About Me

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I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations. This blogger is available for hire! Let's talk and learn how a blog can expand your business.

Friday, February 05, 2016

Headed Home

We're catching an early morning flight home.  It will be nice to be home and hug the boys!  Trips like this certainly make me appreciate my family.

My Mom has been an absolute godsend this week, dropping everything so that she could come down and take care of the kids. I know I will never be able to properly thank her, but I'm thinking that a gift certificate for a massage might be a good start. I suspect that she could use the pampering after chasing Timmy the Terror for two days. From talking with her, I understand that he has been in full entertainment mode. From removing our floor registers and trying to go spelunking in our ventilation system to playing unannounced games of hide and seek, he has been nonstop mischief. 

I'll try to write more tonight, when I am home and things settle down.  But we have a plane to catch, and I certainly don't want to miss this flight.

Thursday, February 04, 2016


Yesterday was simply exhausting. While it wasn't physically taxing, emotionally I feel as if I have been wrung out to dry. Funerals are always sad, but there is something profoundly heartbreaking watching a young child grieve their mother and parents mourn a daughter.

As expected, this tragedy has hit Scott especially hard. Monica was his first niece, and they had a special bond through childhood. Time has separated them, but those early bonds are strong and always have a way of holding. I wish that I could help him, but I find myself feeling inadequate as all I can do is offer hugs and hold his hand. 

Today is the funeral, which I know will be difficult. Again, I wish there was something that I could do. Unfortunately, not everything can be fixed with words and cookies.

Wednesday, February 03, 2016

Travel Day

The next few days are going to be difficult. Scott and I are headed to Ohio to attend the visitation and funeral for his niece Monica. It is still difficult to grasp that we are traveling to say a final goodbye to somebody who was so young and so full of vigor and life. It just doesn't make sense.

My mom, true to form, is graciously helping us. Without hesitation, she offered to come to stay with the boys.  This morning she woke up well before dawn to drive down to Virginia to watch Robby and Timmy. (Robby has missed so much school due to the snow days and we dreaded having to pull him because we were going out of town.) 

I know that Timmy is going to keep her on her toes, and I feel guilty when I think about the level of exhaustion she is going to experience trying to keep up with him. I'm hoping that the novelty of entertaining his Nana will help to stymie his mischief.  Wish us all luck!

Tuesday, February 02, 2016


Yesterday I was not a very good mom. Despite logging 12,000+ steps chasing after and playing with the kids, one event overshadows all of my positive efforts. I am simultaneously repulsed, disgusted and riddled with guilt when I reflect upon a singular moment yesterday morning.

Everything started out normally, or as normal as we ever achieve in this house. Leaving Timmy to play in the living room, I went to refill my coffee and to fix Robby his breakfast. Up until the moment I walked back into the living room, I had no idea that Timmy had mastered moving the gate at the top of the stairs.  Seeing the gate ajar and fearing the worst, I sprinted downstairs.

The events unraveled quickly, but I remember seeing Timmy standing in Charlie Cat's litter box. He was covered with sandy pellets and little blue odor absorbing bits.  I immediately swooped him from his make shift sandbox when I noticed the unmistakable smell on his breath.  He smiled, licked his sandy little lips and said "mmmm." 

I began to wretch, which caused him to cry. Reaching into his mouth and hoping that I was wrong,  I retrieved the remainder of the dried cat poop that he was chewing. He began to throw a fit when I emptied his hand of the other half of the poop which he was clutching, probably meant to be a snack for later.

I ran upstairs, placed him into the bathtub and vomited while the water ran. I hosed him down and encouraged him to drink as much water as possible. To further encourage drinking, I filled up every sippy cup with water and lined them on the couch. 

Once he was clean, I googled "my toddler ate cat poop" and was astounded by the wealth of information available on the topic. I guess this blog will be added to the mix of stories told by horrified parents recounting a similar incident. While it is good to know that he isn't the only toddler to enjoy an "organic feline snack," I am still haunted by the smells and images I experienced.

Monday, February 01, 2016

Ultimate Gift

Every once in awhile you receive news that knocks everything off kilter, the kind of news that forces reevaluating one's life and priorities. Late Wednesday night, we received such news and, as is so often the case, the news wasn't good. 

Scott's young niece, only 38 years old with three boys of her own, suffered a massive stroke.  While we were initially optimistic about her recovery, within hours news began to trickle out of ICU that indicated that this story was going to have a tragic ending. Monica suffered at least three more strokes, rendering her without brain activity. In a blink of an eye, she was gone.

Despite their grief, the family made the heroic decision to donate Monica's organs. She was wheeled into the OR on Saturday morning, and her organs were "harvested" for transplant into eight patients desperate for her life saving sacrifice. (On a side note, I think that they need to rename the procedure. Harvesting sounds cold and does not reflect the gravity of the gift being given.)

Monica died so quickly and without warning that it is difficult to fully comprehend the gravity of the loss.  It doesn't feel real that somebody so full of life, three years younger than I, can be gone so quickly.  It isn't fair that her boys have to plan a funeral for their mother.

Scott's family, especially Monica's sons, parents and sister, are deep in grief. Yet I can't help but think of the eight other families who are overcome with joy and optimism about the possibility of living. My stepbrother was the recipient of a lung transplant more than a decade ago. I remember the myopic excitement and fear that we felt on the day of his surgery. I was cognizant that his new chance at life was the result of a tragedy, but I never before appreciated the depth of the sacrifices made to be an organ donor.