The next couple weeks are a little exciting….

For ME!

When I started this whole writing ‘thing’ I said I would not spend money on my writing until I made money with my writing.

Three years later, I made money! Chicken Soup published the Blessing Bowl and I am proud to announce that they accepted another story to be released in April.

Here’s the book:

Pick it up to read the latest antics of my father. He’s not quite sure what to think of his new-found celebrity 🙂

These two publications and the babysitting efforts of Grandma Judi have enabled me to attend a writers conference next weekend and pitch to an agent….really an agent???

Wish me luck.

In honor of my new found ‘profession’ here, is why I write….

I am a writer….

I am a writer….

I am a writer….

It took me a while to get used to saying this. Even now when I proclaim my new profession, I feel like someone is going to peek from around the corner and call me a phony.

But I’ve started to say it anyway.

I write.

I keep a blog.

I started blogging because we have a severely disabled daughter who ends up in the hospital quite often. The blog started as a way to keep family and friends informed of her variable condition. Surprisingly, my audience has grown and I am proud to say I have met wonderful, supportive people through this network.

But that’s not why I write.

I am a bit of an egomaniac. Okay, quite an egomaniac. I love it when someone reads one of my essays as says “Hey, that was good. I liked it.”

You like me? You really, really like me?

Well, I liked your article.

But that’s not why I write.

I write because I have to. I write because crazy ideas get caught in my head and clog up my brain. These ideas take too much room and then I can no longer remember where I put my car keys. I walk out of the house with two different shoes.

I write for the preservation and proper functioning of my head. Once finger meets keyboard, once I have purged my literary impediment, my brain can then remember to buy milk at the grocery store, brush my teeth and be pleasant to my husband. If I don’t write, the entire household is literally, screwed.

My writing now includes working on a book….a memoir. A Memoir… this sounds quite self-indulgent to me.

Well yes, I am working on a book about my life. You will love it…because you will find me quite fascinating.

Honestly, I think my life is a little boring but this book idea came up and I’m running with it. Okay, maybe not running. I’m on year three of the book project and it’s still not done.

Recently at a writer’s luncheon, I sat next a man who just published his third book. I mentioned I’m still working on my first.

“How long have you been working on it?”

“Three years.” I replied quietly with a sheepish grin.

“It took me seven years to complete my first book. I loved the process. No agent deadlines, no editor timelines, just me and my book. We bonded; my book and I. After seven years, it was like a good friend. I was a little sad when I finished it.” He sipped his tea and looked a little dreamy.

Hmmmm…To become a companion with your thoughts. A friend to your stories….that sounds quite nice……perhaps, perhaps that is why I write.

Impossible is Just Another Word- Jim Furlong

Alexi Salamone was born with deformed legs as a result of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster. He was adopted, grew up in the States and is now on the US Sled Hockey Team.

Heath Calhoun lost his legs in Iraq. He is on the U.S ski team and was the flag bearer for the opening ceremonies.

A couple years ago, a teenager was struck by car a couple miles from our house. Nikko Landerros lost his legs in the accident. He is now on the sled hockey team.

Caitie Sarubbi is a freshman at Harvard and ski races full time. She also has a rare genetic syndrome that only 13 other people in the world have. She’s had over 56 surgeries and is visually impaired.

Samantha’s mother is sitting on the couch eating Reese’s peanut butter eggs, with Kleenex in hand. She in complete awe of the human spirit.

Have you ever skied with your eyes closed? I can’t ski with my eyes closed. During an instructor training, a friend of mine tried to demonstrate skiing with their eyes closed, he ended up in a net on the side of the hill….a big skiing tuna.

I have also never skied without my arms, or my legs. I’ve tried to ski on one leg but I don’t do it very well.

And I just can’t skate…..

At one point in time these people may have thought their life was over….their legs were gone, their spine was severed….the person they were had been altered.

At look at them now…..

A shout out to Samantha’s Pops and Nonnie who are at the Paralympics. Pops is treasurer for a non-profit called No Excuses. No Excuses supports disabled skiers; helping them with training, development and funding. Thanks Pops!

I have a dream that someday Samantha will join us on the slopes.

Impossible is just another word.

After a lovely birthday lunch with Aunt T, we went to see Dr. E about Samantha’s junky lungs.

They have been ‘junky‘ for two months. For most it’s not a big deal, just a winter cold. But Samantha doesn’t have the strength to cough up what lands in her lungs.

And that could lead to pneumonia. We don’t like pneumonia.

Dr. E was concerned that the lower lobes of her lungs sound a bit ‘crackly’. So she ordered rubber cups for her chest. The new protocol is that we lightly beat her chest with the rubber cups for ten minutes twice a day….this breaks up the goo that settles in her lower lungs. The rubber-cup-chest-beating is followed by suctioning.

“I hate suctioning.” I told our respiratory therapist.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing this for 20 years and I still don’t like to suction kiddos,” he said.

I told him this bit of information didn’t make me feel any better.

Dr. E and I met Maria for a coffee after our appointment. It’s crazy and so comforting to have such a group at TCH.

Tonight we beat Samantha’s chest for ten minutes. I tired to come up with some sort of rhythmic song to sing but I got nothin‘. She actually liked the chest pounding….I think it kind of tickled….the suctioning? Not so much.

Still no seizures since the fat increase….crazy.

Happy Weekend!

I’ve read articles on how to advertise on your blog, how to get corporate sponsors to send you cool Mama and baby things. How to write reviews and post them to your blog for your dear readers. Hopefully, you’re persuasive enough that everyone runs out to buy Little Baby Boo-Boo’s Bodacious Butt Cream.

I’ve thought about this but my readers are precious gems. Oh yes you are….if you take time to read my weekly rantings, the last thing I want to do is waste that time to try and sell you Stan’s Stinky Sock Spray.

But when this organization contacted me, I was intrigued. It’s a good organization. It’s a humanitarian organization and I am quite honored to partner with them.

Perhaps you’ve heard of them…..

It’s the American Red Cross.

Which is pretty darn cool.

The Mile High Chapter will be posting a link on Samsmom. If you click on that link and use the code word BLOGGER, you will receive a 15% discount on Child/Infant CPR.

Personally, I can rally behind Child/Infant CPR….much more than Stan’s Stinky Sock Spray.

When Samantha has seizures, she stops breathing. Lil’ Miss can hold her breath for an extraordinary long time when she’s in the middle of a seizure. The first time this happened, it was 2:00 in the morning. I kept thinking of the CPR steps….tap and shout…911…ABC’s... I THEN realized that I hadn’t taken a CPR class in forever and I couldn’t remember the compression rate for an infant.

CRAP!

Fortunately, I never had to use the compression rate but I DID sign up for a CPR class after that. Samantha’s condition throws us many unexpected, unplanned, curve balls but I left that class feeling like I carried an ounce of prevention in the topsy-turvey world of being her mother.

So please welcome our lovely partner….The Red Cross, who has bravely decided to join on this ride. We are very honored.

Sunday mornings at home include coffee, breakfast, the Sunday paper and Meet the Press…..tradition…

Today’s broadcast left me a little fired up; healthcare reform, fighting within congress, back-stabbing, shootings in Washington over political agendas.

It left me really fired up. Cleaning the bathroom fired up, writing a political blog post fired up. What has become of our country? Who are we if we can’t agree on anything? Why does everyone seem so angry?

The more I thought about this, the seemingly hopeless division in our country, the more my balloon of anger and despair grew. It started to fill the room.

And then I read my friend Maria’s post about Jacob’s school fundraiser. Maria gave a speech at the Bal Swan Ball regarding their journey with Jacob. She received a standing ovation and people gave thousands of dollars to the school after hearing their story.

Well that doesn’t fuel my balloon of anger and despair at all.

And then I took Samantha to a free art class, sponsored by a local therapist. Samantha painted with a therapeutic handle for over an hour. I was very, very proud of my little Monet! And very grateful to a woman who would donate her time and expertise to our special needs community.

My balloon of anger and despair started to deflate.

The grand finale was an article in paper about volunteering….that more Americans are giving back and helping their community during this time of need.

Well crap…..I am no longer angry. I no longer feel hopeless and full of despair.

My husband and I honeymooned in France. This was during the time when France pulled out of Iraq, we were eating freedom fries instead of french fries and friends wondered why we would choose to vacation in such a place.

One night we had dinner next to a French couple and we talked politics. “What is important”, the woman next to us said, “is that we are not the French government. You are are not the American government. We are only people, having dinner and enjoying each others’ company.”

So we shared a bottle of wine. Viva La France!

But it’s true, during this time of uncertainty, we cannot forget that we do not represent what is going on in Washington. We are only people, generous, intelligent people who only want what is best for our families, what is best for our lives.

My balloon of anger and despair is nothing but a tiny piece of latex.

So, instead of being angry, perhaps I will sit back tonight with a glass of French wine and just watch the Academy Awards. This is a tad ironic because I’ve only seen two of the ten Best Pictures; Up and Inglorious Basterds.

We are the only couple in the world who has not seen Avatar.

My vote? I loved Inglourious Basterds; violence and all. I think Quentin Tarantino is a crazy genius. Personally, shockingly, my vote is for anything but James Cameron. It’s wonderful to be fabulous at what you do, even better to have other people think you’re fabulous….but to tell the world how fabulous you really are, well that’s just poor form….I had to give my opinion about something 🙂

Happy Sunday.

I love the Olympics.

I especially love the Winter Olympics. Perhaps because I’m from a state that has many winter games. Perhaps because I love to ski. Perhaps because Steve Holcomb, driver of the U.S. 4-man bobsledding team (who won the gold) proudly displayed his spandex racing suit to the world. Perhaps because (finally!) something beat American Idol in the ratings.

Or maybe there is more to it……

We live in a scripted, perfect, air-brushed world. Our entertainment is rehearsed, packaged, reviewed, rehearsed again….flawless.

The Olympics are not perfect or scripted or air-brushed. The snow does not fall. The snow falls too fast and too much. The torch pillar does not rise. People succeed beyond our expectations. People fall. People get injured and yes, sadly, people even die.

It’s uncontrolled. No matter how many trucks of snow you import into Cypress Mountain, there are some things us humans cannot control.

It’s kind of like life.

And it was those life stories that touched me and reminded me that no matter how strong we are, no matter how many hours we train, we are not infallible.

I cried when Georgia marched out during the opening ceremonies without their beloved luger, Nodar Kumaritashvili.

Alexandre Bilodeau, mogul skier, became the first Canadian to win a gold medal at an Olympics held in Canada. He immediately thanked his brother and best friend, Frederic who has Cerebal Palsy.

I cried again.

I cried when Joannie Rochette skated after her mother died. I cried when Lindsey Vonn took the gold. I cried when fellow snowboarders paid tribute to rider Kevin Pearce.

I have gone through five boxes of Kleenex.

I have also found a new favorite sport….the Biathlon; incredible athletes, rifles and skiing. You finish, you toss your cookies and collapse in a heap. You just can’t airbrush entertainment like that.

Every two years we are reminded of what we as humans are capable of. What our amazing bodies can do. We are also reminded that we are all blood, tears, muscle, nerves; vulnerable and yet so very perfect.

In two weeks, Vancouver will host the paralympics. Even more unscripted, un-airbrushed, raw, amazing, life changing stories.

I will need more Kleenex.

It is late….

And I am tired…..

Too tired to post…

but my head feels like a pot of Earl Grey tea with so many ideas brewing in my brain

We had a GREAT weekend at Vail. We celebrated Pops’ birthday and SKIED…thanks to a vigilant, generous, Nonnie and Aunt Jen watching Samantha in the condo……

And tonight I attended my first board meeting at Foothills Gateway….

And I talked to parents of older children whose disabilities are just as severe as Samantha’s…

And those parents still laugh, smile and even get away for a weekend despite years and years of the vigilant, high maintenance parenting required with these fragile kiddos.

I left feeling lighter and quite hopeful.

Long weekends are the best.

Samantha has been sick all weekend. The last five days included suctioning, copious amounts of Vicks vapor rub, calls to TCH and finally…..antibiotics. This morning I found her awake, smiley and significantly less snotty. Therefore, Mean Mommy packed her up and headed off to preschool.

I always worry about taking Samantha on days like this; days when she is not 100%. I weigh the pros and cons of a school day and keep my cell phone close. If she only attended on 100% days, she would be missing quite a lot of school.

So we take our chances.

I carried Samantha into the classroom and was immediately greeted by one of her friends. “Samantha! Samantha’s here! Samantha!”

Wow, well that just made my day! The kiddos helped to get Samantha settled; helped with her coat….everything seemed just ducky and I got ready to go.

Samantha has a chair that we keep at school. She’s getting bigger so we need to have it refitted. On my way out, I casually grabbed her chair to take it home.

Oh no…..

Samantha’s friend stood in front of me, hands on his little hips, staring intently.

“That’s Samantha’s chair!”

“I know Sweetie. But I need to take it home to fix it. I’ll bring it back for her. Is that okay?”

He shook his head no.

“Hey!” Another little guy joined in, “That chair is for Samantha!”

I was suddenly surrounded by tiny tikes slightly taller than my knee and very unhappy that I was taking Samantha’s chair.

With a little coaxing and a lot of promising that I would bring it back, I was allowed to leave.

Whew! Adamant three-years can be a little overwhelming!

With the events of Deer Creek fresh in my mind, I worry about Samantha protecting herself. It is wonderful to know that she has friends who come to her defense…..three year olds who come to her defense…..her mother-can’t-even-get-her-chair-out-of-the-classroom defense.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Now, you would think that raising me would be enough excitement for Mama….

But no, she needs a little something else, a little reminder that she is still young and daring.

So I give you Mama, and a tank full of sharks….

You can see Mama’s tanks up towards the left.

Here she is with the dive master

A little Chum for Chum…

Of course Mama needs to get the family involved….here’s Pops hangin’ with the sharks too….

Mama in her fishbowl….

BIG TEETH!!!!

Mama throwing me a kiss. I am not happy about any of this!!!! Grandma Judi trying to tell me that Mama probably doesn’t taste very good.

In the shark tank with a buddy checking us out.

Nonnie telling Pops how to get out of the tank….take your first left and turn right at the shark

Even the tiger thought she was a little crazy…

I am very concerned about this behavior!!!!