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Babies
a selection of poetry by Shawntee Lyons. This
includes The Beginning, Life of a Baby, and Am I Good or Evil.
Therapist and mom of an autistic child, Caz Collins describes some of the challenges she and some of her clients have faced within the South African school system. She discusses the misconceptions of behavioral issues, what that has meant for their family and those of her client, and how difficult it has been to not only obtain an education for her autistic child, but for her neurotypical children as well. This is something every parent should know as the controversies surrounding autism is still at the forefront of education.
Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes By Joann Washburn A story of love and loss that can only be told by someone who has been there. In this beautiful piece of creative nonfiction, Joann shares the story of their first born and how she and her husband found victory in their faith.
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Changes. Transitions. Endings. Beginnings. Saying Goodbye to My Old Life and Hello to A New One. Page 44 By Sharon Cathey
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PARENTS INK ACCEPTS: ● Fiction ● Creative Nonfiction ● Poetry/Prose ● Essay ● Article ● How--To Article ● Recipes ● Product/Book/Movie Review ● Photography ● Graphic Art
Dear Readers,
● Cartoon/Comic
Thanks for coming back for this second edition of
● Images of physical art such as:
Parents Ink. As you can see, we have some really
Painting
great stories to tell, helpful hints to pass along, and
Sculpture
fun fabric pumpkins just perfect for the fall. We so
Jewelry
appreciate your continued readership and
Pottery
encourage you to participate. Everyone here is a
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us! To submit work, email parentsink@hotmail.com. Best, Jeni Tetamore Editor-in-Chief Page 5 ~ Fall 2014
Send all submissions to: parentsink@hotmail.com
Babies Poetry by Shawntee Lyons
The Beginning Everyone knows where they come from, though they all act as if it’s a big secret. Some are lucky to have a partner in crime, others get the wrong flip of a coin. Ready or not? This decision may not always be yours… Your life is going to change
A baby grows within, movements, kicking, flipping, hitting. Nerves and excitement mix deep down. Nine Months later…. Mommy, Daddy you better be ready! Because here I am ready for the world! Looking up to you. My life will be in your hands, Don’t sweat it mistakes happen. It’s really how you fix it that matters! For now… Just keep me safe, warm, happy, full, clean. And everything will be great! Page 6 ~ Fall 2014
Life of a Baby A tiny person, who loves to run and play. I can’t quite talk, but I like to try! I watch all around, mockery is the way I learn.
Why can’t this be easy?
Little feet, hard to walk Little hands, I can use them to talk? I move my feet and hands, sometimes they don’t do what I want!
What do you expect I am a Baby!
I’m a baby, doesn’t mean I can’t try, I take naps many times a day. Beware though when I’m up, I’m always on the go!
I’m tired…
Goodnight and good luck keeping up, tomorrow!
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Am I Good or Evil? My innocence can be deceiving! Many love me. I love to cuddle and play, hugs, giggles. You want some of my candy? Haha you can’t have any!
Something you taught me. You fall for me, when I’m little, Then I grow… Things will change, In the end can you say…. If I’m truly good or evil? I think not because… I can be both!
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HELLO NUMBERS DISCOVERY PACK is a portable multisensory learning tool that reduces math anxiety by turning numbers into “friends you can count on.” Each plush number includes magnets on both sides of its “head,” allowing the creation of multiple-digit numbers, and embroidered dots on the back link the number shape to its quantity. The number characters also appear in the associated book Hello Numbers and free tablet app for iPads. The book includes 72 stickers and a decoder in the shape of Zero that allows children to create their own numbers and discover secrets on each two-page spread. The combination of book, plush and app makes this a great way to introduce children to the fun and friendly number characters! Page 10 ~ Fall 2014
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I
f you are a parent of a child with Autism, you realise pretty quickly that you will need two things: a thick skin and a lot of money. The money, to start with, is just to get through the visits to psychologists, paediatricians, paediatric neurologists, Occupational therapists and speech therapists for assessments. Then if you are pointed in the right direction you will have to keep paying as your child goes through hours of behavioural therapy, OT, speech therapy, horse riding therapy, auditory integration therapy and you keep paying for the gluten-free and casein free diet, which costs about R30 just for a loaf of bread.
from their children. They find some sort of care facility for their kids and are happy as long as the kids are happy. Group 2 hasn’t believed the misinformation from the professionals and who know their children have potential, are capable of learning and who believe the South African Constitution which says every child has a right to an education. Group 2 parents, of which I am one, having an 13-year-old son with Autism, spend many hours hoping our children will be allowed to stay at the school they are in. “Will they allow us back next year?” we wonder. We look for any gaps at school where our children may be falling behind
If you are a parent of a child with Autism, you realise pretty quickly that you will need two things: a thick skin and a lot of money. But you breathe deeply knowing it is for the good of your child’s progress. The thick skin part is needed in many arenas; dealing with friends and family who don’t understand and who think you are a bad parent; “In my day a child like this would do well to get a jolly good spanking...” you hear them say. The gymnastics club tells you to take your child to the Special Olympics because he doesn’t fit in and even still you take a deep breath, but when you have to fight just to get your child an education, that’s when the thick skin really needs to grow.
and work on these at home. We lend the teachers books on Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), we try not to rock the boat too much and we pray. Our kids are under the microscope. If a neurotypical child (that is a typically developing child) pours sand on another child in the sand box, the child gets a verbal reprimand and the day goes on. When our kids do the same thing we are told at pickup that day there was “an incident” and that other parents would not be happy with what our child has done. This is a mainstream school after all. Good thing for that thick skin.
As a behavioural therapist, I work with children on the Autism spectrum. I encounter two kinds of parents: group one has been told by doctors and other professionals not to expect too much
The Government White Paper 6 (2001) tells us that schools are moving towards inclusion and children with IQs average and above are entitled
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to attend mainstream schools. That teaching will be moving from “making a child fit in” to finding out the child’s learning style and helping him achieve the same goals as the rest of the class. It sounds good. Unfortunately, it’s not so easy to achieve. The teacher training curriculum doesn’t offer much in terms of ASD and I recently saw a text book from the teaching qualification which incorrectly describes children with autism as having “psychotic episodes” so, clearly, to mainstream our high-functioning children with Autism we have a long way to go in South Africa. I attend many school meetings with my clients who are parents of children with Autism. These parents, thick skin and all, have the following choices when their children reach Grade R American Kindergarten) or Grade 1: send their children to an expensive private school (just keep paying, just keep paying) with a personal facilitator, which they as parents must personally fund (cha ching); send the child to one of 12 schools in Kwa Zulu-Natal (a
province in South Africa, much like a state in the USA) which accept pupils with Autism, but don’t expect to get a matric (high school diploma); home school, give up your job to do it and possibly limit neurotypical social interaction for the child; open your own school, to which other parents of children with ASD will flock due to the limited educational choices for their children or, of course hope to win the lotto and move to a country that has better services for children with ASD. Some of my clients are in mainstream schools. There are some schools where principals continually upgrade the staff by means of training in the field of ASD, then there are others where teachers have been left exhausted, principals frustrated and parents, of course, are left feeling desperate at the thought of where to send their children since things don’t seem to be working out at the current school. I have been surprised at the responses of some of the schools who have turned down teacher training offered at the parents’ expense and have simply asked the parents to take the child out of the school. I have had the unfortunate experience of
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being turned down by several schools because of diagnosis a secret from other parents. One day I my son’s diagnosis; I have even had my realised if I wanted any type of support I would neurotypical son refused entry into a school have to come out of the Autism closet. Instead of because of his brother’s Autism. angry parents who would feel sorry for me or would ostracise me, I found understanding. People who encouraged their children to help my son make friends, I found kids who were kind and helpful to my son and I let the thick skin drop for just a moment, long enough to see a glimmer of faith in mankind after all (I hear Kumbaya playing in the distance at this point). Not every child with Autism will cope in a mainstream setting, and there is talk that “full service schools” are in the pipeline, but in the meantime there are children who can cope with mainstream schooling. There are also (a very small number) of government schools in South Africa which don’t say no to our kids and “hats off” to those few schools which give our kids a chance, considering the teachers have had no formal training and little experience in Autism. I honour those teachers, some of whom have taught my son, some of whom have taught my Children with ASD are not always model clients, who go the extra mile because they see students. They often have sensory issues and the child, and not the limitations of Autism. The behavioural difficulties, but nevertheless as South ones who emphasise the strengths of the child African citizens they deserve an education. with Autism to build the child’s confidence and Schools are often scared to accept (or keep as raise respect among the child’s classmates. The the case may be) high-functioning children with teachers who try harder, who never give up, who Autism. There is much misunderstanding about say at the end of the school year, “That was hard the condition and low training available for work” followed by “I have learned so much from teachers in South Africa. The principals and this child and I am so glad he was in my class.” teachers, understandably, fear backlash from the parents of the neurotypical children. They have Since it is considered that 1:68 children are to answer to the school board and they feel the affected by Autism, I can only hope that South neurotypical children may not understand a child African schools will grow in awareness of the who is different. When my child first started in a condition and will embrace these children who mainstream school, I too feared the other are different – no doubt – but not less. parents; would they complain about my child? Could they influence the powers that be to have *Article originally appeared in the Daily News on Page 12 in the Lifestyle section on Monday, April 2, 2012. my child removed from the school? I kept his Page 22 ~ Fall 2014
I honour those teachers, some of whom have taught my son, some of whom have taught my clients, who go the extra mile because they see the child, and not the limitations of Autism.
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This afternoon I drove out to friends farm near Brownsville to pick blackberries. Armed with clippers, gloves and a variety of containers I walked down the hill where 9-10 foot high vines towered above my head. It was a sunny day with a soft breeze. The vines provided shade.. Grabbing clusters of berries with my gloved hand, I lifted them up so I could pluck the berries from underneath with my bare right hand. A friend taught me to cut off branches with clippers that were obstructing my progress and access Working my way through the thorny bramble I clipped off berry loaded branches, laid them down and picked off the berries. That helped lesson the number of scratches from the vines. While I picked I listened to the cows distant lowing, chickens crowing, and the dog rustling through the dry grass. Birds twittered. The fragrance of the berries drifted in the air. Of course, a delicious few went into my mouth instead of the bucket. My mother was a gardener, a farmer at heart. She shared that she could be very worried, upset, or stressed when she went out to work in her garden and flowers. While she dug, weeded, trimmed or picked, she said she would discover that she was at peace with the world. I can identify with her experience. A sense of pleasant peacefulness settle over me as I picked. An hour quickly passed. Suddenly I heard a voice calling my name. I looked up the slope to see my friend's husband kindly inquiring if I was all right. Assured, he left and I turned back to my task. The shiny plump juicy orbs filled my containers. At the end of the second hour I reluctantly left clusters of berries still hanging on the vines and made my way up the hill with my overflowing pans and large plastic buckets. My friend invited me in to wash off the stains and have a cold drink. Back home I washed and tucked the berries into pint plastic tubs with a little sugar. Satisfied with my labor and having fruit stored for the winter, I smiled at my row of fruit in the freezer in anticipation of pie, cobbler or ice cream with blackberries! The stains on my hands washed away and lotion on my arms soothed out the scratches. The berries are long gone but the pleasantness of that peaceful experience still lingers in my mind. Worth a repeat.
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By Joann Washburn We decided to announce our miracle with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. That probably sounds a little silly, but my husband’s name starts with a P (Peter) and mine starts with a J (Joann). We put a B (Baby) in the middle and that gave us PB&J. We carefully made each sandwich, wrote the message “Peter B-? Joann” with permanent marker on each bag, and prepared to see our relatives. The plan was to deliver the surprise through the sandwiches, but neither of us knew exactly how to give a PB&J sandwich to somebody who is not hungry? Nonetheless, we arrived at my parents’ home, tossed the first sandwich at my sister (who I had promised would be the first to know when we were pregnant). She squealed and tears filled her eyes. Her reaction gave it away for the rest of the family before they had a chance to decode the message on the sandwich bags. They immediately embraced us and gave us their congratulations. The following weeks of early pregnancy had me popping Zofran, a medicine used to help reduce nausea in patients from radiation treatment. “Usually the morning sickness just goes away after the first trimester” seasoned moms would say. “Hang in there,” they would encourage. I clung to the advice and counsel and prayed for the vomiting, dry heaving, headaches (side effect of Zofran), and overall misery to be gone. But at 16 weeks God had not answered my prayer because I was still miserable. Instead of becoming angry at God for not taking this suffering away, I decided to use it as an opportunity to pray more for our baby. I tried to pray for baby’s health and safety in those moments of nausea which amounted to dozens of prayers daily for this little person. There were days of some relief when I would find solace and praise God for the first sensations of visible baby kicks against my uterus, or the somersaults my baby was performing in utero. These moments allowed me to marvel at the life growing inside me. At the 8 week point, we had an ultrasound, and one again at 20 weeks. Ultrasounds were my favorite part of pregnancy, as I was able to get a glimpse at the world and the wonder inside me. This world was especially created for a tiny, growing human with arms, legs, fingers, toes, and a heartbeat. During our 20-week ultrasound we saw our baby tossing, Page 32 ~ Fall 2014
turning, waving and wiggling on the screen. The technician took measurements and told us with certainty we had a healthy baby. “Do you two want to know the gender of your baby?” the ultrasound technician asked me. I did not. I wanted that knowledge to be a surprise. I asked the technician to write down the gender of the baby on a piece of paper and staple it shut just in case I change my mind later. She did so without hesitation and handed the note to me. *** The pregnancy progressed into the sixth month, and about 3 weeks after our 20-week ultrasound, I noticed a drastic change in our baby’s movement. I remember sitting in my parent’s backyard waiting for our child to move, but feeling nothing. As I sat there, it occurred to me I had not felt our baby move for about 5 days. Being a new mom, the lack of movement did not alarm me, but my family, especially Peter, thought otherwise. They convinced me to call my physician. My doctor offered to meet me at his office to make sure the baby’s heartbeat sounded okay. I would wait until Tuesday because it was Sunday and Memorial Day. He agreed and said I should lie down and drink juice because the sugar would usually motivate a baby to move. He assured me that a lack of movement was not a sure a sign of a problem because babies at 24 weeks are still very small. I remember feeling no peace after our conversation, and my angst grew when the juice did not solve the problem. “Please God, let my baby be okay,” I prayed. Tuesday came and our baby still had not moved, so I made an appointment. I went to work in the morning and met my husband at the doctor’s office around 10:30. Our appointment was at 11:00. In the parking lot outside the clinic, Peter grabbed my hands and began saying, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Dear Lord, please be with us during this appointment. I pray for my wife’s strength. I pray we may accept the outcome of this appointment, but please Lord let everything be okay with our baby,” he prayed. I replied with a firm Amen. Peter’s prayer gave me peace and strength as had many of his prayers throughout the entire pregnancy. I checked in, urinated in a cup, and Anna, the medical assistant, weighed me and took my blood pressure. It all seemed like a routine appointment to me except for Anna’s demeanor. She appeared concerned. Dr. A. and Troy, the physician’s assistant, came in
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promptly after Anna left. After a short greeting, Dr. A. took the hand-held Doppler (ultrasound wand), asked me to lie down, and then rubbed a clear, gooey substance on my stomach. He immediately took the wand and began his search for a heartbeat. I remember lying there pleading with God that we would hear our baby’s heartbeat like a small horse, and break the unbearable silence. Dr. A. continued his search. “I am very sorry. I cannot find a heartbeat,” he said. He told me he wanted to schedule an ultrasound at Skyridge Hospital because sometimes it is difficult to get a heartbeat with the Doppler. We agreed and he scheduled the exam immediately. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face and Peter’s. I knew. We knew. Our baby was gone, despite Doctor A’s best effort to give me hope.
The appointment was scheduled for 1:00 PM. We left Dr. A.’s office and drove straight to Skyridge. The nurse checked us in and took us back to the exam room immediately. I laid there starring blankly at the vacant screen as the technician set up for the ultrasound. Just three weeks prior we saw our baby alive and its image moving on a similar screen – waving, wiggling, and hiccupping. Baby’s heart was strong at 150 beats per minute. The technician squeezed the ultrasound gel on my stomach and I was brought back to reality. Without making eye contact with the technician, I asked her, before she placed the wand on my belly, to turn off the screen. I did not want to see what my instincts told me I would – a lifeless little baby. It did not take long for her to confirm our baby’s heart had stopped beating. That was it. Our baby was gone. PB & J sandwich announcements to sheer sorrow in a few hours. After a few more minutes had passed, the nurse shuffled us into a small, sterile office with cabinets and two chairs. She asked us to wait. It took a while for another doctor to come in and meet with us. We would later learn that the cause of death was most likely an umbilical cord accident at 24 weeks. When the doctor stepped into the room, she shook our hands and told us how sorry she was for our loss. Without any further transition, she said, “we need to schedule your delivery as soon as possible,” “we’ll have to induce labor because baby is too far along to do a D&C,” she continued coldly. I remember feeling angry at the lack of sensitivity this doctor had for the raw emotional and psychological state my husband and I were in. We sat there, hunched over and still. I was not ready to hear that I had to deliver my dead baby. I was not ready to hear I had to deliver within the next 24 hours. I was not ready to be a grieving parent. I was not ready for this to be my reality. We listened to her sterile rundown of what needed to happen and when she was finished, she patted my knee in an attempt at sympathy, said she would contact Dr. A shortly (because he would be delivering our baby), and she left in the same business mode for which she came. There was very little time to digest her words before another nurse came Page 34 ~ Fall 2014
in and shuffled me awkwardly into a very large room with longer tables, more cabinets and more chairs than the other office. She motioned toward one of these tables pointing to a phone receiver; I don’t remember her saying one word to me. I walked slowly to the table and picked up the phone. “Hello,” I said with a dry, shaky tone. “Hi Joann, this is Dr. A.” As soon as I heard his voice, I felt comforted. Dr. A took the time to make sure I was okay before gently explaining the next steps in the delivery process. He told me exactly what the other doctor had said, but he did so in a way that allowed me to process and accept it (Dr. A is the definition of superior bedside manner). He scheduled the delivery for 7:00 AM the next day. Peter and I left the hospital in a daze and drove straight to our church. I remember kneeling in the small, warm, dim-lit chapel and instead of praying for our little one’s health and safety, I asked for our baby’s intercession. I asked baby to pray for us because we were really sad that he/she was gone. I felt peace from that prayer and that was all that I needed in that moment. Standing in the parking lot after leaving the chapel, Peter looked at me intently and said with assurance, “From this point forward, Babe, we’re not going to ask ourselves ‘why’ but we’re going to ask ourselves ‘how’. Why God allowed this we will never understand, but we can and will continue to ask God to show us how He wants us to use this for His glory. He will get us through this.” I embraced him in agreement. When we returned to our apartment and sat on the couch, Peter pulled out his wallet, opened it up to a little compartment, and pulled out the stapled piece of paper we had received from the technician. He asked me what sex I thought the baby was. I told him we were having a girl. Yes, a girl. I just knew it. Peter listened to my conviction and agreed it was probably a girl. Slowly, he unfolded the paper, and it read:
We were having a son. *** The next morning, I checked into the hospital. The room was cozy and non-threatening. The atmosphere helped to calm my nerves. I didn’t know what to Page 35 ~ Fall 2014
expect. Up until this point, I had been preparing myself for a natural delivery - a delivery initiated by a baby. Now, a pill would be doing the job. It was a tiny white pill. I never even noticed when it was inserted into my cervix to start contractions. Dr. A. said it could take up to 12 hours for the first pill to start working. I prayed ardently that God would make the delivery occur more quickly than that. I felt contractions within the first hour. God had heard this prayer and I was thankful. Eight hours later, the contractions intensified and the pain was strongest in my lower back. Peter massaged my back trying to ease the pain. Jenny, my nurse, came in and asked if I wanted an epidural. I knew the pain was too much for me to handle on top of my emotional state, and I accepted it.
During this time, Peter had called our priest, a good friend of ours, and asked if he would come to the hospital to offer strength through prayer. When he arrived, he brought the comfort of the Church. He, along with Peter and our close family, who were all in the room with us, stood at my bedside, bowed their heads, placed their hands on me, and prayed silently as Father anointed my head with Holy Oil and prayed. God offered His healing and strength through the warmth of every hand, the gentle voice of the priest, and the coolness of the Oil on my forehead and I accepted it; He assured me that I was not in this alone. Shortly afterwards, Jenny came in to check my cervix and insert a catheter. This was at approximately the 12 hour point in the delivery. When she was finished, my water broke and I had the urge to push. I looked at Peter and remember saying, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Don’t make me do this.” He squeezed my hand, looked me in the eyes, and just then, Jenny delivered my son. He came into this world after just one push. I was terrified to look at him because I remember Dr. A. explaining that some babies can show signs of a breakdown of tissue depending on how long they had been in the womb after their death. Through a flood of tears, I asked Peter how our son looked. Peter sobbed, “He is perfect, Babe.” Jenny handed his swaddled body to me shortly after delivery, and I looked at his tiny face for the first time; Peter was right. He was absolutely perfect. Jacob Christopher Washburn was stillborn on June 2nd and weighed nearly 1 pound. He measured 10.5 inches long. Jacob stole my heart with his baggy skin, itty-bitty feet and hands, and handsome face. Peter and I spent the next few hours with our families trying to memorize every feature of Jacob into our memories because this would be the first and last day to get to know him. I gently stroked his tiny cheeks and bald head and admired his 10 little toes; his foot, still black from the ink used to take his footprint, was no bigger than Peter’s thumb. He had a wrinkly brow, petite nose and the long, Washburn eyelashes. That evening, we said our goodbyes and the nurse took him away. When she came back, she handed me two sleeping pills. I took one and gave the other one to Peter. Page 36 ~ Fall 2014
We were grateful to have a reprieve from the day’s painful emotions. When I left the hospital the next morning without my Jacob, it was the hardest thing I had ever done. ***
St. John Vianney Theological Seminary in Denver
Four months after Jacob’s death, I was invited to a Catholic Vigil Praise at the St. John Vianney Theological Seminary in Denver. Vigil Praise is an event for young adult Christians to spend an evening worshiping Jesus through music. The Catholic Sacrament of Reconciliation is offered during the event and I decided to pray the Sacrament because of the mistrust in God I still held after losing Jacob. I sat down in the Reconciliation room and began the rite with the words, In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
I briefly explained to the priest my loss and grief and trust issues. The priest, who was a stranger to me, sat there a moment and then began to weep. His emotion was as if he knew me, but he did not. His tears were as if he was grieving the loss of Jacob and yet he did not know Jacob. I saw from the expression in his eyes that his emotion was detached from him and he had no control over it. He told me with great empathy and compassion how terribly sad he was for our loss and that Jesus never meant for death to enter the world. I left the Sacrament in a bewildered state of mind. I took this feeling to one of the pews outside the Reconciliation room. There, I knelt down. With my eyes shut and head bowed I began to recall the day my son was buried. The day’s events played out in my mind as they had so many times before. The flood of memories was very much like a movie in a perpetual state of view; rewind; view again. I remembered at the cemetery there was no sun, only rain. The green tent effectively deflected the rain and under the tent was a neat, meticulously arranged set of white chairs. In front of the seating there was a newly dug hole in the ground. The silver pedestal in front held our son’s white casket which was no bigger than a treasure chest. Small, white daisies adorned the top of the pedestal and a grave marker rested next to it. The marker was engraved with the words from the poem “Footprints”: “Lord, You said that once I decided to follow You, we would walk side by side through life. But when I needed You most, I saw only one set of footprints in the sand. The Lord replied, “I Love you and would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.” Page 37 ~ Fall 2014
My husband and I sat in the front row. We were numb and emotionally exhausted. Our family and friends formed behind us as everyone huddled under the tent. Peter and I sat there motionless staring at Jacob’s casket as our pastor spoke the funeral prayers. In that pew, though, something changed in my memory. Before, I had always sensed Our Lord was with me in spirit at the cemetery the day we buried Jacob. This time, I saw Him under the tent with me. Jesus was crying and sad. He was not invisible this time. He was not looking down on me from somewhere above. Rather, he was physically present with us at the grave site. Those precious moments in the pew after Reconciliation were an epiphany and deep healing moment for me. Up until that point, I had felt God was with me during my grieving process, but not in it with me. Jesus gave me an important message that day. He was going to be there with me, in it, through this entire process. A few years later, when my husband and I decided to try again for another baby, we both felt anxious and fearful we would lose another child. I reflected back on the vigor God provided during my pregnancy sickness, during the delivery of Jacob and then the wonderful warmth and peace I received during those minutes in the pew after the Sacrament of Reconciliation, and knew that no matter what happened next, it would be okay. *** The delivery of our little girl, Zoey Marie Washburn was a powerful, peaceful, emotional, and beautiful experience. Despite a few complications surrounding her birth, meconium and a heart murmur, she came swiftly and safely. Zoey means ‘full of life’ in Greek and we named her that because she truly is our gift of life; God blessed us abundantly with her and we continue to be absolutely smitten over this creation from God. But, I still think about Jacob a dozen times a day and that is okay. I am still healing.
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Step-by-Step Instructional Guide By Barb Abrams Page 41 ~ Fall 2014
* Fabric
* Pearl Cotton
* Stick to Cut for Stem
* Needle
* Fiber Fill
* Artificial Fall Leaves
* Jute
* Raffia
1.) Start with a piece of fabric 9 x 18 inches 2.) Press down the fabric about 1/4” along the length of the fabric. If you don’t want to use the iron, you can “finger press’. (This will be your top) 3.) Sew the two short sides together (right side together). This is the only part I prefer to do on the machine to make it a bit stronger, but it could be done by hand. I use a 1/4” seam and then press to one side. 4.) It works best to use a longer needles with a large eye. You don’t want a very “fat’ needle, though. It will be too difficult to get through the fabric. Regular thread breaks too easily, so I recommend using Pearl Cotton because it is strong (probably have to find in a quilt shop). Once your needle is treaded, double the thread and knot. You will be using the strength of two threads. New sew a running stitch along the length of the bottom on the wrong side of the fabric. This is the side you did not press under. Pull as tight as you can without breaking the thread around that several times tightly to give it a good, solid closure. Sew a securing stitch to the end. Page 42 ~ Fall 2014
5.) Turn your fabric right side out and sew another running stitch on the top along the turned under fabric. You will be stitching into both fabrics. This will give you a nicer finish. After you are done stitching, pull just a bit and start stuffing with fiber fill. I’ve tried stuffing with other things and never liked the looks. I’ve also known people who put rice or bean in the bottom to add a bit of weight, but since I keep mine in the attic from year to year, I didn’t want anything to attract mice or bugs, and don’t find the added weight necessary. 6.) After you have stuffed them to your liking, pull the threads as tight as you can and tie off. On this side you won’t wrap the threads around like you did on the bottom. You will have a small opening. 7.) Using your jute wrap around the pumpkin to give it shape, or define its pumpkiness, go around once, crossed over like when you wrap a package and go around again, tied and double knotted on top. Repeat the process exactly the same in between the first wrappings. That will give a total of 8 “stripes” around the pumpkin. The tighter you pull each one, the more definition you have. 8.) Now it is time to decorate it up! Get some twigs about the right thickness as you want your stem to be and cut them several inches long. Any size pumpkin can Push the stem into the center of the pumpkin, along be made. The length is with artificial leaves, greenery and anything else you 2x the width. For a want. When you have them all arranged the way you want, hot glue them into place. Finish with a raffia bow, fatter pumpkin, then make it 2.5x the width. also hot glued into place. Page 43 ~ Fall 2014
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T
his is the stage of life I am in right now. I find myself alternately very busy; then with large stretches of time on my hands. Sometimes I am happy and content, and other times, like now, tears are very close to the surface. These days, my work is to make decisions about which possessions I will take into the next stage of my life and what doesn’t make the cut. Memories will certainly go with me. Memories of my children, my husband, my life…in this home and our previous homes…all of them. Ten, to be precise. All our children have not lived in all the homes, and some were our homes only briefly. But they were still ‘homes’ because we were together, sharing experiences, joys, struggles, laughter, and tears. Togetherness and shared lives are what make a home, a home. Whether I have lived in a small rented house, an apartment, a large house in a subdivision, the key to making it ‘home’ has always been doing life together. Didn’t matter if it was beautifully decorated and arranged, with planned gardens and living spaces, or bare floors and walls. We lived through it all together…And as you might guess, some of it we loved, and some of it was rough, really rough. But even through the rough parts we made it out alive. J We always strived for ‘better’ with each move, but different states, leaving friends behind, changing jobs, houses, and neighborhoods did not always result in ‘better’. Sometimes we just marked time until that next thing came along. In some of our homes, I learned new skills like how to feed a growing family with a shrinking food budget, or tiling…or plumbing. Plumbing, partly because of my pursuit of natural health. I remember one occasion when I made Master Tonic, a very potent medicine, derived from blend of habanero chilies, onion, ginger, garlic and horseradish steeped for weeks in apple cider vinegar. I strained this concoction and put the pulp down the garbage disposal. Who wouldn’t? The garbage disposal had other ideas. The pipe separated at the joint between the disposer and the trap and the pulp came spewing out from under the sink, covering the kitchen floor and filling the air with eye-tearing, nosesearing fumes, almost strong enough to strip paint. I handed over the car keys and treated my children to breakfast while I cleaned and aired the kitchen and put the pipes back together under the sink. My concoctions are now legendary, part of the memories and ties binding us together…as well as my renowned plumbing skills! (This was NOT my only venture into plumbing or home repair!) Whether there were just a few of us, or all of us, when we moved, most important were our relationships. We faced the newness together; spending hours with each other during the first few weeks and months as we played games, talked and worked together making Page 46 ~ Fall 2014
our new house a home, and explored our new surroundings. We were each other’s best friends as we played video and board games and cooked together. We explored new territories, met new neighbors, made new connections in groups, churches, clubs, parks, and schools. We made it work, creating memories, creating togetherness, creating family. On moving day, while bringing in furniture and arranging our new home, we noticed a couple of our children were missing. They had gone to reconnoiter the new neighborhood alone! They knocked on each door, both sides of the street, to learn who lived where, and most important, we heard later, “do you have any kids for us to play with?”! Their efforts were rewarded by finding a family with 4 children of similar ages and stages, pizza for supper and new friendships lasting for several years…The parents introduced us to their church, which became our home church for 15 years.
“For 36 years, in 10 new homes, 10 new neighborhoods, and with thousands of experiences, our children led me to new friends and new adventures. “
As I reflect on these things, as I go forward into the next phase of life, I wonder…For 36 years, in 10 new homes, 10 new neighborhoods, and with thousands of experiences, our children led me to new friends and new adventures. They introduced themselves to other children…on the playground, the soccer field, at swim meets, in classes of all types…and we met their parents who became friends. We bonded at soccer games in the snow and went to end of year parties. These parents with whom we have moved through activities and done life are now mostly just memories although we remain loosely connected. We no longer have our children’s activities and common experiences tying us together. We enjoy the memories and ‘catching up’, during the times our paths cross.
N
ow, I will be exploring with the man of my life, still together, but different… I wonder what it will be like making our way without our “advance guard”. Our house and home will change yet again. Temporarily, home will be a 25-foot travel trailer (who knows what you can even fit in that amount of space?!), outfitted to see the world. We will explore to find our new dream home and location… together. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future. I know, too, that whatever else it might be, it will be an adventure.
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What began as a way to support her father-in-law while he battled cancer, soon became a way for Cheri Taylor to not only make her own statement about her battle with cancer, but a way to save her own life, get back a piece of her independence, and help support her family. Page 49 ~ Fall 2014
In 2001, Karl and Cheri Taylor moved from Colorado to Indiana to help his mom take care of his dad after he had received his cancer diagnosis. After years of working at Rocky Flats, the controversial nuclear plant in Arvada, Colorado, and then as a Fire Chief, Mr. Taylor’s cancer diagnosis didn’t look good. Karl and Cheri realized it was confusing for some people to get a hold of the right people to get help and support, so started a support group there in Warsaw to assist with resources and information. However, shortly after this began, Cheri began a health battle of her own. Page 50 ~ Fall 2014
Shortly after the couple had become active in the support group, Cheri suffered a TIA stroke, or a Transient Ischemic Attack. These are often called ministrokes, and while they don’t generally cause permanent brain damage, they are a serious
warning sign of a stroke and often have other side-effects. In Cheri’s case, it adversely affected her memory, so in order to help her get some of that back, Karl and Cheri started making bracelets. The patterns and colors helped her to focus her thinking. Page 51 ~ Fall 2014
They bought supplies to not only cancer awareness bracelets, but items they could sell at the flea market and rallies. But mostly, t helped her regain brain function Page 52 ~ Fall 2014
y make t also
they ns. Page 53 ~ Fall 2014
But the fight was just beginning for Karl and Cheri. After another TIA, the doctor did a scan of her head and found a lump in her neck. Once the biopsy was complete, Cheri was also diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Now she was making cancer awareness bracelets for herself, as well. They were able to remove her thyroid, but the stew of medications often make her sick and dizzy. Her arms and legs hurt all the time and she is easily confused. Page 54 ~ Fall 2014
However, when she is at her work table, often with their two adolescent daughters now, she can smile as she creates the next set of earrings or a new bracelet. While Karl’s dad lost his battle with cancer a few years ago, Cheri continues on through being tired, the risk of relapse, more strokes, and medication side-effects. They recently moved back to Colorado so that they could be closer to her family and Karl is helping her find new places to sell her little pieces of sanity-saving beauty. Page 55 ~ Fall 2014
How Sleep’n Sync is Revolutionary Mission To help children excel when facing challenges and improve their functional skills and their wellbeing
Sleep’n Sync’s objective is to help the child achieve their goals fast. It does this through an audio designed to help the child with the specific issue being addressed, which is played at night, as the child sleeps, every day for six weeks. Sleep’n Sync uses the power of the mind and empowers the natural motivation in children to do well. It does this by integrating to the audio positive suggestions and messages that reach the subconscious mind of the child at a highly receptive state: sleep.
Non-Invasive
Non-confrontational: with Sleep’n Sync there is no need for negotiating or convincing the child to do the program every day, no need to use their valuable fun time for it.
Easy to use: the program’s implementation does not affect your child’s schedule, it is at night during sleep time, no need to set time from the child’s busy day for this. Program the alarm with Sleep’n Sync’s audio at a time the child is asleep, and set it to repeat every night.
Based on extensive scientific research and best practices: each Program is designed based on extensive scientific research and best practices, so that the messages and recommendations contained in the program are effective and to the point of the specific goal of the program.
Sleep’n Sync uses: Principles of hypnotherapy by designing the necessary messages the child needs in the form of positive suggestions tailored to be easily absorbed by the subconscious mind of the child.
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Sleep, as it provides a highly receptive state of the subconscious mind. The subconscious mind is always awake and receptive, however this receptivity is increased when the conscious mind does not interfere/ is resting/cooled down, as it occurs during sleep. In addition, sleep is a time when the outside input is minimized, and the information received during the awake time is sorted, organized, evaluated, linked with other memories, and stored or discarded according to its relevance. Sleep’n Sync takes advantage of sleep as a natural receptive state for its messages to effectively be absorbed by the subconscious mind, and the natural function of sleep in building and solidifying brain connections, and its natural role as self-therapy since it processes and links negative feelings and experiences with positive feelings and previous experiences, diminishing their overall negative effect (Rock )
Neuroplasticity: which is the changing of the strength of neural connections, the adding or removing of connections or the adding of new cells. Thinking, learning and acting actually changes the structure and functional organization of the brain.(Christiansen & Baum, 2005).
Principles of neuroplasticity: The brains ability to act and react is ever-changing. It is constantly laying down new pathways for neural communication and to re-arrange existing ones. The changing of neurons, the organization of their networks, and their function changes via new experiences
Repetition: It is well known that repetition wires the brain. It is repetition that allows a person’s brain to esptablish the necessary connections or synapses between the brain cells. Learning occurs right where neurons meet. Without these connections, the brain cells are useless. It is known that what wires a person’s brain is repeated experience, and without it, key synapses do not form. And if such connections, once formed are used too seldom to be strengthened and reinforced, the brain eventually elliminates them. Therefore, repetition of the desired messages in the suggestions in Sleep’n Sync audios is a key element for the effectiveness of the message incorporation into the subconscious mind of the child.
Binaural Beats in the background music: Optional. Binaural beats work by sending two different tones to each ear. The frequency difference between the tones is created by the brain as a “binaural beat”. With this technology, one can take the mind into a relaxed and receptive state, allowing easier connections between the brain cells. This is optional since sleep is already a receptive state for the messages to be absorbed, however its use can help.
Connecting the subconscious mind with the conscious mind: This is what Sleep’n Sync’s audios facilitate, so that when the child is awake, he/she has the self confidence, skills and tools to use in order to get his/her desired goals.
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O
ctober 31st is a day shrouded in myth, mystery, and mischief. Is it the vigil of a Christian feast day, a pagan festival, a secular celebration of capitalism, or a satanic holy day? Simply put-yes to all of the above. It seems everyone wants to claim a piece of the day. Halloween. The word conjures up images of ghosts and ghouls, popcorn balls and candy bars. The word itself is actually a contraction of two old English words: “hallow” meaning saint or holy, and “e’en” meaning evening. Halloween is, in fact, a holy evening. Of the claimants mentioned above, only two have a real historical claim, the others have “tricked” society by usurping the day for their own. Satanists claim it as their high holy day based on the practices of the early Celts. Unfortunately, though the Celts were pagans, that is, they did not believe in only one God or in Jesus, they were not specifically Satanists for they did not believe in him, either. Those who worship Satan have laid claim to Halloween more specifically as a response to the Christian aspects that were laid down in the early centuries after Jesus than to any real historical foundation that this was a
universal day to worship Satan. As for the secular and commercial aspects of Halloween, we can only say that a capitalistic economy will always latch onto any celebration that will generate a profit. Costumes, candy, party supplies, cards, and more are the contraptions of an affluent society. They are not good or bad, just expensive. Christmas is subjected to the same treatment.
T
he early Celts of Ireland believed in several gods of birth, rebirth, and death. Their fall fire festival at the end of October was to celebrate the harvest. It was a time of plenty but also a time of death as the earth was laid barren for the winter. It was a time to
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remember the dead and ward off evil spirits. In many ways we celebrate a similar holiday of the harvest on Thanksgiving and we remember our dead on Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day. We may not ward off evil spirits at these times, but Christians acknowledge that evil spirits do exist and that we must be
alert and proactive in warding them off through the power of Jesus. For the Celts Halloween was a “holy evening”.
E
arly Christians honored their dead, especially those martyred, from the very beginning.
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They initially set aside special days for each martyr, but by the time of the persecutions during the rule of Diocletian (284-305BCE) there were so many that this was no longer feasible. In 610 BCE, Pope Boniface IV set aside May 13th as an anniversary to honor all who had died in their faith. Pope Gregory III later moved this day to Nov. 1st in the early 8th century. Whether this move was specifically made to replace the Celtic celebration is debatable. Arguments can be made for and against it. Regardless of the exact purpose, the celebration of those who died was still an important part of early Christianity that still exists today. Nov. 1st was called Hallowmas or Mass of the Holy Ones, known today by Catholics as All Saint’s Day. The word “saint” was used by early Christians to denote anyone who believed in Jesus, dead or alive. The word means “sanctified” or “holy.” Halloween is the holy vigil held the evening before, much like Christmas Eve is the holy vigil held before the Mass of the Christ (Christmas).
S
the Celtic festival. Wearing costumes was thought to have been practiced by the Celts to ward off evil spirits but did not become commonplace in Europe until the 17th century. Carving jack-o-lanterns stemmed from an Irish folktale of a man named Jack who tricked the devil and was then denied entrance to both Heaven and Hell due to his evil ways and was forced to wander the earth with a single light inside a carved turnip. These practices were brought to America in the early 19th century by Irish immigrants. Trick or treating is related to a European practice called “souling.” Early Christians would walk from village to village and beg for soul cakes. These cakes represented prayers that would be said for their deceased relatives. Many of the current practices of parties and so forth are uniquely American in nature.
ome of the common customs surrounding Is Halloween a trick or a treat? It really Halloween have been gleaned from depends on how you approach it. several sources, many originating with You most definitely can be tricked into Page 62 ~ Fall 2014
freaking out (literally) over its satanic connections or by the anticipated costs and cavities demanded by society.
H
owever, you can treat yourself and your family to a day to remember those who have gone before you in faith. Read about those martyred for Christ, both past and present. Dress up in ways to honor them. Celebrate God’s blessing of a bountiful harvest with feasts from your garden. Carve your pumpkins using the “Pumpkin Prayer” found at http:// www.dltk-bible.com/ pumpkincarving.htm to reflect the positive aspects of following Jesus and let His light shine for you. Don’t let Halloween become a “hollow” day but rather keep it “hallowed” as you celebrate. Happy All Hallows Eve!
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Regardless of your individual traditions, the holidays are always a time for family. And maybe a little madness. By Jeni Tetamore
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With Halloween kicking off the holiday season, there isn’t much time before we are bombarded with advertisements for Christmas (or Hanukkah and Kwanza if that is what you celebrate). Any one of three is still surrounded by gift-giving practices, family gatherings and celebrations.
Pinching Pennies
And whatever happened to Thanksgiving?
Thrift Store. For your Halloween costumes and seasonal decorating, there is nothing better than your neighborhood thrift store. Most stores even carry brand-new costumes at a significantly discounted price, so you don’t even have to settle for buying used if you don’t want to.
Really, you’d think the biggest eating day of the year would get more respect. If for no other reason than it’s the kick-off for the biggest shopping day of the year. But this then begs the question I think we all ask ourselves at one point or another sometime between October and the first of January: Are we all crazy? And if we weren’t before, are we by January 1st? We tend to make ourselves that way with wild bursts of shopping, cleaning, cooking, baking, more shopping, and did I mention shopping? Let’s stop the madness.
Costumes, food, gifts, candy, food, and more gifts take a big bite out of the budget. If you haven’t been putting aside money all year for just these next three months, there are still ways to keep from going completely broke.
You can get some great decorations for all of the major holidays, too. Don’t assume that because you are buying second hand, that it will be kitschy or outdated! Again, many stores get in items that were overstock for retailers and so they are brandnew, still in the packaging but half the price. The retailers get a discount for the donation and you get to reap the rewards.
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Buying Bulk. I know this seems obvious since everyone nowadays has a Costco card, but did you know that you can freeze a gallon of milk? It’s true. Just buy an extra gallon during a time when you know you won’t have time to make that extra trip to the grocery story, and stick it in your freezer. Other things to buy in bulk that are really handy for holiday recipes: Bananas (peel and freeze to use in smoothies or other recipes; break into thirds for easy grinding in a blender) Apples (slice and freeze for the same reasons; they can go from freezer to oven more easily than most recipes, too) Oranges and other citrus fruits (peel, separate, and freeze in Ziplocs; zest your peels and seal well, then refrigerate) Loaves of bread (freeze extras) And more… When in doubt, stick it in the freezer or if you have a dry good, put a bay leaf in it to keep out the bugs!
Cut the Sugar. And I hear the outcry going out across the land, but hear me out. All the extra candy and goodies go straight to the adrenal glands and put everything off balance. Especially with all the refined sugar that is in things. I am also not an advocate for artificial sweeteners, but that’s for another day. Instead, try to keep the refined sugars out of your own cooking at home, so that the extra stuff your kids get at school or elsewhere doesn’t cause an overload.
Set Boundaries Excess often is the name of the game this time of year, but that can lead to cranky kids and grumpy parents. Knowing when to say when is key. Page 66 ~ Fall 2014
For instance, try switching to turbinado sugar, honey, or agave syrup in your own cooking. Turbinado sugar is raw cane sugar, so it doesn’t have as many calories, nor does it cause a lot of the side effects that refined sugar causes (hyperactivity, headaches, etc.) and has a better glycemic value for your health. You can use it just like regular sugar in all of your cooking and our kids actually like the flavor better. Set Your Budget. Even if you haven’t started saving now, you can still decide how much you are going to spend and on who. Keep in mind, you do not have to buy a gift for everyone you know. Nor do you have to buy a gift for every member of your family. Maybe this year, draw names among the adults and set a $25 limit. Instead of buying for all of your nieces and nephews, have the children all do the same. One kid, one name with a $10 limit. If you do this for both sides of your family and you are a family of four, you just spent $90 instead of... how much? Then limit yourself when buying gifts for your kids. One gift from Mom and Dad, one gift from Santa (or however you do that), and a stocking stuffer under $10. Total budget for the kids - $50 each. All others? Homemade goodies!
Party On, Dude. Holiday parties are a lot of fun, but going and hosting gets expensive. Again, if you are really having to watch your pennies, be choosey about where you go and who you have over. Maybe if you do a big gathering for Thanksgiving and/ or Christmas, instead of trying to do all the cooking yourself - have a potluck. You provide the main dish and perhaps beverages, then have everyone else bring in everything else. You’ll need to organize who is bringing what, so you know what to suggest if need be, but it is still less expensive than doing it all yourself. And less work! Plus, you get to taste other people’s specialties and enjoy yourself more with those you love.
Preparing for the Invasion Maybe this year, everyone is coming to your house. Maybe they are all staying at your house. And you’re not
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even close to being ready for people to be raiding your fridge, using your bathroom, or living in your space. That’s okay. Here are some quick tips to have your home in tip top shape long before Thanksgiving, much less Christmas!
Prepare for Battle. Gather up your supplies. It takes a little longer to put together a bag for trash, one for putaways, all your cleaning supplies, etc. before you get started, but it’s worth it to not have to go back looking for it after you’re elbow deep in suds. Even if you don’t need something for one room, you will need it for the next. Get it all together in one spot and take it with you from room to room. Then you are not breaking your stride as you get into your cleaning mojo.
Now Is Not The Time. Do not try to sort out too many things. If you know you don’t want to have something in a room, stick it in the put-away bag, store it in a safe place, then come back to it after the holidays. Just focus on what must be done to make your home what you want it to be for your company and deal with the big stuff after everyone goes home. Stay Focused. It’s tempting to want every single room in your home spotless. When you start feeling this way, repeat this mantra: “I am not Martha Stewart and I don’t want to be!” Really, no one is going to look in your closet, or your kids closets, or many other places for that matter. Make sure that your guest’s bedroom is comfortable and clean, that they have a place to hang and fold their clothes, and a place to retreat when they need one. Then social areas bathroom, kitchen, dining room, and living room/family room. Work your way from your bathroom to your kitchen to your entertaining areas as these first two often need the most in-depth cleaning. Try starting from the back of your house and working your way to the front. That way you can just take the trash out when you’re done!
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Maintain Your Health This is a prime time for people to get sick. The weather is bad, we don’t get outside as much. We eat bad food. The list goes on, and this makes celebrating miserable. Now, more than ever, you need to be paying attention to your physical and mental health. Eat Your Fruits and Veggies. It sounds obvious, but it’s surprising how often we forget the simple. Raw fruits and vegetables are our best defense against virus and bacteria. They are rich in vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants. The richer the color of your fresh food, the better it is for you. Try to add plenty of papaya, butternut squash, and mango to your regular choices as they are particularly good for digestion! You’ve Got to Keep Moving. Skip the New Year’s Resolutions and start moving on Monday. Those who choose to start anything on a Monday have been shown to have a greater success rate and are more likely to stick with it. Yoga, treadmill, walk your kids to school instead of driving them… Something! Get your heart rate up and release those endorphins. If you’re not sure about your ability to exercise, now is a good
time to schedule that check up with your doctor and ask.
Find Some Quiet. Meditate, do a Bible (or other religious) study, turn off the electronics and get some silence in your life. There is a lot of noise going on around you, adding stress and making you feel pressured. Even if you only do this for fifteen minutes a day, you will notice that you are calmer and more ready to handle the pressures of parenthood, job, and all the holiday crush. The important thing is to keep your life, diet, and priorities balanced so that you can enjoy the holidays with your family and friends and not spend it sick, miserable, and stressed. Take the time you need for you.
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I
am a freelance cartoonist/graphic artist. I work with a client who has a number of subclients they work with. My job with this client is to be the GA that makes sure everything is ready to print. This is industrial printing, so it’s finicky work, everything must pass what is called “preflight”: organizing the materials so the large print machines won’t automatically reject it. More importantly, though, I am a stay at home dad for my four-year-old boy who stays with me throughout the day while my wife goes to work. In the first week of August, friends of ours in Japan sent their nine-year-old daughter to stay with us for two weeks. My wife taught their daughter English while we were living in Japan five years ago, and we have stayed close with the family since we came back. Luckily for her, my best friend also has a ten-year-old daughter who is very eager to meet her Japanese counterpart. Naturally, she stayed with us as well. That means I have three kids with me on a rather chaotic work day. The following is a transcript (Loosely transcribed) of one hour of my day with the three kids and work: As you may suspect, I’ve changed the names to protect the guilty: Jamie is my friend’s daughter, she calls me “Uncle Guy” because our families are so close. Aoi is our Japanese guest and Ken is my son. Page 71 ~ Fall 2014
Aoi Guy, I dropped a quarter into the sewing table, can you come get it? (I go upstairs, the quarter is pretty deep in the table.) Me I don’t know, Aoi… I think it’s gone. Aoi But… I wanted to collect American quarters, though. Me That’s easy, I’ll give you a new one to replace it. Did you know there were lots of different quarters? Ken (Yelling from downstairs) Daddy, will you help me fix the tree? I can’t fix the tree in Lego Star Wars! Jamie We are going to make pancakes. Me I’d rather you didn’t. You trashed the place yesterday making pancakes. (At this point Jamie wanders off to the kitchen, either not hearing or ignoring me.) I begin working on uploading one of my clients’ graphic sets, it’s slow going because we are having some internet slowdown. But things are going well… still, I hear the girls in the kitchen. Jamie Where is the oil? I used up all of the oil and now the pancakes are sticking to the pans! Page 72 ~ Fall 2014
I can smell burned pancakes coming from the kitchen… I’m wondering how fast I can get to the fire extinguisher and just how much damage that does to a stove… Aoi I opened the big milk… was I supposed to use the red milk up first? Jamie Aoi, do you want 4 pancakes? I think I made too many.
Aoi No, thank you. Perhaps Guy or Ken will eat them. The girls go upstairs, forgetting to ask us if we actually wanted the blackened pancakes… I begin to wonder about the fate of said well-done confections. Going in the kitchen I find it in expected disarray; Plates of mostly eaten food disturbing small dunes of unmixed pancake batter sprinkled with dark shadows of nomadic cinnamon. Bowls left half-full of viscous, slowly hardening batter mixed with thin columns of amber honey which straddle the lip of the bowl and then flee from the white porcelain confines of their container, streaming outward to create mixed-color dots which scatter liberally about the countertops in such a way as to make Jackson Pollock proud. A few pancakes of random sizes lay where they fell in a plate next to a toppled, gaping bottle of grapeseed oil. They do indeed look like little flattened maps of pitiful, misshapen alien worlds; scorched-earth continents adrift in beige oceans.
Thankfully, though, there are no burn-marks on the walls or stove. Regardless, trashed is still not good. Time to call Jamie and Aoi to the carpet. Me Girls, I asked you not to leave the kitchen trashed. This would be why I didn’t want you to make pancakes. Jamie Sorry, Uncle Guy. Page 73 ~ Fall 2014
Aoi I’m sorry about the mess. Me It’s not the mess that’s the problem. That’s normal. I really hate to being made responsible for other peoples’ problems. It is disrespectful to me. It feels like you don’t care about me. Jamie Sorry, Uncle Guy. (They start to clean up the kitchen.) I get an Email from Bob (My client): One of the components of our client’s website just
went offline and they are demoing it in half an hour. The problem needs to be fixed yesterday. Triple Urgent. …and Ken throws the controller for the PS3 Me That’s it. We do NOT throw electronics. I’m a tech guy, I have strict rules about respecting electronics in my household. Without warning, I turn off the PS3 mid-game eliciting a plaintive wail from Ken. The girls declare that they are finished cleaning. I look over their work: they have simply tossed everything in the sink. The sink is now filled with goopy pancake-batter water which is slowly infiltrating the precariously stacked dishes causing them to threaten a catastrophic, suicidal revolt in order to escape their sludgy fate. The sink has also become hopelessly clogged and the countertops still sport more dots and dashes than a turn-of-the-century telegraph station. They stand looking hopefully at me, giving me the “Can we go now?” smiles and bouncing a little. Page 74 ~ Fall 2014
Me Nope… dishes too. Jamie What?!? Where? The dishwasher is full! Me Okay… well I can’t really dispute that. (The clock is ticking on the demo but I empty the dishwasher anyway. Naturally, the girls vanish.) Finished. Girls? Girls? Girls! The girls come back and put the dishes in the dishwasher, looking dejected that I would be so mean as to interrupt their play. Ken Daddy, I’m bored. Me Go play Legos. Email: One of the sub-clients print items didn’t pass preflight and failed to print the front of
the business card. I need to fix that as well. I manage to get the primary website problem fixed just in time for the demo. Now it’s time to get cracking on the problem with the print issue. Jamie We’re done with the dishes, can we go play? Me Will I need to do work in there to clean up after you? (Jamie considers this, mumbles something and goes back into the kitchen.)
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Ken Can I play Lego Star Wars now? Please? Me No. Ken Why? Me Why do you think? Ken I don’t know. Me When you remember, come back to me. Ken NOOOOOOOOOO!
(Ken runs off crying) Email: A
third client is adding a new product and that needs to be uploaded. The second client document failed preflight again. Back to the drawing board on that problem for me.
Jamie Aoi! Stop spraying water all over the floor! Stop! Stop it! Stop! Stop! Ken Daddy, tell Aoi to stop spraying‌ Me I heard Jaime. Go play with your Lego. Ken But I want to play Lego Star Wars. Page 76 ~ Fall 2014
Me No. Ken Why? Me You know why. Ken No, I don’t. Me Then when you remember you can tell me. Ken (Wails) NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Me You can always go to your room, you know. Email (from a separate client): Guy, You forgot to give me an
invoice for the storyboards (I had done some boards for a commercial the week before).
Could you really quickly write up an invoice and send it to me? Jamie Aoi! Stop spraying water.
Me Girls! Get it under control in there. Jamie Aoi is…
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Me I know what Aoi is doing, Get a grip, guys; you’re the big girls here. Jamie Yes, Uncle Guy Ken Can I play… Me No. Go play with your Legos. Ken I don’t WANT to… (He begins to wail again) Jamie and Aoi are finally done. I approve their dismissal and they go back upstairs. Somehow unnoticed, however, they have picked up a shadow as Ken follows them up the stairs.
Email: The second clients’ cards passed preflight and finally printed just fine.
The first clients’ demo went awesome; they are now very excited about this program and are now on the way to getting it under contract. Jamie (From upstairs) Ken, why don’t you leave us alone and go play Lego Star Wars? Ken (Comes downstairs. Big, blue eyes dawning over the lip of my desk… burrowing into my very soul) Daddy, Jamie told me I could play Lego Star Wars…
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