Well yesterday we went and purchased the third hamster addition to our family.
This one is a light golden tan female, she is a little bit bigger than the last two and she attracted us because she was laying on her back, sleeping, with a carrot portion half hanging from her little mouth. There was no debate, she fit into our family easily.
The girls were delighted and since the last cage has been battered and bruised from 4 years of hamster service, we went ahead and purchased a 'princess hamster palace" for the newbie.
Since we didn't think things through...okay, fine...Since I didn't think things through, we purchased the hamster first and then discovered leaving the wood chewing rodent in a cardboard box while we went into a restaurant wasn't a great idea.
I decided to improvise and purchase take-out. We agreed on Dibella's subs.
The plan was, the girls would wait in the car and I would run in and get the Subs.
The second half worked out fine, but when I was walking back out from the shop, I could see the doors of the car opened and my girls backsides on the outside, and their front halves half tucked under the front passenger seat and loud frantic shrills coming from the same sources.
I opened the trunk, placed everything inside and listened for a second to the two girls conversing, or basically arguing.
"There she is! Grab her!"
"I can't, I don't have a glove!"
"You don't need a glove, just grab her!"
"You grab her, she is going to bite!
"So you got a hamster that you are scared of."
"Well if you are so brave you grab her!!"
"I didn't want the thing, it is your hamster, you grab it, you deserve the bite, not me."
At this point, I make my presence be made known.
*clearing voice*
Two little heads pop up and the owner of the rodent sobs.
"Mommy, I just peeked. My other ones didn't jump, this one jumps."
I assure her that I am not upset at her, we just need to recapture her.
"I get the box, lay it down on the floor of the back seat and tell my daughter to scoop up and close the box as soon as it enters it. I then hand the ice scraper to the older child, already in the front.
"Poke her just enough to make her move, do not cause spleen injuries."
The scraper pokes, the rodent screams, yes, you heard me right, a mixture of a scream and hiss, the three of us lean back with eyes widened, the wicked hamster runs into the box and is immediately enclosed amongst our cheers.
The three of us get into the car to head home.
I state," Baby, did we know this hamster made that hideous terrifying noise?"
No one had knew that a hamster can screech. The other two we had were silent, this one is not.
The hamster gets to the house and makes us scramble once more. We open the box to transfer her and she leaps, yes leaps mind you, not a little hamster hop, but a humongous, trapeze artist leap. We dash after her and in short time I have her, and she flattens her body and I don't.
This game goes on for three more tackles and finally I get her into the cage while she once again screeches and un-nerves me.
I am frazzled, hair on end, eyes enlarged and breathing reduced to raspy intakes of air.
"She stays in there!" I point at her as she tugs on the fresh bedding, in her newly purchased castle, she acts happy and content, not even upset with her ordeal.
I, on the other hand, am still pointing as my breath returns to normal.
The girls name her Skizzy, (short for schizophrenic, and scoop up the cage and walk away giggling.
I watch as it looks back at me though it's light pink cage bottom as it is being toted away and could swear it winked.

OH yeah, I am afraid.

My children are at the end of the two week extension without mom, and they are looking forward to Sunday evening.
My oldest, the college student, called and said, "Momma, I am coming home for a week, if it is okay. I need something more than Ramon Noodles, can you cook me home made meals. No pizza either, I can't take it."
I felt this wonderful uncurling of pride and answered with enthusiasm. "Baby, I will LOVE to feed and coddle you a bit. Get your butt home."
After gloating for half the day about that, my little one calls, her sobs make it hard to understand, her little hiccups blending in as she calms herself enough to tell me, my fear trying to keep abated. "What is it baby?"
"Momma..oh Mommy...Mr Waffles is ... d- dead. I found him..tonight."
My heart hurts for my sweets loss of the little hamster dude that has Bitten a hole into everyone of us. "He lived to be 2 years baby, that's quite a while for a hamster, and he was loved, no hamster has had such a great life as yours, you were an awesome pet owner."

Her hiccups slow and she takes long breaths. "I know, can I get another?"

"Are you sure you want to go through this again?" recalling the same heartbreak with the last one as well.

"Yes."

"Okay, we shall go hampster shopping again."
As she takes a long deep breath and I ask her the hard question. "Did you bury him."
She sighs and tells me her sisters are going to help her tomorrow.

This morning I call her to see how she is dealing. She tells me she is fine, and that the burial took place.
I ask, "Are you still feeling sad."
She says, "Mom, it's a hamster, one night is all you cry for with a hamster."

"Oh. Okay" after a bit more talk I hang up now knowing the grieving period for rodents and 12 year olds.

Later today my Ashli child calls, rare is her calls, I usually talk to her regularly on aol.
She tells me how her new favorite shirt has a hole in the arm seam and that she has an assignment that is due monday. She says in an exasperated voice that she needs my help.
After getting the gist I tell her to bring it with her and we will complete it. I also tell her the shirt will easily sew since the seam gave out.
Just a bit ago my 19 year old calls again, her glasses were stolen.
She left them with her books at college in the mail study room while she went to the bathroom, but when she returned they were gone, can I help her buy another pair?
Since they are important for her education and she is on a limited "Denny's" income, I agree to set the appointment for early next week.
I hang up and stare into space, so many thoughts trail around in my head. I love my sweet dear children who prove they need me regularly as much as I need them. I can't wait to wrap my arms around them, to smell their hair and kiss their foreheads and tell them in person how much they mean to me.
And yet,..Yet I shall have to kiss my dear sweet precious man goodbye as I hop in the car and drive two weeks away.

Joy and sorrow waltz in circles always in my heart.

I was on Whit's blog today and he was sharing Einstein's thoughts on religion, which spawned a few memories for me.
Reading the comments and listening to the banter of opinions of what religion means to them left me feeling a bit woozier.
I, at one time, was a strict 'religious' person.
I was a member of a strong religious church and I believed exactly how the word was fed to me. I proclaimed exactly what the majority felt was right and snubbed my little nose in the air at certain thoughts and aspects.
I was considered a strong Christian and a well-respected member of the society. I held high rank in many committees and services in this tight ever loving group of 'strong' Christians.
Then in the blink of an eye, everything I held dear and safe came crashing down. I found out about my husband cheating ways, I stood up to his abuse and I stepped out, away from everything, and yes, I thought by doing this I had abandoned God.

I became the untouchable. I rejected the Church's reprimand to return to my husband and to humble myself. I felt crushed, alone and rejected. I hid for 6 solid months.
My hope was gone. My life in shambles. The fire whipped through and stole all that I knew.



I thought I would live as a condemned woman. I was shunned and I seen myself alone.
Funny, this was better than the life I had been leading.

I was bound to strike out on my own, thinking even God could not be with me, that hurt deep, but I was going forth.
Then, that was when I truly met and love my Lord. See, God kept with me. He knew my heart, and he forgave the error of my conceited ways before I left, before I became humbled.
I started trusting His promise without a religious blanket of convention wrapped around me. He let me know in simple answered prayers that he was still with me, that he never left and that he would never leave. I had placed my efforts in man, and in works. Not in my faith that God is who he says he is.
See, He is not a building, a committee.He is not a routine, ritual or Religious name.
I don't need anyone to tell me to praise God, to worship Him, because I know He has shown me far and beyond who He is.
I went from working two hard tedious jobs, from a controlled and unloving environment, from financial ruin, from religious cut throat, from a starving soul and shredded spirit, to a recognition of true joy.

God loved me for who I am, not what I am.

He gave me a new path.
He gave me a new light.
He gave me a great joy and later a new spouse and a loving household.
I can trust the love in my marriage I have now, because we have what we were originally looking for in life.
We have found comfort and trust in one another and protect each other's insecurities.

Not too long ago I ran into a friend from my past, she was excited at seeing me. She was still part of the 'church' and was telling me how much I was missed. We sat at a local coffee shop talking, then she asked questions that blew my mind. She had known me for 15 years yet she had believed the lies about me and had judged me.
For a bit, I answered her questions one by one, then her condemnation tried to fall on my head as coals, she asked me if I truly felt God forgave me for leaving.
I was saddened that she felt above me.
I stood at this point and thanked her for her concern. I commented on the time as not to rage.
It was so not worth my time.

At the end of the conversation she said, "Well, we can never be the friends we were, but it was so nice to run into you and don't be a stranger." As she stood, I said in a soft voice. "I think we already are strangers, you obviously don't know me." I then left.

Don't get me wrong.
It's not that I don't believe in Church structures.
It's not that I think all religions are wrong.
It is that God showed me his Cathedral, he gave me a new worship and it now allows.... no encourages me, to rejoice in you. To love you as who you are, I don't need to change you, to shun you, to disrespect you or measure you. I don't need a title or a status to prove my love for God. I surely don't have a need to be part of a clique. But most of all it frees me to love you.

That my friend is much better than religion!

Yesterday was a crazy work day.
My boss (she hates being called that) is taking two days off and since I am next in line, everything is on my shoulders. Well since we thought all the teams were ready for this weekend, it should be smooth sailing. Am I right? Oh no.
All three teams called with issues. Minor ones from googling their trip to large ones like the team has 49 members and the site called and over booked, they will be housed in a gymnasium with lots of room but no bedding available. Since this group is flying, and are bringing some tools, they would have to find room for air mattresses and or cots. Well a few calls later and I have the Sea bees bringing them cots.
Around two-thirty I needed a good break, so I ran in and jumped on the bed, dog in tow, we shared my sandwich and played "who can get the rope from Lacey's mouth" one of her favorites, and the phone rang again. It was a team leader, the only team I have yet to hear from, all they needed to do was hand in their paperwork and they were good to go. It was suppose to already be in the mail, that hadn't happened, he figured that since our office was in NY he could drop it off instead. But the ones who can accept it were Gael and I, she is off at a spa with her mom for a birthday gift and I am 9 hours away. I call and make arrangements.
I turned the answer machine on and close the office at 7 pm.
Matthew comes home and we decide, after supper, to watch the Grudge 2.
We gather together our movie supplies, Ben and Jerry's Willie Nelson's peach cobbler.
Suddenly the room is filled with a nasty odor and we have to duck into the couch blanket for cover. It came from the direction of our dog who snuck into Mexican left overs earlier that day, but the true culprit is Randy, from the hollow. http://hollowblog.blogstream.com/
He admits to being blamed for these things and we agree, he is to blame.
Bad Randy, Bad!

I had a meeting with the school via the telephone Thursday.
My middle child was being assessed as she does every year.
She was borderline learning disabled up until yesterday, now it is official, she has a learning disability with Math concept capability and Process thinking.

My assessment?
Okay, so now what?

See, I am the one that notified the school and doctors at the very beginning, before anything showed up in her medical and school records. I knew dyslexia ran rampant on both sides of the family, I kept an eye out for it right at the start.
When Ashli was born I noticed things right away. She could not stand to be on her back. She wanted to sit and she wanted nothing confining to her. A hat was more than she could bear. She never crawled, she scooted around on her bottom, and walked at 9 months(way too early). She used both hands and did not have a dominate. She couldn't follow more than one direction at a time. Plus so much more.
I knew what I was dealing with and although the signs were equally apparent in school they could not assess her because she was still in the developing stages. It was difficult at times because some teachers were frustrated with her because they thought some of it was her being stubborn, but it has finally shown to not be the case.
There is one wonderful thing about Dyslexia that they hadn't figured out yet and I already studied and Understand.

Dyslexia is a gift.

People with dyslexia do not over come, they THRIVE BECAUSE of it.
People with this gift do not fit in the 'learning box' that the school has established for learning.
Dyslexics have great areas of expanded learning that makes them creative inventors in their gifted fields.

(You can learn more on this site.
http://www.dys-add.com/symptoms.html#famous)

Ashli's art is incredible.
So, she is an 8th grader who can't tie her shoes or do a long division problem without the aid of a calculator and if given a watch other than the hours and half hours she can't tell you the time.
Yet the child draws and creates to the astonishment of her peers and teachers. She draws from the inside out and has 3 dimensional thinking well beyond her years. She is chosen continually for art projects and designed the bulletin and play bill for the High School Musical.
The school psychiatrist said her conversations with him were highly interesting and she is in the 97 percentile on creativity and yet the 22 percentile for processing.

He has never seen it before, well, he hadn't met Ashli.

All I ask of my children to do their very best. If they do that, then I don't worry what the grade records.
I ask my child to be reaching THEIR potential, even if it expands beyond or below the standard.
When the conversation was complete, we know that she will be able to proceed to earn her diploma and the school counselor stated, "I will be working with Ashli to help her figure out a career to help her in life". I laughed, already knowing Ashli's goal and not seeing anyone stepping in her way,I said, "Don't worry, she will fill you in." Upon hearing that, her teachers who now have her and the school psychiatrist who know and adore the child, laughed hard.

I hung up smiling because to me, They just woke up to Ashli.