
Expectant Mothers waiting for a newborns arrival say they don't care what sex the baby is. They just want to have ten fingers and ten toes.
Mothers lie.
Every mother wants so much more.
She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin.
She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly.
She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57, column two).
Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by the billions.
She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class.
Call it greed if you want, but a mother wants what a mother wants.
Some mothers get babies with something more.
Maybe you're one who got a baby with a condition you couldn't pronounce, a spine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palate that didn't close.
The doctor's words took your breath away.
It was just like the time at recess in the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming, and it knocked the wind right out of you.
Some of you left the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, took him in for a routine visit, or scheduled him for a checkup, and crashed head first into a brick wall as you bore the brunt of devastating news.
It didn't seem possible.
That didn't run in your family.
Could this really be happening in your lifetime?
There's no such thing as a perfect body.
Everybody will bear something at some time or another.
Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, therapy or surgery.
Mothers of children with disabilities live the limitations with them.
Frankly, I don't know how you do it.
Sometimes you mothers scare me.
How you lift that kid in and out of the wheelchair twenty times a day.
How you monitor tests, track medications, and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear.
I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, the well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionally questioned if God is on strike.
I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy columns like this one-saluting you, painting you as hero and saint, when you know you're ordinary.
You snap, you bark, you bite.
You didn't volunteer for this, you didn't jump up and down in the motherhood line yelling,
"Choose me, God. Choose me! I've got what it takes."
You're a woman who doesn't have time to step back and put things in perspective, so let me do it for you. From where I sit, you're way ahead of the pack.
You've developed the strength of the draft horse while holding onto the delicacy of a daffodil.
You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July, counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule.
You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability.
You're a neighbor, a friend, a woman I pass at church and my sister-in-law.
You're a wonder.
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