Photos

Not much jabber, just some recent photos for today. Jacob joined the AYSO soccer team for Hollidaysburg. They had their first game on Saturday. He had a lot of fun, and tried hard. That's all we can ask for! Andrew had fun running around the field behind the soccer players!

My sister in law had a party for my niece, Karissa. She's 15 now! Growing quickly into a beautiful young woman. Unfortunately, I have photos of all the kids except Karissa! But you've all seen her and heard her wonderful voice many times, so I hope she's happy with just a shout-out this time:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KARISSA!

That's all for now. Getting ready for school to start tomorrow! Our summer was great, hope yours was too!

My little man, ready for some competition!

Is this boxing or soccer? You decide!

Andrew has to play the part of cheerleader for now.

"OK, so that ball got by me. I'll get the next one."

"Zach, did you see how fast that ball was going?! Holy cats! Guess we'll have to get the next one!"

"Which way did it go? Man, being the goalie is hard!"

"OK, Dude. Get ready. Here comes another!"

"Forget defense! I'm switching to offense!"

" Mom, seriously, can I be done now? "

The latest toddler fad - potty yoga.

"Hey, you got any more peanuts in that cup? "

TV on the lawn.

Jake and Tony, the young studs of the Williams clan!

Hollidaysburg Catholic, Here We Come!

I went to public school. In fact, I grew up in the same school district as we live in now. Our district has always been a good one, probably one of the better districts in the county. I always pictured my kids going to the same schools I did, maybe even having some of the same teachers. For better or worse, that's not how things have turned out.

Jacob spent first grade at the local public elementary school, and while I maintain much respect for his teacher and for the school as a whole, I must admit that we were less than thrilled with his progress. Aside from his classroom teacher, who was always available and courteous, other communications with the school personnel were polite, but curt. I felt early on as if they were being professionally nice, telling me in the words left unsaid that my feelings were unjustified and any concerns I had would be handled their way, not mine. Always smiling, they managed to put me in my place, and not wanting to create a potentially bad atmosphere for Jacob, I did not fight nearly as much as I would have liked. Jacob is a bright kid and the few issues he had were minor in comparison to other children. I was even told that, "he wasn't the worst child in the class." Not to be inconsiderate, but I really don't care about how he compares to other children. My concern is solely the well being of my own child, compared only to himself and his individual potential.

Over the summer, we thought quite a bit about Jacob's and our experiences at the public school last year. Jacob made quite a few friends and felt very at ease by the end of the year. He has been excited about returning to see his buddies and talk about the latest video games and sci-fi shows. But for me, that camaraderie was just not enough to sway the decision to keep him in the public school. I was afraid that the hurdles he needed help with would be swept under the carpet, only minimally addressed, because he is not a child who is screaming for immediate attention. When I contacted the school a month ago in an attempt to be proactive in his education, I was met with the same very nice professional wall. The wall that I was not allowed to climb. I was told that they would take into consideration what my concerns were and then make decisions regarding the plan of action. Don't worry, they said, I'd be a part of the whole process. Really? Because that wasn't the message I was getting from our correspondence. I think they meant that I would be informed of the final action once they determined what it would be. Those communications made me increasingly nervous about what would happen to Jake throughout the year.

I contacted our Catholic school and talked to the principal. I also talked to my brother and sister in-law, whose children attend the school. I talked to some other parents as well as a good friend who has taught there for 25 years. Over and over, I heard the same accolades about the school - the strong sense of family and support, the small school atmosphere, small student: teacher ratio, and the comparable availability of academic resources. When I spoke to the principal and Jacob's potential teacher, they were both very receptive to my concerns regarding his education and were more than ready to offer solutions before he was even enrolled. I also like the fact that a religious component is part of the curriculum.

On top of all of that, I think the Catholic school has a lot more flexibility in their teaching. They are not governed by the No Child Left Behind Act, which in my opinion forces many public school teachers to teach for test material rather than for critical thinking. The Catholic schools have their own methods of assessment and self check, which allow the teachers to choose how to instruct their classrooms.

The smaller size also limits the number of extreme needs in the classrooms. Don't get me wrong, I am a strong advocate for the rights of people with special needs, however; last year in Jacob's classroom I saw some real mainstreaming DON'Ts. In his classroom alone, there were 22 students, a teacher and two therapeutic support staff. That's a lot of bodies in one small room. Each first grade classroom had a severely autistic child, both of whom functioned at about an 18 month old level. Those children became highly agitated with normal classroom activity and noise levels. They got out of their seats, vocalizing, sometimes very loudly, and engaging in typical autistic behaviors such as flapping and rocking. The times when I was in the classroom, it was apparent to me that the child with autism was clearly stressed just by being in the classroom. Not only was he a distraction to the other kids in the class, but he himself was uncomfortable. How is that beneficial for anyone? It was an over-crowded classroom with too many distractions and a very sweet teacher who did her best to keep things calm in a constant state of upheaval. I feel for the parents of that child (although, if he were my child, I would have been fighting to have him placed in a smaller, less stimulating environment, but that's just my opinion). I feel for the teacher who has no control over her enrollees, and I feel for the kids who have to figure out a way to learn amidst chaos.

Yes, kids need to learn to adapt to the world around them. Regular education kids need to be exposed to special education kids. They can learn a lot from each other, can increase tolerance and understanding, and mainstreaming can be beneficial for everyone when done correctly. I just think that it's not done correctly all that often. Then when I look at my child who needs a little extra support, but not as much as say, that autistic child, and see that my child's needs are not met, it makes me quite angry. The squeaky wheel gets the grease. That mentality doesn't sit well with me. All children need special attention in my opinion.

Someone once said that the most difficult part of parenting is not knowing whether or not you are doing a good job. It's so true. You just never know if you have made the right decision until after the fact. Sometimes you can correct it, sometimes it's just about damage control, and I suppose we hope that there are also just as many positive moments when we are confident that the right thing was done.

This summer, I prayed. I prayed a lot about what to do with Jake. There are a number of other things that I took into consideration, beyond what I have mentioned in this blog. I also consulted Jacob. He didn't want to change schools. He wanted to go back with his friends. Would changing schools cause him undue emotional stress? Was it worth it? In the long run, I decided that the long term educational benefits would outweigh the short term adjustment period. He will start at our Catholic school on Monday. I'm sure it won't be an educational utopia. All schools have their pros and cons. But I feel in my gut that this is the right decision. Based on my interactions with the school thus far, I am hopeful that he will get the attention he needs without fighting. We attended the back to school picnic last week and he met a few of his classmates and his teacher. He had a good time playing with the kids, and Greg and I felt comfortable among the parents and staff. Here's praying for a smooth transition, and for a positive educational experience. Hollidaysburg Catholic, here we come!

Making Strides Against Breast Cancer

Just a quick blog for today. I'm using my time to put out a plug for the local Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk, which I will be participating in this October. Since the walk last year, I have personally had two friends diagnosed with breast cancer, both in their early 40's. One friend had a double mastectomy and is currently undergoing preventative treatment, the other has just begun her battle with radiation and chemo. It's striking just how common this cancer is. But there is much research and much we can do to help. If you have even 5 extra dollars, consider donating by clicking the link above. It could be you, your friend, your sister or mother or even you who is on the front lines some day.

(The link is the title. Click and it should take you to my page. Click the donate link, and the rest is pretty self explanatory!)

Just Another Day

I've been feeling a bit at a loss for blog material lately. There's nothing of major importance pressing me to write, and nothing much going on besides the usual routines. It seems to me that our usual routine is one that is in constant motion, but that doesn't necessarily mean that other people would find it interesting...and, as my sister-in-law recently pointed out, I tend to write a lot of meaningless jabber on my blog. She preferred that I be more concise in my writing. Well, Monique, that's not going to happen. It's just not my style. I talk a lot and I type a lot. Just think of me as the John Steinbeck of blogging! Hahaha! And don't read the blog unless you have time to devote to it! :)

Anyway, here are a few cell phone shots of our recent borough excursions. End of explanation!

Andrew on the slide at the local elementary school playground.

One day, Andrew and I took a walk. He found this pay phone, which I swear is the only working pay phone in Blair County! I had my cell phone with me, so I called it. "Hello," he said when it rang. "Hello! Is this Andrew?" I said. His eyes lit up, he looked at me and said, "Mom! It's Mimi!" He talked to me for 5 or 6 minutes thinking it was my mom on the other end, even though I was literally standing right beside him. He told me all about his dinner with Pap and painting at school!

After the phone conversation, he stopped on the stairs of the Junior High to play a while and pose for some photos. Here he is saying, "Cheeth!"

Yesterday we went to another local park, which has a little amphitheater next to it. The boys had a great time running around the stage, singing and doing boyish acrobatics.

That is, until Jacob had to pee. Of course, the bathrooms were closed, so he had to use the tree, which was by no means secluded from the rest of the park! Andrew watched intently...

Then decided that he too, would like a chance to pee on a tree. Thank God it wasn't crowded!

After the park, we went to Wendy's for dinner and the Meadow's Frozen Custard for dessert. The Meadows is just one of our small town treasures. Cookie dough was the flavor of the day yesterday. Andrew marched around the parlor chanting, "Cookie dough, cookie dough, cookie dough" while he waited for his treat.

Shortly after we sat down, however, a stench became heavy in the air around us. Jacob held his hand to his nose and said, "Something stinks!" Andrew did the same...but, of course, it was Andrew who produced the offending odor. I took Andrew to the bathroom and changed a colossal diaper, no sooner returned to the table and Jacob informed me that he too had to use the restroom! Thank goodness that we were the only ones at the Meadow's for the 20 minute time frame when both of my boys decided to let loose! We quickly finished our ice cream and headed home. That was enough excitement for one day!

Tweet Tweet

"Aw, Koelle. You're still known for saving animals!" That's what one of my high school friends wrote when she saw this picture from me:

It's true. Growing up, our home had times when it was a wildlife refuge of sorts. In addition to the pets we adopted from the Humane Society, the no-eared rabbit my sister found at a county fair, and the handful of neighborhood stray cats we took in, we also rescued numerous wild baby bunnies, a baby red squirrel, and cut up tons of worms to feed to the unfortunate birds who were bumped from their nests. Take a look:

Jacob, Ruby, my sister's rescue cat, and "brown one," aptly named by a two year old!

Jake and Brown One - 2005

My dad, Jacob and "White One" (of course!), 2005.

The things our pets endure!

And of course, my beloved Zielia. The best rescue pet of all. She graced my life for 9 wonderful years.

I found her at a local park near dusk. She was so tiny, her whole body fit in the palm of my hand.

She screamed the whole way home, and as you can see, she never really lost that crazed aspect of her personality. She loved me, but everyone else were just intruders in our lives, in her opinion! How I miss her sometimes!

I wish I had some photos of Nibbles, our earless rabbit. He was definitely unique. My sister found him at a fair in North Carolina when she was visiting my aunt. Megan must have been 6 or 7 at the time. The rabbit was born with only a portion of one back leg, and the mother had tried to kill it, by eating it. The person raising the rabbits found him before the mother got any farther than the ears. The rabbit was hand-fed from then on. When Megan stumbled upon him, his ears were still healing and she was horrified that none of the other kids at the fair wanted to play with him or even look at him. They called him "disgusting." She called my parents crying, asking them to please allow her to bring the bunny home. They agreed, and she aptly named him "Nibbles," because his mother chewed his ears off. We joked that she should have called him "nibbleD," since he was the nibblee, not the nibbler! He lived for 12 years!

We also had a stray cat that arrived at our house full term pregnant and completely emaciated. She was full of worms and a complete wreck. We took her to the vet, and she ended up needing an emergency C-section. There were 8 kittens in her tiny body, all of their heads smaller than quarters. None of the kittens survived. Mom had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia and spent 5 days in the ICU at the vets office. The vet also performed a hysterectomy on her while she was there. My mom said, "400$ later, that damn cat is ours." Kitty lived with us for about 5 years before disappearing back into the streets.

Most of the animals we saved with great success. We released many wild bunnies into the wild, and the squirrel that my sister found was released too. We fed it baby formula with an eye dropper for a long time, and soon it became a family pet. It used to grab a nut, run up our curtains and hang upside down eating. It was really cute. But when it went through puberty, it became aggressive. He lived his adult life out in our back yard.

I don't remember a single baby bird success story, though. They're such fragile creatures. They need to be fed special diets every 15-20 minutes during daylight hours. And they are so tiny. Every time we tried to save one, it ended in tragedy.

Unfortunately, I have to say the story is the same for our recent rescue attempt. Jacob and the neighbor boys found it dangling from a string attached to its nest a few days ago. Greg unwrapped the thread, which had become entangled around the bird's wing, and placed it back into the nest. The mom returned immediately and we were hopeful that he was reacclimated. However, the next afternoon, I found him laying on our porch floor. Knowing the likelihood that the bird would survive in our care, Greg placed the bird back in the nest again. He noted that the bird was half the size of its siblings. Not a good sign.

Two days ago, when I came home from work, it was on the porch again. I thought for sure it was dead, and grabbed a baggie to dispose of it. When I got close, the darn thing chirped and feebly lifted its head. Oh boy, I thought. What now?

It was obviously unwanted in its home, but the little guy had an incredible will to live. He survived dangling for God knows how long, and two 8 foot falls from the nest and was still kicking! As a mother, I just couldn't ignore it. Even though I knew it probably wouldn't survive, I couldn't live with myself knowing that I just let him die. What if he did survive? What if there was a chance. I had to try.

So Greg and I did our research. I chopped up food for it and fed it with an eyedropper for the rest of the day. I settled him in for the night, and when I woke up the next morning, it was still alive. I fed it yesterday morning, and then took him to my in-laws for care while I was at work. Unfortunately, the little guy stopped breathing sometime in the late morning. It's sad, but I can't say I'm surprised. In all honesty, I'm glad it died sooner rather than later. Part of me wondered how much I was prolonging its misery rather than truly helping it.

So, farewell, little bird. I hope you are up in bird heaven flying around with some new-found friends. Please pass the message on to your mother to stop building nests on my porch because, although I have a soft spot for an infant of any species, I'm frankly tired of all the poop your family is leaving on my carpet!

Once Bitten, Twice Grateful

Thursday morning was typical in all respects. I got up at 5, had my coffee, threw on my running gear and headed out the door. I popped in my ear buds and began adjusting my iPod to the song I wanted as I slowly walked down the street. Then, out of nowhere, only two houses down from mine, I heard a woman scream, I looked up, and before I knew it, a big black dog had taken a healthy chunk out of my arm. I stood there stunned, holding my arm, as my neighbor said, "Are you OK? Are you OK?"

"He bit me! He broke the skin! I've never been bitten by a dog! Oh my God!" I think I said those four statements 15 times. I was completely stunned. She pulled me into her house and got a wet paper towel to clean the wound, which was dripping blood all over her floor as well as her other dog, which was white and sitting playfully underneath me. The drops of blood all over his back were a gruesome sight. After a few moments of her holding the towel to my arm, I came to my senses and told her I was going home. She was just as shocked as I was, and tried to offer me more first aid. I just wanted to be in my own place and come to grips with what had just happened.

I walked home, bandaged my arm and then headed back out for my run. By then, I was short on time, so I only ran about 20 minutes through town, thinking about the dog bite the entire time. Did she say, "I don't know what's gotten into him lately?" I think she did. I also know that it was not the first time that the dog has run through the yard towards me. There have been times I was walking with the boys and either my neighbor or her husband yelled after it to stop. It always stopped mid-yard before Thursday. But what if it hadn't? The area on my forearm where it bit me would be just at Jacob's eye level. What if it had bitten him in the face instead of me on the arm? Worse yet, what if it had gotten Andrew? A dog of that size could do serious long term damage to a toddler. I was resolved to contact her later in the day and nicely but firmly let her know that she better keep that dog restrained in the future. If one of my children were bitten by that animal, it would take much more than an apology to rectify the situation.

I returned from my run, avoiding her house completely, and got ready for work. I applied another bandage to the wound and headed out the door. I called my doctor and left a message explaining the situation around 8 a.m. By 830, I had bled through my second bandage and had blood dripping down my arm. When I removed the second bandage, the adhesive caught on the skin around the wound and I could see a perfect puncture wound, completely hollow under the top layer of skin, and completely separated from the sub layer of fat. It was about the diameter of a pencil. Yes, Greg was right, I thought. It probably needed stitches.

The doctor called me back around 930 and told me to head directly to the ER. I asked if I could finish out my work day and he said no. It needed tending to immediately. So, off I went to the local emergency room. They filed a complaint with the US Dept of Health, gave me a tetanus shot, cleaned the bite and gave me two stitches. After I got the stitches, I felt much better. As of today, the arm is swollen and tender, but not nearly as bruised as I expected it to be. All in all, the bulk of the issue is over for me. At least, I hope it is.

My neighbors stopped by last night to apologize again. They are considering putting the dog down, but he needs to remain alive and quarantined for at least 10 days to ensure that he does not have any illnesses that could have been passed along to me. We talked about the concerns regarding the dog's unpredictable temperament, and it seems that the neighbors are on the same page as Greg and I. They too are worried about the children in the neighborhood, and in their family. I don't envy them in this situation. For me the ordeal has come to a close, but they now have to make a heartbreaking decision about whether or not to keep their pet. As a pet owner myself, I can empathize. It's not an easy decision from their position. I wish them luck.

In the meantime, my thoughts have been wandering back to my time in the ER. Shortly after the nurse checked me in and gave me the tetanus shot, a man was brought into the ER having a heart attack. He had been doing yard work, had chest pain, and had his neighbor bring him in. His wife arrived shortly after the man. The nurse put the man in the bed on the other side of my curtain and began attending to him. My care was obviously put on hold, to care for the man with much bigger issues than my small dog bite. I couldn't help but listen to what was happening to the man. There was only a piece of cloth separating us. In fact, several times when the nurses and doctor frantically ran around the patient's bed, the curtain brushed my arm. I listened to the man first tell the nurse all of his information, then his voice weakened, and he said the pain was worsening. He was soft spoken and winded. His wife sat by his side and answered the questions that the man could no longer answer. He wanted to sit up, but his blood pressure was too low, and despite several requests, the doctor made him remain laying down. The nurse called the ambulance center and prepared for him to be transferred to Altoona Hospital, a bigger and better equipped cardiac center. As they were waiting for transportation, the man began to seize. The nurses shooed his wife away from his side and into the waiting room. His heart stopped and he stopped breathing. They shocked him, intubated him, and bag breathed for him. They continued CPR for about 30 minutes with various other interventions as well, but despite their efforts, he died.

It was an awful thing to listen to, the last moments of this man's life. It was fast. He didn't suffer long, I doubt he even had time to register the full extent of what was happening. I wondered while it was happening, if his soul was standing beside him, watching the vain interventions. I thought all day and night about him and his wife. I'm sure when they were having their coffee in the morning the thought that one of them would be dead by noon never crossed their minds. "What are you doing today, honey?" "Oh, just going to mow the lawn, water the flowers then maybe run to the bank. How about you?" I bet what started as any other day ended with its details permanently etched in his wife's mind.

Then there were his children. The wife tried to call the daughter several times, but couldn't get through. The son was out working on site at whatever job he had and the nurse had left a message for him to come to the hospital asap. Neither made it in before their father died He was one year younger than my father, 70. I couldn't help but think about how his children would feel, knowing that they didn't quite make it to their father's side. What were their last interactions with him? What were my last interactions with my own father? How would I feel knowing I just couldn't make it in time to say good bye?

I couldn't wait to go home and just be with my own family. We all know that anything could happen to any of us on any given day, but to live with those thoughts would be all but crippling, too depressing to carry with us all of the time. Sometimes, we get a glaring sign from God, a wake up and be grateful kind of shout-out to us, which snaps us from taking the mundane for granted. Its important to simply cherish that morning cup of coffee, to always kiss your children good bye, and to be aware of our choice of wording with one another. A dog bite, in the grand scheme of things, is no big deal, just a tiny blemish on a day which was otherwise beautiful opportunity to thank God for the ones I love.