Nana's Scooter

Nana bought Robby a scooter. I made a comment that he likes watching the kids on their scooters at the "big kid park" and she immediately ran out to ToysRUs and bought one for him. I must remember to send her a thank you note.

Robby is a visual learner. I suppose this is due more to his age than to a preferred learning style. In any case, whenever he gets a new toy, either Scott or I have to play with it first to show him what to do. This is especially the case for any toys involving coordination of large muscle groups.

Scott has been at work all week leaving the bulk of the scooter training to me. I never used a scooter when I was able-bodied, so trying to teach my little guy how to use one properly has been difficult. Nevertheless, I mustered up a happy can-do attitude and gave it a try.

As I was standing in front of the scooter wearing my helmet (safety first), I realized that I was in a quandary. As an amputee, which foot should I put flat on the scooter? I tried using the scooter with my feet in various positions until I settled on my prosthetic remaining on the scooter why I pushed with my sound side.

The stickers all over the scooter all refer to the maximum weight limit. This scooter is not made for adults or obese children. Robby was well under the weight restrictions, but I was way over them. When I put my full weight on the scooter, the plastic began to bow. I knew I was going to have to keep most of my weight off the plastic toy. After all, imagine if Mommy broke the scooter before Robby even had a chance to ride it!

Using a scooter without any prior experience that is too small and too short is difficult. Add the extra "complication" of being an amputee increased the difficulty exponentially. Needless to say, I was anything but graceful. I managed to model how to use the toy. As a bonus to the demonstration, I taught Robby how to gracefully fall off the scooter, several times.

Robby was patient through my lesson. He was antsy to use his scooter and was excited when I handed it over. Despite my cajoling and encouragement, he refused to use the scooter correctly as he pushed it up the driveway hill.

Once at the top, he turned the scooter around, promptly sat on the foot ledge and lifted his feet off the ground. Wheeeee.... He sat on the scooter and rode all the way down the hill. Apparently he didn't need my well-intended demonstration!

At the bottom of the driveway, Robby indicated that he wanted to go again. I told him to take the scooter to the top of the hill. He remained seated. He then asked me to push him up the hill so "Robby can go wheeeeee."

I have made countless trips pushing 40 bounds of full-energy boy up the long, steep driveway. He loves his scooter and wants to play with it for hours. This translates into a lot of walking and climbing for me. Yes, I really must send Nana a thank-you note. I am sure she will be happy to know that Robby is enjoying his new scooter. She will probably be tickled to learn how the scooter has left me hot, tired and sweaty. The sweet revenge of being a grandparent strikes again!

My Very Very Bad Day...

Introducing (drum roll please) Peggy and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Today has been beyond frustrating. If I didn't have an MRI tomorrow, I'm sure I'd be sipping on at least one glass of wine as I'm writing my blog. Instead, I am resigned to retell my tale with a cup of ice water on the bedside table and a wiggly over-tired little boy to my side.

I bought my dream KitchenAid convection oven, large enough to bake 60 cookies at a time several years ago. To my disappointment, my oven broke last spring. A few weeks ago the microwave went kaput, and the lower oven is smoking every time I turn the heat above 350 degrees. I knew we were going to have to go appliance shopping soon.

This morning while going through my inbox I came upon an email from the Sears Outlet. After some research I realized that the bargains were amazing. I called my husband, drove to his work, and picked up his credit card. Robby and I were off to tackle the wonderful world of appliance shopping.

I immediately started to browse when we arrived. I prefer to purchase appliances that are scratch and dent. I am happy for the discount, and partly relieved that somebody put the imperfection on the appliance before I do it. I really wouldn't know what to do if I had a brand new, out of the box, unblemished kitchen appliance. It would certainly go against our family motto of "nothing but used, scratch and dent, and refurbished for this family."

I waited for about 5 minutes for an employee to offer me assistance. I could see a group of approximately 6 employees standing in a circle, laughing and joking. I walked over and asked for assistance. I was curtly told that "somebody would be with me when they finished their conversation."

Okay, this got me mad. Normally I would have left, but I really wanted a cheap wall oven. I waited another 10 minutes. I approached the group again, politely requesting assistance. The twenty something employee, obviously annoyed, reminded me that they were having a conversation.

My anger turned to rage. In retrospect I may have overreacted, but I was furious and I wanted somebody to answer my questions. After visually scanning the store, I quickly devised a plan.

I walked to the back of the outlet store where the mattresses were stacked. I pulled down a twin mattress and dropped it in the middle of the aisle. I then walked past the talking, don't-want-to-be-bothered working employees, and took a blanket off of the display rack. I put the blanket on the bed, and told Robby (in a very loud voice of course) that "he should make himself comfortable because Mommy isn't leaving until somebody helps her, so he'll probably have to sleep at the store."

Another employee approached me and offered assistance. Finally, somebody to answer a simple questions. As it turns out, none of the oven units came in the size I needed. I complained about the treatment from the other employees, and he asked me to wait a moment. I saw him approach the brood and a brief yet animated discussion ensued. When the man returned he apologized profusely for the employees' behaviors. He explained that the worker's didn't think I would be able to pay for any appliances. I wonder though... Did my prosthetic have anything to do with their rash and incorrect conclusion?

After waiting at the Sears Outlet store for nearly 35 minutes, Robby was impatient and wanted to move around. Against my better judgement I opted to walk through the mall with him. I wanted him to release some energy so that I had a chance of his going into bed at a reasonable hour.

Robby was absolutely charming as we walked to the other side of the mall. I should probably mention that this mall is one of the largest in the country and walking to the other side is no easy feat. Because he was being a good boy, we bought ice cream at the cookie store which he thought was an absolute hoot. I actually got compliments concerning my little boy's behavior.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Robby the Good morphed into Robby Rotten in front of my eyes. He wanted to ride the little train, but it cost $1.25. I only too 3 quarters out of the car because I never imagined that the little rides would cost more. He started to scream, and he was loud.

I had to carry him, kicking and screaming, to the other end of the mall. He squirmed, he smacked and he cried the entire way. In the spirit of full disclosure, he did stop screaming on a few occasions. The trip back to the car went something like this, in a loud volume:

"ARGHHHHHH ARGGHHHHHHHH Look Momom, free food (he saw samples being offered). ARRGGHHHHH ARRGHHHHH Look Momom, free food... ARRGHHHH ARRGGHHHHh Look Momom, big nipples. (pointing to the well-endowed but scantily clad woman in the kiosk) Look Momom, more big nipples.... ARGGHHHHH.... ARGGHHHHHH... Look Momom, Robby eat a boogie ARGGHHH Yummy more boogie"

This continued until he was put in his car seat. I drove home frustrated, tired and with a killer headache. My arms hurt from lugging 40 pounds of kicking fury through the mall. I was angry with the employees of the Sears Outlet. I was disappointed that I will have no cooking appliances unless we find something soon. I was embarrassed by my son's behavior. Robby was thirsty and crying because he wanted water. Apparently the boogie he ate must have been salty.

Always Learning...

I have learned several interesting facts concerning amputees during the past few weeks, and I want to share my new discoveries. Perhaps I am not the only amputee who was unaware of this information.

I suppose I always assumed that my bone in my residual limb would weaken over time due to muscle loss. To be honest, I never really gave it much thought. I considered bone loss to be an issue for the elderly, a result of the naivete of youth.

Recently, I have learned that an estimated 40% of bone density is lost in a residual limb within 10 years of the amputation. I was 29 when I had my amputation. According to this study, my bone density in my left leg would lose 40% bone strength by the time I am 39. I was shocked to realize that I may face a problem as I enter middle age that I had assigned to the elderly.

In an attempt to strengthen my bones in my residual limb, I have embarked on a regimen of calcium and magnesium. I have also started strengthening exercises to rebuild the muscles surrounding my stump. Hopefully. I haven't started too late to rebuild my bone mass.

In spite of all of my efforts, I have not been able to fully eliminate my limp. I have been told that I walk well and that I have a comfortable and natural gait. I think that people are merely being nice. Perhaps I am being unrealistic, but I want my gimpy limp to be non-existent.

A brief interaction with a physical therapist revealed that I have been committing two common mistakes. Firstly, my stride length has been uneven. It was determined that my stride length should be approximately 11 inches long. My stride with my prosthetic leg was 13 while my stride with my "real" leg was only 9.5 inches.

The disparity in stride lengths is a common occurrence with amputees. Although the reason for the difference is not absolutely known, there are several possible explanations ranging from balance issues to insecurity. Although I can never know definitively, I believe my uneven stride length stems from the nearly 5 years I spent on crutches and in a walking boot. Due to the pain during this time, I consciously sought to keep pressure off the injured limb.

Regardless of the reason, I need to focus my efforts on the result. I bought a treadmill off of Craigslist for $20. I was looking for a treadmill back in January, and the prices ranged between $200 to $400, so I was thrilled to find a cheap, electric, fold up model that was so inexpensive. If you are looking for a bargain, apparently this is a good time to get exercise equipment!

Despite his griping, Scott set-up the treadmill. We took tape and marked 11 inch intervals along both edges of the moving belt. Now I can practice walking with an even stride for short spurts throughout the day.

I also learned that I have not been utilizing my "rear" to its full potential. In other words, I've only been firing my right butt cheek when I step with my sound side. When I would step with my prosthetic side, the power from my swing was coming from my hip and thigh. I've started to deliberately squeeze my left butt cheek when I walk on my prosthetic, and my gait instantly becomes less noticeable.

So, let's review. I've started taking calcium to prevent further bone loss in my residual limb. I am also starting some limb strengthening exercises to work on increasing muscle mass. I am also concentrating on an even stride length as well as squeezing my butt appropriately when I walk. Who would have thought after 6 years of being an amputee, that I would have learned so much in a few short days! Off to go get coffee... even step, squeeze... even step, squeeze....

Time Flies By...

Time flies by. It seems like yesterday I was anxiously driving to the hospital to meet my little baby niece. I was hoping that my sister and her husband were going to name her after me, but apparently they didn't think the family was prepared for "Little Peggy." So, much to my dismay at the time, the sweet newborn little girl was named Tiffany. The name suits her perfectly!

Tiffany has the distinct honor of being the family Princess. She was the first grandchild on both sides. She was also my first opportunity to stretch my "Favorite Aunt" wings.

Tiffy-Lou was born during the year I had my amputation. Her birth was perhaps one of a few light spots within a very dark year. I was nervous that my limb loss would hamper my ability to become a Favorite Aunt.

To her parents' credit, I was allowed not only to hold but also permitted to carry Tiffy in my arms. My sister and her husband did not hesitate when I asked them if they were comfortable with me walking with their little girl in my arms while I was using a prosthetic. Ever since that discussion, my amputation has never been referenced concerning my caring for her.

In my normal zeal, I tried to desensitize Tiffy-Lou to my prosthetic and my amputation. I often took my leg off when playing with her. I taught her how to throw balls into the socket. My leg was often placed in her little shopping cart that she wheeled around the house.

I made my prosthetic fun for her. In retrospect, it was probably a little too entertaining. She often tugged on my prosthetic in an attempt to remove it from my stump. One day, I found her on the couch tugging hard at her own leg. She told me she wanted to take her leg off as well.

I found myself explaining to a little toddler that only certain legs come off, and that not everybody has a "special leg." She accepted this explanation and continued playing. The next day I received a phone call from my sister. Apparently Tiffy took it upon herself to discover just who else might have a special leg. She tugged at the minister's leg before church and had tried to remove a limb from both grandparents. For the next several weeks I was inundated with phone calls lamenting Tiffany's leg-seeking behaviors.

I absolutely adore being an aunt. As I see it, I am allowed to spoil her, make her giggle, teach her important lessons, and help her refine important skills. After all, I am in a position where I am allowed all of the fun, and then I get to send her home with her parents.

When she was only 6 months old, I taught her how to put yogurt on her head. She quickly learned that everything tastes better with cinnamon and sugar. When her little brother was born, I taught her that it is fun to eat mac-n-cheese in a fort, naked. I have taught her how to spit, and we are refining her aim. And tell me, why can't she have icing in bed for breakfast every once in awhile?

The sweet little newborn has grown into a beautiful, energetic and smart little girl. Tiffy-Lou entered Kindergarten last week. What a milestone. I am sad to see her so grown up.

I was happy when she called me the morning she started school. Although excited, I could tell that she was terrified. She began to struggle with her words, and started to cry. I reassured her that Aunt Peggy loved her beyond the stars. She told me that she was afraid the boys were going to be mean to her. I offered a solution to her fears. I told her that, if the little boys are being mean to her, she should kick them in the balls. She started to giggle, and then I was abruptly taken off speaker phone. Aunt Peggy strikes again.

Schools Back in Session

Summer vacation has ended, and Scott has returned to work. Because he is a school teacher, he gets a lengthy 7 weeks off every summer. Robby and I have loved having him home, but I must admit that I am excited to return to my schedule with Robby. Besides, my house couldn't take much more of him home for vacation before dirt, dust and clutter would start falling on our heads during dinner!

At the beginning of the summer, I made a lengthy "to do" list. I do this every year. Most of the items on my list are merely carried over from the year before. I must be an eternal optimist because every summer I fully expect to accomplish many of the projects on my list.

As with summer's before, only two items have been checked off of my list this year. The first item, make a list, was checked off in June. The second item, organize the garage, was checked off in July. To be completely honest, the garage was only half organized, but I needed to cross something off to make myself feel better!

Many people in society undervalue and underestimate the work that dedicated educators loyally perform. When summer vacation arrives, Scott is exhausted both physically and emotionally. He usually spends the first week or two decompressing and lying around.

This year, he must have been debilitated by the closing school year. He spent the majority of the seven week break lying around watching TV or playing on the computer. His behavior has caused Robby to become somewhat of a couch potato because he wanted to be with his Daddy.

With Scott and Robby relaxing and lying around most of the time, I was left with the task of trying to clean around them both. I am typically adamant that we eat our meals at the kitchen table. This summer, Scott wanted to eat in bed. This meant that Robby also wanted to eat in bed. This behavior has resulted in constant changing of the bed sheets and an irrevocably stained comforter. I know I am going to have a battle with Robby when I insist on eating at the table.

Scott's mantra for the summer: "Why are you cleaning?" Apparently my cleaning made him uncomfortable. Perhaps because of minimal participation? I have never known anybody to vacuum only the dirtiest part of the room versus the entire carpet. Strange. Many parts of our bedroom and living room have not been cleaned since June.

Scott has been lamenting the return to work for several days. I know that he has enjoyed being with Robby in the mornings. He had a wonderful summer relaxing and lounging. In time, he will return to his routine and so will I. In the meantime, I have to address the laundry piled over all the furniture, the dirty floors, and the disgusting bathrooms. At some point I am going to have to crawl under his side of our bed to retrieve his underwear, socks and a plethora of dirty dishes.

I don't want to sound as if I haven't enjoyed having him home for the summer. It is always nice to have him around and to engage in conversation beyond that of a toddler during the day. I know he is sad to be starting another school year.



As for myself, I am going to put my list in the drawer and save it for next summer. How do I feel now that Scott has returned to work? I think most wives would agree.... Seven weeks can feel like a very long time!

Locked doors = Trouble

Robby is at the age where he doesn't always take a nap. This Mommy needs him to take a nap, but my desire doesn't always translate into his resting. Yesterday we engaged in one of our epic nap struggles.

Typically, our struggles follow a set pattern. I put Robby into bed for a nap, and he would lay quietly until I left the room. Then he pops up and begins to jump, run, spin and play. When he hears me coming towards his room, he runs and quickly jumps into the bed, pulling the covers over his head. Usually this pattern continues through several cycles until "Mean Mommy" emerges, with her forceful tone and stern body language, dictating that he lay quietly and rest.

Yesterday afternoon, after hearing him jump around his room for about 10 minutes, I decided it was time to bring out "Mean Mommy." I walked to his room and tried to open the door. It was locked.

I remember, when I was growing up, that my Mom would often insert a q-tip into the hole of the door knob to release the lock. I particularly remember us accidentally locking ourselves in the bathroom on more than one occasion. I guess I assumed that all doors had this safety mechanism.

I never really looked at our door knobs before yesterday. I knew that they locked, but what I didn't realize is that the knobs are missing the "access hole" in the front of the knob. In other words, there was no way to unlock the door from the hallway. This left me with a huge problem, because my precoscious three year old was locked in his room.

Robby heard me try to open his door, and was eager to leave his room. He became upset when the door didn't open, and started knocking loudly. I asked him to unlock the door, which was a useless request because he didn't understand. He kept knocking, and began to cry. Then he started to scream "Mama Mama help."

He was scared, and I needed to be calm. I went to the kitchen and retrieved a box of Lucky Charms. I then went and laid on the floor in front of his door. I put my fingers under his door. I knew that he saw my hand because he started to grab my fingers. My solution to his panic? I started to pass Lucky Charm marshmallows to him under the bedroom door.

With a constant supply of sugar, he began to relax. Actually, I think he thought of the situation as a fun game. With him calmed down, I was able to work on freeing him from the room.

I began to jiggle the door knob while singing a silly song. Then I stopped jiggling, and he began to jiggle his side of the knob in response. We continued this game for about 20 minutes, pausing only to pass through the marshmallows. Finally, he jiggled the knob in the correct direction and the door was unlocked.

With him freed from his room, I put him in the car and went directly to Lowes. I bought him a new doorknob that I can unlock from the hallway. He finally took his nap, in the car, when we were on our way home.

Ahoy There!

As an amputee I have been exposed to many "inappropriate" or "thoughtless" comments by others. I understand that my amputation could make others uncomfortable, especially if I am their first exposure. I try to remember that the individuals are probably not trying to be rude, rather they are merely awkward.

However, I am tired of so many people referencing pirates. "Are you going to be a pirate for Halloween?" seems to be a common icebreaker. Robby has also been told, on more than one occasion, that he needs to be careful lest his Mommy "make him walk the plank." My all time favorite pirate reference came from an elderly man at the grocery store. Every time he saw me he displayed a huge toothless grin and said, "Argghhhh. Ahoy there matey."

Our culture certainly perpetuates the Pirate-Amputee link. Actually, amputees are often depicted as either helpless or evil in movies and on television. As a confident, active amputee, I find this frustrating.

The other evening I was watching cartoons with Robby and The Backyardigans came on. To be honest, this is not a favorite show of mine, but for some reason Robby likes it. I was doing what all good Mommy's do: I sucked it up and watched.

On the episode, the Backyardigans were pretending to be pirates. You guessed it-- the main pirate was depicted as a clumsy, intellectually-challenged amputee. My ire immediately increased as I thought about passing on this stereotype through a cartoon developed for toddler.

Up until this time, the only pirate that Robby has been exposed to has been Captain Feathersword from The Wiggles. I like Captain Feathersword because, although he does wear an eye patch, he is not an amputee. I suspect that individuals who have experienced an eye enucleation dislike the pirate reference as well.

As the blue penguin was hobbling around the pirate ship, Robby was laughing and enjoying the show. All of a sudden, he paused. It was as if he had made a connection. He crawled down and patted my prosthetic. He then smiled as he looked at me and said, "Mommy pirate leg. ARRGGHHH!"

I never imagined that I would ever need to explain that Mommy is not a pirate. Despite my efforts, Robby refuses to accept that his Mommy is not a pirate. Robby is insistent that my "special leg" is really a sign that I was a buccaneer. He asked to go on the big pirate boat, and now he wants a sword. I miss the sweet, "Hi Mommy" that used to greet me whenever Robby saw me. Now I am greeted with an enthusiastic "ARGGGHHHHH!"