Passing Judgment

Yesterday morning I decided that I needed to reinstate the Christmas spirit in my house. I checked the kitchen for ingredients, went through my cookbooks and made a list. I got Robby bundled up and we headed to the grocery store. It wasn't hard to convince Robby to come along because he knew that we were going to be spending the afternoon baking cookies!

It has become so cold that it is painful to be outside. The wind was whipping around, causing the cold air to push straight through the thickest layers. Pulling into the grocery store parking lot, I didn't even need to consider my options. I instinctively pulled into a handicapped parking space.

I have had a handicapped parking placard for several years. Although I don't always utilize the spaces, I do consider myself entitled. I have a disability that affects my mobility and, at times, the convenience of the spaces is helpful. Yesterday was bone chilling cold and I wanted to minimize my time outside.

It is not unusual for me to receive glares of disapproval from my fellow shoppers. At times I thoroughly enjoy watching the "parking police," as I have come to call them, stare at me as I pull out my handicapped placard. It is almost as if I can see their mind turning as "guess the disability" scenarios run through their minds.

As soon as I disembark my car and my prosthetic is visible, I receive the knowing nod of approval as they quickly look away. When my leg is covered, I often receive judgmental stares as I walk into the store. I have, on occasion, turned and pulled up my pant leg to show the judgmental parking police my disability.

Yesterday I was too cold to appease the spectators. I pulled into the space, grabbed Robby and raced into the store. It wasn't until after we were inside and shopping that I realized that I had been watched. Pushing the cart through an aisle, I "overheard" an elderly couple talking about people abusing their parent's handicapped tags. I knew that their comments were directed at me.

Trying to revitalize my sense of Christmas spirit, I held my tongue. I even stopped to adjust my prosthetic, which was fitting fine, to provide proof of my disability. The sight of them scurrying away as soon as I removed my leg was fun to witness!

I encountered a similar situation flying home from Columbus on Monday. We were flying on Southwest which does not assign seats to passengers. Basically a long line forms as herds of anxious passengers vie for a good seat. Because I have a disability I am afforded the benefit of "pre-board" status enabling me to board before others.

As we handed the attendant our pre-board access card, Scott and I both felt the disdain from the gaggle of not so jolly passengers waiting to board. I was wearing jeans so my prosthetic was not visible. Scott remarked that the other passengers are probably wondering why we get to go first and that they probably angry. I think he was right. I began to limp as an attempt to demonstrate my disability.

As cookies were being baked, decorated and cooled throughout the afternoon, I kept thinking about these two experiences. Is it human nature to pass judgment? When my disability isn't visible, it is often assumed that I am somehow being dishonest. I regret that I felt the need to prove my handicap, but at the time it just seemed easier. Hopefully this couple, along with my fellow passengers on the plane, will hesitate before doubting or judging another person using a handicapped "privileges."

Mr. Bill

We are lucky to have Mr. Bill, an elderly gentleman who lives across the street, as a neighbor. He and Robby have become fast friends. Robby adores and idolizes his friend, eager to mimic everything that he sees. In many ways Mr. Bill has assumed the role of adopted Grandfather.

Mr. Bill allows Robby to help him with most of his outdoor projects. The pair spends hours painting fences, shoveling dirt out of the back of a pick up truck and laying sod. Bill is patient with his little assistant, offering encouragement and never becoming frustrated. Robby was delighted when he received a pair of work boots that matched Mr. Bill's. It turns out Bill was almost as excited as Robby!Robby loves baking his friend cookies and treats. He proudly presents Mr. Bill with various glitter laden art projects which are always displayed prominently throughout his home. In turn, Mr. Bill is trying to teach Robby Greek phrases and how to identify trees. Their interactions are a joy to watch.

In addition to nurturing Robby, Mr. Bill has become one of my biggest cheerleaders. He loves hearing about my adventures with Ossur. He was proud as could be when Robby and my photos were featured in the brochure and print campaign. When the National Geographic crew was at my home a few months ago, Mr. Bill sat in his yard and watched the entire interview, enthralled by the process and impressed with my role.

Robby and I are both lucky to have Mr. Bill as a neighbor and friend. I enjoy our conversations and the respite that visiting with him affords me. Robby is learning how to work with his hands, about nature and the Civil War. The lady down the street might keep trying to get Robby and me arrested with her delusional stories, but I have no doubt that Mr. Bill would bail us out.

Anxious Traveler

Greetings from cold and snowy Ohio! We arrived safely Friday afternoon after what I am pleased to report was an uneventful and easy TSA screening. I like to give credit where it is due. I was impressed that the agent in Baltimore was both professional and respectful, and I'm hoping that I have a similar screening today as I leave Columbus.

Of course, at this point I am hoping to be able to leave Ohio today. The roads are snow covered and icy, and we are experiencing high winds and low visibility. I'm clicking my heels, but I'm not confident that we'll be transported back to Virginia today.

Robby had a wonderful time visiting with several sets of cousins during this visit. We went into Cincinnati on Saturday afternoon to visit some local attractions. The little ones, Robby included, were mesmerized by a toy train exhibit. (The adults enthusiasm was dampened by the 40 minute wait in a crowded room which afforded us a 90 second gander at some trains.) Nevertheless, the kids were impressed and that was the goal.

I love watching Robby playing with his cousins. He doesn't visit with his young playmates often, but when they are together they immediately fall into a comfortable friendship. Robby has two cousins who are close to his age as well as two older (pre-teen) cousins. They all love, accept and make an effort to incorporate Robby into their family dynamic whenever we visit. Watching them interact and play together is one of the best parts of my Ohio visits.

Sunday was monopolized by Robby's first snowfall of the season. He was anxious to go outside and play before we could even change him out of his nighttime gear. We managed to convince him that he needed to eat his breakfast before heading into the snow. I've never seen him drink a cup of milk so fast!

Unfortunately, we didn't have enough snow to make a snowman, but from the looks of it this morning we could probably roll a snowman village! We will be heading to the airport in a few hours but I'm not overly optimistic of my chances of making it home today. Flights are already being delayed and canceled, but I am hoping that we will be spared the fate of a stranded holiday traveler.

In addition to being concerned that our flight will be canceled, I'm apprehensive about the Columbus airport TSA agents. I have not had positive experiences with these overzealous and unprofessional screeners in the past. I am anxious this morning, and I hate that feeling!

Here's hoping that today the stars will align so I will be cleared in a timely and appropriate manner and that my flight will leave Ohio on schedule. Hopefully my next blog will be published from cozy Virginia and not from the corner of an airport terminal that we have declared squatters rights for the night. Fingers crossed!

Ohio Bound

The laundry has been done, the house has been cleaned and our pet sitter has been oriented. The fridge has been purged, the tree has been watered and our tickets have been confirmed. Our bags are packed and our ID's and cash have been secured. Today we are leaving for Grandma's house in Ohio.

I am not sure why, but it is always a lot of work for me whenever we get ready to go visit Scott's family. It takes about three days of work to get prepared for a four day trip. Our little family of three sure requires a lot of preparation!

Robby is anxiously awaiting our "super big adventure." He is looking forward to getting on the airplane and going "high high up" above the clouds. My goal is a little more short sighted. I'm looking forward to hearing the TSA agent tell me that I'm "good to go" so I no longer have to worry about what I might encounter!

This is the first time that Robby is flying since our California TSA horror. He still refers to the "mean man in the uniform who yelled at him" when he talks about our trip. I am hoping that this trip yields less trauma for us both.

Flying with a preschooler is always stressful. My previous experiences have served to increase my anxiety exponentially. Thankfully, Scott will be present and able to watch Robby during my obligatory molestation, er I mean pat down. I know that the departure airport has a Cast Scope machine. I'm hoping that they have learned how to use their equipment since the last time I flew.

Once I'm cleared through security, I know that I will feel more comfortable. I resent that I feel this much anxiety about dealing with an agency that is established to protect us! Wish me luck with TSA and wrangling my husband and Robby through the airport, and hopefully we'll all make it to Ohio safe and sound. Deep breath, okay. Ready, set... fly!

Winter Liner Woes

I know that I've written this before but, with the recent temperature plunge it bears repeating- I despise being cold. I love crawling into bed at night after the electric blanket has been preheating for about an hour. On a cold night nothing feels better than lying down on warm sheets.

On frigid mornings, little feels worse than having to pull on an icy cold liner. Not only must my leg leave the cozy heated sheets, but I must immediately don a silicone liner that has gotten chilly through the night. The silicone feels like ice sliding up my previously warm leg. Talk about a shock to my system!

Putting on a cold liner is so uncomfortable (albeit it fleeting) that I have begun to dread mornings more than usual. I have actually laid in bed the past few mornings, without my leg, contemplating whether or not I wanted my coffee enough for me to put on the icy liner. So far my desire for coffee has won out, but it is becoming a bitter battle.

I have tried slipping a hand warmer into my liner before I go to bed, hoping that the heat would last until morning. The cold shock I experienced slipping on the liner let me know that my plan didn't work. The hand warmers might not work, but I have another idea. I am fairly confident I know what will keep my liner warm, and it is now on the top of my wish list.

A spa towel warmer, basically a heated box, could warm up my liner before I put it on. I figure that I can turn on the warmer about 10 minutes before I plan on getting out of bed and my liner will be toasty warm by the time I am ready to put on my leg. Right now the prospect of a preheated liner sounds luxurious!

I realize that the shock of the freezing liner is temporary and does not justify the price tag of a towel warmer, but I have an inkling that towel warmers will undergo steep price reductions in the January post-holiday sales. I figure I have only another month of shockingly cold liner mornings before I nab a bargain and my winter liner woes will be history!

True, I could just deal with the cold liner and save my money. I could also try keeping the liner under the covers with me, which would probably work. But a girl is entitled to a gadget or two, right? I will let you know if it works.

Emotional puddle

I hate admitting that I'm an emotional wreck, but since I'm writing this between sobs, I suspect that I can't deny it any longer. My raw emotions are probably due to the pituitary tumors (that's my excuse, anyway), but knowing the cause certainly doesn't make the feelings any less intense. I hate feeling this way!

During the past few weeks I have been in the process of clearing our house of unneeded clutter. Between Craigslist and Ebay we've been able to pad our bank account and gain more space in our house. I've sold underused yard equipment, appliances which were duplicates or unneeded, and a variety of toys that Robby has outgrown.

Last night I sold the Thomas the Train battery powered ride-on toy that Robby got from Santa for his second Christmas. He adored that train. It feels like yesterday that he was sitting on Thomas, going around in circles on the track constructed through our living room. He was such a happy little engineer.

Somehow several years have passed and I'm not sure where the time went because Robby is going to kindergarten next year. I can't believe that he is old enough to go to school. I'm just not ready to let him go.

I miss hearing his Thomas the Train horn and the peels of laughter as he circled the living room. He outgrew the train and it has been in our garage for at least a year. I know that another child will enjoy it. Still, for some reason it is hard letting this one go.

I feel silly crying over a train that I willingly agreed to sell. I should be happy for the money and for the space that will be created in our garage. I recognize that he is growing up and changing, and I love watching him grow up and discover new things. At the same time I miss the little baby that I used to hold and the toddler who adored his train.

Someday soon I will no longer be his best buddy. I'm glad that today I still am. I'm going to wipe my tears, take a deep breathe and put the future out of my mind. To avoid a complete meltdown, I need to focus on today. I'm going to sip a cup of coffee and watch Little Bear with my little guy. This afternoon, I think we'll decorate our gingerbread houses.

On Top of Spaghetti-O's

I hate my pituitary tumors. Although I know that they are benign, they have become a nuisance, seeming to become "active" at the most inopportune times. The holiday season is not hospitable to fatigue, mood swings and balance issues.

Typically the reemergence of symptoms is an indication that I need to adjust the medication. Although I hate being reliant upon a pharmaceutical, I have come to appreciate the little pill I swallow every morning. Until I finally have the tumors removed, the medication has helped to restore order and health. I called my doctor last week and went for a blood test which is required before any dose adjustments are made.

I can deal with the fatigue and the moodiness, but the impact on my balance has proven to be problematic. I had enough trouble maintaining my balance when I had two feet. Now that I am using a prosthetic foot, my clumsiness is amplified.

The past few days I have been bumping into walls. My laundry is piling up because I no longer feel safe carrying the basket up and down the stairs. (I figure Scott will take the subtle hint that I need help when he is out of clean underwear in a few days.) Despite seeing obstacles on the floor (having a four year old, there are plenty) I seem to keep tripping and stumbling.

Yesterday I was carrying a full bowl of Spaghetti-O's to the living room for Robby. (Yes, I was a "bad Mommy" and allowing him to eat his lunch in front of the television. In my defense I was rushed for time and needed to be uninterrupted so I could finish some work before a meeting--but I digress.) I tripped and began to fall. Before I could stop myself I was lunging towards our misshapen, strange looking Christmas tree. The bowl of sticky little pasta O's, with meatballs, flew out of my hand and into our precariously perched tree.

After cleaning up the shards of ceramic that used to be my favorite Christmas bowl, I spent the next 45 minutes picking up small O's and beige meatballs from the sharp needles on the tree. I learned that a can of Spaghetti-O's has a lot of O's! With the clean-up complete, I went back to the bedroom to change my clothes.

"Momom, Momom, hurry. Emergency." These are not words that I want to hear from Robby's mouth, especially after the Spaghetti-O shower I had just cleaned up.

I arrived in the living room in time to see Charlie, Robby's beloved kitten, scaling the center of our tree with a small meatball in his mouth. Apparently my clean-up was not nearly as thorough as I had thought! The tree, which was being held erect with the support of rocks from our yard and a thin line of dental floss (green, to be festive) attached to the top, began to sway. Before I could grab the cat, the tree toppled over spilling all of Robby's pretty yellow stars, more spaghetti-O's and a lot of needles all over the living room.

After several deep breaths and a cup of coffee, I started to reconstruct our Christmas tree. I was interrupted when I received a phone call with my blood test results. As I suspected, my medication needs to be increased. (I restrained myself from responding with a witty "D'uh!) Hopefully, with my medication increased, my dopiness will go away. I can't wait to return to my slightly more graceful self. In the meantime, Robby had a blast decorating the tree for a second time!