Potters a plenty!

My Bubblegum Princess.

2012-02-09T12:45:00.000-08:00

My boy. My son. My big guy. My little man. My Roman LOVES all the various things in this world that are boy related. Trucks, cars, airplanes, tractors. Things that growl, things that are remote controlled, things that hiss. and things covered in dirt, mud and rocks. This might change everything.

Recently, we were given an amazing gift. After asking some questions about forearm crutches to my fellow Spina Bifida community, one mother reached out and mentioned that she had some laying around. Her daughter had a set and didn't need two pair. Our lucky day! She did warn us however, that they were hot pink. She sent them out immediately and by the middle of the week we had the box sitting on our porch.

Roman and I had talked about the crutches for a while. I had asked him if he wanted to try some and showed him some colors that he could pick from. This, of course happened before I knew we were getting the gift. I had asked him these questions when I still had plans of buying some. So, I bring the box in and Roman asks excitedly, "Is this for me!?" "Yes, These are for you, Rome." He burst into a small parade with shouts and cheers. "It's not a pet giraffe, man. Chill out" I wanted to squash his excitement. As a mother, you must know how hard this was for me. I wanted him to be happy, of course. But, I know my son and I didn't want to open that box and have him be angry with me.

Roman is starting to become aware of, "things that are for girls" and, "things that are for boys" If I tried to put lipstick on him, he'd laugh and say "No way Momma!" Not that I've ever tried to put lipstick on him or anytyhing. That would be crazy!

So anyway, as he's cheering and clapping I had quick flashbacks of the time I tried to put lipstick on him. I thought for sure that he would see the hot pink, and within minutes of opening the box I would be sending them back. I was so afraid. I want him to love, man I NEED him to love them.

The moment I open the box, I looked up at him. I was sure that I would see his bright eyes turn to disappointment and his crooked smile fade to a pout.

...but it never happened.

Roman clapped and said, "Are these for me!?" "Yes, Roman, these are your new crutches. Aren't they cool?" I asked Roman if he wanted to try them on. "YES!" I was reluctant to try them without daddy here. I wanted more than anything to capture his first time using them, but I also wanted somebody to help him. I was conflicted with two thoughts. The first, if he tries them with no help and falls it might discourage or scare him and then getting him to continue with them might prove more difficult. The second, what if he takes right off in them and does better than anybody could have imagined. I would be robbing my husband and our supportive friends and family that amazing, magical sight.

So, Roman and I agreed that I would record his first time trying them on, and if he wanted to do anything he could or he could wait for daddy to come home. Basically, I just wanted to record his reaction trying them on.

He did an amazing job. He made me cry, he made me proud, he made me feel so hopeful. And, I have to be honest with you, Spina Bifida can easily and quickly suck the hope out of you. Sometimes you don't even know it's missing until you get it back.

A little wobbly, and a little nervous, my little man has reached a new milestone in this journey. I'm so incredibly proud of him.

The next day, we had our first PT (Physical Therapy) appointment with his new hot pink crutches. I'm glad I forgot the camera. It didn't go well. Roman cried, he said he hated them and did't want to use them. He was hitting them on the floor and yelled, "I can't do it!"

We convinced him to try going for a walk. He was wobbly and all over the place. I think he hated feeling like he wasn't in control as much as we hated to see him struggle. His PT assured me that it's hard this time, but it'll get easier. I trust her, so we packed up and moved on.

During the week we left them out in the open and offered them to Roman here and there. He wasn't interested in them. He has lost that excitement for them. I was so discouraged. I was so afraid. Finally, the next week came and it was time to go back to PT. I packed up my crew and with much, much anxiety we tried the crutches again.

Again, something changed in Roman. He had a little more confidence, he had a little more control. He WANTED to walk with them. He WANTED to do well. He wanted to learn how to do them, and it's that level of determination that makes Roman so special.

First, we played with them. Just to get used to them.

Then, we got loaded up, and headed for the door.

He's happy to be walking. He loves Lori and trusts her so much. She has made such a big impact on him. He LOVES going to "Lori's house" and I truly believe it's his love for Lori and PT that have got us this far.

She lets him makes messes and this is him doing, "the robot" A little play time, and then it's back to business!

We're headed out the door! C-ya later, mess!

We're in the hallway, we made it. I stopped taking pictures at this point, because it's the farthest he's gone. It's the longest he's wore the crutches and a smile at the same time. We walked the length of the hallway, stopped for a drink and started to walk back. He eventually conceded to exhaustion and got a ride back to the room. That's quite fine with me. He did an amazing job.

From the very start, Roman has surprised me with these crutches. He loved them when I thought he would hate them, and then didn't want to try them when I thought he would.

I guess what impresses me most about Roman is how stubborn he is. But, in a good way. He's not walking because I want him to (Even though I do) He's not walking because he knows it would make daddy happy, he's not doing it prove the doctors wrong. and he's probably not doing it to catch up with Izzy. (Although, I haven't ruled that out yet) Mostly, he's doing it because he wants to. And, I guess when you're that hell-bent on proving something to yourself you'll do whatever it takes. Even if it means sporting some hot pink crutches with camo pants.

(Insert picture of Roman wearing camo pants and using hot pink crutches)

Whaaaat? I forgot to take the picture. Who cares, it would have been blurry anyway.

A huge, giant, enormous, thank you to The Keicher family for the super awesome hot pink crutches. You guys rock. Thank you so, so much!

My how we've grown.

2012-01-01T22:27:00.000-08:00

When Roman got his first set of braces, we were thrilled. They were his first piece of "equipment" He wore them wherever we went and all through the night. As babies tend to do though, he grew out of them very quickly.

I still remember how my heart felt when I would hear the sound of them scraping on the kitchen floor. The sound of scraping braces meant there was a little boy crawling. CRAWLING! There was no sneaking away, no getting into what he shouldn't. His first set of braces are as special to us as his first pair of shoes, his first haircut or the precious handmade clothes that were knitted just for him. They were made exclusively for Roman, fitted especially for him and awesome-ized with the addition of sweet yellow straps and some happy little dinos. The era of the dino party braces are over, but I remember it like yesterday.

(Dino Party-Retired)

Roman's second set of braces lasted us the longest, thus far. I started off a little excited about these ones. They were a little bigger and sported an underwater theme. Everybody knows that an underwater theme is for big boys, while a dino party theme is reserved for the baby brace wearers.

Near the end of their employment, the deep sea braces started to annoy me. It's a barbaric comparison, but I equate these braces to your child's first poopy..and I'm taking a page from Mr. Bill Cosby on this one.

Your child's first poopy is ADORABLE. Dino Party....adorable. The next few are...okay...and then soon you're plugging your nose and saying, "This is disgusting!" Under the sea braces: Doody with odor.

I love the braces. I love what they stand for, I love what they've helped. However, we've had them longer then we should, they have too many miles on them. I'm happy to say goodbye to them.

Darlin’, it’s better down where it’s wetter, take it from me!
(Retired....thankfully!)

Our third set.....ohhh our third set. These "big boy" braces treated us VERY badly in the beginning. The orthotist, the physical therapist, the orthopedic surgeon and the mother all had differing opinions about them. Where one person said they were absolutely needed the other said they were not. While one person said it would be harmful to wear them, another said it would be harmful not to wear them. In the end, it wasn't a decision dictated by the doctor, the maker, the helper or the mother...it was decided by the wearer...and he said heck no.
We tried with all of our might to get Roman to wear them, to play with them, to even think about them, he was not interested in them. The big boy braces didn't come with fun colors or a fun cartoon. They weren't chocolate covered and didn't make cool noises. They didn't light up, sparkle or beep. They were white, with white velcro. They locked at the knee with a shiny metal lock and wrapped around the thigh with a big white cuff. If you've ever watched Forest Gump, you know the braces in which I speak.
After exhausting all efforts to get Roman to wear them, I finally gave in and assembled a new team of thinkers. We decided to try and have them modified. The plan was to take the scary metal lock and the annoying thigh cuff off. Hopefully it could be done without needing to be recasted and without needing to go through the horrible insurance crap. In my house, we HATE insurance crap.
When the big day came, the orthotist frowned. "These doctors think we can just modify anything, anyway, anytime!"

"swear word in my head"
Oh, but wait...he had an idea...he found an easy answer. Ten minutes after he said, "I'll be right back" he said, "let's try these" And they fit.
And Roman loves them.
And they fit!!
...and ROMAN LOVES THEM!

Boring white braces.

(Status: Active!)

I love talking about the milestones and how he's grown. Because it's not just him, it's all of us. Isabelle is still doing her "leg strengthening exercises" with him. But this time she's doing it with a better understanding of why we do them. I truly believe she is or will be as passionate about Spina Bifida as I am. I love that she gets just as excited as me when we talk about things like braces, walking and getting some time in on the walker. She isn't just his best friend, she's the best PT we could have ever asked for, and she takes payment in the form of chocolate chip cookies!

Roman has grown too. He loves wearing his new braces, he loves going to physical therapy and he absolutely loves walking in his walker. How did we get so lucky?

Oh look, so nice and tidy....

I put my head down to weep momentarily for braces of Roman past and looked up to welcome braces of Roman present and this....this is what I found....

Sullivan has grown too.

He dashed over to show me how good at eating old braces he was.

A+ buddy!

All about: Entitlement

2011-11-14T00:25:00.000-08:00

Honestly, there are times when months go by and we are the Normalton's. Jason and Erica Normalton from Normalville, USA! We don't sit around and talk about Spina Bifida over breakfast, or mention it to people in the streets or at the store. We don't get asked questions via Twitter and the newspaper isn't writing up any giant front page articles. Sometimes, it's almost like Roman doesn't have Spina Bifida and Isabelle isn't saying, "Look at his giant scar!" Sometimes, it's like we're normal parents. Sometimes it just doesn't come up.

Whether we're just driving through Normalville or if we're back in our own little world-it doesn't matter to us. Our idea of "normal" is that, well, we're not normal. The phases we go through, are a part of our daily routine. If we talk about Spina Bifida 50 times a day, or if it comes up once a month, we're used to it.

It's this level of normalcy that sometimes makes it difficult to handle off-the-wall comments from strangers. At the end of the day we usually just shake our head in disbelief, or laugh it off. It can't be easy for strangers, after all, this isn't their normal. It's ours. But, just because we've settled into this routine doesn't mean that every single asinine thing people say to us will fly over us. Eventually one of us will snap.

To help ensure that you don't lose a finger or get kicked in the shin, here are a few things that me, my special needs child and my "typically abled" children are entitled to. Yeah, I said it.

--I have cried and screamed and swore. I've questioned faith, punched walls and wished with my entire body that it was a dream. I've begged God, I've blamed myself, I've been to a level of hell that only a few moms can say they have visited and we have the worst souvenir to prove it. So don't ask me how "I'm holding up." I'm entitled to feel like shit every once in a while. I've earned it.

-- My son has had 10 surgeries in 2 years. He's not done. I know we won't be able to stop at 10. But despite the recovery, the pain, the casting, and the tears he's managed to learn the entire alphabet, he's mustered up the strength to learn all of his shapes, count to 20, and find the courage to be hilarious, charming and sing several classic children's songs in perfect measure. Roman talks better than most his age. Much of his advancement coming from his sister, whose favorite game was, "Speech therapist" instead of "house." He walks with his walker, when doctors said he probably wouldn't. He jumps, runs, dances and kicks in his walker. So don't dismiss his courage and strength by saying, "poor guy" Don't put him under some imaginary umbrella that everybody who is "differently abled" must be really, really sad about it. He's the happiest kid I know, and probably stronger than most of you. Don't pity him.

-- My oldest and my youngest have an advantage that most kids can learn, but never really know. They won't just BE tolerant and speak up for disability. They'll feel it. They'll know it. It will be a part of them just like it's a part of me, like it's a part of Roman. They won't just refrain from using the R-word, they'll stand up against it. They'll say "this is wrong. This hurts." They'll be helpful and kind and genuine. There seems to be some idea that my non-disabled children sacrifice so much in the name of Roman's health. No. If we have a hospital visit, or a long hospital stay they aren't going to kennel. They go where there are toys, blocks, paint and candy before dinner. (and probably again after) And discipline? Surely I don't punish the little boy in the walker. Well, puppy dog eyes or not, he's two which means he does two minutes with his nose to the wall,, just like Isabelle did and just like Sullivan will do. And honestly, if he doesn't stop scheming ways to break into the treasure chest I might just up it to 3 minutes. I have three kids and a husband, that means under this roof my heart splits 4 ways, equally. All the time.

In general, it's best to follow these simple rules:

-Don't park in a handicap spot unless you have a placard.

-Don't ask us what's "wrong" with our kids.

-Don't ask us medical questions.

I am the same as you, my children are the same as yours. Just take a deep breath and treat us that way.

Dear Spina Bifida.

2011-11-01T09:42:00.000-07:00

Dear Spina Bifida,

I still remember that March day, when you tricked us. I can't believe how naive I was, I thought maybe my fluid was low or maybe Roman was getting too big. I never thought it could be bad news. I never thought it could be you.
I still hate you. I hate you every single day. My eyes sting when I think about how hard you have made things for my son, but they burn when I think about the struggles ahead.

Can you tell me if he'll ever walk? Can you tell me if he'll have kidney failure? Shunt failure? How many more surgeries will I need to sign off on? You put my child through hell, which in turn puts me through hell and then you offer no explanation, no time line, no warning. You lie dormant until we start to feel normal, until we establish a routine and then you come out of hiding and punch us.

Mothers are naturally wired to feel guilt. We always feel like we could have done more or said more. We replay situations wishing we could word something differently or handle a situation with more kindness or patience. In addition to everything else, you have riddled me with mommy guilt. You lurk behind every smile, every laugh. You sit as a gentle reminder; My son can't walk.

The lucky moms get to go to sleep at night feeling the pangs of mommy guilt caused from being too short with their children, not getting home in time to say goodnight or flushing the fish they forgot to feed. The unluckiest end their evening wondering what they did to cause this. Was it something I ate? Something I didn't eat? Did I take any medicine I shouldn't have? Did I skip a prenatal?

You stormed into our lives like a tornado and an earthquake all at once, an unstoppable force of nature. My brain was swirling with cloudy information while I was being whisked from one doctor appointment to the next. My whole body trembled with fear, when it should have been shaking with excitement.
You robbed me of that joy. I should have been excited. I should have been celebrating. I should have been happy. You stole it all. I wanted to be happy for my son, I wanted to explode with joy when introducing him to his big sister. I wanted to be able to brag about what a good eater or great sleeper he was. These chances were stolen by a brain malformation and snatched by apnea.

What I didn't know and what I didn't expect was that we would, eventually, be happy again. And not that "I'm settling" kind of happy, but the kind of happy that I had always hoped for. The rolling on the floor, face full of whipped cream, hot cocoa with a million marshmallows, wheezy laughing, dancing at noon, staying up late, extra scoop of ice cream, doggypile on the couch for movie night kind of happy. That swells in your chest, sore cheeks from smiling, sleep in on the weekend, nothing to do and nowhere to be kind of happy. The first day of school, first best friend and first sleepover happy. The splashing in the pool, rolling in the leaves and making snow angels happy. The sharing big sister, first step in your walker, help feed your little brother kind of happy. Our happy.

You rerouted our lives, and stupidly I thought that was a bad thing. You can make things harder and you can make things sad and you can dump a world of hurt on us. You can mar some memories, you can hurt, sting, and scar but you will not take our happiness. You will not defile our dreams, you will not separate us or steal the things that make us family.
You can do a lot of things, but you can't do that. The saying "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger" really does apply and hold true. We win.

I still hate your filthy, stinking guts, though.

Running.

2011-10-28T09:24:00.000-07:00

The funny thing about running, jogging or even walking fast is that the people who like them-do them. The people who don't like to do them...don't do them!
It's not like taxes, where everybody hates them but still does them. or even drinking water, which these days everybody seems to hate but we still say, "Oh, I haven't drank any water is 4 days-I'd better do that now."
People never say, "Ya know what? I haven't jogged for 5 miles in...ever. I think I'll pencil that in on Monday."

With that, I have a secret to share..It's kind of a doozy, so I hope you're sitting down. Are you ready? Here it is...I am not a runner.
There, now we BOTH feel better.

I'm not a runner or much of a walker, most days I don't even make my own coffee and when straightening my hair I usually just don't do the back, because my arms get tired. Yes, the secret is out. I am incredibly lazy. In fact, I take laziness to a whole new level. In fact, laziness is an art to me. In fact, I am...VERY lazy.

So, I've been thinking insanely dangerous thoughts like, "I should limit my sugar intake." and "I should move my body more." and, "I should incorporate more color into my wardrobe." This line of thinking is dangerous because I get on the "dream big" boat and do rash things-like sign up to run a half marathon in exotic places and pledge to raise a butt load of money.

And, well, um, that's exactly what I did.

September 2, 2012 (309 days away)
I am going to run a half marathon. I'll run for Spina Bifida. I'll run because my son can't. I'll run because one block is a marathon for Roman. I'll run because I've never done it. I'll run because it's a good thing to do and I'll run because I'm going to tell myself that there is something very big chasing me.

Faqs:

-How long is a half marathon? It's exactly one million miles, cut in half and divided by two.

-How are you training for the marathon? So far, I've made my own coffee 3 times this week and once I even got up and got the remote myself. My husband has never felt so useless.

-How does your family/friends feel about this giant life altering decision? It's been met with a lot of mixed feelings. One person said, "You'll kill yourself" whiles others have said, "You don't even like to get the mail." Only one person was quoted as saying, "Who are you and why are you calling me?" So, I feel pretty good about that.

Aside from the one word questions like, "Really?" and "Umm, you..?" I haven't had a lot of questions, but I'm sure some more will arise as the marathon grows nearer.

Silliness aside, please expect me to hound you for donations. It's not for my eventual hospitalization, but for a much greater cause-Spina Bifida.

I'll need more deodorant...

Looking back...

2011-10-05T23:59:00.000-07:00

It's October.

In addition to being the most awesomest month out there, (next to April, September, November, December and January) It also happens to be a very special time for the mother's like me.

It's Spina Bifida Awareness Month!

This isn't like, "National Hug A Puppy Day" or "Red Thong Appreciation Day!" We take this thing very serious. To spread awareness and honor our children we're all doing something a little different. Some are featuring a new SB rockstar on their blog, others are raising money, selling candles or wearing ribbons.

These are all very wonderful deeds. It is my opinion that if in any given day you educate even ONE person about SB, then you kick butt.

We're a week into October and I've done nothing to educate, raise money or raise awareness. I started thinking about what I could do, which in turn made me think about our journey, which in turn reminded me of a story.

I'm going to share that story with you.

When Roman was only a few months old, he had a very serious heart condition that needed surgery. While in the E.R one night a nurse said to me, "It's not easy being a special needs mom." I looked at her. I was too tired to find the right words. "What's wrong with your kid?" is never an okay thing to say. So, I gave her the, "don't make me ask what's wrong with your kid" look. "My daughter has Downs Syndrome."

As horrible as it sounds, I was so tired and so upset and so kicked in the face with self loathing that I actually thought, "Here comes the part where we congratulate each other on how awesome and superior we are." I didn't want to have the conversation where we discuss how hard it was, and how much we've overcome. I wanted her to get his stats and get out.

I'm so thankful that she didn't pick up any twinges of anger or annoyance in my tone. I'm thankful that it was dark enough that she didn't see the total lack of interest in my eyes. I'm thankful she was an over-sharer, because somehow she knew I needed to hear this.

She told me how she had broke down to her friend one day, asking how will her daughter ever do the fun things in life..like go to prom? Her friend simply told her that her daughters dreams aren't the same as hers. She said "You're worried she won't be able to go to prom, when really that might not even be important to her at all. She might get the same excitement over a new doll."

The nurse did good. She hooked me. She said, "To you, walking is all that's on your mind. But for him, he might not even care. He might just want to play."

We talked some more about how right she was and how amazing we are, we went on to discuss how hard the NICU was and how we really are quite amazing. :)

As she was leaving she said, "It's not his legs that will take him to Harvard."

That one statement has stayed with me for so long. I think I became so comfortable with the idea that it became less of a nice thing to say, and more of a challenge. I'll see your profound statement and raise you one Harvard grad. Wheelchair or not.

At the risk of writing a book, it IS SB Awareness month, which means I have absolutely no choice but to talk about SB in a more medical way. Apparently there is more to it then just saying, "Spina Bifida sucks, now you know." So let's cover some of the basics, and if you have any questions you can e-mail me or Google. But, whatever you do-don't Google.

Things I copy/pasted:

What is Spina Bifida?
Spina Bifida literally means “split spine.” Spina Bifida happens when a baby is in the womb and the spinal column does not close all of the way. Spina Bifida is the most common birth defect that disables people for life. Every day, about eight babies born in the

United States

have Spina Bifida or a similar birth defect of the brain and spine.

What causes Spina Bifida?

No one knows for sure. Scientists believe that genetic and environmental factors act together to cause the condition.

How is Spina Bifida Treated?
A child with meningomyelocele usually is operated on within two to three days of birth. This prevents infections and helps save the spinal cord from more damage.
A child with meningocele usually has it treated with surgery, and more often than not, the child is not paralyzed. Most children with this condition grow up fine, but they should be checked by a doctor because they could have other serious problems, too.
A child with OSD should see a surgeon. Most experts think that surgery is needed early to keep nerves and the brain from becoming more damaged as the child grows.
Spina Bifida occulta does not need to be treated.

What Can You Do to Prevent Spina Bifida?

Women who are old enough to have babies should take folic acid before and during the first three months of pregnancy. Because half of the pregnancies in the

United States

are unplanned, the Spina Bifida Association asks women to take a vitamin with 400 mcg (0.4 mg) of folic acid each day during the years of their lives when they are possibly able to have children. Women who have a child or sibling with Spina Bifida, have had an affected pregnancy or have Spina Bifida themselves should take 4000 mcg (4.0 mg) of folic acid for one to three months before and during the first three months of pregnancy.

Educating from the couch,

Mrs. Potter.

Sometimes I have bad days.

2011-09-28T09:24:00.000-07:00

I'm no stranger to blogging about sad things. It happens, and it happens often. But, I like to pick and choose the bad days that I talk about. Last week a woman asked Roman, "What's wrong with you that you have to walk in that thing?" directly to his face. I didn't write about it, because the truth is Roman and I are going to hear junk like that for a long, long time. I just stare daggers at the people and then spit on their property. Because that'll show em!

But yesterday was a bad day that I can write about, because hopefully it won't happen a lot. Or at least that's my askew look at the world, and it's my blog so I make the rules.

Roman got his third set of braces. He got some KAFOs. meaning, Knee Ankle Foot Orthosis. Or, Korean Association of Futures and Options. But, we're going to talk about the first definition and never mention the second one again.

Compared to Roman's first braces (AFO) and second (DAFO) the KAFO is much longer, and a little more cumbersome. Think Forest Gump.

Today when trying them on Roman said what no Spina Bifida mom wants to hear, "No. I can't walk." except he wasn't just saying it, he was screaming it! My little kind-hearted boy was yelling at me. I tried to talk them up, "Roman, these are your big boy braces, they're going to help you walk!" He just yelled the same swear words, "No! I can't walk! I can't!" At this point I'm totally crushed and just kept repeating, "Yes, you can." After my third or fourth repeat of this he grabbed my face and said, "JUST SAY NO, MOM! I CAN'T WALK!"

And that's when I hid in the baby's room. It's not like anybody is sleeping in there anyway.

We've all had bad days, and nobody is promised good days forever. I think the general rule for moms like me, is that when we get hit, by doctors, defect or darling little boys who yell at their doting mothers (HE YELLED AT ME!) is that we allow ourselves to take a day to pout a little, cry a little and feel like doo-doo. But, we can't stay in that funk for too long. We have children to encourage, braces to battle, Ramen to perfectly cook in the microwave and the cat needs her antibiotic.

So, the bottom line is this: Keep your chin up. When you get knocked down, get right back up. And at the very least you can eat all the ice-cream you had in the freezer that was originally saved for the kids.

Because nobody yells at the mom.

A brotherific blog.

2011-09-05T16:19:00.000-07:00

I remember one of the very first things I wrote. It was an open letter to my family discussing what it was that they do, that irritates me.

Most of the issues I had though, were with my brother.

"I hate how you laugh at me when I'm punching you."

"I can't stand how loud you are."

"You are the biggest jerk I have ever met."

My mom read it, looked at me and said, "Erica, I think you should share this with your brother-maybe you guys could work out your problems."

He read it. a smile here, a giggle there.

"What the crap is so funny, Ryan!?"

He looked at me softly, in my head he was getting ready to say, "I'm sorry, Erica. I had no idea you felt this way. I promise I'll be the most loyal, respectful and loving brother from this moment on. Thank you for writing such a profound open letter detailing what it is that everybody in this house does that irks you. How else would we know how you feel?"

But instead, he looked at me and said, "The is the stupidest thing I have ever read."

'"YOU'RE STUPID, RYAN!"

and then I wrote several new essays with titles that varied from, "10 reasons why Ryan Hoke is a scumbag"

"I am a loser: Ode to Ryan Hoke."

"My teeth aren't as white as they could be, the fascinating autobiography of Elkland's biggest Suckhole."

But over the years, Ryan and I have gotten closer. Our name calling has ceased, our fights have subsided and our fascination with drinking pickle juice to keep us up all night has fizzled away.

Some may even recall a time when he gave me a compliment. "This tastes better than moms." and "cool shades." are rumored to have fallen through his lips.

But the reason for the brother blog, is because through all the years he's had a simple, easy and totally unrealistic dream. Few people thought he would make it, I would be lying if I said I always believe in him. Truth is, after so many nights of band practice in the basement my first thought was, "shut up." instead of "Live your dream, brother!"

But he did it. He's living his dream. He's signed, he's touring, he's singing his heart out, he has music videos, a personal shopper and somebody telling him to lose weight.

And the truth is....I miss him when he's gone.

Dear Suckhole Fat Face:

I am so proud of you.

Please don't ever forget that, or me, or all of the liposuction you promised me.

Also don't forget that most tour buses are fully equipped with toothbrush holders.

I love you past God.

My brother is the lady singing.
Visit http://www.facebook.com/candlelightred
for touring info, song samples, pictures and other stuff. I'd mention more, but I don't get paid for that.

Love,
Ryan Hoke's sister.

Broken promises.

2011-08-21T18:16:00.000-07:00

If you all remember, a while ago the Potter's had more than just an obese cat. We once had a dog named Penny.

Penny was a fabulous dog. She was beautiful, well behaved, loved my kids and once she even saved me from being viciously attacked by a killer garter snake.

Penny it seems, was just a little too big for our new house and was quite unhappy. She used to roam a huge field and could run and play and jump and bark. Here, she had a small runner, lived in town and had started to get the stink-eye when she barked. Explaining that we now lived in town did very little to remedy the situation. Dogs do not care about your new living arrangements.

So, we made the very sad decision to give Penny to somebody who could give her the care-free life she loved and deserved.

Though we know she is in wonderful hands and as happy as a clam, we still miss her terribly.

After Penny, Mr. Potter and I decided to hold off on any more pets. Not only because we didn't want to hurt our kids again, but also because we didn't want to be the weird pet people who always seem to have a new pet and nobody really questions where the old pet is. We very much dislike those pet people. So, no new pets. We convinced ourselves that there was enough of Emma to go around.

Fast forward to present time, and you know where this story is heading...

After visiting with one of my friends outside of his house I noticed a TON of kittens. "Man, Isabelle would be in kitten heaven if she saw these." It was then that he made the very giant mistake of inviting us over to play with the kittens.

"Do NOT ask for one, Isabelle." Her father chimed this probably a thousand times from the moment I told her we were going until the second we walked out the door.

"I mean it Isabelle, you're just going to visit-do NOT ask for one!"

Well, we were in a sea of cuteness. Kittens here, kittens there, kittens kittens everywhere! A black one, an orange one, a gray one, leopard spots, tiger stripes. "Look mommy! This one looks like Emma!"

Joey, my friend the kitten king said, "They're free, ya know?"

Oh dear. Adorable AND free? From a shoppers standpoint, I had absolutely no reason not to grab one and run home with it.

I was holding a little gray one and telling Izzy how soft and cuddly she was. That's when the Kitten King told us her story. Her mother died right after having her. She had two siblings that his sister and mother bottle fed, but they didn't make it. Little orphan kitty was all by herself.

*sniff*

*sniff sniff*

"Okay, we'll take her."

Daddy met us at the door. I got out, then Izzy got out and I walked to the other side of the car to grab "Lou-Lou".

"NO! NO! I said NO! What is that!? I told you NO!!"

I started with my, "But honey..." and Isabelle with her, "But daddy..." Within the hour Mr. Potter had little orphan Lou-Lou fast asleep in his lap.

Life with a kitten AND a baby has been pretty tricky. Kittens are known for their razor sharp teeth, and Wolverine style claws. They're famous for their mischief and often times aggressive play. While babies on the other hand, are known for their sensitive nature, their sleep routine and their Venus fly trap-like hands. It could be a messy combination should cat and baby collide.

Very messy indeed.

The problem with jobs...

2011-08-15T11:16:00.000-07:00

I wonder if anybody remembers me.

I used to blog `round these here parts.

Sometimes I would make up stories, sometimes I would educate people on the joyous highs and depressing lows of having a child with Spina Bifida. Sometimes I would rant about how using the R-word is wrong. Sometimes I would talk about our morbidly obese cat, Emma.

Yes, I loved to talk about a great many things back when I was a blogger. Back in July when I had free time to write, read, reread, question my comma use, proofread, edit, reread and eventually give up caring about my comma use...or run-on sentences.

But now my blogging days seem so far away. Because Mrs. Potter went and did the unthinkable.
SHE GOT A JOB!

I'm not a corporate usability planner or an international metrics technician. I'm not an executive, or a specialist, Heck, I'm not really a producer of anything.
But, I do cook. And clean. and sometimes banter with the locals. I love my new job and after MANY years as a housewife I am very thankful to get out once and a while and cook up some tex-mex for people who don't feel silly using words like, "tex-mex."

So this is why I'm late to the blogging game and this is why you haven't heard any rants about the R-word, stories of Emma's celebrated fatness or any of Izzy's silly quips that keep you laughing and us..well...worried.
I promise that once school starts and I start balancing myself better on 4 hours of sleep I will be back to blogging, ranting and making up stories. Until then you'll have to read the archives or shake in a corner. Again, my sincerest apologies.

Love,
~~Tex-Mex Erica~~
~~Mexica~~

Oh lo olvide!

Love,
Erica

Postcards from Holland

2011-07-11T14:43:00.000-07:00

When we first had Roman somebody shared the link to a poem called, "Welcome to Holland". It's a poem written by the parent of a child with special needs and since its creation has been passed around to new mothers everywhere...about 12 times a day.

The first time I read the poem about Holland I thought, "I can do this, and I will be amazing at it." Within about 6 minutes I had gone back to my previous state of mind, the one where I thought, "Awe crap, I have no idea what I'm doing."

The point is, for 6 minutes or 3 hours or 9 days or forever, this poem changes the way you think. It changes how you see yourself, your child, your new life and your ability to overcome and adapt. For some it was easy, for others....neh.

For many, this poem served as a welcome packet. A way to say, "Welcome to your new life!"

I was a tender 3 years old when this thing was written, so in case there are a remaining 4 people who have not read it, I will share it here:

“Welcome to Holland" By Emily Perl Kingsley, 1987

"I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away...because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss. But...if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland."

Thanks Emily! Very true, very touching and it pretty much summarizes what life with a special needs child is like. But, I wanted an updated account of things. I didn't want just ONE person's perspective. Every mother has a different point of view, a different experience and a different opinion about what it's like living here. So, with the help of some of my friends, I brought you a spin on that poem. The following is our first installment of "Postcards from Holland".

Holland is beautiful! It feels like just yesterday we arrived here by mistake, but now I realize that it is anything but a mistake. It is not anything like we expected, because we didn’t expect it. Being in Holland has allowed us to appreciate the little things in life and really take it all in and not take anything for granted. What a blessing to be able to see what so many can’t or won’t ever be able to experience.

Navigating Holland is a little tough, the maps are all wrong and our GPS doesn’t work. We think we are going in one direction and before we know it, there is a detour and we end up somewhere totally different. Sometimes it is the last place we would want to be, but before we know it the GPS straightens out and we are back on our way. I know Italy has detours also.

I am working on mastering a new language, AFO’s, Chiari, syrinx, myelomenigocele, are no longer foreign terms and if you need help I can translate. The big kids, who I so worried would be affected by this, could care less. They are just as happy here as anywhere and Holland has so many lessons to teach that they will passively learn just by being here. They are truly blessed to also be on this journey in Holland.

If you are considering a trip here, or someone has told you Italy is sold out and going to Holland or not going anywhere at all are your only option, please join us in Holland. It is not what all the unintelligible travel magazines say it is…it is as great as Italy. There are tons of awesome people here, ready to show you what life is really all about.

So if you are wondering when we will take our trip to Italy, we don’t plan on it. You can find us in Holland navigating windy streets with ill placed dead ends and loving it and what brought us here. -The Stanfield's

The thing about Holland is the weather can be quite dramatic and can change very quickly. A raging storm can blow up overnight that threatens to knock your home flat. But when the sun comes out, the flowers bloom and you see that smile on your little one's face - there is no more beautiful place on earth than Holland.-Matt Linden

To those who made it to Italy,

Congratulations on making it to your dream vacation...the place that you always wanted to go, the place that you dreamed about your whole life. I was once so devastated that I couldn't be there with you. I thought that I would never get over that disappointment. I so badly wanted to experience everything along side of you. I had all of the travel guides, I knew exactly where to go and what to do...in Italy. When I found out that we were in fact not going to Italy, but to Holland, I wanted to give up. I wondered if I could ever be happy. I felt like Italy was where I belonged and that Italy was where I should be. That is, until I got to Holland.

Holland is an amazing and wonderful place, a place that leaves me speechless everyday and a place that I never, ever, want to leave. Miracles happen in Holland. Little things happen in Holland that here, are amazing and wonderful. In Italy, these small little things get overlooked and people just pass them by. Sure, there are places in Holland where I didn't want to go, sites that I didn't want to see. But we did, as they are just part of our journey through this amazing place. In Holland, I have found myself. I figured out who I am and who I am meant to be. I became a better person. I wish everyone could see Holland the way that I do. See it for the miraculous and inspirational place that it is. I wish that everyone could see the beauty and magic that is Holland. Maybe one day, people will get it. Until then, I will just keep spreading the word that coming to Holland was the biggest blessing that I have ever received and I am so so grateful that this is where I ended up -Leigh Neal Gibbs

from the Keicher’s, from Italy, which was our destination long before the Spina Bifida Diagnosis:

When we were diagnosed with Spina Bifida at 18 weeks gestation, the stewardess on our

flight insisted we divert our plane to Holland. Instead, we strapped on our parachutes

and jumped out when we saw Italy. Best decision we every made! It’s lovely here –

everything we always imagined, only we appreciate it so much more. We are slowly

changing the world around us. I’m glad we ignored the stewardess when she said we

didn’t belong here. That stewardess, like much of the medical community and often

the world around us, tried to push a value system on us, that kids with special needs

don't belong in their society. I am glad I looked beyond her facade of pleasantries and

condescending kindness as she tried to tell me what my child’s destination would be.

Sometimes I’m aware that people don’t think we belong here. Some people in Italy are

uncomfortable with us. But by staying here we begin chiseling away those inaccuracies.

We let everyone know it’s okay to have leg braces; to have a shunt; to use a walker, or

crutches, or a wheelchair; to cath, or use a cecostomy button door for potty time; to need

more time reaching milestones, and to need help getting there.

By going to Italy as we originally planned, we’re showing Emily that she chooses what

she wants out of life, that she can go anywhere and do anything and be anyone she wants,

and we’ll always be here to help her along the journey she chooses.

Ciao Bella – Chris, Liz, and Emily Keicher

Greetings from Holland!

I must tell you, I was shocked to learn I would not be vacationing in Italy, but Holland is not so bad. I was rerouted here for a reason!

Holland has shown me so much that I was missing in life – I never knew how much I was missing! They weren't kidding when they said I'd have to learn a whole new language and I'd be lucky enough to meet a whole new group of people! But, wow! - what great people they are! They're showing me the way around Holland, and I couldn't have asked for better tour guides.

Otherwise, the days are longer here than what I am used to, but it only gives me more time to see the beauty that is all around. I've become much more patient since being here. I think it's a beautiful place, now that I am used to it and I know a little more about it. I feel lucky that I was chosen to go to Holland instead of Italy. Sometimes the most unexpected surprises are the best surprises!

With Love (from Holland!),

Lindsay

Holland is more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. We have been welcomed here with opened arms by the people who arrived before us, and I am trying my best to repay that welcoming spirit to the newest arrivals. Not everyday here is vacation, but there is no other place I would rather "not vacation" at, now that I know this place. Holland is full of hope and determination and makes me want me to be a better person. I am blessed to be able to be here.-Lisa Silvestain Maskus

Dear friends and family,

We wanted to share some of our trip with you. We know many of you have prayed for us and we appreciate it! :)

We are learning soooo much! We've learned more patience in 4 years than we've learned in our entire lives! We've also learned to appreciate EVERYTHING.

One of the best parts has definitely been the people we've met and networked with. Who knew you could have such great friends online!

We've also met two families here in Holland from our own county. Cody has inspired them and given them hope for their own daughters. We are thankful for our friendships with them. We get together and learn from each other.

We've also enjoyed sharing the miracles that have happened with many. We've even spoken in churches!

Anyway, keep praying and expecting the unexpected. We sure are!

Love and blessings,

Cody's family

Dear Mom:

As you may have already heard, after some turbulence, jolts and scares the plane landed safely! The bad news is, the hubby and I ended up stranded somewhere off the itinerary. I'm pretty sure the pilot was drunk or high or both... and we touched down in Holland! Holland! Can you believe it?? I've been wondering around for a while, trying to find our baggage, arrange accommodations, and generally get our trip back on track. I'm happy to report I've met with some success. Life isn't in order yet but we are settling in and at least its not as scary as up in that airplane when I was wondering what was going on. Things here in Holland are different. Most people here speak English but there is still some kind of communication barrier. They keep telling me things I have to look up on google to understand. But I had a Dutch pancake this morning for breakfast and even though they aren't like your pancakes (they have way more eggs), they were very good. The people are friendly. The views are nice. I know that soon you and the rest of the family will be flying out here to join us. I can always count on your support and it means so much. Life is often full of the unexpected, but not even an alcoholic airline pilot with a lemming's sense of direction can stop us from being together as a family- even if it is in Holland!

I love you. See you soon!

Greeting from Holland!

We've been here almost 2 years and settling in well.

When we first arrived it was overwhelming, and we weren't sure what to expect. But luckily we found some really good tour guides who knew where we should go and what we should do. Much more informative than some guide books! We would have been so lost in Holland without people who have walked the same path!

Holland is a much slower place and it allows us time to smell the tulips, take long slow strolls along the canal. Sometimes the slower pace can be frustrating, when all we want to do is rush around and get things done FAST. But we are learning to adjust to Holland time. But in the end we get to where we are going.

The kids have settled in well, they LOVE Holland and think it's the greatest place on earth! For them it is home.

Sometimes I dream about Italy, sometimes I think about how easy Italy seems. But Holland is where we are putting our roots.

I hope you will come for a visit, and take some time to learn about Holland that you can take back to your life in Italy. And if you ever find yourself unexpectedly here to stay, I can show you all the sites!

Love,

Amanda, Nickolas and family!

www.riddingfamily.blogspot.com

Greetings from Switzerland!

I know, I know, you didn't even know we were in Switzerland now. Last time I wrote was when we were headed to Italy and got re-routed to Holland. Well, let me tell you, Holland is still wonderful, and we spend a lot of time there. Even though we never intended to go there, I'm so glad we did because we learn so much in Holland, and the people are WONDERFUL.

But then we started thinking ... hey, we can always visit Italy! And we do, all the time! We don't let that one re-routed plane destroy our dreams of visiting Italy. We don't always feel like we fit in there, like we do in Holland, but we make the best of it anyway.

Since we wanted to have one foot in Holland and one foot in Italy, we decided to live smack dab in the middle--in Switzerland! They say the Swiss are neutral/peaceful, and it's just fitting that it's situated between the emotionally charged Holland and Italy. I don't want to be a full time citizen of either country, because I don't want to be defined by either. And they have great cheese here!

Love from the Alps,

Colleen, Nate's mom

Stupid shoes anyway.

So here we are. We're entering our 3rd year as Holland locals. Despite my efforts to yell it away, cry it away, hate it away, wish it away and shove food in my face it..away...we are here. We can never leave, because Holland is where we live now. It's the air we breathe, it's our laughter, our pain, our triumphs, struggles and it's now what officially makes us...us. I thought I would have to change everything about me. I thought I would have to wear less make-up, drink less, swear less, be a better person, stop laughing at fart jokes, go to church. I thought that the people who came to Holland weren't allowed to dye their hair, have tattoos, or like loud music or...be themselves. I thought Holland was going to be boring and I thought it would turn me into a boring, hateful, bitter woman.

...So who knew Holland was the party capital of the WORLD?!

I've never been so active, I've never met so many people, I've never laughed as hard, I've never been so passionate about anything. Holland actually brings out the best in me.

Somehow, ending up in this hell-hole that I did NOT want to be a part of, is where I feel I was always meant to be.

Except the shoes really are atrocious.

-Me.

Hallo from Holland!
As I'm sure most of you know, we planed a trip to Italy a little over 2 and a half years ago...and it took an unexpected turn. We were so excited for Italy! We'd studied the language, mapped out all the things we wanted do, prepared for everything we would see. We felt a sort of giddy anticipation as we boarded the plane. We couldn't believe we were finally going to Italy! Many of our friends were already in Italy and having a fabulous time - and now it was our turn. We couldn't stop smiling. Too anxious to sleep we talked the whole flight about how lucky we were - how exciting it was - how amazing this trip was going to be. This was the best thing that had ever happened to us. Imagine our shock when the plane landed...in Holland. At first we were confused. This was certainly some sort of mistake. Maybe the stewardess was mixed up. Maybe our flight had detoured and we'd be in the air to Italy any minute. As it became clearer that this was no mistake...we had no choice but to get off the plane. As we walked I felt my hand tighten it's grip on David's. My heart and my mind was racing. What were we going to do? We didn't know where to go. We didn't know anyone here. All around us people were speaking a language we didn't understand. I felt my eyes swell with tears and a knot lodged in my throat. I couldn't believe this was happening...I suddenly felt like I was blind - searching for just one glimpse of the familiar - trying to regain the assurance I had once felt. We sat down on a bench and I rummaged through my luggage looking for something that could help us...but all I found were maps we couldn't use, money we couldn't spend, reservations for places we weren't going to see, itineraries of things we might never get to do. Cruel reminders of the wonderful plans we had made...before everything changed. I had never felt so lost. So disappointed. So worried. So angry. My emotions must have been written all over my face because when I looked up, a red-haired woman with a sympathetic smile was standing in front of me. "Welcome to Holland" she said. Thank you God - someone who speaks English! I took a deep breath. "We're a little lost." I explained. "We weren't planning on being here, and now that we are...we're not sure what to do." I told her how we knew NOTHING of Holland. How we had planned for a wonderful trip to Italy - full of excitement and beauty - and were now stranded in a place we'd barely heard of. With a knowing smile she took my hand. "It's going to be okay," she said, "you're not alone."

To this day I know God sent an angel to help us that night. With her help we found a hotel we felt comfortable in, learned a few key words to get us by, and got a little more familiar with our surroundings. Over the next few weeks we explored Holland. She introduced us to couples and families who were also somewhat "new" to Holland, as well as some who had been living here for years! Their welcoming hearts lightened our spirits. We saw ourselves in them. They became instant friends and their experiences helped us plan our own. Somewhere along the we stopped thinking about Italy - and really took in Holland. I'm not going to lie - it was different than Italy. We didn't feel as confident in Holland as we would have been in Italy. It wasn't easy to navigate the roads and the language was complicated. And while we were experiencing some amazing things - they were different things than our friends in Italy - and it was hard to stay connected sometimes. Others we knew were traveling to Italy and arriving there without a hitch. It was bittersweet. While we still wanted to visit Italy - we were becoming increasingly attached to Holland. The people we'd met. The incredible things we'd seen. The lessons this journey had taught us. The way it had changed us. While our arrival in Holland had been unplanned...and the change of all our plans had been upsetting - the time we spent there was priceless and perfect in a uniquely beautiful way. A way we could never had planned even if we'd tried. A way we will never forget.

So you may wonder...did we ever get to Italy? Si. ;) As it turns out Italy is not as far from Holland as you might think! We love visiting our friends in Italy and our knowledge of the language, landscapes and culture has served us well. In fact, we spend a lot of time in Italy. We have a lot of fun there doing a lot of the things we dreamed of doing. Our dreams weren't really gone after all. :) But there's something about Holland. They way it surprised us. The beauty we found there. The people we met there. These people who hold our hearts in their hands (and boy have they taken good care of them) :). So here we are. Flip over this postcard. See that tiny windmill surrounded vibrant tulips? Isn't it perfectly lovely? That symbolizes our love for Holland. When we arrived, we were that tiny windmill...sails blowing in the wind and yet unable to move...lonely...feeling out of place. Then we looked around and we realized weren't alone. We were surrounded by beautiful flowers; incredible hearts embracing us...adding color to our world...and welcoming us...to Holland.

So dear friends and family! We hope to see you all again soon but we are here again in Holland! You may not have known we were leaving - but the truth is...our trips to Holland are always a little spontaneous. ;) So take care and wish us a safe journey to wherever life takes us next! Until we meet again - we send all our love,

from Holland,

Joanna, David and Jet

I know, you're wondering why we came to Holland. Some days I wonder what I'm doing here, too, but wow....it's amazing. Far from a remote island in the Carribbean, but here, in Holland, I am seeing some pretty fabulous things. The sight seeing is unbelievable...things I was told I would never see. I will admit, I was sad that we didn't make it to Italy, but Holland has taught me so much. It has changed me. And if you ever have to choose between staying home or going to Holland, step on board and take the journey. I promise, you won't regret it. -Michelle Staubs Dugan

Greetings from Holland!

So of course initially I was crushed to learn that we had been sent here instead of Italy.

I mean we had all these plans, and things we wanted to see and do, and now here we

are…in a new place that I felt unprepared for. But what I’ve realized is that I don’t have

to change my plans at all. In fact my plans have only gotten bigger since we got here.

We will still see amazing things…Even more amazing, really because they are things we

weren’t expecting or planning to see. They are things some people will never have the

privilege of seeing in their lifetime…and I get to see it on a daily basis, because this is

home now.

Coming to a new place is scary sometimes, because everything is unknown…But not

having a plan is sometimes a good thing, because it leaves room for the possibility that

ANYTHING can happen. I remember when we first got here. I felt so isolated, because

all of my friends were still en route for Italy. But once I started to look around, I found

a whole community of people just like me, and I realized I was not alone. These people

have become my friends…my family. Had I not found myself here in Holland, we would

never have crossed paths. There are so many reasons I am thankful for Holland. My

time here has changed my perspective completely, and showed me that my life doesn’t

need a script or plan to be perfect. Sometimes an unexpected shift helps everything

fall perfectly into place. Now that I’m here, I realize this is where I was always meant

to be…Italy will always be there, and I can go anytime I want, but I am happy to call

Holland home.

With love,

Selina

I was told I wasn't going to Italy as I was flying. I didn't enjoy my flight after that, I dreaded my landing. I was scared, and I was angry that I didn't get to go where I wanted to go. I was envious of those that were happily getting off the plane and jet-setting through Italy having the time of their lives. Once I landed though, I looked around and realized I was really in a beautiful place. It was not glamorous by any means, but I quickly fell in love with where I was. I learned the language and found all the secret roads to get around easier. I met amazing local people who guided me on my way and I met amazing people getting off the plane when I did. Our families have toured Holland together, and done many of the same things. When I get lost, I look for these dear friends to guide me back to where I belong. I found a strength in myself and my family in Holland that Italy never would have given us. I found beauty, grace, and knowledge. I found an inner peace I didn't know existed and when I was afraid of the unknown in Holland, I found a stronger relationship with God. Italy still sounds like fun, but I have found resilience in Holland, and that is something I will always be grateful for. I have moments of longing for Italy, but I love that I am vacationing in a very special place that not every person is chosen for. I am grateful for Holland and I wouldn't change the plane's path. Don't be afraid of Holland....embrace it!

With Love from Holland,
The Jensen Family

Potty mouth Potter parents.

2011-07-01T22:46:00.000-07:00

Today I was discussing with an old friend a very touchy subject in the mothering world. SWEARING.

For most mothers, swearing is your child's way of saying, "I have the worst parents ever." or "They're raising me all wrong." For most mothers, hearing your child swear is the best way to show that you're a bad mom.

But the thing is, we swear. We're swearers. We HAVE to. There are few things in this world that will take the sting out of stepping on a mini bulldozer then whisper yelling the D word. Whisper yelling, "Oh barnicles!" just doesn't get the job done. You need a cuss word.

Let's say you just walk into your child's room and find that he/she has done some...painting, with some "Au natural" paint supplies. We're talking poop people, and it's everywhere. Eyes, ears, mattress, hair, ceiling, your shoes in the downstairs closet. The smell alone is enough to end marriages but the MESS...who is going to clean this up? That's right, you are. But not without a whisper cuss. For me, a simple "what. the ~~hell~~ heck" does the job.

But what happens on those rare occasions when your little beloved hears your wonderful whisper cuss? We all know what happens, they repeat it. They repeat it until you threaten abuse or abandonment and even then you're not promised a miracle. We're the swearers, they're the repeaters. And these are the days of our lives.

As a swearing parent it has become essential to evolve our vocabulary to meet the needs of our ever growing, educated children. For instance:

Whisper cussing comes first.

Whisper cussing followed by putting yourself in time-out comes second.

This is the end of the whisper cussing stage and the start of spell cussing.

For those pure-of-heart mother's who may not know what spell cussing is, I will explain.

Husband: "Hi loving wife, how was your day?"

Loving wife: "Oh. My. Gosh. It has been a day from h.e.l.l. Your son painted his name on the toybox..with his poop!"

Spell cussing will get you by for a little while, but those kids are clever. So clever that they are able to assess the spell cuss and determine if it's just an expletive or if it pertains to them.

For instance, after spelling " h.e.l.l." to the husband, the child sees that nothing really happens, the conversation continues. However, the child sees that after the loving wife spells, "i.c.e c.r.e.a.m?" to the loving husband, the family is then served delicious ice cream.

This ends the era of the spell cuss and opens the door to the code word spell cuss. This is the shortest of all the steps as the child has become aware of the game, and is considered a risk. Most parents skip this step altogether and move on to the final and most effective step.....

The technology cuss.

A big fat liar.

2011-06-26T20:46:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I introduced our amazing new little addition, Sullivan. You can read it HERE in case you missed it. And if you did miss it, you better have a darn good reason.
In it, I had promised to post the pictures that the lovely Mrs. Bridget Reed had taken of our little family.
I. totally. forgot.
I'm sorry mostly for you, because this is a delightful little chunk of eye candy that I have been withholding. I'm sorry for my horrible lies, I hope you will forgive me...one day.

I know, and you're welcome.
(Thank you again, B!)

Izzy, the chocolate lover.

2011-06-22T22:48:00.000-07:00

Isabelle is the coolest chick I know. She's moody, she's mouthy, she hates holding hands, and she despises being told "no." She is..basically...me.

Roman is the most sensitive person I know. Usually in the time it takes to eat dinner he asks for a hug about 4 times each from Jason and I. The boy loves to hug. If he had one dollar, he would give you all of that and then go find a penny for you, too. He's going to be such a doting, romantic-just like Mr. P.

I've often wondered how Izzy might feel about Roman and I whisking off all day for his appointments and on Tuesday she asked. "Can I go with you today?" I tried to explain that it was "clinic day" where we see a lot of doctors and that it would be very long. She said to me, "What if Roman gets scared? He'll want me there." It was the cutest thing I have ever heard. It was the most sincere expression of sibling love I have ever witnessed. "Ok, you can go." I said. We laid out a few ground rules, packed a few toys, said goodbye to daddy and Sullivan and loaded in the car.

Once we had been in the car about 15 minutes I heard the first, "are we there yet?" And we talked about how I will let her know when we are there and asking me again will not bode very well for her. Okay, so maybe I just thought that last part. But, she withheld the question again for about an hour. A minor win on my part, if I say so myself.

After 3 hours, we were there. And while I was putting Roman in the stroller she had taken the liberty of putting her backpack on, and carrying Roman's. "Hi, I gave birth to a saint-what have you done with your life?" I felt like asking the nice young valet man. But, instead we just went to Spina Bifida clinic. We sat for 3 hours in that room and she was perfectly behaved. Polite to the doctors, shared with her brother, played with her games almost the whole time. Again, I won the daughter lottery.

Before we left I had to run downstairs to sign something and have a quick appointment with an ortho guy for a meet and greet with Roman. The kids were getting antsy. Hunger, boredom and nap time were quickly taking over. My saints were showing their irritability, but at the promise of a chocolate doughnut they kept it together very well. (Roman and I always treat ourselves to a doughnut after our clinic days. It's become a bit of a tradition, and we were excited to share it with Izzy.)

We were finally in the last doctor's office of the day and I was updating him on the this and thats of Roman's mobility. I had heard a minor bickering between them and said, "Guys, we're almost done-let's be nice." I turned towards the doctor to hopefully finish our conversation when I heard, "GET AWAY FROM MY CRAYONS!" I tried to stop it...Lord knows I tried. But I was too late. Isabelle had turned on me. In one quick swoop she had elbowed her brother in the face and sent him swirling backward into a stack of metal pediatric walkers. All of which fell on his head. The doctor and I unburied Roman to find him unharmed but very upset. I picked him up while gently scolding Isabelle. "Don't scream at her-the doctor is watching" is all I could tell myself.
I held Roman close to me, quickly examined him once again and he settled down right away. I apologized to the doctor and explained that they had a long day. Before he could deliver his reply Roman had both grabbed Isabelle's hair and smacked her simultaneously while screaming, "YOU'RE MEAN! YOU'RE MEAN!!" Which of course threw her into a rage and promptly ended our visit with that nice man.

Even though the last few moments in the hospital were anything but saint-like, they still got their doughnuts. They had been wonderful all day, and I knew they would pass out as soon as the last bite had gone down. For Roman, that proved true before his doughnut was finished. He left half of it in his lap and passed out. Izzy, was next.

It was nothing but me, the radio, an open highway and a soggy, half eaten chocolate doughnut. Don't judge me. All moms do it.

A mere 30 minutes from home I had to stop for drinks. Isabelle had woken up and for 15 minutes all I could hear were begs, pleads, cries for some apple juice. What kind of mother was I? The second I stopped the car, Roman woke up. He looked down at his lap...no doughnut. He scanned the floor...no doughnut. He checked the ceiling, the surrounding seat..panic stricken he sent a sneer Izzy's way. I knew what was going to happen next. "Where's my chockwit do-nut?"

I couldn't very well say, "Look dude, if you fall asleep it's fair game." I had to fess up and tell him the truth. "It fell on the floor, it's yucky caca. Mommy will get you some more chocolate." Which was of course followed by the screeching sound of, "NOT FAIR. I WANT SOME TOO!"

I ran inside the store, grabbed two blue bug juices and one little bag of chocolates. Two for Izzy, two for Roman and one for momma. I felt like I had sugared them up enough that I could get through the last 30 minutes with zero interruptions, outbursts or sibling rivalry.

"Mom, Roman isn't eating his chocolate."

"Yes, he is, Isabelle. He's just taking his time."

"Roman, can I have your chocolate."

"Isabelle!"

"Roman...can I have your chocolate?"

"No. Roman's chockwit."

At this point Isabelle had utilized a "gotcha" technique that we use on Roman all the time. You see, if we pretend to cry, Roman will do anything we want.

I.E "Wahhh Roman won't give me a hug. Waahh" --Mission: Hugged.

"Wahhh heh heh heeehhh wahh Roman won't close the fridge door and stay out of it." -Bam! Closed.

"Wahh ahhh wahhhh Roman mommy needs that blanket and I can't reach it. Waaah!!" Hello blanket!

If he thinks you're sad, upset or really crying he will do anything within his power to make your tears stop. Regardless of the fake mission at hand, he has one stipulation. All services rendered at the time of your crying must be met with several hugs from him. He NEEDS hugs. The child NEEEDS to HUG.

So I hear hear, "Waaahh! wahhh! Roman won't give me his chocolate! wahhh wahhhh!"

Instantly he replies with, 'HERE! HERE! CHOCK-WIT! TAKE CHOCK-WIT! HUG! HUG! HUG!"

Roman and I will forevermore fly solo on our clinic days. Amen.

(I made her give the chocolate back.)

Rules.

2011-06-09T08:55:00.000-07:00

Rules.

They're everywhere.

Some rules are so important they are called, "laws" These aren't the kind of rules I'm talking about. These rules are governed by doctors, written in black and white and live in the pages of medical books. These rules tell a story about our children that are both inaccurate and very negative.

These rules need to be broken.

The rules of Spina Bifida say that our children aren't likely to do many things. Like stand...

Some rules are even so harsh they say our kids won't walk..

And surely running is out of the picture..

The rules of Spina Bifida say, "Your child will have some learning delays."

That probably means singing or speaking two languages is out of the question too, right?

Some rules say that scars aren't beautiful...

Somewhere, in some book it says people with disabilities can't make it to be our president, because it's a sign of weakness. I say, it's a sign of strength.

The rules might have you believe that if our our kids can't run, neither will we.

The rules may say that some kids with Spina Bifida may never ride a bike...

Spina Bifida comes with some "accessories." Some rules might suggest that making them look cool is a challenge..

The rules might imply that walking very FAR distances is just not going to happen..

Spina Bifida is not an easy diagnosis. Some books and some rules tell us to be careful, because this condition can easily tear families apart.

These phenomenal kids and their amazing parents have gone to some great lengths to break some heavy rules.

I consider them all my heroes.

The Golden Age is upon us!

2011-05-25T09:08:00.000-07:00

When Roman first was evaluated/fitted for his walker there was snow on the ground. It was freezing and I feel like I blogged about it months ago-oh right, I DID. We have been waiting for HIS walker for such a long time, so long in fact that right around the time we had forgotten about it-it showed up.

While we played the wait game we were using a loaner walker from his PT at the hospital. It was the traditional chrome with red handle bars walker. Nothing flashy, nothing special, no bells, and certainly no whistles. We thought our "keeper" walker would show up with the same, except less beat up-maybe a shinier chrome. My hope was to call him, "Chromeo" and learn a rap song...

When I heard the UPS man leave, I quickly shuffled on the porch like a raccoon, grabbed the box and hurled it and me inside my door. I remember these events happening exactly like that, as I was bopping around the house in a tank top that day and wanted not for my neighbors to witness my see-through white skin. The mission was more of precision and speed than of strength. Which was very unfortunate for me. I am neither precise nor speedy..come to think of it-I'm not that strong either..

Anyway, once I was safely inside the shrouding confines of my house I delightfully started to open the box. Not carefully either, I really ripped that box apart. I used a ball point pen fearing a knife would do worse damage to me as I hacked into the box horror-movie style. What? I was excited.

Once my arms stopped swinging and the bubble wrap made it's descent from the ceiling, there it was to behold..my eyes were slightly burning both from the pen stabbings and the brightness of what was inside the box. At first I thought, "Maybe this isn't the walker?" I ruled that option out already, before its mutilation I was SURE that I saw the medical supply company listed as the sender on the box. "Maybe it's a special type of wrapping?" I touched it, it felt cold and there was definitely no wrapping. There was definitely no scratching, peeling, picking or altering the color that was laying in front of me.

Roman was not getting the typical chrome with red handle bars walker...

Roman got...

GOLD.

Please forgive me my son.

Yours,

The Pimpin` Potters

The Mother of All Posts (Mr. Potter Checks In)

2011-05-08T18:47:00.000-07:00

In the 2+ years since Erica started this blog, there have been a few times when I felt the urge to jump on and post something, but decided to stay behind the scenes with my "Editor" cap on. Even though this is indeed a blog about us and our family, this is Erica's thing. It's her creative outlet and vehicle for comedic relief, noteworthy information and so much more. I always look forward to her posts as I know do many of you. As many of you know, this was started as a way to keep our family and friends updated on Roman and his struggles, triumphs and more. We had so many people asking on a regular basis that it seemed much easier to explain it one time and let it hang there in black and white. Since then the blog has evolved and taken on a few new dimensions. The subject matter is not always a serious one. Sometimes it's silliness. Sometimes it has absolutely nothing to do with anything. I love this blog, the writer and her posts and I thank all of you for following it!

For years and years I have tried to push Erica to write. Something. Anything. She has a way with words. An interesting take on life and the world around her. Maybe one day I'll talk her into it or at the very least get her to share some of her creative writing assignments from long ago that first caught my attention and were just a fraction of the myriads of things I loved about her. I must also make it clear that loved is in no way a past tense thing. I still very much love her, even more so and continue to discover new things and reasons.

And so, you may wonder - why now? Why after all this time should I use my "Editor in Chief" powers to hijack the blog and ask you all to read my ramblings? Mother's Day. Mother's Day is the answer. This is a very special day for Erica and for our bustling new family. She is the mother of 3 of the brightest, cutest kids anyone could ever ask for. Sometimes I have to stop and think for a minute because at times it can seem so unreal.

It's no secret that ours is a storied and colorful past. The fights were legendary. The makeups were epic. We were straight crazy I really believe that. Everyone thought we were wrong for each other and that we wouldn't last. We were young. Well, she was anyway lol. We hung on for dear life. We weathered the storms and basked in the good times. We didn't always know what we were doing but we knew we didn't want to do it without the other. We have gone through so many things that would have destroyed most couples, ruined many friendships and likely decimated some marriages along the way. We held on. We stand together today stronger than ever because of all that we have been through. Somewhere along the way we grew up, got married and had 3 wonderful children. I'm sure if you would have asked us back in September 2003 if this is where we would be today and if we could imagine this is how things would be, I don't know that we would have believed it.

I know I'm rambling and of course I'm a little biased, but I think the story of us is a great one. I'm proud of it and I'm proud of us. With each new event that unfolds, page that turns and chapter that commits itself to our lives, I can't wait to see what's waiting for us next. When I graduated and left home, I couldn't wait to put this town (Westfield) as far behind me as possible. Last year we bought a house here and our children will be going to the same school we did lol!

I attribute most of our success to Erica. I am so very proud of her in so many ways. She has changed so much and for the better of course. I also credit Roman for part of that. We were doing okay before he was born and had grown up a little bit, but the past 2 years with him in our lives has changed us all in so many ways. We see things more clearly now. We don't sweat the small stuff. We try to be a little more thankful and appreciate what we have because we have seen the bottom and we don't ever want to see it again. Erica has been my guiding light, my catalyst, my voice of reason, my love and my life. I can't imagine going a single day without seeing or talking to her. She is one of the smartest and funniest people I know. She is truly beautiful and the one I want to spend the rest of my days on this earth with. She is a fighter. She fought so hard (and continues to) for Roman and wouldn't take no for an answer from the doctors who wanted to so easily dismiss us. In my opinion, she is the best friend I could ever have, and the best mother my children could ever hope to know.

I love you so much Erica, Happy Mother's Day to the World's Greatest Mom!

Sullivan Rhys

2011-05-02T22:04:00.000-07:00

A couple years ago Mr. Potter and I were in the drive-thru at Dunkin Donuts and he said to me, "I thought of a name for our next child. I think boy or girl it would be great." Roman was a wee guy at the time and we were still spending a lot of time in and out of the hospital, I was not only shocked that he had been thinking about it, but kind of glad that we didn't let a little Spina Bifida and potty regression soil our dreams of having a big family. We've always talked about wanting a big family and surrounding ourselves with chaos, cheerios and different colored binkies.

"Okay, what's the name?" I was reluctant to ask, Mr. Potter and I have a long history of disagreeing on names. "Sullivan. We can call him/her Sully" I loved it. I loved it so much I gave up my many years long dream of having a son named Oliver.

Magically, I "became" pregnant a couple years after our discussion and we've never forgotten the name or how much we both liked it. So we agreed boy or girl we were to use the name that we both fell in love with so long ago. The middle name "discussion" should be saved for a different blog post. It could be filed under the "salty language" and "Marriage testers" category. Thankfully, Mr. Potter let me have my way and all was right with the world.

So without further ado, we introduce to you...

The little boy we loved, years before we knew him

Sullivan Rhys Potter

Sullivan Rhys Potter born on April 22nd (Happy Birthday, Mom!)

10 pounds 11 ounces and 22 inches of pure, chubby perfection

We're so happy with our newest addition. He, like Isabelle and Roman, is everything we could have and did hope for.

We're so thankful for our friends and family for all of your help, gifts, cards, flowers, well wishes, hugs and kisses (chocolate and otherwise).

One of my favorite people and dearest friends has been taking pictures of our family since Isabelle was drooling and barely saying, "mama" I wouldn't trust pictures of my children with anybody else! Recently, she snapped some newborn shots of Sullivan and even a few of us all together. We can't wait to share them with you! To see her work, I urge you to check out Bridget Reed's website by clicking here. And be sure to keep an eye out for a wild eyed blondie and a blue eyed boy when you're there.

All our love,

Three perfect Potters and two sleepy Potter parents.

I don't even like Italian dressing.

2011-04-12T20:56:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Roman and I went to the store to pick up a few things for dinner. He had done a great deal of walking that day and was perfectly content just sitting in the cart being adorable.

While shopping I decided to pick up a few things to make one of Mr. Potter's favorite things, pasta salad. I had gotten everything and forgotten nothing and I was about to win some SERIOUS goodly wife coins.

I cut the pepperoni extra thick, just like he likes it. I used his favorite sharp cheese, the pasta was perfectly cooked and I added very few olives so he wouldn't have to pick around too many.

Man, I am one heck of an awesome wife!

Just as I had finished assembling the salad Mr. P himself walked in the door. I looked at him looking at the salad and then look at me. This was the look of excitement, this man was happy. This man just thought to himself, "I won the wife lottery!!" But he didn't vocalize any of that. No, the only thing he said was, "What kind of Italian dressing did you get?"

My heart sank, I broke out in a cold sweat and I had visions of Italian dressing stained divorce papers being set before me.

"Um. I uhh... I forgot the uhh Italian dressing, honey."

There was silence, but being the quick thinking fox that I am I shrugged it off as no big deal and showed him the other menu items: Cheeseburgers on the grill and some tasty seedless watermelon! Thank goodness I made his extra thick, if he walked away from the table hungry he might be reminded that there was TONS of pasta salad in the fridge, begging to be drenched in something. anything. WISHBONE!

I had lost all confidence in myself, I needed to do something to validate myself. I mean, I'm a stay at home moms whose children both attend school and daycare. I have ZERO business forgetting things like salad dressing for dinner.

My plan was to pick up Isabelle, grab the *curse word* dressing, pick up Roman and head home to give this salad a hearty bath. But, in my moment of weakness, my feelings of inadequacy took over and I proclaimed, "I will take both children to the store, and Roman will walk in his walker!!"

That'll teach me!

This was the first time I had taken Roman to this particular store, so in addition to the stares from the customers, the employees had to have a few looks, too. Not that I cared, we were a sight- I would have looked, too!

So, the preschooler, the toddler and his walker and the pregnant mother start the long 20 steps to the entrance of the grocery store. "Come on Roman."... "Roman, let's go." ..."Okay Roman-Izzy and I are going in see ya later!"... "Roman, there are too many cars can we please get moving?" That's before we were even IN the store. Roman has to stop and stare whenever a big truck goes by, and I apparently didn't read in the paper that today was "big trucks drive past the grocery store day"

Isabelle helped a lot, too. "This is my brother, he can't walk yet-but he's doing really good."... "Roman, we're going to get run over if you don't hurry up." ..."Mom, can't you just pick him up?!"

Eventually their was a break in the traffic which awarded us with an uninterrupted path to the front door. WE'RE IN!

My first thought was, "Wow, this will be so quick-why did I bother with his walker? The dressing aisle is the first one!" But, we have a new rule that he will use it wherever we go (unless it's like, Africa or something) So we started walking and then I heard, "I want nanas" But Roman, we picked up some yesterday, don't you remember? How can he forget that we picked up bananas yesterday. Why is he about to do to me, what I KNOW he is about to do to me. "Momma, I want nanas." I didn't want to immediately give in, although I knew I was going to anyways. Isabelle held the basket, and Roman picked out the biggest bunch of bananas I have ever seen. Award winning bananas in both length and girth. The kind of bananas that would make a 2 year old refuse his dinner because he is too full from the 12 foot banana he had at snack time.

But, we're moving again, little boy, little girl, basket full of 6 giant bananas and a pregnant, sweaty mother. I grab the *curse word* dressing and start ushering my posse to the register when all of a sudden.....

Roman sits down. "Uhhh hey there big guy, whatcha doing?" "I want uppies, please." Uhh no buddy, no uppies, almost done, let's go home and have bananas and milk!"

It worked! Okay, the register is at the end of this isle, we've grabbed two items and have been in the store for 15 minutes-the end is in sight!

"Mom, we need tuna fish!" was the next fight I encountered. My mind was saying, "We don't need any son of a *curse wording* tuna fish, put it back!" But my mouth said, "Oh, I got some yesterday at the store, but thanks for remembering that sweety!!"

I lied to her. We probably do need tuna fish.

"uppies, UPPIES, upppiiieesss" FINE! I will carry you, Roman. FINE!

So, little girl stewing about unpurchased tuna fish, little boy and walker in the arms of one very large, sweaty and now red faced mother arrive at the check-out. "Roman, can you stand so mommy can pay?" "Okay." he sweetly and innocently said. I rifled around in my purse quickly to find cash so I didn't have to booger around with my ATM card. SCORE! I found a ten! (Finding this ten dollar bill was the highlight of my day.) Just as I lifted my head to thank the grocery store Gods I saw Roman was walking away from me. What the... "Roman. Come back here, please!" "No." "Roman, it's time to go eat bananas and milk!" "Nope." Okay, that only works once apparently. Time to pull out the heavy artillery, "Okay Roman, see ya later. Izzy and I are going home." his reply? "Bye mommy, love you." He didn't even turn around!

Seriously?! You're supposed to freak out and run to me. That is how it works Roman. I threaten you with abandonment and you return to me with a new fear of your surroundings. Who taught this kid how to be a toddler?

I handed Isabelle the ten dollar bill and asked her to pay for the food while I grabbed Roman. He had scooted only to the next isle so I wasn't too scared of leaving her to be the adult. I scooped him up, grabbed the walker and went back into the line. Isabelle stood there with the bagged items hanging from her arm and my change and receipt in her hand.

"Thank you" I said to her, and man did I really mean it. I couldn't believe my daughter just completed her first grocery transaction and I was too busy chasing her brother to see it. So much for feeling empowered.

At the car, Roman is in full "flip out" mode for reasons beyond my knowledge or control. It's the typical mommy in the parking lot scene.

When we finally got home-the kids settled down and all was well with the world again.

I was counting down the minutes until Mr. P got home. This time it had nothing to do with dressing or my excitement that he'll finally be able to eat his favorite salad. I was counting because I needed a break after that and the second he came in the door, I took that break.

Later he praised me for getting the Wishbone "robusto" dressing. In fact his exact words were, "That is exactly what I would have bought."

Consider me validated.

Things that are sad and confusing, for $500, Alex.

2011-04-03T01:09:00.000-07:00

I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk about this or not. I wasn't sure for a couple of reasons. First, right now Roman isn't going to care at all what I write on the internet-but one day he will. Second, emotionally, it's one of those "punch to the gut, help me I can't breathe" kind of feelings. And last, because in two years of life this is the first we've had to discuss or concern ourselves with this.... with cathing.

There are some parents whose children don't have shunts, Roman does.

There are some parents whose children have had few surgeries, Roman has had 10.

There are some parents whose children can walk, Roman doesn't...yet!

There are some parents whose children have no chiari symptoms, Roman does.

I'm not saying cathing is the worst thing in the world, I'm not even saying it's the worst thing in the neighborhood. I have come to know and trust a great many women who cath their kids. If they tell me (and they do) that cathing is no big deal-I believe them 100%.

However, we have gone so long with it just being a "non-issue" and kind of counting ourselves lucky that it hasn't been a part of our Spina Bifida journey. In fact, we even fooled ourselves into saying, "If it hasn't happened by now, I think we're in the clear."

So it should come to no surprise that we were wrong again and that Spina Bifida has, like a big jerk-punched us in the gut...again.

We got the news Monday that Roman's bladder isn't doing it's job correctly. I could bore and confuse you with the medical jargon, but the honest truth is that I still don't completely understand it enough to explain it with much confidence. Basically, he has a high pressure bladder. It didn't skip him. Like so many, many, many of his rockstar buddies-he will eventually need to be cathed.

Right now, his bladder is not doing it's job, but as far as we know his kidneys are. We'll know more with an upcoming renal ultrasound. Pending the results of that our game plan is to wait, and keep an eye on things. However, if his kidneys are being stressed at all, we'll start cathing right away.

I believe every one of us has our "nightmare." The thing we don't want to deal with, the thing we dread, the thing we were hoping to avoid. It doesn't matter how many kids you have, or if they have a scar on their back or not. We all have the nightmare.

In regards to Roman, this is mine. This is my, "please God, no." nightmare. Not because it's the worst thing that could happen, because it's not. But, because I allowed myself to get confident and a little cocky in the face of a condition that knows how to throw punches, and throw them hard.

I was thinking, since so many people want to call it, "spinal bifida" anyway why not just change the name to "take your mom down a peg-ifida"

Roman, I hope that by the time you're old enough to read this it won't matter, it won't mean anything to you. In fact, I hope it's not even stored in your memory bank. Because I hope that by then medical science will have stepped up to the plate and cured at least this one pesky little side effect of "take your mom down a peg-ifida."

I love every bit of you.

Two years old.

2011-03-07T20:29:00.000-08:00

In exactly one month, Roman will be two years old.
He will turn two.
He'll be a toddler.
I'll be able to sigh loudly and say things like, "Sorry folks, he's two."
He'll talk back, say no, throw fits, have tantrums, pick on his sister, refuse food, drink, and sleep. He'll bite, kick, punch, and pull his cousin's hair.
Having been there before I also know that he'll splash his father when he gets a bath, he'll take the caps off his sisters markers-and not recap them, he'll throw the cats food dish and spill her water, he'll probably-at some point-play in his poop, he'll steal my phone and butt dial my doctor's office or he'll wriggle out of his car seat straps forcing the trip to come to an abrupt halt.
Roman, as a two year old will play a little longer and a little more violently with his cars, trucks, plains, trains and tractors. He'll drive them off cliffs and into tunnels, he'll crash them into the cat and he'll probably-at some point-put a small wheel in his nose.
I know all of these precious nightmares await me. I know I'll be able to handle some of them with confidence and others with tears and frustration. I know he will try me, tease me, disobey me and taunt me. I know that with his sister by his side they will be a hurricane of destruction, noise and a mystery sticky substance on the tv, couch, walls, table and my computer-which they shouldn't have been touching in the first place.

All of this-the absolute worst parts of being a two year old, the parts of motherhood some would like to fast forward through, the horrible ideas, fights, arguments and messy crafts that come with having a two year old and a four year old, I wouldn't trade. Not for a clean house, not for a day at the spa, not for a 6 hour live taping of Grey's Anatomy. Nothing.

Because once you've seen your baby like this...

You don't get too upset when you see him doing stuff like this:

Once again, I'm doing this one month before the fact, so that I can write this without running the risk of a tear generated electrocution.
If you see me this month, you should hug me, because at any given time, at any given moment I am one second away from crying. Just so you know.

An emotional "field guide."

2011-03-01T00:33:00.000-08:00

I've been trying the last few days to compose an informative blog entry for new mothers who were just told that their child would be born with Spina Bifida. Having been that mother, and down that road, and friends with many who wear the same shoes, you would think it would be easy. I thought, "this will practically write itself!" I was wrong...again.

My problem, I think, is that I get too wordy and caught up in the emotions I felt and still do at times. Today. and Yesterday. Let's not discount Saturday either. Okay...am still feeling daily and a lot and all of the time. Are you happy? Now it's out there.

This won't be a "What is Spina Bifida" guide, this touches more on the emotional aspects of it. Because that's what I'm feeling. Emotional...and heavy.

Anyway, It's important that I remind you that I can't, nor can my friends tell any other person how to feel or even what they will feel or what is okay to feel when given their diagnosis. I thought I would take this time to go over a few of things that I have gone through, and hopefully my sisters in combat will add their two cents, too.

I'm currently reading a book called, "My Baby Rides the Short Bus." It's a book written by mothers of special needs kids, one of the mothers having a child with Spina Bifida. Today, I was reading a chapter that was written by a mother of a child with Autism. She writes that before she knew her son had Autism the only thing she knew about it was that it was a catastrophe. I weirdly and awkwardly nodded my head the entire chapter.

I think that's the common thought with most conditions that make our kids, "different" She had to learn that there are varying levels of autism, just like I had to learn that there are varying levels of Spina Bifida. We all do.

Don't assume your child will be in a wheelchair. Yes, it happens and yes it's common. But, it's also common to have a child walk with the use of a walker, or with hand crutches, or with no help at all. Don't drown your dreams of having a little ballerina or a little baseball player upon the arrival of this diagnosis. No doctor, no book, no person, nobody can define what your child will do.

Probably the most significant thing I've learned is that the one major truth, and one common similarity that all of our kids have-is they will blow your mind. Over and over and over again. THAT, I can promise you.

For me, a steep hurdle to conquer was my mouth, in the face of strangers. People talk all the time, people do it knowing it might hurt, and people do it totally oblivious to how much it might sting. I wish I could say I've developed a thick enough skin to scoff it all away. I haven't. While I am much closer now than I was months ago...I'm still not as tough as I would like. Will you have this problem? Who knows. I'm just throwing it out there. The point is, every single one of us has a story about a person who said this, or did that. We hope it won't be a part of your story, but the truth is..it probably will be. This is just a heads-up. Pick your battles. Take it with a grain of salt. There is a difference between being mean and simply being uneducated. As a coping mechanism, the best thing I can do is use my anger to fuel my desire to educate. Is this always the case for me, will it always be the case for you? Definitely not. Being angry is part of the process, embrace it...but not for too long.

Doctors. We are conditioned from the second we have our first visit, that if something is wrong a doctor will have the answer. They will make it right. They are all knowing. So, it's a hard pill to swallow when you have to look at a doctor and think to yourself, "I think you're kind of insane...hurry and finish your exam because I am never, ever, ev-er coming back again." That's perfectly fine. We've all got our "that doctor" story. Whether it's your own doctor who is saying things like, "Spina Bifida is the worst thing that could ever happen. Abort. Abort. Abort" or your child's doctor saying things like, "I don't think anything is wrong." When you clearly know that something is wrong.

They never mention in the mom poems the nitty gritty parts of being a mom. It's not always being silly and pinching cheeks. One of our jobs is to advocate for our child. Sometimes this means getting in minor to major disagreements with highly respected medical personal. Do it man. Do it. Do it, and feel super about it. How many people do you know that would not encourage you to get a second opinion? Exactly. If you're like me you'll think weird things like, "I don't want to hurt his feelings." Here's how I learned that I won't hurt their feelings.... they don't have any...JUST kidding, just kidding. But seriously...

Myelomeningocele, Syringomyelia, Syrinx, Chiari Malformation, Hydrocephalus, Neural tube, clubbed foot, AFO, DAFO, KAFO, Shunt, Catheter, Tethered cord, Decompression, Casting, Cutting, Scars, Pooping WHAT, WHAT, WHAT!? I remember saying, "I'll never learn this stuff." There is no way one person can retain this much medical information and for a lot of our kids, even MORE. The great thing is-we don't need to know it all.

I don't cath my son, so I have a very basic to almost non existent understanding of the process. I'm okay with not knowing it. If the day should come that I need help, I have a lot of friends who do cath, they'll make sure I get it right. Comparatively, my wee guy has had a tendon release surgery, so when a mom comes along and has a question-I chime right in. Don't worry about knowing it all. You don't need to. Learn what is unique to your child and you'll pick up some handy information along the way.

One thing I absolutely love about my SB friends, is that when a new mother comes along and gives us the medical play-by-play and short history of why she is there, we don't just start in with the medical jargon and the "what to expect the disability years" speech. We congratulate her. She's going to have a beeebby!

This thing in our belly just went from a precious miracle to lab test # SB598324HS. Or at least that's how I felt. I felt like "he" was replaced with, "it" all over again, and not in a good way. Allow yourself to be congratulated and allow yourself to be happy that you're going to give birth. It won't be what you expected, but then again that's how motherhood goes.

I never thought I would see my child with a feeding tube in his nose. I also never thought my daughter would wake up from our nap before me, and paint my face with her poop. Both happened. Both were unexpected and both didn't sit right with me emotionally. But, both are memories that I can thankfully say are far, far, far behind us.

For you, this might be a field guide of information you've heard already or maybe even experienced first hand. For others, this might be your first time. I hope you walk away from this with a new attitude and a little confidence in yourself. Don't say you can't do this, because you can. Don't say you're not strong enough, because you are.

You're a mom-you can do pretty anything you want.

If you're stumbling across this and don't know what or who I am referring to when I mention my sisters-in-combat or my friends or my SB moms-I mean the hoards of women at Babycenter.com in a group called, "Spina Bifida Kids" Who are moms just like me. We blog, we laugh, we share stories and best of all, we share information, encouragement and sometimes even medical supplies....love, too.

Google nothing, come to us first. http://community.babycenter.com/groups/a3825/spina_bifida_kids

Silly thoughts.

2011-02-23T22:08:00.000-08:00

I have a lot of stories. Having a lot of stories can be bad for someone who really enjoys talking, much like I do.
I mean, I really love to talk. I HATE texting, want to know why? Because I can't talk as much or as fast as I want to.
I love typing and I love talking. If you're telling me a story about that time you bought a moldy peach and it reminds me of the time that I had a colonoscopy, then by George, I'm going to interrupt you to tell you about it. That's what an insufferable talk-a-lotter does.
Well, I was listening to Beyonce's "Video Phone" today and feeling sufficiently cool, hip and a little younger than 26 when I was reminded of this really hilarious thing that happened last week. It has nothing to do with videos, phones or uniquely named hip-hop superstars, shawty.

I thought about using this opportunity to talk about other things in this category, which I will now dub as, "Things we do not need in 2011." But, as I thought about it I realized it's a really, really long list. Besides, I have to try and illustrate this with words as my ability to flail my arms about is hidden behind this computer screen. Trust me, my dramatic gesticulations really "make" this story.

So, as some of you already know, I drive a lot. Between Roman's appointments at a hospital 2.5 hours away, my appointments at a hospital 2.5 hours away or Isabelle's school which is about 45 minutes away-I'm rackin up the road time, friends. I'm racking it up like a pro. People who drive that much have a lot of stories. This is just one of them.

Roman and I are nearing the red light in Danville. Since I have never, in two years gotten the green light and was able to drive straight through I have long ago dubbed this the "stretch light" simply because it's where I preform a "pre-stretch" before the actual bigger, much more enjoyable stretch of getting out of the car and telling the valet guy, that I am now on a first name basis with, goodbye.

I'm so close to the red light. Man, I can't wait to hit the brakes, grab my seat and hurl my body around in either direction waiting for the "crack, crack, crack". Usually I'll also use this time to turn around and give Roman a quick cheek pinch. It's a mom thing.

I was growing quite annoyed with the pace of traffic. WHY is everybody going so slow? What the heck? Then I see it. I see the man, in his old car using....hand signals. The car in front of me, cautious but clearly confused keeps braking and staying warily behind as the hand-waver goes from a bent arm in the upward position to the straight out-trying to touch the car beside him position. Why? Why today? Of course I was discouraged because I could clearly see the stretch light and I just wanted to get there, and do my thing.

As I watched the man, I thought, "Ya know, he's just being safe." If my turn signal was broken I would just go without it. Even if I could muster up the courage to swallow the pain and embarrassment of communicating with other drivers with the use of archaic hand gestures-I don't even think I KNOW them. So then I followed that thought up with, "Way to go, cautious driver!" If I were a cop, I'd pull him over just to say, "Way to go, little buddy!"

"Oh good, he's turning" I thought. Wait a second, how do I know that? Ohhh, because his turn signal works perfectly fine. Fittingly, right around the time I realized his brake lights and turn signal worked perfectly fine, the car in front of me made the same discovery. Unless he just decided to beep his horn and give him that silly wave while angrily speeding past him for some other reason. Although, I think we were on the same page, because I was having a hard time controlling my rage.

Literally 6 to 7 cars in two lanes were letting this man lead the pack, slowly, cautiously and some of us even praised him for his moxy in what we thought was a distressful situation.
He lost a lot of thumbs up that day...yes he did.

While I understand that on the road this is pretty much a harmless offense, let's remember that hand signals should be used for emergency purposes only. Let us also remember that flying your imaginary airplane is NOT something that should be done by the driver. If you have planes that need to fly, you be the co-pilot that day. Agreed?

And this concludes my week late rant of "Things we do not need in 2011".
Hand Signals while driving-Check.

Stay tuned for our next installment: Bendaroos. I hate those things.

Baby Knock-out!

2011-02-14T17:51:00.000-08:00

Hello friends!
In the interest of being a little tacky, a little needy and a little braggy, and a little annoying, and a little needy, with a side of needy and a hint of needy. I need to ask you all to do me a very big, tacky, needy, annoying favor..

Like all good mothers should, I have entered Roman into a very competitive cute baby contest. It's hosted by our local radio station-I entered Isabelle every year until she was too old and I seem to be repeating the trend with Roman, too.

Next year, when Roman is too old I'll have our sweet, chubby Sullivan to enter and my dreams of being a pageant mom will finally come true. (This is of course a joke, as true pageant moms scare the heck out of me. The heck you guys. The heck)

Because I am competitive to a fault and enjoy the thrill of winning things for my kids (Okay and me, too), I am not only entering Roman I am also rallying the masses and asking you to vote for my wee wittle wonderful man.
Voting is easy! No sign up, membership, e-mails or divulging of any personal information at all. You simply go to the below mentioned website and click VOTE!!

Voting is Monday-Friday and you can click "vote" as many times as you want. You can do it until your finger falls off if you want.

(Disclaimer, The Potter's, The Potters a Plenty blog and it's friends, family, affiliates and fat cat, Emma are not responsible for the loss of your finger(s) or any of your appendages)

-Just click this link, put your mouse over this wording right here.
-Click "vote" under Roman's name and out-of-this-world-adorable picture
-Then click on the "leave a comment" button and let me know that you voted so that I can raise my glass of berry lime tea in your honor!

Thanks for letting me be "that mom". I appreciate every single one of you for helping a Potter out.

Winner for this round will be announced Monday, if that child should be Roman he'll go on to face the winners of the other 3 heats, and then it's a daily vote followed by a daily elimination (such a harsh word where babies are concerned) and then the winner is announced.

I suggest clicking "vote" until you've listened to every song on the play list. Go ahead... challenge yourself. ;)

Things we hold onto.

2011-02-10T01:59:00.000-08:00

About two years ago I opened a fortune cookie. An activity I've enjoyed for years, I mean who doesn't love the rush of learning some Chinese? There are very few food items that teach you valuable life skills, like asking, "Is the duck roasted?" and "math is happy." Or my favorite that I just made up right this second, "delicious cricket." all in exotic mandarin! (I'm very worldly.)

I can't honestly remember if Mr. P had received the fortune or if it came from my cookie or if we found it under a piece of broccoli. All I know is we've had it crudely taped to our refrigerator for two years. With each move, it gets slapped with a new piece of tape onto a new or gently used refrigeration unit.

In the beginning we would look at it, stare at it, take it all in. "Did we really get this in a fortune cookie!?" What does it mean and what mythical powers does it hold? It was and IS so special to us. I think it's one of those items that if the house was on fire I would have a kid under each arm, and one danging from my teeth, I would grab the fortune on the way out. Sorry, Emma.

Jeez, just kidding!
The fortune, to us, wasn't just a coincidental, random event of nature. To us, it was decided upon at the fortune cookie headquarters that the Potter's shall receive this message of hope in their hour of despair under a piece of broccoli. And so it was done.

The reason it's so significant to me today, the reason it's getting it's mention and the reason I found the camera and took the time to set it on "auto" and snap an awkward angled picture of it...is because I had kind of forgotten about it.

It just sort of became lost in the jungle of artwork and over time became more of a fridge adornment than our message of hope that it once was.

I'm sorry little shred of paper, I truly am.

March brings the two year anniversary of the day we were told that our son would, "probably need a wheelchair." Two years since we were apologetically told that "it's too late to terminate." Two years since we became parents to Roman. Two years since Isabelle became the world's best big sister. Two years.

Two years ago I would say I would never be this comfortable, I would say "You're crazy!" if you told me that I would look back with fond memories of March and the following year after that. But I honestly do. I can't fix or cure or change Roman's Spina Bifida. I can embrace it and kiss him. I can watch Isabelle pretend to be a pediatrician and wonder, "Will she be?" I know Roman will beat odds and I know he will make his mark on this earth. I know Isabelle will be tolerant, caring, and hopefully a hardcore advocate for people with disabilities. She certainly has the volume for it.

I wish I could speak for baby Sullivan but, I honestly don't know him that well. Right now he just hiccups a lot and gives me a solid boot to the bladder when he thinks I'm getting out of line.

These are just a few of the things I hold onto. My heroic children, my adoring husband, my supportive, Chinese-food-buying family and my shred of paper.

*sigh* General Tso....won't you find your way into my tummy?

**Afterthought. I realize it's just February 10th, I haven't lost it. Although, I'm always very close.
I wanted to write about March NOW, before I had too many emotions in the air to write as upbeat and optimistic as I have here today. I meant to explain this much more poetically in a paragraph that was appropriate. But, it's 5:31 AM-you're pretty lucky you even get this afterthought, to be quite honest.

International Day of Acceptance

2011-01-20T06:26:00.000-08:00

Lately, when I write or talk about disabilities I only look at the negative aspects. The fears and the unpredictabilities. I often focus on this archaic belief that everybody in the world is evil, and everybody wants to point at my children with laughter or pity.

Usually, when I think about my children's futures it's full of struggle and this bleak thought that we're in for a constant fight with people, things, situations and emotions. While I'm sure this will prove true at times, I'm not so jaded that I can't see that I'm probably wrong. Again.

Today my family is celebrating the International Day of Acceptance. To me, this is a day to celebrate diversity, not be afraid of it. A day to reflect on the good in people and the medical and social advances that have willfully and lawfully been set in place for people with disabilities. People like Roman. People you think about when you read my blog. THOSE people. Respect is not just a word they'll hear in their lifetime. It's a word they'll know firsthand in their lifetime.

Simply put, the idea of the International Day of Acceptance is just to...love. Love each other. Love yourself. How can you go wrong with that?

To learn more about the IDOA visit my friend Stevie at www.dayofacceptance.com

While there pick up some sweet 3E swag! Today I'll be wearing my pins, stickers and silly bands! And if you think these things aren't adorable check this out..

Yep. Adorable!

3E is a company that I tripped over in my daily facebook stalking regimen. Boy, am I glad I was stalkin` that day! I LOVE this company, I love the symbol, I love what they are doing. It's an amazing organization and I'm so happy to have found them.

For those wondering, 3E is an idea that challenges us to Embrace diversity. Educate your community. Empower Each Other.

Love life.

Today, I'll be wearing my heart on my sleeve. Will you?

Roman didn't get the memo.

2011-01-15T18:21:00.000-08:00

The news and video of Roman's debut as a big kid walker is mostly out by now. Most of you have seen it and most of you have given us an actual or "cyber" high-five by now. We appreciate your support and love that you're just as excited as we are in this massive achievement.

However, one day I might want to look back on the blog, maybe show the kids, maybe remind myself of specific events and I would surely kick myself (and Jason) if I didn't take the time to share the events of the day with you and future me.

The day of our appointment was an unusual one for Rome and I. Usually it's just him, me, the open road and the Zune on shuffle. This day, we had Daddy and Izzy riding along for the big day, too! Although Roman didn't say, "Hey, what's up guys?" I think he knew that this day was extra special!

When the Potter crew walked into the PT room, we saw all of the walkers sitting out and waiting for us. Roman looked past them and saw GIANT COLORFUL BALLS! So naturally, we played a little first. While the kids played, the PT, Mr. Potter and I discussed the best type of walker for Rome, size, technique and how our lives were about to change.

I have spent many nights not sleeping and crying, thinking about the day Roman would get his walker. I thought how he would do. "What if he can't-does this mean we get a wheelchair?" I thought about people staring at him, saying negative things to him. I wondered how I would answer questions from little kids regarding the walker. I wondered more how I would answer questions from adults. I thought about Isabelle, Carter and Collin and our soon-to-be Sullivan. Will they be more open-minded about people with disabilities? Will they advocate, will they tell bullies where to stick it? Most of my sleepless nights were centered around Roman. He's gone nearly 2 years without equipment and without anybody taking a second look at him. Most people wouldn't even know that he's labeled, "special needs"

Nobody knew the tornado of emotions that were swirling in my head and in my heart that day. Roman and Izzy were playing, and Jason and I nodded nervously to the PT. I thought my whole body would just implode the moment she said, "Okay, let's try this." But it didn't. I didn't even cry. The first try Roman didn't do so well. He didn't quite understand what to do. Luckily, his sister came to the rescue. She agreed to show him using a larger walker. She started walking towards us. We cheered and hollered and made a HUGE fuss over her. When she walked to me we all gave her high-fives and big hugs.

Roman, not to be outdone by anybody didn't even wait to be put in the walker. He crawled to it, and with a little help stood up in it. He walked directly to his cheering squad. He walked so far we had to keep backing up. He's got it. Our little boy can walk!

I thought this was it, we would talk about ordering him one and then head home. But the PT suggested we go out to the lobby and do some walking out there.

Um, wait a minute...the lobby? Um, there are people out there. People whose names I don't know. Strangers. People.

Roman seems to have less social anxiety then his mother. In fact, he seemed to perform even better with a small audience of onlookers. Most of whom looked, smiled, shared an expression of, "aww" to me and moved on. As a side note, nobody pointed, laughed, or asked weird and uncomfortable questions to us.

I spent so much time fretting, crying, biting my nails and eating chocolate at midnight. FOR WHAT!? In all of my foolish worrying I didn't take time to think of the good this walker will bring. Roman is standing up and playing with his sister, he's seeing things on a different level, he's participating like a 2 year old now. And pretty soon he'll confront stares and people giving us that apathetic "aww" look with his world-famous, war-ending, laugh-inducing smile.

I just remember those words, "Your son won't walk and probably won't be able to use his legs."

What a difference 21 months can make. Seems like a lifetime ago. We of course never mentioned those grim words to Roman. He is far too stubborn, far too optimistic, far beyond driven - he didn't get the memo.

TA-DAA!!

A Monster.

2011-01-10T01:31:00.000-08:00

When I started this blog it was to serve as an outlet. A way to talk about Spina Bifida without being too preachy to any one person or group of people. I'm a very talkative person, if I dumped this all on one friend they would probably melt...or stop being friends with me. Either would be horrible outcomes.

I thought that in writing how I felt, what I'm learning and the new challenges of being not just a mom, but a mom to a child who has spina bifida, I would find peace. Peace with my own crazy thoughts, Peace with my anger, peace with my confusion, peace of mind in any increment at all.

So, it should come to no surprise that I'm here to announce that I was wrong. Very wrong.

It's always been a chore for me to hold back my feelings. An absolute nightmare to get me to apologize and downright impossible for me to control my temper. Very few things in my life and the world make sense to me. Motherhood being one of the few exceptions.

Motherhood has been the one place where I feel like I fit. If Isabelle asks me a question, even if I really, really don't want to answer it, I do. Rarely have I ever been known to say, "BECAUSE I SAID SO!" I like to offer an explanation. I think she appreciates being treated like a big kid, and I know that even though it takes a little longer then "go ask your father." it saves me from wondering if she will be confused later, or get information that I don't agree with. I.e "Isabelle, what you heard was incorrect. We wash our hands EVERY TIME we go to the bathroom." We're still trying to clear that matter up.

When Roman was a baby it didn't matter that he couldn't walk. It didn't bother me that he was on my hip at one. Because every other mother was right there with me. I was the same as them. Nobody had to know that in a matter of time Roman would be dealing with mobility issues. Roman is getting a walker. Roman is getting an assistive device. Roman is getting equipment. We're going to be different now.

This is where things take a very drastic turn. This is the part where I turn into a monster.

I do not know where being a mother stops and being a monster starts. Part of me knows the second I have gone overboard and part of me can easily justify that by reminding myself that I am my children's ONLY advocate. Where do I draw the line between letting something like a picture on the internet effect my sleep or not? I have no control over it, I can easily shield it from my children's eyes and I can choose to not look at it. But, why do I have this insatiable desire to speak up? What will it change and why can't I just keep my mouth shut? Why is it so easy for me to assume that people do what they do to directly hurt me, or my children?

The biggest "what-if" in my life is will I always be a monster or will I eventually level out and learn to just be a mom who fights when the time is right and shuts up when it's necessary? When did this mom-to-monster transformation take place? How can I stop it?

I can easily blame it on pregnancy hormones, I can blame it on boredom, I can blame it on my love/hate relationship with onions or my hate for pretty much anybody who can wear high heeled shoes because they're not 5'9...and a half. okay, 5'10.

Honestly, I can play the blame game like nobodies business. This trait is all my mother's fault, she made me wear a pumpkin pin for pictures in the 4th grade. Unreal. I know.

But when do I become just as bad as "everybody else?" when does my fighting and my judging and my constant battles make me the bad guy? When do I eventually turn into a monster for good, lose control and become what I've been fighting the whole time?

This monster is completely consumed with sadness and regret and fear and anger and....

Actually, just admitting that I think I've answered most of my questions.

Mr. Potter's Lullaby

2010-12-31T09:14:00.000-08:00

It's no major secret that Jason was the one who said the crazy 3 words first. He said them, "I love you." just like we've been saying them for years. But, it had only been weeks. I replied with..nothing...and the next day I said the same thing. I sang this song for a couple of weeks. He kept saying it and I kept nodding my head like, "Good to know, little buddy."
It's not that I didn't love him. Honestly, I loved him before he even knew who I was. I remember telling my friend, "I'm going to marry that man." her reply was, "I'm pretty sure he's already married" to which I replied, "details my friend...minor details."
At least I think that's how it went down..
I didn't wreck any homes, I didn't do anything shameful. I simply fell in love with a man in secret and when I heard that he and his....."room-mate" had decided to "live apart" I made my move.
I turned legal...err 18 on September 17th, 2003. On September 26th Mr. Potter and I made our way to the same party at a mutual friends house...We smooched to Candlebox's "Far Behind" and when it ended I asked him to play it again, because it was the only song I knew. It's not a very romantic song at all, in fact I think it's about suicide. But it's always been our song.
.....we listened to it about 6 times in a row before I told him it was time for me to go, and he walked me home.
I don't remember what we were doing or where we were or what I was wearing or even what we were listening to, although let's be honest, it was probably Aerosmith. He had said, "I love you." In that carefree, "this is perfectly normal" tone that we had both grown comfortable with over the last few days....and I said it back. "I love you, too." Not because he wore me down or because I felt sorry that he had been saying such hugely important words to a brick wall. No, I replied because I meant it. I really did love him. I loved him before he knew me, I loved him when he kissed my forehead, I loved him when he walked me home and I loved him when he said loved me.

The next 8 years proved to be the most fun, the most weird and the most loving of my life. Fights, make-ups, break-ups, throw-ups, marriage, kids, mortgage, cell phone bills and long, long talks and even longer kisses. Every memory, every moment, every ounce of our life together is my favorite. The good, the bad, the ugly, the morning breath-They are our memories, our moments, our life and your morning breath. I hope we stay this happy, this comfortable, this in love until....

Happy Anniversary, Jason. I love you, too.

Fake bears, a very real threat.

2010-12-18T20:33:00.000-08:00

A lot of my friends live in cities, where they have more than one red light, several choices of Wal-marts, and taxi cabs. Although I have no interest in living in, at, near or around these big cities, I must say I envy their short driving time, and lack of woodland animals. You see, city folk may have a lot, but one thing they lack is..BEARS!

Small towns, like the one I live in, at, near and around have it much more differently. We have one Wal-mart, a long drive where ever we go and...bears.
Bears, and not that kind you see in those newfangled zoo's that all you youngsters are talking about. These are real ones, with real teeth and real murderous tendencies. These bears not only can kill, they enjoy it. They have a thirst for it. They hunt you. Pennsylvania black bears are the real threat in this country, remember that. Always remember that.

Like I said, we do a lot of driving in these here small parts, and when you do that much driving you're bound to see some crazy things. Like recently on a long trip to some retail store I was shocked, scared and really alarmed when I saw not just one bear, but a FAMILY of bears right in somebodies front yard! Just standing around, waiting for the kill. Smelling out the unfortunate homeowners fears, waiting for them to check the mail or take out the garbage. Clearly this family of bear had been stalking these people for quite some time to learn their patterns, habits, and schedule. Man, I felt bad for them. But what can lowly ole me do? Bear murder happens every day in this valley. You just have to check for warning signs to see if you're at risk, for instance, where are your children right now?

As I continued driving, I kept watchful eye on what was important-the bears. But, wait a second....These bears weren't really doing a lot of..moving. In fact, that little one seemed to be standing on his back legs for way too long. You see, bears, especially Pennsylvania black bears have a hard time standing on their back legs, because of their sheer strength and the weight and girth of their enormous teeth. The bears center of gravity is knocked way askew, this of course is common knowledge to the bears-it's what helps fuel their hate for humans. Scientist call it, "back leg envy, rage, murder fuel." It what makes a bear dangerous.

As I looked a little longer at the bear, and neglected the road even more, I came to a stunning realization. These weren't bears, these were WORSE.
THESE WERE FAKE BEARS!!

Folks, strategically planning to put bear shadow cut-outs in your yard is not only unappealing, it's wrong. It's dangerous. Below, I've listed why it's wrong and atrocious to have wooden bear cut-outs in your lawn, as well as solutions to remedy the situation.

1: The first and most obvious reason. A family of bears congregating in a yard means one thing: A kill is about to take place. This draws other bear families to join in, and reap the benefits of their kill. A family of fake bears may as well be giant red signs that read, "I'm meaty" and "I'm rubbed in steak sauce." Stop inviting bears into your yard!
Instead, you may try starting several small fires in and around your house. The smoke will distract the bears, don't think for a moment it will scare them, because it won't. It will only serve as a distraction long enough for you to get to your car in the morning....depending on how far away your car is.

2: Mock bears are not an attractive lawn ornament. It's much like putting up pictures of famous cannibals throughout time. It's disgusting really and I've lost all respect for you.
Instead, try putting up pictures of fire, and then setting them on fire. This will serve as a short distraction to the bear and will give you barely enough time to bring in one bag of groceries.

3: Don't keep your animals outside. Their insistent barking is not "at the moon" or "because they are a hound" it's because you've left them outside with bears. They feel betrayed and are begging to not die in such a gruesome manner. Honestly, if you're leaving your animals outside, you're not really deserving of them anyway.
Instead, get rid of all of your animals. Send them to Chicago. Wait, Chicago has "da bears" Send them to LA.

4: Stop baking pies and letting them cool in your window. For obvious reasons.
Instead, try bear jerky.

Now that I have provided you with life-saving knowledge of bears, please heed these rules and feel free to add any of your own. There should be absolutely no reason to see anymore of this on my long drives or my short drives..

The likeness of these bears compared to the real deal is so exact that I shudder at the thought of how close I came to death.
Let's knock off the nonsense, please.

Bad words.

2010-12-08T21:43:00.000-08:00

I wanted to title this, "Why I have to change doctors, leave the valley and pull my daughter from school."
But, I found it to be a tad lengthy, so I chose "bad words" instead. Because after all, that's what I'm going to talk about. er, write about.

I've been conditioned, as I'm sure most of you have, that "bad words" are words that must not be spoken. Words that are icky and will get you in trouble.
Some bad words are soo bad that I want to change doctors, leave the valley and pull my daughter from her school.

Although my husband and I are not very churchy or religiousy people, we've chosen a christian private school for our daughter to attend. The kind of school where bad words are especially frowned upon.
Now, Mr. Potter has the job of dropping Isabelle off and picking her up from school, as he works in the same town. Monday was different...Monday he worked from home...Monday changed my life and probably my healthcare provider, too.

Mrs. Potter had the extreme joy of picking up her lovely daughter from school on Monday. I was so excited, I rarely get to go in and see the school and talk to her teacher and be the mom who picks up her daughter from school. Isabelle was excited, too. We took care of her things, chatted with the teacher and said goodbye to her friends. "Psh, this is easy." I thought.

On our way out, I saw him. My doctor. Helping his kid put his coat on. I was just getting ready to say, "Hey!" When Isabelle pointed to his son and said, "That's the little boy who says bad words all the time."
I was mortified. Frozen with fear! So, instead of saying "Hi!" I grabbed her hand a little tighter and we beat feet out of that bad word slinging school!
As we're walking the hallway towards freedom, I can hear them behind me. I'm sweating. My daughter is going to call his son out on his swearing, I know it. It's what she does. She calls people out. She tattles, she's not a good friend!
We're at the door. I open it and instinctively look behind me, to politely hold it for whomever may be behind me. To my horror, It was him. It was my doctor and his potty mouth kid!
I smile, say hello and think, "We're on holy ground, Isabelle. Please don't swear. Please don't say anything." We exchange small talk, "Ohh what class is she in?", "Burr, sure is cold." I can't bare to even look at him. I know my eyes will scream, "YOU'RE HOLDING HANDS WITH A POTTY MOUTH!"

Finally, he made it to his car, and I made it to mine. Thankfully, Isabelle had remained silent.
We're in the car now...I did what NO MOTHER should ever do. I gave my daughter immunity. I said, "Isabelle, can you tell me what bad words that little boy said? It's only just this one time, and only because mommy wants to know. You can never, ever, ever say it again after this...okay?"
I hated myself for it. I knew it was a mistake. WHY DID I ASK!? I could feel my 4 year old start to speak...it..it..it was the F-WORD!!

...."He says, "fart" and "stupid..""

Although she didn't understand my laughing, Mr. Potter and I had a pretty good chuckle.
Thankfully, we don't have to move, change doctors OR transfer her to a different school! Hooray for f-words!

How to: NOT be nice at Christmas

2010-12-02T18:07:00.000-08:00

I realize that at Christmas time you're supposed to be extra nice, extra polite and extra cheery. For the most part, I am all of those things. I mean, after all, I ADORE Christmas. It's my favorite time of year! This year it's even extra super special because we're celebrating it for the first time in our very own- our name is on the deed- don't drink in the living room- I can't believe how much paint we bought- house.
So, you understand that in writing this and in sharing this I feel a bit like..scrooge. I mean, how can somebody so in love with the holidays share something this tragic and spread the yuletide horror?
I have been complaining about this woman for a long time now. Not because I think I can do better than her, because I tried, and trust me I can not. But because it shocks me that the Food Network basically let's this woman get good and drunk and then "bake" things on a whim. I tried my hand at cake baking and guess what? I was bad at it. So I stopped. Because that's what you're supposed to do!
Sometimes when I watch her (for entertainment purposes only) I think, "wow, she is really just making this up as she goes." I have shared a lot of her youtube videos on my facebook and would like to share this one.(again)
Because it's Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and other holidayish things.

If you have small kids in the room, please... shield their eyes. Please don't watch this while you're baking anything that might fall. Tragically, once your souffle hears the familiar sound of salty Corn Nuts hitting the tops and sides of a horrifically iced store bought angle food cake..it will fall. I can promise you that.

Please don't hate me, for spreading such blasphemy.

There. We all made it out alive....pretty much.

And I feel like a jerk for being mean at Christmas, but.....come on. What she did back there was brutal.

Thankgiving stuffing. I mean stuff.

2010-11-23T20:33:00.000-08:00

At the start of November I decided to join in an adorable trend of confessing daily what I was thankful for. Now, those who know me, knew I probably wouldn't stick with it. It's a character flaw, I've never been able to really stick with things. I WANT to. Really, I do. But I just don't do it.

Usually not finishing something makes me giggle and say, "A rainy day." But this is different. I can't save this for a rainy day. All I have is here and now. HERE AND NOW!! So because I feel kind of like a failure, jerk and thankless brat I have decided to redeem myself...in list form. Because list form is my favorite form.

Scholars maintain that the month of November has exactly 30 days in it. For my sins against the pilgrims, the indians and the Santa Maria I will list 30 things I am thankful for. I just wish I was in the right condition to drink for all 30 of them, too. (I keed!)

I am thankful for my husband. Because even though I have spent countless hours imagining how amazing our fist fights could be, I couldn't imagine my life without him. I think that's why we've never turned to hands-on violence. Because Mr. Potter KNOWS I could take him. That's love, you guys. That's true love.

Mis-rabelle Potter and Rome Nolte Because let's be honest, she's grumpier than Walter Mathou and he looks like an entirely more adorable, younger and less crazier version of that crazy haired Nick Nolte. My kids are my world, I am obsessed with them.

My family. This includes Jason's family that I inherited through marriage. It's not easy being related to us. Because honestly, we're weird. Um, please stop nodding your head, it was a joke...ZING!

But seriously, we've always received such wonderful support from our family. Having children has just glued us together tighter. We love you guys!

I have some seriously amazing friends all over this great nation. They say a woman should have about 20 girlfriends and each should be a little different. Thankfully, all of my friends have one very important thing in common...me! As soon as I start saying things like, "Hey, my elbow was itchy-should I go to the E.R?" 20 women will roll their eyes at me in unison and say, "I think you'll be okay." That's some friendship right there.

A lot of you might not have known this, but our darling Penny Lane Potter was miserable living in town. We thought the transition would be easy-it was not. So she was adopted and is living the dream! She has acres to run and other dogs to chase, she's in doggy paradise! I'm thankful that "CJ" is taking such good care of her and giving her the belly rubs and Beggin Strips that she can handle. Thank you for the pictures!

I can't mention one of my furbabies without mentioning the other. Emma Fatface Potter and I have had a lot of cozy couch time both in the past and recently. She always seems to know when I need somebody to listen and do very little talking. I mean very little talking. Emma, you're the best secret keeper I know. Thank you for matching the new furniture, I was a little worried. ;)

I am thankful for carrots. Not because they are chock full of life expanding provitamins, although that is a wonderful perk. But because I love them. I love them in every form imaginable. whole, baby, cooked, steamed, baked, fried, in a ranch prom dress, with a monocle, off a dirty floor. It doesn't matter to me. I just want your love and your "smooch, smooch, smooch, smooch" carrot flavored KISS. (The artist formerly known as Prince would be okay with this.)

Coffee. That's 8.

My four slice toaster. I don't need to justify this, it was heaven sent and it has green lights. That's all you need to know.

The basement dwellers at the courthouse. Those guys know how to make a girl feel special. ;) AND, they have my back when old men openly accuse me of stealing 5 dollar bills, which, I did NOT do.

Pandora. I don't get that kind of thrill from listening to the radio, there is something so wonderful knowing that it's an entire station of songs you'll "probably" dig. And guess what station, "Toto station" I think adding Chicago to the mix WAS GENIUS!!

Baby kicks. I wonder if people will wonder why this is so low on the list. I'll tell you why. Because I just got kicked and it reminded me how much I love it. That's why.

Online shopping. It just doesn't get any better than that.

Online shopping with other people's money. Ohh man, even better.

I am very, very, very thankful for cranberry sauce...in. a. can. I've tried the rest and I keep coming back to the best. I love that it can be sitting on a shelf for months, opened and transferred to a pretty dish, and always remain cold. HOW DOES IT STAY SO COLD? I'll tell you why, because it fell from heaven. That's a chilly plummet my friends. I would know.

I am thankful for Lacy Jones. Because even though she is like an animal saving extremist-She has saved a ton of animals. What a thankless job she has. Now that it's getting colder and there are more and more helpless, homeless animals freezing outside, I am thankful that the world has people like her willing to sacrifice so much.

Car shopping. Man, I love car shopping. I think I'll go car shopping soon.

Christmas. Even though most Christmas songs make me cry, and seeing the snow fall at night makes me cry, and seeing kids sledding makes me cry and watching kids in line waiting for Santa makes me cry..you get the point...I really like Christmas.

When I sing alone in my car, I still have a microphone. I'm thankful that nobody has seen me singing Pat Benatar into my lip gloss.

I am thankful for modern medicine and high tech ultrasound mahjiggies.

A pair of nice fitting slacks.

I am quite thankful for bras that aren't wired in razor blades. Who's with me?!

Turning a "thankful" list into a "like" list. It's sort of how I roll. Actually, I can't back that up. This is my first thankful-to-like list ever. I had no clue it would go this route. I'm sorry, friends.

Christopher Columbus and the Pinta` I never was a big fan of the others.

I'm so thankful that this is number 25, because wow this is hard. In fact, at this point I'm just making things up.

French fries and barbecue sauce. I didn't make that up. That stuff is boss.

I'm thankful that Jason wraps all of the presents. Because MAN is he going to be busy.

I'm thankful that you guys love me just as I am...You already know I don't finish things.

From everybody here at the award winning Potter 4.0 blog we wish you a HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Remember to eat plenty of canned cranberry sauce, it feeds the soul.

"smooch, smooch, smooch!"

Peanut Potter: The results show

2010-11-16T11:24:00.000-08:00

Hello there, friends!
It's been a while since I've blogged so I thought I would use our big news as an exciting new entry. Plus, blogs are the easiest way to share big news with large groups of people.

We've been patiently waiting for Peanut Potter to spread those little legs so we could take a peek and see what we're dealing with. Pink or blue, Peanut! Time to spill the beans!

This baby has kept us in suspense long enough and I guess to be fair, we've done the same to you.

Now, without further delay here is a special message that Isabelle and I had to recreate because the original video of her calling her grandmother and sharing the news was RUINED by none other than one Mr. Jason Potter. Who recorded a video with no sound. I'll deal with him later.

(If you're listening to the player you should pause it..it just makes things easier on both of us.)

The end!

The Potter Five! (Sans the monkey, money and glitter hand.)

Spaghetti: The Facts! (surprise ending!!)

2010-10-27T10:29:00.000-07:00

Here's a question for ya, how much could spaghetti evolve over the years? I'm willing to bet its noodliness, taste and color have stayed the same since....prehistoric times. Yeah, I went that far.

The thing that makes "sketty" so diverse is that it is so....um, so diverse.

I'm so poetic.

Instead of me trying to weirdly tell you what I love about sketty, I thought I would just use bullets. Sketty Bullets.

Everybody makes sketty differently. None are as good as mine.
Nearly 9 trillion people love sketty, the others aren't born yet.
Tiger Woods retired from golfing because he couldn't take spaghetti on the green with him.
Bono and "the other guys" take sketty to skettyless regions of the world and teach children the art of "fork twirling."
Sketty is just as good with meatballs as it is without. You can not say that about many foods. "I don't know why they call it hamburger helper, I think it does just fine on it's own." -Cousin Eddie
Popeye did NOT put spinach in his sketty, claiming that he would rather endure the beating of a lifetime from Bluto then to compromise the taste of his beloved sketty.

These are all true statements, and to contest them would be against the law. Sketty law.

Clearly I love spaghetti for many reasons, it's low cost and quick prep time make it a lazy moms dream dinner!

The one thing I love most about spaghetti though, the reason for this blog, the reason I got off my duff and put batteries in the camera is this....

Mr. Potter loves it

(That is the closest thing to a smile he will give.)

First born Potter loves it.

in regards to smiles: Second verse, same as the first!

Sketttyyy

He eats it shirtless and with a casual attitude towards aim.

TWIST, I don't really care for spaghetti. I'd rather have buttered noodles and buttered bread with butter and some butter sauce with butter topping and butter stuffed butter ....butter.

Butter, regardless of my opinions on it, I love spaghetti night at the Potter house. So much so that I had to share our fun sketty night with you. Because I love butter, my family, and you.

In butter we trust!

Jaded.

2010-10-17T22:17:00.000-07:00

It's not really any big newsflash that I really enjoy talking. I like listening too, and though I'm not a bad listener I'm just really, really good at talking. Really.

Lately, I feel like I say the same old crap to the same old rolling eyes. It's starting to make me want to shut up, for just a little while.

Sometimes I can even catch people looking at me, waiting for me to cut in. Like when I hear somebody say, "God, I'm so retarded." Theres a pause in the room, because I've become so predictable they know I want to say something, but most days I don't feel like I have the fight in me.

I know people wonder why I'm so passionately against the "R-word" considering my son was born with a faulty spine and not a faulty chromosome. So I've decided to touch briefly on the subject, if not to clear the air then at least to get my talking fix in.

When I gave birth to Roman, I became a member of a very exclusive club. NOT just a mother to a son who has Spina Bifida, a mother to a special needs child. This club is open to ALL special needs children.

Downs Syndrome, Cerebral Palsy, Autism, Spina Bifida, etc. It honestly doesn't matter how rare or common the condition is, to us, they may as well be the same because we're fighting for the same common goal. Respect us, respect our children.

When you call yourself, or a friend, a "retard" in front of me. I don't think to myself, "Oh, they didn't mean it like that."

I see a mother terrified of the human race, trying to protect her child from people who can so easily spread blind hate. People who bully, ridicule and are intolerant of our children just because they are a little different.

It doesn't matter if that mother is me, rubbing my fingers across Roman's shunt or another mother looking into her child's almond shaped eyes. To us, it stabs the exact same. It burns, it rips, it hurts.

Now, since I am sobbing quite hysterically both because I'm a hormonal roller coaster and also very, very sad I need to try and lighten the mood.

Below, I have listed some name alternatives that you could use in place of "retard" Unless of course you're using them to offend somebody, in that case your only option is to stick your tongue out at a mad elephant.

Instead of jokingly calling yourself a "retard" (Listen close, Jennifer Aniston!) try these fun names.

"Wow, I bombed that test. I'm a jellybean."

"I've seen Popsicles write better essays."

"Did I really do that? Boy, I'm a real carrotball today."

"Ohh yikes, you hit "reply all?!" That's the most fudge covered froggy thing I have heard all day." (Okay, it was a stretch but saying "fudge covered froggy" brings me great joy and it's hard to fit into a sentence.)

While preparing for a long night on the town with your best buddy try saying, "We're going to get crunk tonight." For two reasons, saying you're going to get "retarded" will make all the girls think you're a jerk and no amount of liquor will make them want to kiss you on the cheek at the end of the night. Alternatively, if you say, "Let's get crunk." They'll think you're hip and that probably really know how to "kick it" This will ensure plenty of kisses at 10:30, when you're all coming home.

Instead of insisting that your friend rides "The short bus" insist instead that they ride the bus that every single person has wanted to ride in and are secretly steaming mad that they haven't yet been invited. (If you're denying it, you're a liar. Think of how many conversations I could have at once in that thing!)

Okay, so these are all kind of a stretch, especially since not many of you are "writing essays" or "bombing tests" but the point is, I'm begging you to rethink your words, consider the impact, replace the R word, spread the word to END the R word.

Remember, "Manners are very communicable: Men catch them from each other" -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Regards,

I stopped crying.

The drum roll, please.....

2010-10-05T18:28:00.000-07:00

Friends,
I apologize for making you wait so, so, sooo very long for the results of such a SUPER EXCITING contest.

I'm here now and without further ado I present to thee....the winner.

Congratulations to Jessica N Jason Dilly
They win a $50 dollar gift certificate to one of my favorite crafty places on Facebook, nay...the WHOLE INTERNET!

Remember friends to check out Ashbdesign on facebook to see everything she has to offer, you will NOT be sorry!
I'm getting very excited to find out what the Potter 3 baby will be, because Ashbdesigns WILL be making a little blue or a little pink diaper bag for us.

Congrats again Jessica N Jason Dilly on your big, fat win! I'm a little jealous. ;)

The Anniversary Give-AWAY!!

2010-09-29T21:35:00.000-07:00

Exactly one year ago I wrote my first blog entry..again. It felt great to get all of that out, and I was pretty proud of myself for returning to it and writing a second, and a third and so on. Fifty-one entries later and I am addicted to blogging and in love with the people that I've met along the way.

For me, this was a way to both journal my feelings and also meet people along the way who are in the same boat as us. The outcome of this adventure is nothing short of a miracle. The friends I have made, the lessons I have learned, the laughs I've shared and the tears we've all cried have made this whole journey...remarkable.

This year, you guys have made me feel so great about being a mom, being a mom to a boy with Spina Bifida, being a wife and being...me.

As a thank you, for coming back even when I talked about our mouse infestation and when I posted pictures of Roman's filthy little knees. Or the best day ever when I added George Harrison's "I got my mind set on you" to my music play list I have decided to give a little back..

in the form of...

Are you ready?!

A GIVE-AWAY!

To be entered in the give-away simply comment below, or on our facebook fan page ONE THING you have learned this year.

It could be something you learned from me, something you learned from your mail person, something your kid has taught you.

Anything memorable you have learned this year, tell me and I'll enter you in the contest!

THAT my friends, is simple.

And the winner will receive a 50 dollar gift certificate to Ashbdeisgn, Our crafty little friends who will later be making Baby Potter #3's diaper bag. I don't know which excites me more, the third child or the diaper bag. (Kidddingg!!)

Need a purse? Travel Bag? Ipad bag? Diaper Bag like me? The winner will get 50 bucks to spend at their leisure!

But to me, the real gift is getting to know the woman behind the squiggles and swirls and pretty fabric patterns. She's a nice lady with tons of talent and an adorable, furry assistant. Check out her facebook page HERE to see what this lady can do. You will be SUPER impressed! I promise!

Good luck everybody! The winner will be announced on Friday October 1st, before we move into our brand new internetless house!!

And once again, thanks for sticking with me.

How my computer tricked me.

2010-09-11T23:57:00.000-07:00

Hello friends!
In keeping up with my promise to not ever, ever, never, ever wait 1 month and 3 days before I compose a blog entry, here I am!
It begins with me tinkering with the blog itself and chewing on the idea of what to write about.
That interesting rerun of House perhaps?
What I ate for dinner?
A self-help for ashy elbows?
No. None of those would do. I needed something good, something funny, something I was proud of.

So, I was tinkering some more, adding new music to the music player and pondering the big question. I kept looking at the time and thinking, "It's sure getting late, nearly 10:00 post meridium" But, I chugged away trying to build inspiration from the songs I was adding and simultaneously listening to.

Bravo.

Bravo went from what I thought would be an all night House marathon to Law and Order (BLECH) so I changed it.
When I did that, magic happened. I saw the time.
2:30 AM!!!! WHAT!?!?
So I looked at the clock on my computer and.....

You sir, are a liar.

And you have shaken me to my core.

Goodbye, until some other real or fake time.

One month, three days.

2010-08-28T21:32:00.000-07:00

It has been exactly one month and three days since I last blogged. I am both very sorry for you, and absolutely ashamed of myself.
As I mentioned one month and three days ago (I know you remember) We have been pretty busy around here.
Momma Reekie, as I have just nicknamed myself this very second has been VERY busy!
First, we adopted a dog, to torment and insistently lick the faces of all who enter. She's been perfect. Although, I almost considered "regifting" her today when Jason said, "Penny dug up a pretty nice sized bone outside" and as I spoke to say "gross." she licked the inside of my mouth. That is to say our tongues danced an unnatural dance. That is to say, my dog french kissed me. Even though things have grown awkward between us, I forgave her.

Also, Mr. Momma Reekie and actual Momma Reekie BOUGHT A HOUSE!! We're still "potterizing" it and hope to be disturbing the peace in suburbia very, very soon. The Mister claims that the house is equipped with a "third floor" but I proclaim it is simply an attic. (I am always right.) So, we compromised and our house comes fully loaded with a third floor attic. (Weirdly, no new house smell.)

Additionally, Momma Reeks is officially employed! I wish I could say that enough time has gone by that I totally understand my work and am confident in what I do. I can't. But, I am having fun and I feel like a real member of society again.

Bittersweetly, Our oldest, our firstborn, our jokester, our only daughter, our wittle wady wizzy woo has gone off and done the worst thing imaginable!! ...She's starting school. Preschool. AND turning four exactly one day before she walks through the double doors of freedom, independence and knowledge (Snack time, too)
I am getting so verklempt just talking about it. I had to go "school shopping" a few weeks ago. SCHOOL SHOPPING!! Doesn't she know what she is doing to me?

Lastly, The Potter's wanted to share some pretty big news with you.
We're adding a Peanut Potter. Another April baby!
This time I am being 100% honest with you. (almost 0% in previous posts) Baby Potter Peanutter or Peanutess is due to arrive April 29th. In addition to excitement, happiness, morning sickness and love we're also filled with excitement, happiness, fear and love.

Thank you for allowing me to catch up. And thank you for not egging my house for keeping you waiting so long.
I promise the next time we talk will not be in one month and three days.

Have a great weekend everybody!
If you have kids starting school or heading back to school, kindly ground them in my honor.

Lacy and Penny

2010-07-26T20:17:00.000-07:00

This my friends, is a dog-gone good entry if you ask me! (My husband is the pun-maker. This is literally the best I can do.)

About 2 weeks ago Roman and I were driving to this little health food store located at.....okay, okay we were going to Wal-mart. Anyway, just as we were turning to get on the highway I noticed a little dog on the side of the road. This dog looked both scared and in serious danger of getting hit. I immediately called my cousin, Lacy to help me out.
Now, anybody who knows my cousin Lacy knows that dogs, cats, horses, birds, lizards, frogs, ants, bugs, bats, and probably even two headed snakes hold a special place in her heart. This chick loves animals. I mean it. This chick adores animals. Lacy is basically the voice of love, help and protection for all the animals in our area. She's saved and changed so many lives. She really is an amazing person.
Within ONE HOUR Lacy had rallied her troops (her mother) and the little "side of the road dog" was "safe in the backseat dog". Not long after that she went from "backseat dog" to "getting a full work up at the vets dog." I knew calling Lacy was a good idea, but I didn't know big of an impact that call had on me and our family.
Turns out, this dog had quite a tragic story to tell. The vets guessed that she was about 14 months and had already given birth to about six puppies. Although we never found the puppies, or the people who so inhumanely dropped her off, I like to think this story has a pretty great ending.

WHY!? Well isn't it obvious? BECAUSE WE ADOPTED HER!!

Our little doggy is so patient, and loving and calm and wonderful and amazing and out of this world cute that the vets dubbed her "Patience" Which is, absolutely fitting. This dog is amazing! EVEN Emma loves her!
Of course, once she became a Potter we had to give her a proper Potter name.
So now, the moment you've all been waiting for...
We'd like to introduce you to Penelope (Penny) Potter

She doesn't even care that my floor are always littered with toys, cups and kids. (I think she prefers it!)

Penelope Potter's first glamor shot.

Eww Izzy kisses or Eww Penny kisses? You decide.

A close up of the only brown eyed girl in this house. She ALSO loves cuddling with Mr. P

(I'm okay with it.)

Mighty fine lookin' brood you have there puppy paws Potter

In closing, today has been wonderful. The kids love her, I adore her and even Mr. P (the cat lover) is enjoying some cuddle time with Penny. She really is a wonderful addition to our growing family.

Lacy, your unending love, devotion and your limitless advocacy for animals saved Penny, and since she is now a Potter that means you saved one of my kids. I can't thank you enough, my friend. I vow to always take care of her and love her the way she deserves. I promise you, she will be well taken care of, smothered in love, walked daily and given smooches and a belly rub several times a day.

Thank you so much for allowing us to be Penny's forever home.

The best thing I ever wrote.

2010-07-19T20:53:00.001-07:00

A few weeks ago my mother shared with me a very disturbing comment that somebody had delivered to her.

While at work my mother was updating an old friend on Roman's Spina Bifida. A woman standing nearby overheard the conversation and said, "Spina Bifida? I thought those babies were born as like, blobs or something?"

Blobs.

At first I was furious. I wished very, very bad things upon this woman. VERY BAD THINGS. Later, I just felt sad. Sad because there are millions of people in this world who must think the exact same thing. Doctors included. Sad also because there are even more people living amazing lives and Spina Bifida is just along for the ride. They are not now, nor ever have been nor ever will be....blobs.

This incident, and so many like it has inspired me to rally the troops, and gear up for a lesson in compassion and enlightenment. I could go on to bore you with facts and statistics. Trust me, there are TONS. But, for today I want you to hear US.

The following is from my army of SB moms (and dad). Whom I love, respect and cherish very, very, very, very much. ...very.

"I am one of the lucky ones. I didn't have anyone encourage me to terminate and I didn't have anyone tell me my child was not going to have a good quality of life.

Clara is awesome! She already patty-cakes, is rolling over and working on army crawling. She is funny and cute and spoiled! She will have her obstacles in live, but who doesn't. We are more than blessed by our newest little one.

The biggest thing I want people to know is that Clara does not need their "pity" and "I'm so sorry" attitudes. She, like everyone else, just needs understanding and compassion." Heather, Mom to Clara SB at L5.

"Being told your child will have Spina Bifida is probably the scariest thing one would ever experience. My entire pregnancy, I had a 6th sense that something was wrong... But even after our diagnosis, I still had a small glimmer of hope that he might not have it; that the techs and doctors made a mistake. I don't know if I was in denial or just that hopeful that we'd conquer this like it was non-existant, but every thought you could have imagined came to me during the last 10 weeks of my pregnancy (we were diagnosed pretty late compared to most).

We've been lucky enough to dodge completely-uncalled-for comments, but we've dealt with a lot of people saying, "He looks so normal!" I cannot tell anyone how frustrating that is to me. Most people question whether or not he will walk, and occasionally, we'll get people asking us if there's "anything wrong with his brain." Once you throw that shunt/hydro thing in there, they go wild with it, assuming the worst. It frustrates me to know people are that unaware of Spina Bifida and what comes with it.. But, I will jump at the opportunity to educate anyone that is interested.. I suppose the rude comments and questions are worth it if they stick around long enough to be corrected.

My motto in life is "For every mountain, there is a miracle." I wouldn't know the good if I didn't have the bad. And I wouldn't fully realize how lucky I am to have such a beautiful family, spina bifida or not." Lindsay, Mom to Justin aka "Judge" Functions at L3, lesion is lower L-S area."

"After finding out at 24 weeks that our baby would have SB, I spent many nights worrying about all the things Madison would not be able to do. Now I look at my little girl, who just turned one, and I am amazed on a daily basis at all the she CAN do.

She CAN light up a room with that contagious little smile.
She CAN melt my heart in an instant as she waves bye bye from the door.
She CAN totally get her way by sticking out that lower lip ever so slightly.
She CAN get down w/ her big brother when she hears some Kesha.
She CAN prove her doctors wrong every time.
She CAN change lives, and inspire others to do the same." Selina, mommy to Madison

"Let me start with it has been a long journey. We have three sons. Evan our first born was born to heaven full term, he had Anecephaly, which is the fatal end of Spina Bifida. Rowan our beautiful miracle is 3 yrs. old and is healthy and the most compassionate big brother Phoenix (1 yr. old) could ask for. Phoenix our baby has spina Bifida and severe Kyphosis.

We were told that if Phoenix made it to this life, that the quality at which he would live would be of little to no quality. They were wrong. I hate that we can even insinuate that we can judge the quality or value of a life. God's ways are perfect and I believe with all my heart that children (all of them) teach us that there is no difference, it's us adults who have to remain childlike and embrace life as beautiful in whatever form it may be. A gift and a treasure to teach us Love and Acceptance!

The most beautiful part of all this heartache and Life is the change in perspective we have experienced as a family. And i believe all those who love and support us have too.

Losing a child and a disabled child can be intimidating and really awkward for most people. I have learned that people either lean toward ignorance or Hope and as a Momma, I much prefer Hope. We see life as the Greatest gift on earth and embrace the knitting together of Phoenix as he is, just as we do with our non Spina Bifida children. I believe we Breathe deeper, Stand stronger and Believe that nothing is impossible for our children and those we love.

Will our children have to Fight harder and Stand against odds we would never wish for?? Absolutely!! But we can cheer them on and each other and let the world watch and see that their lives are FULL of purpose and beauty." Megan, mommy to Pheonix T-12

"When I found out about spina bifida we were told horrible things about what to expect when he was born; that he would be a paraplegic, in a wheelchair for life, always be in diapers, mentally disabled, would never be independent, and be a burden to me and my family. This is such an archaic belief about spina bifida and not one of those things will come true. Yes he has had 2 surgeries and there is permanent nerve damage and he has a shunt. We are blessed with a happy and healthy baby boy who can light up the room with his smile and laugh. He doesn’t know that he is any different from any other 8 month old – and I’m not going to tell him he is! Yes he will need help walking, and will face challenges in his life, but he will do all of this with a gorgeous smile on his face." Amanda, mom to Nickolas. S1 with vp shunt

"My little Ro-Man...daddy couldn't be any prouder of anyone than I am of you. I still to this day do not know how you have been able to endure so much and still wear your smile the way you do. Your scars are like badges of honor and a testament to the stubborn little fighter you are. No, I could not be any prouder. You have proved all the "experts" wrong and are continuing to do so. I am so very sorry that you have had to endure so much but am truly thankful to have you in my life. We gave you the middle name "Abel" for a reason. We didn't want anyone to ever say "Roman can't do this, Roman can't do that, Roman isn't able"...we can say, "Roman is able...Roman Abel is very much able." Daddy loves you so very, very much Bubby Bubbers!" Jason Potter, daddy to Roman L2-L5

"You know, this wasn't supposed to happen to me. I had just turned 25, and I had a perfect little life. So when I got pregnant, I just assumed as long as I did everything right--and I did--that I was guaranteed a perfect baby. Imagine my shock when I went to the ultrasound to hear whether I was having a perfect little boy or a perfect little girl, and I was told that my baby boy had a "defect." I kept thinking, this is a mistake, this is not how it's supposed to happen. The books say it happens to one in a thousand babies ... why MY baby. And that was my "aha" moment. I got a one in a thousand baby. At that time, I realized that I was the perfect mom for this particular baby, and that's why I was getting him. Only later, after he was born and after going through all we went through together, did I realize that he WAS the perfect baby ... for me. He made me a better version of myself. I believe in miracles, and I get to see them on a daily basis--and that's not just a nice thing to say, I really mean that. I've gained qualities I never wanted to ask for because they're so hard to get ... like patience and humility and compassion. I've made a dear set of friends I never would have had before, and I even had a job I never would have imagined I would have even wanted, but it's the perfect job for me. I've also realized that no one is perfect. We all have our defects--some are just more outwardly obvious than others--and that's what makes us so special. I wouldn't trade my kid for anything, Spina Bifida and all."Colleen, mom to Nate, L2

"My name is Angela. I am a 39 yr old wife, and mother of two children - and I have the myleo form of SB. My level is approximately L4/5 to S1/2. Back in 1971 My parents were told I would never walk, talk, have kids etc. I've done everything anyone ever said I couldn't.

I did have a shunt placed 2 days after birth as I was hydrocephalic. It eventually stopped working (in 8th grade) and they discovered I no longer needed it and it was removed when I was 19. One of my parents was very proactive in natural and alternative health, one always sided with the medical community. It made for some intense disagreements between my parents, but it provided a good balance overall. I avoided many surgeries with alternative health options. I've only had 5 surgeries my entire life. I can think of about 7 times surgery was avoided. I like to say that I am alive because of modern medical care, but I am as healthy as I am because of natural health and alternative options. The two sides don't know much about each other - so one cannot always speak to or about the other side, but it is important to research options and get educated about everything that is available.

I do have reflux of the kidneys but self cath since the age of 9. I've been infection free now since 1999 with natural and alternative options.

I do have two children of my own - even with my husband and I using birth control at the advice of my dr to not have children. Both are healthy teenagers now. My daughter is 1 year away from declaring professional status as a ballet dancer, my son is a scuba diver and pursing his dreams in that area.

I did have braces until I was about 2 yrs old - but do walk unassisted now. I am a twin. My twin brother has no health issues related to SB.

I can say that in my family of four (twin brother and parents) that I am the healthiest of them all b/c I do take care of myself the best. They all have other medical issues - and I only see a GP now once a year for my physical and she barely even notes in my chart that I have the most severe form of SB b/c I'm never at the dr anymore. I haven't had to see my neuro in over 2 years and my uro in over 5 years. The last time I saw my uro she noted that it was "unexplainable" the changes I had in my bladder function which showed improvement - but she didn't want to hear about the natural things I was doing to achieve that (of course b/c there's no scientific proof) - but I haven't been back since.

With all that I learned from natural and alternative health growing up and thru my continued education, I am free of all lower back pain - I have no energy problems (used to suffer from chronic fatigue). My sleep is regulated and I no longer have the insomnia bouts that I had as a child and young adult. Balance is improved, sensations increasing in my legs/feet slowly over time - the better I take care of myself the better I do and the better results I have with my health. My bowels are regulated- and wholly formed. I am off ALL meds.

I am an author, homeschool mom, public speaker, and nutritional consultant. I also work for my husband as his office manager." Angela, 39 blob free years!

Spina Bifida does a lot of things to our children and to us. But, the one thing it doesn't do is create "blobs" These kids, and so many others are my heroes. I'm nearly 26 and don't possess even half of their courage.

So, I guess it can be said that the best thing I ever wrote wasn't written by me at all, but I couldn't agree more and couldn't have said it any better myself.

Then and now.

2010-07-12T22:31:00.000-07:00

I was talking to a friend the other day about how different our lives are now that we have children. It turned out to be quite the knee slapping conversation so I thought I would share. I encourage all of my mommy friends to do the exact same!

Before I had kids, I hated talking about kids. I never knew what to ask or what milestone to clap for. To be honest, kids made me uncomfortable. Now that I have kids, I don't shut up about kids. I talk about mine, yours, theirs, hers. this one...and that one. I now love all things baby.

Before I had kids, scissors had one use-cut out pictures of boys. Now, scissors seem to have taken a whole new role. I never realized how much a mother uses scissors. I think it's because when I was pre-kids I had all the time in the world to struggle with something. 'I can get it." or "I'll use my teeth" or "I'll walk around aimlessly for 45 minutes devising a new plan to open this." But now, post kiddo life is MUCH different. "Mom, can you open this?" "of course, let me get the scissors." Somewhere between the middle of the night feedings and the pile of human poo that nobody will own up to, mothers everywhere have lost time and tooth enamel. Keep that in mind for Mother's Day: scissors. Heck, engrave 'em. "Cut yourself a break."

Commercials: This was on the topic of discussion the other day, and has been brought up by me in many conversations. Young me liked commercials about the newest movie coming out, I liked commercials about gum, candy and toys. Seasoned me likes commercials about Dyson vacuum cleaners. You show me ONE mother on this earth that doesn't stop in her tracks when the Dyson is on T.V and I'll show you one mother, who is lying about being a mother. Miracle.

Being a girl: Both then and now I have always had a great love for accessories and "primping" I love make-up, I love jewelry and I love to paint my nails. Of course, being a mother changes these things as well. At some point in the transition I went from looking at a piece of jewelry and saying, "oh, it's perfect!" without giving a second look at the price. Now, I compare jewelry prices to that of...diapers. If a piece of jewelry costs more than a box of dipeys, my mommy guilt punches me so hard in the ear that I am physically unable to purchase it. Instead it grabs me by my pony tail and promptly leads me out of the store.
As far as maintenance goes? HAH! I remember my dad and I got up super early one year to go fishing, he was really eager to go and I said "Hold on! I've got to do my hair and make-up" to which he replied, "...We're. going. fishing...." Fast forward to Erica now? If I choose to get a shower and do my hair and make-up one of two things will happen. First, Jason will be late to work. Two, Roman will be neglected and surely, grow up to hate me. (Thankfully Isabelle allows me to shower with minimal interruption to talk about cats.)

Google: Mothers will agree google, and the internet as a whole has changed quite a lot for us. Pre baby internet was very fun, flirty and we laughed at dirty e-mails without hesitation! Now, google and the internet as a whole is our asking machine. Where we once searched for discounted designer jeans we now google, "Is green poop bad in a preschooler?"

Purses: This one is almost too easy. Where a small purse that could carry keys and lip gloss used to hang now an over sized, baggy, drooping diaper bag awkwardly hangs in absolute discomfort! Even for us who have older kids and a lesser need for a diaper bag, our purses are still over sized to make room for extra binkies, a rattley toy, and a pair of loose shoes that you have given up on. Let the strangers stare, those shoes will NOT stay on.

Bread: Who ever heard of caring about what kind of bread you buy? it's BREAD! The most in depth I ever got while bread shopping was to feel it. Soft? sold! But now? pssshh The bread isle is the new shoe isle. "Okay, this one is wheat" "Oh look, this one is wheat and 12 grains!!!" "BABE! get over here look at this! Wheat, 14 grains and it's got flax seed...it's perfect."

Cleaners: I'll keep up with the previous theme. I didn't care what product I used to clean the floor, my car or the windows. It did the job and then I could go back to sleeping until noon or whatever I did those eons ago. Now, I am NOT saying I clean my house regularly. I'm not even saying it's clean right now. It's not. But, when I do "clean big" and even when I just execute the menial tasks of the day I need a cleaner that is either antibacterial or made from "all natural" ingredients. There is something calming to a mother knowing that you're silently protecting your children by wiping away the cracker crumbs with something that is safe for them.
Oh, but what we rarely tell people is that, that cracker fell on the floor 32 times before ingestion. We're not perfect, lay off!

At the end of the day, would I trade having painted nails and no garbage in my hair for my kids?
.......Well....

Just kidding! Of course I wouldn't.

I think every mommy reading this can agree that there is nothing more magical then getting a big squeeze from your little munchkin, those moments can't be traded for anything but more of those moments.
These are the small sacrifices we make when we decide to be mommies. Their just the things we hold at the back of our minds to remind us that life is comical, exciting and ever changing...

Except my obsession with the Dyson, that is NOT ever changing. I want one. Now.

The envelope, please....

2010-07-05T18:39:00.000-07:00

Friends...

I am so thankful for your help! Your voting has not only kept the band in the running to open for KISS, but it also put them at #42 on the top 50 most demanded band list. That's HUGE, you guys. I know they are thankful, and so am I.

I know I've kept you all waiting, I'm sorry. I had also mentioned that a celebrity would announce the winner via vlog entry. Next time, I'll have him sign something. How dare he work and take care of his family instead of coming to my house and creating a vlog for my blog? Some people's kids. pshh!

But, something tells me you don't care how it's presented to you, you guys have worked hard and want to meet the winner, am I right? (hint: almost always, ask Mr. Potter)

For each time you tagged me, that was one time your name went into a hat. And then for fun, I gave an additional 10 entries to the person who wrote and tagged me in a "note" on Facebook. That really turned the heat up.
Some of your names went into the hat a mere 3 times, some went in 12 times and some...well over 20 times!!

All of your names went into a big ole hat and the winner is...

CHRISTIE FISH!!

congrats Christie! You've won a Candlelight Red T-shirt and some sweet Jagermeister swag!
e-mail potter4blog@gmail.com to redeem your prize!

Thanks to everybody who entered!!

Stuff and things

2010-06-30T20:47:00.000-07:00

Hey friends!

I don't have one subject matter to talk about tonight. More like a gaggle of separate thoughts that in no real way are related. But, that's the way my brain works...or doesn't work. I'll let you decide.

The first major event: Roman had his 6th surgery. Ear tubes! However, this surgery was so mild and so quick that I don't feel comfortable calling it a surgery. I've been referring to it as a "procedure" and will continue to do so from now on.

He did so well, he was sweet and charming the heads off of the nurses, like he tends to do. He always finds a way to make them laugh.

This was our first experience with the famed "Happy Juice" that we've heard about before. They give it to kids over the age of one to ease the hand off from parent's loving arms to surgeon's cold hands. BOY, it sure worked. Roman was...in a word...drunk. Very, very drunk. The scary thing is, he seemed to LOVE that state of mind. He would look at his hands and just wave them around and laugh like each finger was a different clown face telling him hilarious baby jokes that only he would understand. Drunk baby.

After we exchanged our hugs and kisses Jason and I walked to the waiting room, It was full of sad and worried faces. We've made those same faces many times before. But not today, we had so much confidence and were actually delighted that Roman was having this...procedure. It was long overdue.

We stayed with the sad families for about 7 minutes and then we got the call that Roman was in recovery and to come on in. Within an hour he was awake, within 20 minutes we were on our way home.

Given the circumstances, it was a great day. Roman is doing fantastic, he's been a lot happier and actually seems to be hearing MUCH better. He plays with his toys as if it's the first time he's seen them. The Potter parents are happy parents.

The next order of business is...we close on our house IN ONE MONTH!!!

I am beside myself with happiness and glee! Town, town, we'll live in town!!

Do you guys remember the long lost miracle of "layaway?" Well, apparently Kmart and TJMaxx are the only stores on the face of this earth that still participate. Which means, goodbye forever, Wal-mart!

My third order of business is...Candlelight Red. I can't thank you guys enough for voting for my big, fat brother. As much as I appreciate it, I know he and the rest of the guys are just as thankful. Stay tuned for the results of the winner. The response from you guys has been totally overwhelming. I can't wait to see who wins this!!

I hope everybody has a fun and safe 4th of July!! Happy Independence Day America!!!

A kissing contest

2010-06-23T21:27:00.000-07:00

It seems like yesterday I was swinging the basement door open in a flash to yell, "MOM SAID YOU HAVE TO STOP NOW!" Which in turn would create a unanimous "ughhhhh" sound from my brother's band wailing out covers and originals in the basement.

Weirdly, not a lot has changed. My brother still lives to perform, his band has caught some serious fame and even a sponsorship from Jagermeister!!

In fact, I may actually be their biggest fan. Which is why I am taking a moment to not talk about spina bifida, my feelings or even our fat cat, Emma.

I'm going to devote this entry, as tacky and shameless of a plug it might be to BEG my faithful readers for their help in getting my brother and his phenomenal band to open for...are you ready? KISS!

It's a simple vote in which you demand them to play in your area, and trust me, you want them to play in your area!

But, begging friends isn't really my thing. I like to offer incentive, I like to make it fun, I like to boogie.

It's contest time!!

The prize will of course be, awesome Candlelight Red and jagermeister swag! I've seen people come close to rioting over this stuff. It's a hot ticket item and one of a kind!

The rules:

1: Go to http://eventful.com

and sign up!

Answer a few short questions...

Go to Pittsburgh, PA and find Candlelight Red.... (at this point it's going to try and walk you through a bunch of stuff you don't need. Solution? Forget that noise and click on...http://eventful.com/competitions/kiss2010/pittsburgh

Demand them...

Now, and this is the biggest part of all, TELL YOUR FRIENDS! Share this on facebook and tell everybody that you're the coolest cat in cool town because you voted. But, in order for me to count you, you MUST tag me in your post so that you can be entered in the contest. To do that, simply type @ and The Potter 4.0 blog or Erica Hoke. (Once you type in the @ symbol and start typing my name it will fill it in for you.)

THAT'S IT! you're entered! You can vote everyday and you'll be entered each time also. (as long as I am tagged EACH time)

Now, remember when I said I like to boogie?

It's because I do!

I'm adding a little something extra special for you fine, young folks.

In addition to the entries you can earn daily by demanding the band and then tagging me in your status I am offering 10 extra entries for all the people who A: add a write up in your blog or B: add a write up in the notes section on facebook and include as many friends as allowed. I don't care how you choose to tell people to vote, but the bottom line has to be to VOTE FOR CANDLELIGHT RED!!

This contest is running from NOW (June 24th) until July 1st. REaDy, set, GO!!

Ryan, Jeremy, Josh, Adam: I don't know many bands or guys who are as kick butt as you. You deserve this win and so much more. Thank you for always providing this frumpy housewife with a rocking good time. I wish you all the success in the world. If anybody can do it, it's you.

Now, for all of my friends wondering "who the heck are these guys?" I've included the video for their hit, "Closer" I BEG you to not watch it over and over. This song is going to get stuck in your head, I promise.

Now, because their is some slight blood splatter and my brother gets shot directly in the chest I feel it is my motherly duty to say VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

End transmission.

I'm a creep. or a mother, same thing really.
I neglected to give some credit to Wade Spencer, the mastermind and creator of the guys' video. Check out his stuff on Myspace and see for yourself why the word "mastermind" is actually pretty perfect.

Click here for his Myspace page.

In the interest of Father's Day

2010-06-19T23:48:00.000-07:00

Father's day is here.
This has always been one of those days where some kids can't wait to make their dad something special, and other kids sit around and hate the kids who are making those special things.
For some people, Father's Day is just another day, but I think I'm one of the lucky ones-because I was one of the kids who made the most glitterific, glue covered works of art. For my daddy.

Dear Dad:
Do you remember a long, long time ago, back when the only thing we watched on TV was CMT? we heard a song that really spoke to us. I believe it was Brad Paisley's first big song. The lyrics spoke volumes to our unique family grouping.

"Lookin' back all I can say
About all the things he did for me
Is I hope I'm at least half the dad
That he didn't have to be"

You didn't have to be my dad. You didn't have to love me, support me, come to my chorus concerts, teach me to drive, or buy me a car. But, you did. You loved Ryan and I as if we were your own.

I attribute Ryan's loyalty to his family, his devotion to his children and his love for life-all to you. He was not the easiest child to raise, I'm sure. I know being his sister was quite the chore! But, he grew up to be such an amazing man, and you're to blame.

I'm sure I'll be paid back threefold for the way I acted as a teenager. My favorite thing in the world was to see how mad I could make you. I know I've said it before, I'm sorry. teenage girls, can't live with em!

Dad, what I'm trying to say is, I love you. You'll always be my daddy. I will always be your little girl. Thank you, for being the dad you didn't have to be.

-Reekie

Okay, keeping up with the theme of tears and breaks for sobbing, I have one more letter. To a father who has changed my adult life, forever.

Living in this small town has it's downfalls and it's perks. The downfall is of course, everybody knows your business. The perk is, you know pretty much everybody. (and their business!)

That actually was not the case for Mr. Potter and I, who spent countless years living less than one block away from each other and never meeting.

It wasn't until years later, when I was barely legal and he was barely available that we met, kissed, fell in love, had a baby, got married, and had another baby.

Every passage from 18 to 26 Jason has shared with me. My first job, voting, our first apartment, our first cat, my first Labatt Blue, all of the various crafts, hobbies, hair colors, and trends I went through, Jason was there.

Of course we had our hiccups, every relationship does. It's our constant love and downright obsession with each other that has made us so strong and still happily together after all these years.

Dear Jason:

Hello, friend. I have to be honest, just writing your name makes me teary eyed. Because I know how hard writing this is going to be. I'm afraid once I start writing I'll go on for days and share the most mundane events of our lives. Although precious to us, they might prove a little trivial to our friends reading along.

I remember I used to think that I wasn't the dating kind, I wasn't meant for marriage and I certainly wasn't meant to be a housewife. I wanted kids, sure. But I never imagined I'd give a hoot about being somebodies wife.

...And then there was you.

The real fun began that fateful evening when we invited my parents over for sticky, tasteless, overcooked fettuccine alfredo and you asked my dad permission to marry me. Years later, we did it. We got married in front of a dozen people and the rest they say, is history.

Or so I thought! I was prepared to settle into the same basic conversation at the dinner table, the same routine, the same apartment, the same movies, the same bedtime, the same old cat.

But everything changed. Our children consumed our conversation, our lives consumed our time, I'd like to think our dinners have improved, and our days are ever changing. It just keeps getting more exciting!

Jason, You have taught me so much. You have loved me so much, and you have sacrificed and done...so much. I never thought I could love this much. I didn't think the human body was capable of loving this much.

Each day when I see you with our children or when you cuddle with me at night I fall in love with you even more, I never that I would say that, I never thought I would mean it.

I love you so much, Mr. Potter

Thank you for loving me so much.

About a woman I named Betty White.

2010-06-13T22:13:00.000-07:00

Recently, Roman and I were waiting for the valet guy to bring the van back and a sweet, white haired woman with baggy pantyhose struck up a conversation with me. With a cutie like Roman by my side, she couldn't help it. She started with, "How old?" The answer to that governed her next question, "Is he walking yet?"
I had a choice, I could say, "No Betty White, he has spina bifida. Are you writing a book? Why don't you get into your Buick and go feed your cats?"
But, I've recently turned into an adult, and I've recently learned that other people have feelings too. I've also made a deal with myself to not let my sensitivity answer for me.
I could have said, "not yet" but I knew what line of questioning and advice would come next so I lied. I said, "He's this close!"
In that instant I learned that every child in saggy socks life had learned to walk between the ages of 9 and 10 months. I smiled and said, "Wow! That is so early, good for them!" I felt like I could hate her, I felt like I SHOULD hate her. I mean, who does she think she is bragging to me about her grandchildren that can walk just fine?

I had a 2 hour drive home, I fully expected to just seethe and hate her with my all. So, I started thinking, 'Why do I have to make this stupid drive and talk to these horrible people? and that morphed into, "What have I done so wrong in my life that my child is forced to endure constant pain...and I have to sign the papers saying it's OKAY!" Okay! Cut him open! Okay! put foreign objects in his skull! Okay! Okay! Okay!
I spent an hour pitying myself, hating myself, hating the world. I just thought about how unlucky I was. How our lives could not possibly get any worse. How Isabelle has had to sacrifice so much for a condition she doesn't even have. It was low. I was low.

Finally, I forced myself to snap out of it. I mean, I just wanted to spend the car ride home listening to Lady Gaga and rejoicing that I was no longer sitting next to that crotchety old lady. Look what she did to me!!

...I wish I could thank her.

When I came back to earth I felt so stupid. Stupid and totally ashamed.
We live in a world that has the resources and equipment to keep people alive, well and relatively "normal" We are so lucky. 30 short years ago, Roman might not have the chance he does today.

Isabelle would need to be gentle with Roman even if he was born just like her. Except now, she's learning tolerance, acceptance and compassion at such an early age. I wish I could have been so lucky.

How many tattered wooden crosses have I seen on that trip? They just sit on the side of the road as a passing reminder that it could ALWAYS be worse. There is a whole world of heartache out there, and Roman can smile at me, kiss me, hug me. He's here. My family is here.

I know I've wrote about sad stuff and I know that in the last 14 months I've had my fair share of breakdowns. I know that I can be hysterically sensitive about the things people say about disabilities, or my son.

I also know that I have no room in my life to sit around and feel sorry for Roman, my family or myself. This is the last entry I am wasting on the subject of pity.

The weekly walker.

2010-06-08T20:54:00.000-07:00

For months, I've been dreaming about the day that Roman would walk. I've been guarded in my dreaming, though. I know his first steps won't come without struggle and maybe even some heavy equipment. Sometimes I would dream about him walking with little arm crutches, sometimes with a walker and sometimes with no assistance at all.

These dreams don't usually make me sad, in fact they are actually quite empowering. However, in my dreams I just see him walking, I never see how I am reacting. So, lately I've been thinking about how I will or should react.

Should I fall down and be hysterical with joy? Or should I take a more dignified approach and stay standing while turning into a hysterical, useless bowl of raw emotion? I mean, those would definitely be fun and honestly they are very fitting. I've been told that I err on the dramatic side.

Today our buddy Roman was suspended from a contraption that is clearly from the future and placed on a treadmill where two physical therapist sat, for 15 minutes solid and "walked" him.

It felt so good to see him upright and walking, I loved even more seeing that he wasn't letting the ladies do all the work. He got a few good stomps all by himself and even though he was absolutely exhausted he stayed with us. Well, where could he go, I mean really?

While Roman was snoozing on our two hour ride home I got a chance to reflect on the days events and realized that this gave me a little taste of how I might react when it's time for "the real thing." I didn't fall into a heap of over-dramatic sobs, sniffles and wails of joy. I didn't even cry standing up. In fact my friends you'll be surprised to know that I didn't cry at all. I took the high road and smiled, made jokes, and took a few grainy pictures from my phone.

Speaking of pictures, where are my manners? All of this time I've been yapping on about myself and haven't even mentioned how Roman felt about the whole ordeal. Some people, so rude.

Exhibit A: The first thing that our eyes are attracted to is the 5 inch stream of drool that is falling onto that public treadmill. Fifteen straight minutes of screaming in protest will do that to a mini Chuck Norris in training.

Exhibit B: This is what pleading from the eyes of a fourteen month old baby looks like. See Also: Desperation, Rage and Pooped.

Exhibit C: These boots were made for walkin'

I should end this by telling you that this poor kiddo will be going through this torture every week for an unspecified number of months. It is my sincere hope that after a few more "strolls" he'll cozy up to the idea of being harnessed into a tight locking, diaper wedgie inducing suspended in mid-air contraption from the future.

C'mon, doesn't sound that bad....

Dirty little knees

2010-05-23T20:33:00.000-07:00

It seems Roman has really taken to his new title of "crawler extraordinaire" and truthfully, we still get a huge kick out of it too.
We're going to go ahead and chalk this up as another huge, massive, monumental achievement because well, we didn't think he'd be doing it...this soon. I mean, I hoped he would, assumed he would, said little prayers that he would. I think deep down I knew this day would come, but just not this soon. This boy has places to go. Cars to zoom, binkies to suck, hammers to ham, rattles to shake and blankets to hide under. He really can't be stopped.

Roman's crawling, is due in part to his overwhelming drive and desire to get the heck away from me, or sometimes, get the heck closer to me. But it's also in part, due to his very devoted, very driven and very cool physical therapist, Jen.
Jen visits Roman weekly and has been the one stronghold in his PT experiences. Some great ones have come and some great ones have gone, such is life. Jen has been there, for 13 months holding him up, working him well past nap time and making sure that when she leaves I fully understand what Roman and my homework is for the next week's visit. She offers great advice, and has access to the greatest equipment.
Surely you remember The great standing ovation entry?
Now, Jen has introduced us to....THE GAIT TRAINER!
It's basically a little motorcycle that Roman sits on, biker style, and we encourage him to take little steps...while standing. So far, he loves sitting in it, kind of "iffy" on the walking part. We'll get there.

I am overcome with joy with Roman's new form of transportation, I am. I wouldn't change anything about it. But..there is this one...tiny....little, itty, bitty thing....

I'm going to have to start cleaning my floors.....

....routinely.

The best Izzyism ever there was.

2010-05-13T08:28:00.000-07:00

If you focus your attention to the right of this page, I've picked out a few of our favorite "Izzyisms" These are of course, just some hilarious things that Isabelle has said and we thought you would love to hear.
What I am about to share right now, is probably the funniest thing I have ever heard come out of her tiny little mouth. It's so funny in fact, that it deserves it's own entry......behold.

Isabelle to Roman: "Roman, if you touch one of my boo-boo's I will purposely put you in a cage."
Isabelle to me: "Mom, where do we keep the cages?"
Me to Isabelle: "Honey, we don't have baby cages, because we don't put babies in cages..ever."
Isabelle to the world: ARUGGHHHGGHHGH!!! NO FAIR!!!

This was a real conversation. This really happened and as a mother I was forced to keep a straight face. I think I deserve some sort of cash prize.

This laugh brought to you today by: The letter C...for cages.

I told you NO wire hangers.

2010-05-09T08:15:00.000-07:00

In honor of Mother's Day I am going to take a step in a different direction and NOT talk about myself, my husband, my kids or my cat for a moment. (Upon re-reading this, I have found a way!)
I'm going to talk about...My mommy pox.
I don't know why I call her "mommy pox" It's just a name I used to call her when I was a wee young reekie and it kind of stuck, much like my "reekie-bug" title dubbed by her.

My mommy pox is the epitome of fun, the face of compassion and has instilled in me life's most important lesson...love.
She also doesn't care for the cheesy stuff and neither do I. ;)

Dear Mom,
Things always seem to be so chaotic in our house, and even in our day to day life! I think because we're always so caught up in work and appointments and kids flying through the air that we've come to appreciate our coffee chats even more, in fact, I think we've grown to need them.

I wish I were skilled enough, wordy enough and had the resources to write a book on why you being my mom rocks. But, I don't. I have a blog, with a few faithful readers who probably already know that without my mom, I really would crumble into a pile of ash and coffee beans.

I am not storming Washington with my political views, or saving sick babies in an operating room. I'm not curing diseases or defending the innocent, in fact, I don't even rinse the dishes before I heave them into the dishwasher. But, I'm a mom and though it may not be making a huge impact on this world, it's the job I was destined for-Because of you. Because you did such a good job, because you made it look so easy and so fun.You weren't lying either, I'm having a blast, and I'm lucky, proud and honored to say that I "got it all from my momma"

When Isabelle was born, I knew nothing about anything. I had a little girl swimming in a bouquet of pink and lace and if she looked at the ceiling fan too long I was a nervous wreck. You talked me down. Like a good mommy pox should. Looking back, you were always there, everywhere I turned there you were. I might have been annoyed at the time, "Jeez, she must think I'm really horrible." But in retrospect I'm totally thankful. Where would I be without you?
When Roman was born, and he and I were so far from home in the part of the hospital where nobody wants their kid to be you called me, and you said, "I know Roman is okay, he has amazing doctors doting on him, but you're all alone and I'm just worried about you." I felt so selfish at the time, "I'm not the one who is about to have surgery" But, emotionally I was screaming, "THANK YOU..THANK YOU...THANK YOU!!"
Mom, that's why you rock. Because you say what needs to be said, before I even know that I need to hear it. Everything I am, is because of you and I can't thank you enough.

I love you mom.
Happy Mommypox Day!

Seemingly important mad ramblings of a crazy mother.

2010-05-05T20:09:00.000-07:00

It's very important to know when you're dealing with a sensitive person. Especially if that sensitive person is actually a sensitive person.

Let me explain..
There are a few things that you are totally allowed to say to somebody who has a special needs child. There are also a few things that are 100% off limits. I'm here to help you separate the two.

Let's start with the most common mistake. Sometimes, we are given special kiddos who might be "noticeably" different or even come with some extra kiddo equipment, It is NEVER okay to ask the question, "What is wrong with your kid?" I can't speak for everybody, personally, I prefer the terms, "different" or "special." However, I think everybody agrees that "wrong" is well...wrong.

The "R" word. I'm trying very hard to be understanding that this word has been years in the making and for some people, years in their vocabulary. I won't lie, I was one of those people. Before I knew how much it stung. Before I knew the negative impact my using it had. I'm learning to replace it, can't you?

Just like we have kiddos with noticeable differences, we also have some with none. It may seem like a compliment, but saying, "He/She doesn't even look disabled!!" just isn't the nicest thing to say. It actually is a touch offensive. Instead try, "He/She is doing so well." we LOVE hearing that, or go on to tell us what wonderful parents we are and how lucky said child is to have us, you really can't go wrong if you turn the conversation in that direction. ;)

Sometimes, well meaning individuals will speak up about a subject matter they have only just heard of, but really don't know much about. Mothers of children with Spina Bifida get this very, very often. In fact, let me just rewind and say that mothers of special needs children get this all of the time. Please, don't offer us your "Dr. Phil said...." or your "last night on Oprah" advice. I'm sure it's all very relevant...to somebody.

Okay, I'm not trying to discourage you from talking to me, or "us" since I've taken the liberty to speak for all mothers of special kids... I guess I got a little snarky up there, let's take it down a notch huh? Bring it down to funky town.

To not speak of spina bifida, or of disability is to not speak of my youngest. Roman is my son, this is a part of my life now and these are just the small pieces that fall into it.
Things don't always have to be awkward and uncomfortable, sometimes being honest is really just the best way to go.
Instead of beating around the bush, "Is he...okay?" come right out and say "Man, what's next?" or, "I heard he's been in the hospital..what's going on?" I'm very down to earth, and if we're talking in the middle of wal-mart you can bet your bippy that I'm not going to collapse in a heap and get all hysterical and weird on you. In fact, I won't do that, ever.

....Unless you're my mom...or Jason....or Jessie...or Danielle or..my brother..or..Joyce...or Jolene...Or Bridget...or any of my Sb moms on BBC...or any of my non SB moms on BBC. So, as you can see, I'm pretty emotionally stable. I can be trusted. ;P

End transmission.
bleep bloop bleep bleep bloop bleep

P.S: All I ask: be kind to one another. Be human.

Jason and the vlog ;)

2010-04-27T16:39:00.000-07:00

Good evening friends!We apologize for the long, daunting wait that we've put you through.In the video blog, or "vlog" if you will, you will notice a couple of things.

First, I am nowhere to be found. This is because today I got hit with quite a yucky stomach bug and just wasn't feeling pretty, or talkative, or much like standing, or walking.The second thing you'll notice is the video contains no children. This is because Isabelle was hitting the paint pretty hard and was in no condition to be on camera. You see, the paint was red, and covered her arm...and I don't need people in suits knocking on my door. Roman stayed inside where it's not as windy, because in case you haven't heard he has another double ear infection.

Now, what you WILL see is my husband drawing a winner. Because he said to me, "People are looking forward to a video blog, Erica." and then ended his speech with, "Okay...I'll do it."So here is Mr. Jason Potter, saving the day and announcing the winner.Boo Mrs. Potter, Hooray Mr. Potter

Congrats Heather!! I think you're going to LOVE the prize!Oh that's right, what did you win?A lifetime supply of adult sized crocs!!Oh wait, that's not it.It's a personalized necklace from our friends at urbanupcycling.blogspot.com!

Check it out! http://urbanupcycling.blogspot.com/2010/01/personalized-spina-bifida-awareness.html

Heather, just e-mail me with your shipping address and the name (or word) you would like on your necklace! Congrats again!

Thanks to everybody who entered! We had so much fun and we're so thankful you all played along with us!Also, you guys really hate crocs....I beg you to check out the website. Just sayin'

It's contest time!!

2010-04-25T11:54:00.000-07:00

Hello friends!

The time has finally come to do our first ever CONTEST!

It's super easy to enter all you have to do is answer our super easy question. There is no wrong or right answer, just leave your response in the comment section below or in the comment section of our facebook fan page. THAT'S IT! Do that and you are entered to win!

Unfortunately, I can't tell you what the prize is, but I can tell you that it's awesome and you're going to love it!

So to recap, answer the following question and you're automatically entered to win!

The winner will be announced on TUESDAY* via VIDEO BLOG where the true identity of the prize will also be revealed.

Where do you stand on Croc shoes?
Personally, I think they have some really great styles out, but most of my friends think wearing them is a sin against fashion. What are your croc-views?

I'm sorry friends, I seem to have my "t" days confused. The winner will be announced tomorrow, Tuesday. not in 43 years from now on Thursday. Blech, who can wait that long?!

Belated Birthday Blog

2010-04-22T20:22:00.000-07:00

Hello? Hello? Is this thing on?!

I have taken such an enormous amount of time to update you guys on such a huge event that I am actually just downright ashamed of myself. For what it's worth, I've sent myself to bed early every night this week.
As we all know, mostly from the sight of me doing back flips and my tear-jerking, friend-losing, "Why did you do that to me" previous post...Roman is ONE!!
I started to take it "there" to that sad place, that "writing while crying place." But after the last time I can't do that to myself again and I certainly can't do it to you.

So, with that - LET'S PARTY!!

Our party started off with only a few hiccups, when it was time to serve the food the sub platters came with absolutely no "fixins" So my heroic brother and his super speedy car whizzed off down the road to get them. Thanks for saving the day, Ryan! Without you, we'd have no pickles, *gasp* no lettuce *GASP* and no....no....NO TOMATOES!!! *FAINT*

That was hiccup one, I don't think many people noticed because the house was literally swarming with babies. Babies here, babies there, babies wearing underwear. Wait...no, they were wearing diapers.
The next hiccup was from me, myself and I. About the same time that I announced it was time for cake and ice cream I realized something big...something horrible, something no mother, wife, daughter, or cousin twice removed should ever, ever forget at a birthday party....

.....Plastic cutlery.

My Aunt, my sister-in-law and I feverishly served cake and ice cream with my fine target purchased bendable silverware. Aunt Sandy cut cake, I scooped ice cream and Danielle washed, dried and served the completed dessert.

So you see, The day was perfect because it went without any tantrums, explosions, or crying fits, even the kids behaved!!
Now, surely you don't want to hear me yammer on about cutlery and the great tomato birthday famine of 2010? No, you want pictures. I know you want pictures.

This is Gavin and Carter playing happily on the floor.

In all, the day was amazing, we had so many friends and family show up to party hardy with the Potter's. Thank you, thank you for everything you've done for us.

As a thanks, we'd like to share a few things we learned that day:

Sometimes a pit bull can attend a party and just be cute, and not murderous. HMP! Who knew?!

Balloons will always, always be a kids favorite thing.

Subway platters: Save you time, save you money, save you dishes (Unless you forget forks...Do NOT forget forks)

Once you become a mother, you should really just stop trying to dance. Just don't do it.

If you just turned one and you're not really crazy about opening presents, ask a friend. They will line up to help you!

And lastly, our biggest lesson of all....Next year we will party at Pizza Hut!

Thanks to all of our friends, family and our online friends who have supported us through the year. We couldn't have done it without you!!

Also, as if this wasn't long enough, if you have any pictures of the super awesome day, please send them to me. ;)