Saturday, February 28, 2009

Randomness From Owen and Ella-Belle

Having a 6 and a 4 year old, there is never a dull moment in my life. The two of them say some of the funniest, most random things. Below are some random quotes and mini-sagas from the minds of Owen and Ella-Belle:


Ella-Belle: "Mommy! My knee arm-pit itches really bad! I need a flea collar!"
(She has eczema on the backs of her knees, and we do not have fleas)


Owen: "Mommy...Can Superman hear his what his friends are talking about like if they are at their houses and he is at his house?"
(He is getting tubes in his ears and the ENT said he would have Superman hearing afterwards)


Ella-Belle: "Owen what did you wish for? I wished to never pee to bed again."
Owen: "I wished that we should listen to Mommy."
(They made a wish on a helium balloon they let float away)


Ella-Belle: "Mommy, I'm taking my panties off before I go to sleep because I don't want to get pee in my panties if I pee to bed."
(She fully intended on sleeping naked in MY BED and peeing on me)


Ella-Belle: "Mommy! Valerie wouldn't let me in the bathroom, so I had to pee on the puppy's potty pad!"
(Yes, the child has bladder control issues!)


Ella-Belle: "When I play t-ball, I'm going to hit the ball, then I'm going to wiggle my butt, then I'm going to run!"
(She is constantly dancing)


Owen: "If they don't let me eat the candy or keep the money, I'm not selling it!"
(He did not get the point of the candy bar fundraiser for t-ball)

Owen: "Mommy, what does break up mean? Cause Daddy's girlfriend did it to him."
(Gee, I can't imagine why)

Ella-Belle: "I don't like going to Mamaw and Papaws cause they don't let me eat whenever I want.
Owen: "That's because that's the rules Ella! Everyone has to follow the rules Ella!"
(Learning rules is a big thing in Kindergarten)

Ella-Belle: "Mommy, unlock my window cause I need to tell Tim something!"
(She wanted to stick her head out the window and yell to him in the car behind us. We called him instead)

Ella-Belle: "Kiss my mommy through the phone!"
(She was talking to my boyfriend, Tim, as he was driving behind us)


Ella-Belle: "Janet, I don't like your boyfriend, he doesn't have any hair!"
(She said this the first time she met my sister's boyfriend-now-husband)

Owen: "I hate when Papaw picks me up from latchkey cause he always stinks cause he farts all the time."
(Ewwwwww)


And to finish off this post, I thought I would bless everyone with Owen's photographic expertise. I'm only putting one pic from his latest photo shoot on here, I think everyone will agree...one is quite enough! I found 10 different angles of this picture on my camera. Now you know why we refer to Owen as the "Pooparazi."



Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Shoot Me Now

Is it just my bias as her mother, or is she just drop-dead beautiful?

Those eyes...and where the hell did those lips come from?

I think I should probably lock her up now 'cause, da-umm...

SHE'S 12!

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Bitch, Get A Life

I have this incredibly amazing boyfriend. Being with him is like being in a dream that I don't want to wake up from. I can't even begin to describe the sense of security I feel when he holds me in his arms. He is wonderful with my kids, and I have never seen a father more passionate about being involved in raising his own children. He. Is. Perfect.

Except for one teensy-weensy little thing.

He is a thief....a sock thief.

The following is a copy of an email from his ex-wife that he forwarded to me:

I found a pair of purple socks from your house under daughter's bed today. I washed them and will put them in the clothing bag when I drop them off at daycare on Thursday.

Below is a list of items that I have sent to your house recently and have not received back. Please look through your household and return any you may still have in the clothing bag on Friday when you drop the kids off at daycare.


Daughter's Items:

1 white sock marked "5S" - sent to you on 02/12/09
1 pair white socks marked "7S" - sent to you on 02/05/09
1 teal blue sock marked "5" - sent to you on 12/18/08
1 pair white socks with pink Cheer logo marked "26" - sent to you on 12/04/08
1 pair white underwear with Red Hearts / Barbie marked "16" - sent to you 11/06/08

Son's Items:

1 pair dark blue (or black) socks marked "9C" - sent to you on 02/12/09
1 white sock marked "21" - sent to you on 02/05/09
1 pair dark blue (or black) socks marked "10C" - sent to you on 01/08/09

Is. She. Fucking. Serious?!

She has a spread sheet with all the kid's socks inventoried. She checks off which socks she send with them to his house, and marks them off when they come back. She NUMBERS their socks for shit's sake!!! Bitch, get a life! You could be spending time with your kids instead of worrying about whether or not Tim might have an extra sock! You know what I do when the kids can't find matching socks? Not a damn thing. My socks never match, why should theirs? Hell, I don't even fold the socks when I wash them; I just throw them all in one big basket and it's a self-serve sock free-for-all. And sometimes, when I don't have time to hunt up the socks and do the laundry...

I just go buy more socks...

Monday, February 16, 2009

Who Knew Malte-poo's Were A Requirement To Be A Redneck?

I just started stalking a new blog. I was drawn to this particular blog because of the author's heartfelt desire to foster and adopt children. My brother and sister-in-law have 3 adopted children, so this blog tugged at my heartstrings. Tanis, better known as Redneck Mommy , welcomed a new bundle of joy into her family, and I stumbled upon a Redneck Shower , so I decided to invite myself on over.

To do this, I need to blog about the Redneck in me. I was raised on a farm. I got this.

1) Butter makes GREAT shoe polish!
2) I had a "horse" named Bessie. I played on her for hours. She resembled a propane tank...
3) I have watched a tornado from my front porch.
4) I loved rollerskating in my driveway. It was gravel.
5) I have picked Dandelions, which my mother fixed for dinner.
6) I grew up next door to a slaughter house, where I Trick-or-Treated.
7) My favorite playhouse was the old chicken house.
8) I loved my sandbox. So did my cats.
9) I have helped castrate pigs and steers.

The first 9 were from my childhood. This last one is recent. I was going to post about it, but it slipped my mind...until now!

10) You know you're a Redneck Mommy when...Ella-Belle pukes on the floor and while you're getting paper towels to clean her up, you see Sammy (the Malte-poo) headed for the pile of puke and you don't tell him "NO!" because, hell, you don't want to clean it up and you forgot to stop and get dog food anyway...

So there you have it, my contribution to Tanis' Redneck Shower. I know these in no way compare to the Redneckiness of Tanis' wannabeCanadianbestie Mr. Lady, but Mr. Lady doesn't have a puke-eatin' dog, does she?

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Men Are A$$h0le5

Q. What happens when you let your kids have access to the Internet unsupervised?

A. They create MySpace accounts, of course.


Q. What happens when your idiot son posts his cell phone number on his MySpace?


A. Girls call him and he uses 3200+ cell phone minutes in 1 month! (He is a hottie!)


Q. What happens when you buy said son a car (so he can get a job, swear to God!)?


A. He gets a wild idea to drive 200 miles one way to another state to meet phone call girl.


Q. Should I kill him?



So here's the story:



My son has been talking to a girl he befriended on MySpace. They talk for hours. And hours. And hours. I heard through the grapevine (Valerie and Sophie) that he really liked this girl. I wasn't too concerned, after all, she lives 200 miles away in another state!


Then he started hanging out with his ex again. This excited me:) I really like Sarah, and she doesn't take any of Dustyn's crap. She is his best friend's sister...how convenient is that?! And Sarah is 20, so no worries about pissed off girl's dad's (or police) banging on my door! Anyway, Sarah was helping Dustyn find a car last week. We got an awesome deal on a little old lady's '89 Grand Prix. Under 100,000k miles for $850. I couldn't pass it up. The man-child need a job, and to get a job and work a job, he needs a car.


So on Monday Dustyn got his car. We titled the car in his name. He called the insurance company on his own and added the coverage to the car. He went to the BMV and transferred the tags from his old car to his new car. All. By. Himself. This is a man-child who has to ask me how to spell his middle name, so this was pretty impressive to me.


Amazing, just when you think your kids are finally maturing, they have a gigantic brain fart and drive 200 miles to another state to meet a girl from MySpace. Valerie ratted him out. She sent me a text that said, "Dustyn is on his way to Indiana." I was worried sick! This is a kid who can't find his way home from the mall, much less make it 200 miles to another state!


I knew he had to have an accomplice. I called the dumb fuck that I was once delusional enough to procreate with (ok, twice). After 15 minutes of denying it, he finally admitted that he printed Dustyn mapquest directions so he could drive 200 miles to another state. Did I mention said dumb fuck got the clap from his 19 year old coke head girlfriend who got her baby taken away at birth because they both tested positive for cocaine? Oh, gee....did I get off subject? Anywhooo...That stupid fucker knows Dustyn has no internal navigation system; he barely knows his left from his right. I told him that if ANYTHING happened to Dustyn I was holding him responsible, and he could forget about seeing his kids again, since he obviously doesn't give a fuck about potentially putting my son in danger. He just said, "This is why I didn't want to tell you, I knew you'd flip out on me."


Ya think???


So, Dustyn made it 200 miles to another state unharmed. He was refusing to answer his phone, but he did text me occasionally and I did have the following text conversation with him the next morning:

** Disclaimer: I was pissed as hell, but I wanted him to come home, so I played it off like I wasn't. Us moms is super smarty in situations like this!**

ME: u alive?
HIM: yes
HIM: whats up
ME: u could have let me know u made it ok
HIM: sorry
HIM: when do u want me home
HIM: ???
ME: does she have parents?
HIM: yea
ME: and they don't care that u r there?
HIM: no
ME: weird. do u have enuf $ to get home?
HIM: tell me 2day
ME: come home today!!!
HIM: yea
ME: ok. come home today.
HIM: what time
HIM: what time
HIM: pretend 2 be mad
ME: now?
ME: i am pissed!!!
HIM: what time
ME: leave now
HIM: what time do u want me home
ME: how long will it take u?
HIM: y are u mad
ME: u told me to be;)
HIM: lol im driven
ME: so I take it u didn't like her?
HIM: yea but idk
ME: ok. so how far of a drive is it?
HIM: foraver
ME: lol


3 hours later...


ME: where r u?
HIM: the mall
ME: here?
HIM: home
ME: u could have told me u were back.
HIM: I jest got back
ME: Well, at least we know your car runs!


1 hour later...


ME: she has your pic on her myspace.
HIM: fuck lol


My son is a dog. A true asshole. He drove 200 miles to another state to meet this girl, and he is going to break her heart. Not that I think it would have worked anyway, seeing as how she lives 200 miles away in another state. It's the reason he gave me for not liking her that makes me want to kill him, more than I want to kill him for driving 200 miles to another state to meet her. He told me he doesn't like girls that are that "thick".


WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?


Damn, Dustyn, kick me in my big ass gut and slap me in my double chin why don't you? I am ashamed of you! Just for that, I'm posting a pic of your man-boobs on here. Since you're over 18, it's not illegal :)~



JERK

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

To The Man In The Honda Accord


Dear Asshole,

I am normally a very patient person; I don't sweat the small stuff. This is obviously a quality you do not embrace. Did it make you feel better to scream at me from inside your car because I was trying to change lanes? OMG, I slowed down 5mph to let the van next to me pass so I could slide over, I should be shot! Did I delay you 2 seconds?

Since I have a background in Social Work, I know that there is always a reason behind why people act the way they do. It's called "second order business." I am going to analyse what the hell is wrong with you.

First of all, judging by the look on your face, I bet you have high blood pressure. Imagine that! It would also be my guess that you have a serious case of Erectile Disfunction, though I doubt that matters much to your blow up doll! I'm sure your wife left you for another man, SHOCKER!!! Hell, I would have probably left you for a woman, 'cause your ass is nasty and rude! I would also venture to bet that your car is full of fast food wrappers, you have nausiating body odor, and your feet smell like corn chips. But that's just a guess...

So, dear Asshole in the Honda Accord, the next time someone you're behind is following all traffic laws, please refrain from yelling, cursing, and flailing your arms around at them, 'cause the next time, they may not be as nice as me; they may do more than just flip you the bird!

Love, Hugs, and Xanex,

Shelli


Sunday, February 8, 2009

Why Are 4 Year Olds So Nasty?



Conversation between Owen and Ella-Belle this afternoon:


Ella-Belle: "BURP!"

Owen: "Ella that's nasty!"

Ella-Belle: "Hey Owen! Sometimes when I burp, I puke in my mouth a little bit. Do you ever do that?"

Owen: "Ella that's gross! You're nasty! Mommy! Ella's saying nasty stuff about puking in her mouth when she burps!"

Ella-Belle: "Owen, pull my finger so I can burp again and see if I puke in my mouth. " ** Giggle Giggle**

Owen: "Mommy! Tell Ella to quit talking about gross stuff!"

Ella-Belle: **Giggle Giggle**


I think she may enjoy the taste of puke in her mouth...**shudder**

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Sensational Owen con't...Let Him Have Ketchup!!!

So, I was pretty sure the pre-school administrator didn't believe that Owen had an intolerance to tomato based sauces, but I had a note from Owen's Dr. Awesome that said otherwise. She assured me that she would give the note to the cook, and together they would decide on a meal plan for Owen.

Seriously? Miss Rhonda has had his "meal plan" under control all by herself for months now. Whatever woman, go strut into that kitchen in your spiked heeled shoes and obviously home dyed blonde hair and make yourself feel authoritative and tell Miss Rhonda how to make a freakin' hot dog. Knock yourself out.

I talked to Miss Rhonda the next day, and she said the administrator tried to tell her how they would feed Owen from now on. She told Miss Rhonda to just rinse the sauce off of the food and feed it to him that way. Miss Rhonda said she thought it would be a better idea to keep his food separated and just not put the sauce on it, after all she said, "Would you want to eat food that's had sauce rinsed off it?"

Miss Rhonda came to Owen's rescue at lunch time again, and my mind was at ease. Owen was scheduled for his first appointment with a counselor. I had been doing some research online, and talking to my professor at school, and I had come to the conclusion that if Owen didn't get some help, he was not going to be able to function in a Kindergarten setting. From my research, I was convinced that Owen had Sensory Integration Disorder, or Sensory Processing Disorder.

The realization of this was bittersweet. I finally found a name for something that encompassed every quirk Owen had. Yet, the tears rolled down my cheeks as I read they symptom checklist. My poor baby...why did this have to happen to you? The following are 57 of the Sensory issues Owen faces every day:


1) becomes fearful, anxious or aggressive with light or unexpected touch
2) appears fearful of, or avoids standing in close proximity to other people or peers (especially in lines)
3) complains about having hair brushed; may be very picky about using a particular brush
4) dislikes kisses, will "wipe off" place where kissed
5) prefers hugs
6) a raindrop, water from the shower, or wind blowing on the skin may feel like torture and produce adverse and avoidance reactions
7) may overreact to minor cuts, scrapes, and or bug bites
8) avoids/dislikes/aversive to "messy play", i.e., sand, mud, water, glue, glitter, playdoh, slime, shaving cream/funny foam etc.
9) will be distressed by dirty hands and want to wipe or wash them frequently
10) excessively ticklish
11) distressed by seams in socks and may refuse to wear them
12) may want to wear long sleeve shirts and long pants year round to avoid having skin exposed
13) distressed about having face washed
14) distressed about having hair, toenails, or fingernails cut
15) is a picky eater, only eating certain tastes and textures; mixed textures tend to be avoided as well as hot or cold foods; resists trying new foods
16) may be self-abusive; pinching, biting, or banging his own head
17) has a preference and craving for excessively spicy, sweet, sour, or salty foods
18) may physically cling to an adult they trust
19) loves to be tightly wrapped in many or weighted blankets, especially at bedtime
20) enjoys bear hugs21) distracted by sounds not normally noticed by others; i.e., humming of lights or refrigerators, fans, heaters, or clocks ticking
22) bothered/distracted by background environmental sounds; i.e., lawn mowing or outside construction
23) frequently asks people to be quiet; i.e., stop making noise, talking, or singing
24) runs away, cries, and/or covers ears with loud or unexpected sounds
25) picky eater, often with extreme food preferences; i.e., limited repertoire of foods, picky about brands, resistive to trying new foods or restaurants, and may not eat at other people's houses)
26) can never get enough condiments or seasonings on his/her food
27) loves vibrating toothbrushes and even trips to the dentist
28) prefers foods with intense flavor; i.e., excessively spicy, sweet, sour, or salty
29) reacts negatively to, or dislikes smells which do not usually bother, or get noticed, by other people
30) tells other people (or talks about) how bad or funny they smell
31) refuses to eat certain foods because of their smell
32) offended and/or nauseated by bathroom odors or personal hygiene smells
33) may refuse to play at someones house because of the way it smells
34) decides whether he/she likes someone or some place by the way it smells
35) has a hard time seeing the "big picture"; i.e., focuses on the details or patterns within the picture
36) has difficulty locating items among other items; i.e., papers on a desk, clothes in a drawer, items on a grocery shelf, or toys in a bin/toy box
37) often loses place when copying from a book or the chalkboard
38) bothered by loud, sudden, metallic, or high-pitched sounds
39) looks at others to/for reassurance before answering
40) if not understood, has difficulty re-phrasing; may get frustrated, angry, and give up
41) difficulty getting along with peers
42) prefers playing by self with objects or toys rather than with people
43) does not interact reciprocally with peers or adults; hard to have a "meaningful" two-way conversation
44) self-abusive or abusive to others
45) others have a hard time interpreting child's cues, needs, or emotions
46) does not seek out connections with familiar people
47) difficulty accepting changes in routine (to the point of tantrums)
48) gets easily frustrated
49) often impulsive
50) functions best in small group or individually
51) variable and quickly changing moods; prone to outbursts and tantrums
52) prefers to play on the outside, away from groups, or just be an observer
53) participates in repetitive play for hours; i.e., lining up toys cars, blocks, watching one movie over and over etc.
54) severe/several mood swings throughout the day (angry to happy in short periods of time, perhaps without visible cause)
55) unpredictable state of arousal or inability to control arousal level (hyper to lethargic, quickly, vacillating between the two; over stimulated to under stimulated, within hours or days, depending on activity and setting, etc.)
56) unable to regulate hunger; eats all the time, won't eat at all, unable to feel full/hungry
57) unable to regulate appetite; has little to no appetite and/or will be "starving" one minute then full two bites later, then back to hungry again (prone to eating disorders and/or failure to thrive)


Some of these are more severe than others, some seem to come and go...there is no rhyme or reason to it. All I know is that I have this beautiful little boy who has to fight these demons every day. He can't give me a kiss...and he has no idea why...




To be continued...Ketchup will STILL be an issue!

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Sensational Owen con't.

The decision to remove Owen from this pre-school was not without warrant. I contacted his former teacher, Miss Eleina, and asked her to please tell me what was going on in Owen's class. The classes had made some changes a month or two before Miss Eleina left. She had moved down to the 2-3 year old class where Ella-Belle had just been moved up to. A new teacher was hired for the 3-4 class that Owen was in. Owen's class was very unbalanced; there was only 1 girl, the rest were very rumbustious little boys. The new teacher had no control. She spent so much time correcting these little boys that she didn't notice that Owen was hiding in a corner, covering his ears.

Because Owen and Ella-Belle's dad is a lazy bum, I was able to leave them home with him while I worked until I could find a new pre-school for them. After about 6 weeks I was able to get them into the pre-school they attend now. I met with the administrator and toured the center. I knew people who took their children there, so I was comfortable leaving my kids there. One issue that I voiced my concern about was how this center provided lunch for the children. Most people would think the food this place served was amazing; I know I did. I wanted to eat lunch there myself. The concern I had was that Owen was a VERY picky eater. Lunch was not included at his former center; we always packed, so this was never a concern. The administrator assured me that they have dealt with this issue before and they found that the more they offered the child the foods they didn't care for, the more likely they were to eventually try it and end up liking it. She stressed that if they allowed one child to pack, then the other children would decide they didn't like the school's food and want to pack too, which would cause problems for the cook. I thought this made sense, so I agreed to give it a try.

The issue of Owen and his eating habits have always been a cause of arguments between his dad and I. I have always been a fan of "If they're hungry, they'll eat." His dad is more of the "Why do you let my kids always starve?" type of person. OK, first of all, I work 10-12 hours a day and I don't get home until 9:00pm every night...give me one good reason why the hell YOU didn't feed him before I got home?? UGH!!! Sorry, different blog post;)

At any rate, every day when their dad would pick them up from pre-school, he wouldn't ask Owen or Ella-Belle what they did at school; he would only ask Owen if he ate and what he ate. Then, he would call me at work and tell me that he was not going to let me take Owen back there if they were going to keep starving him. I tried explaining to him that they were feeding him, Owen was the one choosing not to eat. This went on for 8 months. Then Owen met his favorite lunch-lady of all times.

Miss Rhonda replaced the old cook. She immediately sensed that Owen was a special little kid. If he sat and stared at his plate, she would make him a bologna sandwich. We started chatting more and more in the mornings, and she would tell me about Owen's behavior at lunch. She said he would just sit there and drink his milk. He wouldn't even taste his food unless it was chicken nuggets, fish sticks, grilled cheese, a hot dog, or bologna. If they served anything with spaghetti or tomato sauce on it, he would pull his shirt up over his nose to cover up the smell. She asked me what he would and wouldn't eat so she would know what to make him ahead of time. She was wonderful! She gave him spaghetti noodles with no sauce (which he chows down like a pig!) and when they had tacos, she would keep some ground beef separate for him with no seasoning on it. He would only eat apples, so she always replaced his fruit serving with sliced apples. Owen was eating and things were great, until the administrator caught wind of what she was doing. She was told that Owen was to eat what the other children eat unless he had a note from the doctor. The sad thing was, this had nothing to do with Owen; this was a power struggle for the administrator. Her toes were being stepped on and she didn't like it.

Lucky for Owen, his doctor likes him! I took him in for an appointment and told him what was going on. I had voiced some concerns to him before about Owen's odd behaviors, but Owen always acted like a normal kid at the doctor. He would talk and giggle with his doctor, so it made it harder to get my concerns across. The doctor said he would write whatever I wanted; he thought it was ridiculous to starve him too. It was on this visit that I asked if we could be referred to some kind of therapy for Owen. He was going to be starting Kindergarten soon, and I couldn't see him being able to function in a school setting. He agreed to set him up with someone because Owen's issues were beyond his field of expertise. He also wrote a note that said he had an intolerance to tomato-based sauces. He said he didn't want to do any invasive testing to see if he had reflux, and cutting out tomato sauce wouldn't hurt him.

I took the note to the administrator and explained to her that the doctor had written it that way to cover the broad range of Owen's food intolerance, but there could be others as well, we would just have to decide for ourselves. She read the note and said, "So, he can't have Ketchup either then."




Fuck. I didn't even think about Ketchup being a tomato based sauce! The kid eats Ketchup, A-1, and Frank's Red Hot sauce on everything. He won't eat a bologna sandwich or a hot dog without Ketchup. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.




"No, he can have Ketchup, he doesn't have a problem with that for some reason." I said, praying she would just drop it.




Stay tuned to see if Owen got his Ketchup...


Sunday, February 1, 2009

Sensational Owen



Based on appearance, Owen looks like a completely normal 6 year old little boy. I knew from the day I brought this beautiful baby home that their was something different about him.

Owen was baby #4 for me...#1 for his dad. This caused problems from the start. His dad wanted to sterilize the entire house...I was more of the lick off the Binky and give it back to him kind of parent (OK, not literally, but you tent to be more paranoid with the first baby than you do with the fourth, so we were butting heads a lot). I had post-partum depression, so after about 6 weeks I had to give up breast feeding and take some drugs in order to function (Tom Cruise can kiss my ass). Owen was never a great sleeper. He would never just fall asleep. We would have to wrap him up like a burrito; nice and tight. We had to walk around with him, bounce him up and down, and 'shush' him just to get him to sleep. I didn't think much of it...it had been 6 years since Sophie was a newborn, and 12 years since Dustyn was, so I thought maybe I just forgot what it was like....

I don't remember anything specific that stood out as being different with Owen for the next year or so. He reached all his milestones at age appropriate times. It wasn't until he was 2.5 and I enrolled him in pre-school that I noticed that he was not like the other kids.

I just thought Owen was shy. I thought that once he got used to his new surroundings, he would start talking to his teacher and the other children. This never happened. At the Christmas programs, he would stand on the stage and stare ahead, like a deer caught in headlights, while all the other kids sang the songs and waved at their parents. His teacher was wonderful with him, even though he barely spoke to her. He got an award for being the best colorer in his class. Even at 3, he always stayed inside the lines.

I was still attributing all of Owen's quirks to his shyness. Then we had a tragedy that started Owen on a downward spiral that sent me on a mission to find out, once and for all, just what was tormenting him. Owen's teacher, our beloved Miss Eleina, left the pre-school. This was when Owen suffered the first noticeable setback. He didn't want to go anymore. His new teacher had no control over his class. The kids were too noisy...he didn't like all the noise. for 6 long months I carried him into pre-school, sometimes on my back, sometimes kicking and screaming, down 2 flights of steps to his classroom where he would try to hide under a table. His teacher would always assure me that he was fine as soon as I left. I found out later that his refuge under the table is where he would remain for most of the day.

The straw that finally broke the camel's back was the day I took him to pre-school and had to carry him down those steps, crying hysterically. I had been begging him to tell me what was wrong, and all he would say was, "I don't like DJ, DJ says bad words." I decided to go to the administrator, who just happened to be a child psychologist, and ask her to move him up to her class. I knew he was old enough, and I knew she had an opening, so I didn't see this as a problem. I approached her and told her my concern. I told her I had no idea what was going on, and all he would tell me was that he didn't like DJ, and I knew it had to be more than that. Her response to me was, "We all have to learn to get along with people we don't like."

Really? We do? Well, I knew what I didn't have to do: I didn't have to pay that woman $200/week for my kid to be traumatized! I knew that this DJ child was not the problem, but Owen did not know how to explain to me what the actual problem was. I was dumbfounded and speechless by what she had said to me. I had no choice but to leave him there, along with Ella-Belle, so I could get to work. He was in tears, I was in tears....I whispered in his ear that I would never make him come back there after that day.

And we never went back.

To be continued...