Bunker Punk Tour

    So, I am joining the Bunker Punks Tour! No time like the present to give you all a little about myself.  My name is Kate (AKA Momma or sometimes just "Ma").  I currently live in sunny South Florida but will be moving to Dallas, TX here fairly soon.  I have had the pleasure of having 3 beautiful kids with my husband, Traveling Dad (of 13yrs).  Boy Wonder, our oldest is considered special needs with being on the spectrum and having ADHD.  He is currently in 2nd grade and is 8yrs old.  Miss Piss is 3 and a total diva! I wouldn't change them for the world.

   I started writing as a way of memorializing some of the better and funnier stories of my children.  Many people have told me to write and in a huge way it is very cathodic. I hope some of my stories reach out to others who can relate...or at least think "well, at least THAT'S never happened!"
  My most prized possession would have to be a few quilts.  Or my child's hand print mold at death.  I still sleep with his baby quilt under my pillow. I cannot bring myself to hang his hand print mold up.  No wall seems to do it justice.  No place seems safe enough.  I have a painting of him as well that I would be lost without. After making sure my children are safe, these are the things I would run into a burning building for.  They mean that much to me.
 
 After a long day, the kids and I watch movies.  Some times, we have dance parties.  Boy Wonder REALLY hates when those happens but he plays along. As being that we live on a canal, some times we go sit out on the dock and blow bubbles.  There's great therapy in bursting bubbles, let me tell you.  After kids are in bed, and I am all by myself, i read.  I write.  I create wreaths.  I sew. I rarely drink, well, except for recently.  If things are really bad, a good warm shower, a good cry, chocolate and Xanax are called in to save the day.

   There are two songs that fit my life very well.  I really can't pick just one.  The first one is "Broken" by Lifehouse.  The other is "Life Ain't Always Beautiful" by Gary Allen. Both fit my life and my views on life so they are both worth mentioning.

 

     If I could give one piece of advice to new bloggers in my field (since I'm so old at this, you know) it would be...be true to yourself.  Write what moves you.  Write whatever you want to write just write in your own voice. Tell your story in whatever voice you use and never for one moment be ashamed of what you have to say.  There is ALWAYS someone out there that will love it or need those exact words at that exact moment.  Be yourself.  Be true to yourself.  The rest will fall into place.

   

Now that I am world famous and all "one with the Bunker" if there is one thing I would like to be remembered for saying it is probably this...."We are given one life.  One chance at it.  Don't waste it wishing and hoping for something better.  Make it happen with what you have.  Time waits for no one"

 

  Hope you enjoyed this little trip into my mind.  Thanks, as always, for reading and comments always welcomed

                                                  

Old, Hairy, Cranky Neighbor

OK, y'all, you know what happened this morning with Old, Hairy, Cranky Neighbor. No?? Go read, I'll wait. OK so now where were we....Oh yes Old, Hairy, Cranky Neighbor. I decided I would make a list of appropriate and inappropriate things to say to my children. This may or may not get passed around my neighborhood.
NEVER EVER SAY THIS STUFF TO MY CHILDREN
1. Never is it EVER OK to yell at my kids. They are not your kids or your grandkids or in any way related to you except by the unfortunate circumstances that find us neighbors. It is NEVER OK to yell at them. EVER. If they are about to go dive off the dock and swim in the alligator infested waters, let them. I may or may not have given them the idea. If your voice is raised, AT ALL, just don't say it!
2. Never is it EVER OK to tell my children to "Shut Up". It's ugly to say those words. Just ask Boy Wonder. If they are making too much noise for you, please, feel free to remove your hearing aides. Better yet, go inside and come out again later.
3. Never is it EVER OK to use bad language in front of my kids. I have the mouth of a sailor, I know. However, I can say whatever I want to to them and around them. I created these kids. I earned that right.
4. Never is it EVER OK to tell my kids that you would beat them. Now, I am from Texas. I believe in a good spanking from time to time...and I'm not just talking about behind my closed bedroom door. Traveling Dad and I do use spankings for crimes we feel warrant a spanking. Being loud, outside, is NOT one of those times.
5. Never is it EVER OK to threaten my kids that they will be taken away from me. It gets my hopes up for a vacation and more over it scares my kids unnecessarily. While I'm at it...Never is it EVER OK to mention fictional characters that come visit the household from time to time to my kids. I can threaten to call Santa or the Easter bunny or the Tooth Fairy...you may not.
6. Never is it EVER OK to say you will poison my dogs if they don't stop barking. Jack is old. He barks at nothing. Jill is dumb. She barks at everything. I'm sorry. They are dogs. It's what they do. (Possibly why you have cats, No?)
7. Never is it EVER OK to tell my children they are having too much fun. We live in a day and age where kids are glued to electronic devices ALL THE TIME. My children are not allowed to stay on their asses for too long. I force them to go outside and play. It is what we have a backyard for, after all.
8. Never is it EVER OK to give me parenting advice. I have two sets of parents that raised both my husband and myself that I can turn to should I need advice on something. Should they fail, I have parent friends I can turn to. More than that, I have the wonderful world of Facebook and my page I can turn to should I ever need advice. Yours, however, is unwanted.
9. Never is it EVER OK to call my children names. I get it. They are acting like brats. It's what kids do. Oh, they are spoiled? Tell me again how you endured my husband's or my childhood in order to spoil your grandkids. Tell me again how hard you work to support my children. I agree, running with scissors is not the brightest idea Boy Wonder has ever had. However, calling my children names is not right, not fair, and never OK with me...unless to say how smart, funny, pretty, etc they are.
10. Never is it EVER OK to voice your displeasure at what my children do or say in the realm of our household to us. This is our safe spot. This is our home. If we feel like blaring trumpets (at reasonable hours, of course) in our underwear in the confines of our home then so be it. It is not your job to question my choices or sanity. It is not your place to tell my kids they are being too loud. Or "annoyingly joyful". We aren't in a library. We aren't in your house or your yard. And we aren't at a funeral. They are kids. They, by the very definition, are loud and full of happy juice (may or may not be related to what's in Miss Piss's sippy cup). Kids will be kids.

THINGS THAT ARE OK TO TELL MY CHILDREN
1. It IS OK to laugh at my kids. Let them hear it! They are funny funny little creatures (to which I am thankful since it gives me things to talk about). They can and will amuse you from time to time. Laugh loud and proud! It's ok. It's what keeps me sane.
2. It IS OK to tell my kids that it looks like they are having fun. My children never cease to amaze me with their antics. They are creative and spontaneous and well, fun! I remember a time not that long ago when I was a child and was allowed to use my imagination. It may be why I am able to write the way I do or tell my stories the way I do. It helps with their growth and their health to have fun and use their imagination...hey! We're learning here...shhh don't tell them that. These are the moments that make memories; please don't take away from that.
3. It IS OK to tell my kids how smart, independent, funny, sweet, pretty, handsome.... they are. So many times now it is easy to take away from a child's self esteem. So many times, as we age, we forget what it's like to be kids and seeking validation. Help me build them up! They will, as time goes on, tear themselves back down as they grow older. Be a highlight in my children's lives and not one more thing they need to avoid.
4. It IS OK to help my kids. Miss Piss gets freaked out when she can't find the words to say what she wants or needs. Boy Wonder sometimes gets overly excited and stumbles with his words. Give them the words they seek...just make them good ones.
5. It IS OK to tell my kids to be safe. Boy Wonder is walking on the roof, again? Talk to him about why that may not be the best decision. Tell him about your antics growing up. Don't give him ideas, please. Don't. But let him know about amusing things you used to do as a kid.
6. It IS OK to talk to my kids about yourself. Let them know how different things are now than when you were growing up. You used to be in the military?? Tell Boy Wonder. You'll make a friend for life.
7. It IS OK to talk to my kids about how lucky they are. They live a privileged life. They are spoiled. I blame their grandparents. It would be nice to have someone else let them know how very fortunate they truly are.
8. It IS OK to talk to my kids about the future. They are so very special. They live in the moment of NOW. Ask what they want to be when they grow up. They are funny and full of adventure so their answers just might surprise you. The answer of Pirate Spaceman That Drives a Train is a very real possibility here, people!
9. It IS OK to tell my kids about other children. They don't get to see very many other kids these days because of where we live and whats going on in our lives. Let them know about how little Timmy got to ride with the manatees or how Jane is dancing every day. I want them to know that these things are important to you so maybe they can see THEY are important to YOU.
10. It IS OK to relish in my children's delight. Miss Piss has mood swings that make PMSing women shudder. Boy Wonder has done so many different things that make me cringe and him proud. They are so interesting to know and so easy to love. Play with them. If we are playing water balloons, join in the fun. It may even be therapeutic for you. Just don't freeze the water balloons beforehand, please. Please help me form my kids. Let them know that what makes them happy makes you happy. In turn, help them come out of sadness by letting them know they aren't there alone.

My kids are such a huge blessing for me. You have no idea the struggle I went through to have them. I love them more than life itself and some days they are the reason I keep living. They have seen parts of life that I wish I could have sheltered them from but that is part of who they are. They love big. Laugh fully. And are treasures to get to know. Yes, they are loud. They are vocal. They are emotional but that is part of what makes them them. Each of them has their own set of emotional and educational delays that we are working on. Each of them has their own set of milestones they are reaching for and set of issues that get in the way. Please, help me form them into people that will thrive. Help me show them they are important. They matter.
I hope this helps you understand where I am coming from. I pray this reaches your cold heart towards kids. I am trying to create lives here not just a day to day being. Please, help me. If you do I promise to not give my children Red Bull to drink and then tell them that it really does give them wings. I promise to keep our learning and growing fun to reasonable hours. I promise to accidentally misplace the batteries on the air horn (Who's bright idea was that anyways?) And I promise to be involved in my children's lives...that one is a given but still. I know this will make an impact on all of our lives...much like my children do on every one they meet.

The Darkest Days of My Life

I am a mother of three beautiful children. Alex is 8 (Known as Boy Wonder). Maggie (known as Miss Piss is 3. Ian (He That Flies), should he had lived past eight and a half months would have been 2. Having two babies nine and a half months apart was hard. It was the most challenging thing I had ever done. It was hectic, stressful, busy and oh so rewarding. Ian, born November 2, 2012, was born at 33wks. He had some issues from the start but he was here, he was beautiful, he completed me in a way I didn't know existed and he was mine. He had a chiari malformation, cerebal palsy, and seizures. He never let any of that stop him. After 3wks in nicu, the day after thanksgiving, we got to bring him home. He was perfect. As time passed, the demands of three children, two so close in age started to wear on me. I didn't know if I was coming or going. I didn't know which way was up. I seemed to have lost a valid part of me and I desperately wanted it back. After much discussion, a trip to Texas with the kids was planned. I was nervous going half way across the country without my husband but I needed to for some rest, recuperation and some me time.
The kids and I flew into Houston on July 9th and were greeted with open arms by my parents. My dad had never met Ian before but it was love at first sight. Ian just had this way of making you love him no matter what. Every day my mom and I did things together. Every evening my dad came home and loved on that little boy. I had help. I had breathing room. I had hope. We went to the circus (the first for Alex) and my dad held Ian throughout. The next day the kids and I packed up in my mom's car and drove 9hrs to see my in laws. We stayed there for four days again leaving a wake of people smitten with Ian. On Thursday afternoon we packed up again and left to go visit my sister from another mother Jenn. We get there around 5pm and it was great to see someone I missed so much. Jenn's son, Zech, got really close to Ian as did her daughter, Cilla. Thursday evening I got violently ill. I was throwing up everywhere. I couldn't keep anything down. At one point on Friday I was so sick I was throwing up bile because there was nothing left. Saturday I was supposed to head back to Houston but it was decided that I would stay an extra day. Feeling like my normal self, Jenn and I got out that evening to take a trip down memory lane leaving cilla in charge of my three children. They couldn't have been in better hands. When we arrived back home, all three kids were asleep and Cilla, Zech, Jenn and I decided to play cards. Something we had done a million times before. Around 2:30 in the morning Maggie woke up screaming. I thought nothing of it. I figured she was in a new place, teething and would calm herself down to go back to sleep. After about five minutes when she hasn't calmed down cilla and I go to check on her. This is where my life changes forever. Maggie is crying. I look over to check on Ian and he's blue and covered in vomit. I call out to Jenn while holding my lifeless son and she comes running. I swept Ian's mouth, pounded on his back and I prayed. I prayed like I have never prayed before. 91 1was called. CPR was performed by Jenn, Zech and myself. The ambulance shows up. I have such an overwhelming need for my parents I can't stand it. They are called. My preacher is called. Then the call I dreaded. While on the way to the hospital, I called Jeff (Traveling Dad). Jenn has to take over the phone call because I break out into the prayer that would become my mandra that day. When Jenn and I get the hospital we are told they are still working on him. We are then told hes being moved to picu and we could see him for just a moment. There lays my baby only he's not my baby anymore. The next several hours are a blur. Jenn and I took turns comforting each other. Always praying. We have him baptized. It was important to me. My parents show up. They aged 10yrs in a day. Everyone prayed for a miracle. His blood was acidounic. He wasn't breathing on his own. He had no brain waves. I knew then it was my last day with my baby. Jeff, his parents, and his youngest brother come in late that evening. We talk with the Dr and decide to take him off life support. I kissed my baby held him and watched him take his last breath. I was alone allowing no one near me. No one to comfort me because I shut everyone out.
They preform an autopsy on him. It's protocol for this type of death. Jeff pulls away from me. In a way blaming me for our son's death. Preliminary results come back and it looks like Ian contracted meningitis. Everyone who has had contact with him in the past five days must go on this antibiotic. We head to Houston to prepare for our son's funeral. Everything is planned. Alex asks about him. We decide to let Alex and Maggie say goodbye at the viewing. He looked so peaceful. So sweet so beautiful. There laid my son but everything that made him my son was gone. His wild hair tamed. His dimples gone. The easy smile erased forever.
I was in such a dark place. I lashed out. I was wrapped up in my grief and had little time for anything else. However my kids needed me. They needed reassurance. Guidance. They needed their mom. I started by giving Alex the words. If I felt mad I told him. If I was sad. I said it. I let myself feel whatever I was feeling but shared it with my children so they knew the words to use and to know it was OK to be feeling this way. I was pissed. I mean pissed at the world. Angry at God. Angry at myself and angry at Ian for leaving me. I had no control. I was falling and there was no one and nothing to catch me. But for my children. As much as I wanted to sleep all the time my kids needed me. As much as I wanted to crawl in my skin and shut down they were hurting too. I needed to find a way to help my kids and help myself. We started with books. When we got back to Florida I called hospice for therapy for Alex as well as myself. I reached out to Alex's school letting them know what had happened and that a guidance counselor needs to be on standby. I got Maggie into play therapy. I kept moving. I woke up every day totally worn out but determined to help my kids and cried myself to sleep every night.
Somehow over time things got better. Time has a funny way of healing. Each time I shared his story I would get the "I'm sorry". "God has a plan for everyone" "at least you have other kids". Each time the words hurt less. A year later I can say it does still get to me but I'm in a better place for it. I miss him every moment of every day but know I will see him again. Its a huge price to pay to lose a child. The reward from knowing him is so much greater though. I don't instantly feel pain when I think of him any more. I feel joy for having had him and knowing him. It's a long hard road to travel. It's dark and twisty and sucks when its all so fresh. Now it doesn't hurt as much. I still feel the loss. That will never go away but the pain associated with the loss has lessened. Some days it hits me hard but for the most part I don't hurt remembering him. In ways in sharing him I keep his spirit alive. I never understood what they meant by "he's survived by...." But in losing my son I understand so much. His death hasn't killed me although for a while I wish it had. I survived losing him. I survive life without him present. It's strange how such a small gesture can help ease away the ache when you allow yourself to lean on them. I don't think anyone who hasn't been here can truly understand how horrific it is for a long while. Nor would any of us who have been here want you to understand what it's like to be taken to the pits of hell. You as "normal" people offer what you hope are words of comfort, sympathy and empathy when we as "damaged" want to twist your words around on you so you feel a little bit of the pain we are trapped in. We dare you to find a different way of saying the same words...."he's with God ", " he's no longer in pain", "I'm sorry for your loss". We hear the words until they lose most meaning. Then something happens and we become open to comfort again. We somehow let ourselves feel happiness again even when we don't want to for the longest time. If you had told me a year ago i would be where I am today I would have never believed you. Yet somehow the pain eases, changing into something else completely until we come out of our darkness and welcome the kind words once more. No one will ever know my loss because it is my personal story but most can empathize with me which holds comfort too. 
I never knew how to answer the question most moms know too well. "How many kids do you have?" Do I answer "2" and just leave it at that? Somehow that never feels right. Do I answer "3" and then have to go into this whole story about my beautiful baby that isn't here anymore? I don't know, even now, how to answer. My current answer is "I have 3. 2 that run and 1 that flies." For now, in this moment in my grief, I take comfort in my answer. It doesn't fully answer the question but it's the fullest answer for me.