Harry Saves the Day, and Dr. Penguin to the rescue!

Being a Mother has its challenges, but it has been especially challenging as of late. We finally have an answer to the question, why my son continually gets croup, has trouble breathing, and has an E.R. visit or ambulance ride every time he gets a respiratory infection. He has Asthma.

I am learning, because I know nothing about asthma. Perhaps, if I had, my Son could have avoided numerous trips to the E.R. for the oral prednisone he so desperately needed to reduce the inflammation of his airway.

There are many things that I have learned about my Son. He gets really anxious and agitated when he is having difficulty breathing. Because he is four, he does not always tell me when he is feeling unwell. He just becomes more active.

He hates taking oral prednisone. I got one of his favorite stuffed animals from one of his favorite books. “Harry the Dirty Dog,” and pretended Harry was taking his medicine. I told him, “Harry does not like the taste either. So he is gonna open his mouth and I am gonna pinch his nose so he cant taste it, then he gets a shot of orange juice for being so brave.”

“I’m gonna be brave like Harry Mommy! Let me try it! Let me try it.”

My Son was able to take his medicine. Let me tell you, I tried it. It is bitter as hell, even with the flavoring the pharmacy puts in there. Thankfully, just like Harry my Son was able to take his medicine.

The penguin nebulizer the doctor gave us to take home was a genius idea. Whoever thought of this was brilliant. My Son was a little scared of the noise at first. I told him, “That’s the noise that Doctor Penguin makes when he is trying to make you feel all better.” 

So begins the saga of Doctor Penguin and his adventures. So I began to do what I do best. Tell stories to my Son of Doctor Mommy Penguin, and her little baby that she was trying to help get better. I talked in the goofy voices that each of the characters have. My Son, laughs and giggles and loves this so much. To make a long story short… It worked! He is now taking his medicines as long as I tell him the stories that he requests.

My Nightwish series, has been put on hold for a while, because I am not working on writing and illustrating Doctor Penguins adventures at my sons request. He has had quite a few adventures this week!

“Tell me a story Mom… read me your book…Oh yea! And please draw Doctor Penguin for me in my book. “

and this is why I am writing children’s stories and YA fiction. It has made this difficult time much easier on us both. Sharing something so unique and special has brought us so much closer. It helped him to understand what was going on inside his body, and why he needed the medicine so badly.  Harry the Dirty Dog might have saved the day, but mama penguin came to the rescue!

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Babies Need Milkies

My son recently went to the Medina County Fair, as we do every year. He is only two, (three at the end of this month.) But he loves animals, and he wants a pony.

Daddy Get you, he says pointing to the pony. Daddy get you Mommy horse too, because babies need milkies.

My husband and I laughed. He gets it. That babies need there Mommies. The things that come out of his mouth.

But then again he was breastfed, and understands that yes, ALL babies need Milkies!

Unfortunately we did not buy the pony or the Mommy horse. 

Sleep Deprived Moms

Stay-at-home Mom’s are very rarely ever appreciated. Don’t get me wrong, I love spending my days with my Son, watching him grow into the amazing little man that he is, but sometimes I feel like I am going crazy.

When I go out, my Son goes everywhere with me. Most of my close friends do not have children, and the few that do, our schedules do not allow us to get together.

Many nights I spend getting only 2-3 hours of sleep. When my son wakes up and has to go to the bathroom, or when he has a nightmare and cries, I get up with him every single time.

I have a confession to Make. I am jealous of my Husband and quite honestly depressed. He works 8-1 6 hrs. a day, comes home and gets 6-8 hrs of sleep. I honestly cannot remember a night in which I have gotten 3 hours. The other night I was so tired, I put the ice cream in the refrigerator, and then two days ago I fell down the stairs. It does not help that I have a vestibular disorder that gets continually worse with sleep deprivation.

When My husband wants to go hang out with his friends, I let him, and I know he works hard. But it is not reciprocal, I can count the number of times my Husband has offered to watch our son on one hand. I just feel like I can’t catch a break. The only time I get for myself is between 1:30 and 2 a.m. and even that is interrupted since our Son is a light sleeper like I am.

I guess I feel like what I do doesn’t matter. All I ask is 1-2 hours of uninterrupted time to dedicate to my work, which is writing. I’m tired, and depressed. So the little time that I could be sleeping, is spent writing because I have no choice. During the day, as I am tying to write I have a toddler that keeps trying to help me write, and is scribbling all over my manuscript. I guess I am hoping I am not alone in feeling this way.

Being a stay-at-home mom is hard work.Writing is work too. I don’t think anyone understands that. It is something I have to do so I don’t lose my Mind, because only getting 6 hours of sleep the last three nights has been pure torture.

If only I could sleep like a husband!

 

Be Like a Child

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Somewhere in our lives we forget to truly live. I think that begins when you start going to school. These politicians and board members who sit behind desks all day, working for corporations dictate to teachers how children should be taught. “Common Core” teaches you that this is the way you have to learn. What those people sitting behind the desk don’t understand is everyone learns differently.

It is in the classroom that creativity is stopped. They kill your dreams. They kill your dreams and creativity because they do not want you to think for yourself. A large group of people thinking for themselves is dangerous. For they have the ability to change the world.

Be like a child who has not had their soul crushed. Be fearless. Have faith, and know that you are worthy. Follow your dreams. Live dangerously. Love like you have never loved before. It is in this way you will be able to change the world. It is never to late to start living the life you always have dreamed of having.

What is dream did you give up? Why?
Please leave your comment below.

Believe in Magic

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  My blog name “Snapshots of a Life,” is inspired by the memior of my life I am currently working on.
  
   When I write, I like to think of a book as a series of short stories. I like to fashion my stories in such a way, that you can pick a chapter anywhere in my memior, and read it independently of the collection.

   I like to think of our life as a camera, and the memories of snapshots. A glimpse into our lives. I love writing true stories, but I also love fiction.

   The reason I love fiction is you can create anything you want. Different characters, different worlds and then imagine how they will react to different situations. This creates the plot.

   I draw inspiration from real life, as you can see and read about in my previous blog entry. I feel that this makes a story more authentic. My goal in writing fiction is to find a universal truth in everyday life, then turn that truth into a story.

   I believe to do this, you must look at life through the eyes of a child. Like the world around you is a magic place. That is where you find truth. Through truth, you find your voice.
  

Auld Lang Syne

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As the sun begins to set, the breeze brings with it a melody from the Valley. Faintly the church bells are heard in the distance sweetly singing the melody Auld Lang Syne. It was appropriate because as the clock chimed, another year rolled by. The sunset began to set as my Grandson and I walked toward it and into the field. A lovely way to end my 60th birthday party. He smiled at me as a new hour dawned and said,

“Happy Birthday Grandpy! Happy Birthday. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I said and then kissed his little head.

He fell asleep as I carried him back to his Mother. I remember when she was young, and I brought her home on a day like this. I saw all the light in the world, and for a minute I thought heaven was in my hand. It was in this moment with my Grandson, I saw the beauty of God’s plan.

Notes:

This is a fiction piece from the perspective of a Grandfather. He is 60, and time continues to move on. For him it is just another day, but he doesn’t want to be reminded of it. He understands that the every year brings a certain finality with it, and that one day he will no longer be here (walking into the sunset) and leaving a legacy for his Daughter and Grandson.

I got this idea from a song I heard from the church down the road. The electronic bells really do carry the tune Auld Lang Syne. It was really my Father’s Birthday today, and I wrote this for him. He has a very special relationship with my Son, and I also wanted to capture this in the story.

This gives you an idea of how I get ideas for my stories and books. By being observant, and looking at the world with wonderment. From the eyes of a child.

For those of you who write, I am interested to know how you come up with ideas for your stories, and what inspires you?

Please leave your comments below.

Season of Miracles

Last night my Mother-in-law, Father-in-law, My Husband and I, as well as our son, went to see the Christmas light show in Cambridge Ohio, at the court.

Our son giggled with glee and pointed to the lights as he kicked his legs and bobbed his head. “Look Dat!” He said and pointed every time someone passed us on the sidewalk.

Tears began streaming down his face. It could have been just because he was cold however, he was dressed warmly. I began to wonder if he felt the same way I did two years previously when he was just a seed my tummy.

My boyfriend and I were sitting there in church at the Christmas mass and silent night was being sung. I started to cry as I thought about my Christmas miracle stirring inside of me. I finally got it! The Christmas story is everyone’s story.

I looked at my boyfriend. I felt what I believed was the first flutter of life moving inside of me. I looked at him and said, “I know It’s a boy and we will call him Noah.” I was pregnant and unmarried at the time. People judged me because of this. They didn’t know my boyfriend and I, who later became my Husband. Personally I didn’t care. This was our Christmas miracle

As Noah cried, the memories came back. I remembered that night in church. I cried because our Child was a promise. The promise of a Christmas miracle. Two Christmas before that, we were trying to grapple with the news that I would never have a child. Yet here he is. He must have felt what I felt. Joy and beauty that he was a miracle. My son changed our lives.

I felt what Mary must have felt all those years ago. Happiness that God had blessed her with a beautiful baby boy. She also felt sadness because of those that judged her, because she was an unwed mother.

Noah understands this is the season of miracles. It was also this season of miracles that brought my husband and I together. It was at a Christmas time we
really connected. It was because of Christmas our son is here today.

The Christmas story is everyone’s story. With great pain is great joy. Without pain, there would be no hope. Happiness would cease to exist.

This is the season of miracles. Yours is right around the corner. Never give up hope.

The Gift

We did not get approved for the car loan. However, every cloud has a silver lining. My parents, passing on the great legacy my Grandfather bestowed upon them, decided to help us out. My Mother applied for the loan for the new vehicle, since we could have not afforded another car payment anyways, had we been approved for the loan. She gave us her car. It belonged to her father. It was a bittersweet moment. In may ways, my Grandfather still lives on. He lives through my Mother.

My Grandpa would have done anything for anyone that he loved. It was just what he did. He gave love unconditionally and never asked for anything in return. My Mother and Father are very much the same way. My Mom handed the title over to Me. The last owners name, was my Grandfathers. Yes, this car belonged to my Grandfather. It was never really anyone’s car. We still called it my Grandfathers car after he died. It just didn’t feel right calling anything else. His glasses where in the glove box, right were he left them. The license plate that was his, still in the trunk for safe keeping. This is the car that continues to give. Just as my Grandfather did, and still does even though he is long gone. My Mother and I shared something special yesterday at the Auto title place. A memory of a man we all wish we could share our life and memories with.

We cried as we shared this memory. My Mother inherited the car from my Grandfather. My Mother gave the car to me. It was gifted not once, but twice. the car still keeps giving, just like my Grandfather did. As my parents now do. I thought about how that car my husband was driving, was probably not very safe. I count my blessing,s and can’t help but think my Grandfather had something to do with this. He is still looking down on all of us are all ok. I cant imagine what would have happened to Mike had he not been on a country road. I know my Grandfather is with my family. I have felt he always has been. He continues to live on and his legacy is one that has been passed to my parents and will be passed to us. This is the greatest gift of all. unconditional love, and memories and time spent with those you love that can never be paid back.

My Musical Life

This week was a good week for my Son and Family. It brought back many memories.

My Dad is a Music Director at a local Catholic Church. They have a chicken dinner every year to raise money for the parish. My Dad plays the organ for people who are coming to see the church. After I got out of work, my Mother and I took my Son up to the church so he could listen to Grandpa play the organ.

My Son can never sit still very long. I had him in a sling as I walked up and down the aisle. He got excited as we bounced and walked, listening to the music. He began clapping his hands.

I was then reminded what an impact music has had on my life. My parents first met at church. My Mother was filling in for the choir director, my Dad for the organist. My Mother was very weak because she had just had surgery on her appendix.  She needed help getting up to direct the choir because she had stitches in her side. My Dad was the person that helped her. To make a long story a little bit shorter, here is the kicker… they have been together ever since. If it was not for music I would not be here.

My parents continued this tradition for quite some time. When I was small, probably even younger than my Son… my Mother would place my car seat on the organ or piano during choir practice. Because of this I had a great appreciation and love of music. When I was my Sons age I remember wanting to be like my Daddy. I in my diaper, complete with a tie around my neck… sat on the piano bench at home. Just like Daddy, I played the piano. Matching my voice to the tone of the note as I played.

Then when I was two, I knew the instrument of my choice was going to be the violin. I loved it! My arm would not reach around the neck of the violin so I had to wait until it did. The music store that my mother taught at did not have a size small enough for a two-year old. So finally when I was three. I got to play the instrument I always dreamed of. The violin.

I continued to have a love of music and throughout my Youth I played many musical instruments. Violin, Piano, Clarinet, saxophone, Trumpet, and my latest endeavor, the ukulele. I hope it is a tradition I can pass along to my son. A love of music.

If it was not for music, my son would not be here today. It was love of music that brought my husband and I together. I met my husband at work. One of the first times we hung out, we were at a party one of our coworkers had. There we were. He was playing Guitar and singing and I was singing the harmony.

On another Date, we were at a bar in Wellington, Ohio that had a piano. We were playing the piano at the bar and taking requests to play classic rock songs.

Our Son loves it when Daddy plays Guitar. He loves strumming the strings of his guitar and could since he was about five months old. Our Son is nearly 11 months old now.

We took our Son to two Jim Gill Concerts this week. One in Brunswick, Ohio and one in Valley City, Ohio. For those of you who do not know who Jim Gill is, He is a very talented musician with a good sense of humor. He has a musical life too. He writes his own music and weaves beautiful stories into his music. He is a local musician here in the Ohio area.

The first concert we arrived there early. We got the opportunity to talk to this very humble musician. He even allowed my husband to try out his guitar. Noah loved the music. He started clapping and jumping up and down and then got fussy the last part of the concert.

Noah got fussy at the second concert when he heard Jim play “Yesterday” by the Beatles.  It is this song that Daddy plays for him. Daddy’s at work right now and Noah starts screaming “Dada!” At least Grammie and Grampy got to go!

Here I am reminded that music without music I would not be here. My husband and I probably would not be married, and our Son would never have been born. I hope we can continue the tradition of sharing music and enjoying it in our family.

The Best Birthday

I celebrated my Birthday on July second. My Mom found some old pictures of me, blowing out candles on my birthday cake. The funny thing about being a Mother is, even the money that you get for your birthday, goes to your child. I was reminded of how many things my Mother went without, because she would rather my brother and I have those things. Here it is July second. It is my birthday. I have holes in my shoes, clothes that never fit right. The money I get for my Birthday goes to my Sons food and clothes. I even had some extra to get him a new book. Here I am dressed like a bag lady. Because I refuse to let my child have anything less than what I had growing up. Because yes, on my Birthday, my Son deserves the very best. All those years I never realized how much my Parents struggled. They did without too. I don’t want Noah to worry. Worry that maybe next month we will have to move because our rent went up again. That we can barely afford to live in this one bedroom apartment. So on my Birthday, I am thankful for my Mother and Father. For always giving me the best Birthday possible. I will do the same for my Son.