The Advocate

Yesterday morning, after dropping off Robby at school, Timmy and I headed into DC. Taking a toddler with me to congressional meetings was obviously not ideal, but my lacking a babysitter made his accompanying me a necessity. I tried to rationalize my sidekick by reminding myself that I was representing only my own concerns and that my need to keep up with a mischievous toddler was my personal reality. Unwilling to reschedule or cancel my meetings, I dressed him in his cutest patriotic outfit, grabbed a new bag of goldfish crackers, and decided to make the best of a less-than-perfect situation.

My little Timmy took his lobbying adventure in stride. He was charming and endearing, smiling and giggling almost on cue. Only once did he take off sprinting down the long corridor, squealing at the commotion he was causing. I tried to let him out of his stroller between appointments and he happily played with his blocks and munched on goldfish when I was in a meeting. He was covered with crumbs by the time I put him back into his car seat to go home, but he was also smiling from ear-to-ear.

My meetings went well. I can't say that I changed the world, but I definitely feel that I was heard. I spoke from my heart and from my own experience, relaying my future if my prosthetic care were dictated by the medicare proposals. The staffers were engaged throughout my meetings and asked questions that indicated that they were actually listening to my concerns. Hopefully our visit helped to move the needle on this issue, but at the least I know that I did my part.

It is imperative that everybody take the responsibility to advocate on this issue. Please don't wait for somebody else to fight this battle. If we are silent, we will lose and prosthetic care will return to the disco-era. United Healthcare, a private insurer, already indicated that they are incorporating aspects of these horrific proposals into their policies.

I don't consider myself an advocate, but I am willing to try because I feel so passionately about access to quality prosthetic care.  I think that too many people are afraid to make the calls to their elected officials because they are intimidated by the labels. I never envisioned that I would be going to Capital Hill to fight for prosthetic access, and I was definitely pushed outside of my comfort zone by going. However, I learned that it wasn't nearly as intimidating as I envisioned. In fact, it was so easy that a toddler could do it!

Who could say no to this little face?

Jumping to Exhaustion

Yesterday I took Timmy to the bounce house before picking up Robby from school. I was determined to tire my little Hamlet out, hoping that he would sleep soundly through the night. He had a blast, squealing and laughing the entire time. Before I knew it, we had played and bounced for almost an hour and it was time to pick up Robby.

Actually, I was the one doing the majority of the bouncing. Timmy thoroughly enjoyed being the "popcorn" while I bounced around him.  (Being the "popcorn" consists of laying down on the bouncer while somebody bounces and moves you around.) It turns out that being the "popcorn" isn't nearly as exhausting as being the one doing the bouncing.  By the time we left the bounce house I was a red faced, sweaty mess.

My tucker out Timmy plan didn't work as expected. I was exhausted while he was thoroughly revved up. He ran around the house all evening, squealing and pushing the limits. Of course I had a hard time keeping up with him because I had bounced for an hour.

I finally just gave up and let him play with a roll of toilet paper. I figured that sacrificing a roll was worth the quiet time I was afforded. In a moment of sheer parental brilliance, I bribed Robby with a milkshake to pick up the scraps after his little brother went to bed.

I was hoping that the moon bounce excitement would catch up with my little guy, allowing him to sleep beyond 4 AM. Yet again, I was wrong and he was jumping around his crib ready to play at 3:50 this morning.  Bouncing may not have impacted his sleep schedule, but it certainly wreaked havoc on mine. I fell asleep sitting in my rocking chair at 8:30 last night. 

Next Steps

I was proud of the response from the amputee community to the detrimental medicare proposals. Not only did we obtain the necessary 100,000 signatures in 17 days, I later learned that ours is the only disability-oriented petition to reach the signature minimum. We are anxiously awaiting our response from the White House but I have been warned that it could take up to six weeks. I have to admit that I worry that by the time a response is issued, the medicare committee may have already come to a decision.

The petition, the letter writing campaign and the #NotALuxury movement all worked to rally the community, but the work is not done. Dave and I recorded another episode of Amp'd to provide step-by-step instructions about how to continue to press this issue. The community must continue to press this issue, and right now the most advantageous routes are through the media and through our elected congressional officials.

I took advantage of my proximity to Washington DC and requested appointments with my legislators. I am definitely going outside of my comfort zone, but I believe so passionately in this issue that I am willing to try.  I'm nervous but excited about this advocacy opportunity.


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Labor Day

For the past 14 years  Labor Day always heralded the beginning of the school year.  This year local schools received a "Kings Dominion Law" waiver and started classes last week. Even though both Scott and Robby have a week of classes under their belts, I plan on spending this Labor Day in our traditional manner. 

The lazy days of summer are over and it is time to get ready for Fall.  Today I will be scurrying around doing laundry, shopping for last minute school supplies and trying to get all of our school time ducks in a row.  We won't be attending any pool parties or picnics, but I'm not a total Grinch.  I made potato salad, and we'll throw some burgers on the grill for dinner.  I figure if I serve dinner on paper plates, it kind of counts as a picnic. 

Happy Labor Day!

Need Organization

Oh my goodness I'm happy that it is finally Friday. This week has left me frazzled and exhausted as I tried to figure my way through the school schedule, caring for Timmy by myself and managing all of my job responsibilities. It has become quite obvious that I need to improve my organization skills quickly or my delicate house of cards will quickly tumble.

Timmy has been particularly needy this week, probably because he was missing his brother and daddy.  Each morning he stands in front of our window and sobs when Scott drives away. He has a nearly identical reaction when we drive away from Robby's school after dropping him off. It feels like I spend my entire morning trying to console my heartbroken little boy.

This weekend will be spent relaxing and getting geared for the school year. I am hoping to spend a lot of time developing and implementing new organizational strategies. If scrambling around this week has taught me anything, it is that I am in desperate need of organization!

A Toddler Trek

Yesterday afternoon I had a glimpse into my future and it terrified me. We were at the farm, picking grapes when Timmy decided to explore. At first he was playing in the vineyard but quickly made his way to the small dirt road. In an instant he took off running, occasionally laughing and squealing as Robby and I chased. 

My current suspension system on my leg works great for walking but does not create a strong enough seal to run.  With each step I felt my leg release, and I realized that it was a matter of time before I ran out of my prosthesis altogether. I was horrified when I realized that I couldn't catch him.

At one point Timmy stopped and took off his shoes, allowing us to almost catch up with him. Typically I am frustrated when he sheds his shoes, but this time I was relieved because I thought that we would quickly swoop him up. As it turns out his shoes were slowing him down, and he was able to run much quicker with his bare feet. The fact that we were on a gravel road seemed inconsequential. 

I'm sure that our frantic parade was quite a sight. It isn't everyday that you see a frazzled one legged woman and nine year old running at full sprint after a giggling, barefooted toddler. Hamlet was having a great time with his newly discovered game of chase, but neither Robby nor I were amused.  Robby finally ended up throwing Timmy's shoes at him, hitting him on the back in an attempt to slow him down.  My little Koopa's plan worked, and Timmy stopped to look at the shoe that just hit him.  Robby was able to grab him before he continued running.

I was shaken for most of the day after our vineyard race. I couldn't help but ponder if I can't keep up with my 16 month old, what am I going to do when he is swifter and stronger?  Keeping up with Timmy is a matter of safety and, in my opinion, is absolutely  non-negotiable.  I have to figure out a way to physically be able to run after him should he sprint away again.  Sometimes being an amputee stinks, and this was one of those occasions!

Desperately Need Routine.

I am trying to refrain from self-criticism as we make our way through the first few weeks of school, but I am failing miserably. I just can't seem to create a morning routine and schedule that flows smoothly. Despite my homemade pancakes and bacon breakfasts, each morning I find myself barking at Robby to get into the car. This is definitely not the way I want his day to begin!

I will take some blame for the morning chaos, but I know that my little Koopa must assume some responsibility as well.  A switch was flipped when he turned 9, turning him from sweet to snarky. He doesn't blatantly talk back, probably because he knows that it would not be tolerated, but his tone and demeanor wreaks of adolescence. He always has to have the last word, everything that his father and I do is silly or wrong, and he moves at his own speed.

Not wanting to be left out of the chaos, Hamlet takes full advantage of the opportunity to create his own mischief.  I walk back into the bedroom to remind Robby, for the 10th time, to get dressed and Timmy will duck into the kitchen to play with the cat food.   If I'm not hounding Robby to get ready, I'm cleaning up after Timmy. By the time I finally drop Robby off at school I'm both frazzled and exhausted. 

I miss my sweet little Koopa.  I am not ready for the teen years. I'm promised by other parents that he will return- in about 20 years.

Hopefully we will settle into a routine, and we can reign in Robby's snarky demeanor. I know that we won't extinguish it completely, so I'm hoping to remold it into mild sass.  If we don't do something, this is going to be a long school year!