The I-Can't-Believe-You-Call-This-A-Post Quick Takes

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YOU GUYS. I'm a rock star. Just the fact that I have made it through this week + no one was injured *knocks on the woodlike desk* = ROCK STAR HUMAN.
Paul woke up with a fever on Monday. It was a low grade fever, which means I wasn't all that convinced he was very ill until he threw up when I was packing up my loot from Target. Luckily he had one of Mae's Aiden and Anais blankets, so that absorbed most of the ew. He only did this one time, and it was probably due to the fever. My major prejudice in life is the effect fevers have on people. Our oldest runs unusually high fevers, and though she is far more chatty than her usual chatty self and has trippy dreams, she still is very collected about the whole deal. Therefor, when a kid runs a 100.3 degree fever and gets super lethargic and sickly, I think he's milking it and haul his Motrin-ed body to the Target. (Which I realize isn't so much Rock Star as Negligent and Narcissistic, but read on to be more impressed with my mothering skillz.)

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So then, I've been battling some wicked insomnia and Monday into Tuesday it came a courtin' yet again. Unfortunately my stealthy throwing off the covers type behavior kept Scott awake and he missed his early flight to wherevertheheck. He then had to rent a car, but was able to help with Sick Kid, who wasn't really sick, but was banned from school until he was 24 hours fever free. I took Little Guy and Mae to therapy where we impressed everyone with our "How old are you?" routine.  But then I had to care for Sick Kid, Little Guy and Mae all day until pick up (Hero). That night I was battling slight insomnia so I spent a lot of time mopping. Our steam mop broke back in December, and no, I hadn't really mopped since then. #dontjudge #gross

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On Wednesday I actually stayed home and did lots of housework and laundry and stuff. It was amazing. I washed the sofa slipcovers. I still haven't put them back on because we have a new OT coming for an evaluation tomorrow and I would like the dog hair to be at a minimum when she comes. This is the OT Mae has already had and who is well acquainted with my brand of crazy and Mae's bad side.

Also on Wednesday I removed two seats from Mama Grizzly and put three bikes in the back so K, C and M could go to triathlon training after school. This was incredible because I had a slight major backache.  I also managed to get Molly's change of clothes to her via Mrs. M.  I also cooked a delicious and healthy dinner of left over chicken, peas and mashed potatoes. As evening crept toward nighttime I cleaned the outside of my cabinets with furniture polish. Send me a medal.

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And then there was Thursday. Not only did I knock out a pre-written post. I also broke out the bank card and did a little Zulily shopping. I know. You can not even handle my greatness. I did manage to take care of Mae and Little Guy while doing these Very Important things. I also kept up with the laundry, took out the trash including things that are not taken by the trash company, but are taken by the dumpster divers. I really wanted to tip those guys when I saw them loading up my stuff. I know that isn't how it works, but my garage is slightly less hazardous.

I picked the Big Kids up from school, talked to a neighbor while Kate made snack, broke my lenten sacrifice, made dinner that was questionable, made Paul clean his room (sarcasm aside, that was a freaking feat), snuggled Mae-Bee, and sat down to blog. I'm beat. Where's my awards?

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Friday in lent is a day of abstinence. I shall abstain from further bragging. Instead let me complain in a more-than-a-little ironic way. You see, our neighborhood has a Facebook page, which is chock full of good info and a great place to ask for recommendations on fence companies, painters, etc. However there is an epidemic of the aggressive complaint. Let's just say that neighborliness doesn't seem to mean the same thing on this page as it does elsewhere. You have the posts sarcastically thanking the person who flew through the neighborhood and ran over a kid's remote control car on Christmas followed by a string of insulting comments about said offender. This often leads to the offender commenting with something like, "Hey, I live down the street. Come talk to me. I am really very sorry, but I don't think I deserve to be tarred and feathered here. Of course I am sorry and I'll fix the situation to the best of my ability." And then you have the posts that say, "What are the rules about dogs peeing on the grass nearest to the street because my daughter was just screamed at by a neighbor." which leads to the "Everyone needs to chill around here." and "Actually I don't appreciate YOUR dog in MY yard." comments that never ever end well.

Can we all agree to just handle our business in private with the people it actually involves without the public shaming? I'd really hate to quit our neighborhood page because Some People don't know how to act.

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My incredible productivity this week is crushing my creativity and now I don't know what else to write. You guys, this is really hard! Seven is a lot of things. Perhaps I should point out those dog paw bumper magnets that say, "Who saved who?" drive me crazy and make me want to turn to vandalism. There also is a current commercial that I heard twice--and paid close attention the second time--that messes this up. It is "Who saved whom?" "Whom" friends, it's a word. Look it up.

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Oh yeah! Pope Francis. It was his 1 year anniversary as pope. Gee, I love this guy. I love him for making me feel like a dirty dirty sinner and yet like I'm super special to God Almighty and can go to confession and do better! Pope Francis is the kind of guy you'd feel like calling Frank without being invited first. Pope Francis would not be impressed with my Facebook woes or my grammar frustrations. Though I think I could slide on the grammar thing since I feel like I'm honoring my mother when I get stabby about grammar. I read one of his quotes that said the Christian cannot be sad and I was all, "Want to bet? Tell it to weeping Jesus!" But that was my baggage talking, and I realize he meant as a state of the heart. We get to have Hope in the darkest dingiest recesses of our souls, and he's so right about that. I really hate the celebrification of religious people, but I don't feel like a fangirl. I feel like I just want my kids to go and give the guy a hug and introduce him to our pets. I wonder if Pope Francis is afraid of snakes.

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Quick Takes That Displays My Peculiar Brand of Crazy

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I was fired by an OT this week. That may sound dramatic once I flesh out the story, but it's reality. Mae's in the early intervention public program that provides certain therapies to us until she is three. Her OT at Hope Haven suggested we increase OT to twice a week and perhaps see about doing that through Early Steps so that I wouldn't have to drag her to another therapy another day of the week. It's been over 6 months of exploring that option which resulted in parting ways with one OT who never touched Mariana once, and who would say things like, "Well, she's going to be delayed. She has Down syndrome." anytime I would ask about teaching her a new skill like, say, holding her own cup.

At last we had a new OT assigned and she came on Friday into the Mama bear den. In my defense, I felt it was necessary to come at her both barrels because Mae will be two soon and only has one year left of at-home therapy through this program. It's be eight months to get this particular service. We don't have this kind of time! So I gave it to her straight. I won't be remodeling my home to accommodate her. I won't be carving 15 minutes out 4 times a day for OT. I want to know what we are working toward. I want practical homework. I want you to push us both. I want you to treat her as a person rather than expect her to do things because she has a diagnosis. You have to actually do things with her.

It was a lot, but we have a life and we need our child to be able to function in it. She must drink from a cup, and so I give her one. She must eat with a spoon and fork and keep her plate on her tray, so we work on that. She must dress herself at some point, so we try to have her do as much as possible. She may be delayed, but that doesn't mean we don't work. You may have awesome therapy techniques, but if they can't translate into daily living, then they won't get used much. We don't spend tons of time playing in the play room. And guess what? That's normal. Life is therapy, so teach me to weave the therapy into our lives.

She was very receptive to everything I had to offer. Shortly after she left I received a text from my primary service provider that the OT couldn't find time to see us. Message received. Moving on.

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Mae has a new, but familiar OT at Hope Haven, Mr. M. He's her hands-down favorite person there. She basks in his attention. We can not wait to start with him. This change allows her previous OT to attempt to see Mae through Early Steps. We really like Mrs. A, and have been gunning for this all along, but she is very ethical and said it presented a conflict of interest. If she recommends 2x a week, and then gets Mae through another program, it can be seen as double-dipping. Now that there is not conflict, we hope it all works out. It helps that Mrs. A is used to my brand of crazy and has already seen me cry.

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Laundry.
My parents came to visit and my mother, God love her, did laundry non-stop. I mean, we are talking wash and fold. So I am trying to keep up. I used to love doing laundry. I am not sure when that changed, but it has. I also used to love to iron. If I had tons of money I would like to imagine that it would all go to the poor, but in reality some of it would go toward hiring a laundry service.

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In our home I am known as somewhat of a stickler for doing things well. Good enough isn't. This is one of the reasons God wants me to have a big family. Good enough has to be good enough when there are so many humans whose existence demands they ruin all the things, leave all the lights on and sleep in one bed with all of their joints lodged into one or both parents. Thus this story is about me doing a project "well enough" only to have my father vindicate my usual stickler attitude with his own.

I painted the girls' room. I primed and painted the girls room in two colors, lavender and teal. I set up two lofted beds with desks. I also did this in three days time. When my parents came to visit the girls were very excited to show off their new digs. The next day my dad was making a shopping list and asked if we had masking tape.
"We have painters tape." I answered, wondering if that would do.
"You have painters tape?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's in the garage."
"Then why didn't you use it in the girls room?"
This caused me to crack up laughing because it was a perfect parent-dig. I still don't know if he meant it as a dig or if it was a real question. It was also a perfect mirror to a conversation that Scott and I may have possibly had in the past. Let's put it this way; Scott found that conversation explained a lot about me.

So, I'll be doing some trim work this weekend. (No, I won't. The girls don't care, so neither do I!)

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Let's talk about 5 year old boys playing basketball. It is irritating to me that some of these boys are focused and intentional and my kid is lying on the floor pretending to have been blasted by the alien shaped like a basketball. It irritates me that my kid is normal and these freak athletic and focused children are making him look like the freak. Also, these parents that pay attention at practice annoy me as well. Who cares about practice? I've brought my kid, I've done my duty. I did not sign up to coach, I stay in case of emergency, and I noticed when he was absent from the court and had the presence of mind to ask the coach where he was. He was in the bathroom. There. Mission accomplished. My kid might be a great ball player and he might not. I sure can't tell at 5, and I don't care to plan his career at this point. I'd just be happy if he would stop break dancing on the court.

To be fair there are plenty of kids just like Paul on his team. The team has kids ranging in ages 3-6. It's crazy to think that this was a good idea, but that's what you get when you sign them up for a church league. Everyone gets a shot, even the weird kids.

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I found a retreat I am hoping to attend. For this to happen LOTS of things have to fall into place. It's an impulsive decision, but I think a good one. It's not religious, it's for moms, and it's not for moms of special needs kids. It seems to be just one big fabulous girls' night out.

It is a little surprising to me that I do not feel the need to justify this. I told Scott about it and gave no reasons why I want to go. Of course he was supportive. I have actually begun to justify it to myself and made a conscience effort to stifle that. I don't want to justify why I need this. I don't want to list all of my responsibilities and my habits of not taking enough care of myself. It's the same old song for every parent in all of history. I want to go to this thing because it looks fun and it's not with anyone that I know. When I say I want a retreat, I mean from everything familiar. I want to have myself a little adventure, and it feels great not to have to bemoan this life I love in order to feel like I deserve it. I don't deserve it, I desire it.

Too often, probably because of the culture of entitlement that we live in, we feel that all of our desires are somehow too selfish to be satisfied without a litany of justifications. I don't think that it has to be that complicated. If you are a well adjusted person with a modicum amount of self awareness, finding something that ignites interest and won't place undue burdens on others is a great thing to explore. Fun is good for the soul y'all.

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We have decided to homeschool Kate for next year. This is not a commitment we've made lightly, but the kiddo is excited. She's so adventurous and has a million things she wants to try. We've worked out her music and PE credits, well mostly. We want her to take martial arts, she's committed to tennis. Nothing is perfectly easy.

I informed the school, and I have to say that I was really happy with the conversation that the principal and I had. He's a good man and a great administrator. He has been very supportive of making sure that Kate's at least on par with the school just in case we decide to have her return. I think we may well do that, but I'm taking it one year at a time. He gave me great advice regarding her independence as a student. I feel very blessed to have this school in our lives. None of the other kids are interested in homeschooling and I'm good with that. One at a time seems just like my pace at this point. I'm excited and nervous to see where this next school year takes us, but we've got a few months to go with this one, so I'll be patient.

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Quick Takes Katsup style

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Happy New Year.  2013 was a great year for us as a family. It's funny how I keep reading what a dud of a year it was, but how much I found it to be full of blessings. Perhaps the bad news made me more appreciative of our blessings. I mean, when you constantly read how the world thinks you should be able to euthanize your baby, but your direct community celebrates and supports everything she needs, it makes fertile soil for deeper gratitude.

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The break has been lovely. Scott took a chunk of time off and we did not travel. As a family, this was awesome. Last year we did not travel, but everyone got the flu.  Having Scott home, not traveling has been amazing. We had so much fun with his mom at Christmas and we spent the rest of the time just relaxing and enjoying each other and the nice weather.

We do love to travel and visit family. I think that is what was so special about this holiday. The kids woke up in their own beds, they relaxed, they didn't encounter germs with an over-tired, over-sugared system. The girls sang in the choir on Christmas Eve and we celebrated the New Year outside with our neighbors. It was delightful.

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Let's talk Saint Joseph for a second. Did you know the traditional understanding of the story of Saint Joseph's reaction to the Incarnation was that he believed Mary was telling the truth, but was terrified to act as a caretaker for the Messiah? Yeah, me neither. So, when the angel says "Do not be afraid to take Mary as a wife." It's a message of support, of "You were chosen too, Joseph, you can do it!"

The reason this struck me so profoundly was because of the high rate of termination that babies with disabilities face. Most parents who terminate are ending a pregnancy they were ready to accept until the testing came back with a Diagnosis. I think most of these parents want what is best for their children and many are led to believe death is better than a life of pain. I wish they all had a dream like Joseph to remind them that they don't have to be afraid.

It also struck me because I have always rejected the comments about me having to be extra special to have been given a child with Down syndrome. I always see my kids as people that I needed because they call to be more than I was. And they are! But when I read about Saint Joseph, I realized that God did choose me, not just as a call forward to make better use of my talents, but also because He is trusting me to rise to the challenge. He picked me. Whoa.

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Speaking of Mariana, we've experienced a small miracle. Two months in a row showed a slowing of her thyroid function. We went for a third test as a formality to get in with the endocrinologist sooner. If you can show a trend, especially before the age of two, they see that as a more pressing case. So, I took her for another blood draw, which is its own kind of hell now that she knows the routine. We sort of forgot about it over Christmas, and Scott finally called the geneticist yesterday. When Dr. P called back the news was, well, weird. Mae's function is better. Her T3 and T4 have normalized, and, though her TSH is still running a little high, it's coming down. This is not the usual pattern, even though your thyroid can have blips where its function can get wonky, her particular case is not the usual situation.

We are still going to get in with the endocrinologist, just because she does have Ds, my thyroid is wonky, and hers isn't acting exactly normal. I'm happy to add a specialist even though it is trying to fit one more thing into an already crammed schedule. I don't want to have to wait if things take a turn down the road.

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Mae's speech situation is driving me crazy. She can talk. She speaks in sentences when she's frustrated. But most of the time, it's just babble. She doesn't request items, regularly label items or answer questions she can answer. It's a constant battle to get her to participate in a conversation, and she sticks with the familiar. The reason this drives me crazy is that her ability exceeds her willingness to do what she can. Okay, okay, so that is the human condition, right? However, there's a whole lot more riding on her development than usual. It can be a use-or-lose situation for her, and there is no way to communicate that to a 22 month old toddler. The fact that I have entertained the idea of trying to tell her this is just more evidence about how crazy I'm becoming. As usual, the only thing to do is hang it on the Cross and let Jesus work it out. Now what's the over/under that there will come a day when I complain that I can't get her to be quiet?

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My son got a baby corn snake for Christmas. It eats infant mice alive. I'm surviving. Barely.

---7---

PHOTO TIME! 

Best we could do with an iPhone and low lighting

Mae walked about the church prior to mass and promptly fell asleep during mass. It was perfection.

Mae meets Baby Jesus, whom she promptly "pat-pat-pats" in an attempt to burp him. Only, that's his knee.

Charlotte's turn with Mae

A hopeful Christmas Eve prayer

A Desperate Christmas Eve prayer by a boy who spent the day before in his room after a major offense.

Best family photo in YEARS

Santa comes through in the clutch.

Mae's own personal baby to pat-pat-pat.

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Quick Takes Rushed Advent Style

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Happy St. Nick's day! We don't do St. Nick around these parts, except at school where the children leave their shoes in the hall and get a candy cane. Molly, being preshus, can't have your run-of-the-mill candy cane, so with an uncharacteristic burst of foresight, I sent in special candy canes. They happen to be full size where as the other children get a mini. Ha-ha! Take that corn syrup tolerant folks!
On her way out the door, Charlotte gave me a knowing smile and said sweet-as-you-please, "I know." This was a huge leap from a few weeks ago when, after Molly lost her first tooth, I had the Tooth Fairy talk with Charlotte. She was not happy. She said she felt like we lied to her and, if you know Charlotte, this is as good as betrayal.
Now, I have always woven into our Santa stories that Saint Nicholas lends his name to those who want to do good for others in secret. I had hoped it would make that particular talk easier. So, of course, I pulled from that to explain that sometimes growing up is scary and fairytales often help children understand the world around them. Parents want their kids to understand that while growing up can hurt (pulled teeth), there's always a gift that comes with it. She was grudgingly mollified. This made me nervous for the Santa reveal that was sure to come shortly after the Tooth Fairy. But apparently she at least knows the Saint Nicholas deal is the grown ups, so I wonder if she's willfully hanging on to Santa for one last hurrah.  

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Molly has a second wiggly tooth. I would like to yank that sucker out before it gets all gross and sticky-outy. She is not having it. The other day someone opened the door on her face, and I sadly checked to see if it knocked out her tooth before I comforted her. I'm the worst.

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Mae is progressing and not progressing. Therapy is fine, but home life is chaos. I've been in my Christmas Get It All Done mode, so that leaves little time for practice. I feel guilty, but I know myself, if I don't get my To Do list accomplished, I'm grouchy. It's Advent, that won't fly.  I have found that motherhood is often a lifestyle of prioritizing all the most important things. So, I thank God everyday that my husband folds laundry and my kids get paid a nickle for every chore they do. Things are getting done, except lots of therapy. (BTW, Molly and Paul only get a penny and only if I don't have to nag them. They are very poor, but Kate and Charlotte are very motivated. Soon, I may be poor.)

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 Um, the cardinal of Chicago is coming with the bishop to say mass at our parish next week. I do not wish to bring the littles, but Scott is making me. Anyone know any speedy novenas for your kids not to embarrass you at mass? What about me not embarrassing myself? We are currently hosting a Flat Stanley, whom has been our guest for waaaayyy too long because of my slackeritis. I so want to get a photo of Flat Stanley with the cardinal and bishop. I mean, only Pope Francis would make that Flat Stanley project cooler.

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I'm running out of Quick Takes. Actually, the cat just hissed at Mae, who deserved it because she's almost two and the cat is smart. But here's a few nuggets regarding faculty Christmas gifts from me to you: Alcohol. Even if your teacher doesn't drink, she can bring it to a party as a hostess gift. I didn't get all the teachers alcohol, but that is because I found something super cute that I hope none of the other moms are doing, but if they are, it's cool and returnable.

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Here's another tip: Wrap all your presents as you buy them. Makes life so much easier. While you are wrapping, give your baby some scraps to rip, and call it therapy. I'm here to help, yo.

Knocking the books off the shelf and climbing on the table also equals therapy. And parental negligence.

 

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My final Quick Take is a big thank you to all the good people I've run into these days. Tuesday I went to Starbucks because I didn't have time for breakfast and we bought a huge Nissan NV3500 that I was afraid to go through the drive through with. (Starbucks has an egg white wrap that I like.) I walked out carrying coffee, water, my wrap and Mae when a younger-than-me man asked if he could help and took my breakfast out of my hands before I could answer. He then called me super mom as I plopped Mae in her seat four stories up, and wished me a great day. Now this was a tiny little exchange that took all of 45 seconds, but it mattered. Contrast that with the black Corvette that has crossed double yellow lines to pass me on two different occasions only to hit the same school zone and not actually go any faster, and you can understand why I hound my kids about being kind. Not nice. Nice is just vanilla not being a jerk stuff. (It would be nice if Corvette would stop passing me like a ninja.) Be kind. Help someone pick up their keys, or crayons, or carry their project. Complement the librarian. Tell the kid who constantly annoys you to have a great weekend. I think the hustle of the holiday season is a great time to just find little ways to make someone else feel cared for.

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Quick Takes

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This is where I live now. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

This week was parent/teacher conferences. I am hit with the irony of my insistence that Mariana be treated just like anyone else, and yet my inclination to outline for each teacher that my kid in her class is a preshus snowflake of uniqueness. Living with the paradox of, "We're more alike than different." and "Everyone has special needs!" is fun and hilarious.

--- 2 ---

Mae is trying so hard to be a walker. She walks first, and crawls only after several plops. And does she ever plop--right down on her rump. She always looks at me and says, "Ooooo." after. So cute! I really don't appreciate this part of development in any of my kids. I don't know how to answer the question, "Is she walking?" Paul took his first steps at 9 months and was walking by 10.5, but all that in between was confusing. Mae took her first steps months ago, and now she's finally trying to walk, but isn't great at it yet. So, yes, she's walking, but it ain't pretty.

--- 3 ---

A lady bought my coffee on Tuesday because Mariana was charming. After that I read a post about a woman walking by someone holding her two-year-old daughter with Down syndrome and blurting out, "That baby shouldn't exist!" When the mother said, "Excuse me?" The woman replied that the mother's life would be better if her daughter hadn't been born.

I just cannot imagine this happening to us ever. Sure, the check out lady might ask me if Mae needed surgery, and sure, I really feel strange explaining Mariana's personal health while paying for my groceries, but this kind of stuff is just stunning. I mean, if this happens to us now I know exactly what I would say, but if it was a sneak attack, I'd probably just sputter and maybe scream, "JERKFACE!" or some other mature and helpful statement.

If you do ever witness this kind of garbage, feel free to speak up and tell that particular person that the world would be better off if he/she just stays silent. In a perfect instance it would be an opportunity to educate and perhaps build a little bridge of empathy. People who say such things come from a place of pain. But if there is only one second to respond, remind that lovely person of the old adage about not having anything nice to say.

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Lemme circle back to conferences. The kids are pretty set academically. Molly's in that weird 1st grade reading limbo between being technically able to read and actually being fluent enough for chapter books. Luckily, this is my third time being the parent of a first grader, so I'm not anxious.

What is lovely is having teachers who value the most important things about your children, and who pull the best out of them and nurture it. Paul is becoming helpful. Molly is still super cute and charming. Charlotte's bubbly joy is surfacing, and while she'll never win a behavior award, her teacher appreciates that Charlotte is always laughing. Kate is diligent and, when pressed, will stand up for what is right. When the 4th grade boys were using the words, "retard" and "retardation" to make fun of one another, Kate asked her teacher to address it with the class.

Academically I am considering homeschooling Kate. She's got some very specific interests and challenges that I think would be well served in a homeschool setting. But the community at my kids' school is phenomenal, and I can not imagine not being a part of it. Kids are kids and are going to be jerks, be irresponsible and make big and little mistakes. To have a community of teachers that understand kids and invest in their moral formation is so uplifting that I waffle day-to-day on what we will decide for next year.

--- 5 ---

Last week was terrible. We had a huge communication SNAFU with the geneticists office and didn't get Mae's test results until yesterday when Scott went to the office unannounced. Our doctor is amazing and helpful and in general a great doctor, but because of some wickedly awful communication from the call center he employs, we spent the weekend thinking we were going to be told Mae had leukemia.

Times like this make me wonder how atheists get through. I've heard atheists claim that belief is just a crutch for the weak, but I can't help but wonder why that is such a problem? Jennifer Fulwiler did a webisode on the Explore God campaign where she compared having faith being a crutch the way gravity is a crutch.  This weekend I needed to be in constant communication with God. I needed constant spiritual reassurance that, come what may, we'd be able to get through it. And I needed help to keep me from being a nasty grouch toward my husband and children while my mind was so actively trying to convince me that the worst was coming. Even now, when the tension has been released, I want to retreat and be left alone to recover from all that stress. Scott's at work and there is no school today. So I have to ask again for the grace to not get annoyed that my children want my attention and need my help. I have to push past my desire for quiet and contemplation and lean toward the beautiful life I have here and now. I need help from God to do that. If that makes me weaker than an atheist, so be it.

--- 6 ---

Mae's thyroid is a tiny bit wonky. It did this last spring, but we focused on nutrition and it righted itself. I hope this will be the case again, but if it isn't I thank God we live in a time and place that gives us medication to help her. In general I tend to shake my fist at the current way of practicing medicine. There are so many doctors who just prescribe medications to cover symptoms rather than finding a cause and then treating accordingly. Many doctors don't even care about educating their patients on wellness and proper care for oneself. I don't often take the time to be grateful that there are medications for those who truly need them. Even if the system is frustrating, we do live in a wonderful time for getting good and proper care.

--- 7 ---

Don't forget about the Buddy Walk and The mAe Team! Every dollar counts and every walker is welcome!! Join The mAe Team now!

I pity the fool that don't join The mAe Team!

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Dock Source

Mr. T source