Truly Sisters

When I was summoned upstairs today by tiny voices, this is what I found. Two girls pretending to be taking naps, but not doing a very good job.

Camille just couldn't keep that smile contained.

Livvy at least attempted to cover it up but announced about 5 seconds after my arrival, "Mom, we're pretending to take a nap for you!"

Camille chimed in, "I brought Momma Bear and Livvy has White Bunny! We're all resting!"

I love that they have become partners in crime. I wondered for a long time if the day would ever come....but oh, has it. And my heart sings.

When they are together, our pantry becomes an elevator that takes them to imaginary birthday parties.....they hide behind the furniture and shout, "surprise Billy Bob!" to their daddy.....they whisper secrets.

And then, they tattle on each other, which means they are truly sisters.

Olive, the other reindeer

Camille and I had a very philosophical discussion the other night.

C: Mom, go through the names of the reindeer again.

M: Well, there's Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen..

C: And Rudolph?

M: Yep, and Rudolph.

C: And Olive.

M: What?

C: Olive. Olive, the other reindeer.

M: ??????.......Ohhhh.. No, honey, the song goes "All of the other reindeer, not Olive. Like "a-l-l space o-f."

C: No, Mom, it's Olive.

Well, what do I know? With the population of the world growing and all, Santa's entitled to hire new personnel...you know, stimulate the economy. And, even magical reindeer have their limits before they experience overwork and job stress, causing unnecessary sick days and an overall deteriorating quality of health.

Good thinking, Santa.

Crunch Crunch

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

What you are hearing in your mind is not only the sound of the vast amount of winter white powder that has accumulated under our feet in Omaha, but also the sound of the sugar that has accumulated on our kitchen floor as we began our holiday cookie-baking adventures today.

It was the former that allowed the latter.

It seems that winter is upon us....in full force... as an ample amount of snow was dumped across the metro today, necessitating a full-fledged Snow Day. Camille's school was cancelled, and though the three O'Neill kids enjoyed a bit of a movie morning at K4J, Bill and I hustled home shortly after noon and capitalized on the time to make a big batch of peanunt butter chocolate star cookies, an Allison family holiday tradition. I'd like to say that the sugar is all over the floor because I have two small girls helping me to bake. Part of this is true....the girls helping me bake and all...but I do have to admit that even if they hadn't been helping me, I would still have crunchy-floor because I'm just not all that tidy when it comes to baking. And by the way, have you ever wondered why, no matter how much you sweep after baking, sugar manages to surface itself and keep the floor crunchy for weeks after the mentioned baking has ceased?

Anyway, I digress...Will you look at those cutie patootie bakers in aprons hand made by Aunt Carol for Christmas last year? They are spoiled to the point that they can even bake in style.

As the winds swirl about, cancelling out the effect of any shoveling done outside today, we look forward to snow day #2 tomorrow. Wonder what we'll do??

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

That's me. Traipsing across the kitchen floor to grab a glass of ice cold milk. This calls for a late-night cookie snack.

Getting Demoted

It's already begun.

I thought that I would remain this somehow do-all, awe-inspiring, wonder-hero mother figure to the girls for at least a few years yet to come. At least until preadolescence.

It appears, however, that I'm already being lowered from the pedestal.

Yesterday, Livvy packed up a bag of Fruit Loops in a plastic baggie to take on our adventure to the toy library. We got home, went into the house, and a minor melt-down began. The Froot Loops could not be found. I suggested they may be in the van since that is the place where I had my last sighting of them. A few hours later, we headed back out to the van to go to pick up Camille from Kindergarten. I opened the van door, Livvy close behind me, and lo and behold, there, on the van floor---along with a stocking cap, a couple of crusty french fries, and a sticker without it's stickiness---was the beloved bag of sugary, fruity, vitamin-packed cereal. Livvy was overjoyed and exclaimed, "Mom, you were right. The Fruit Loops were in the van. Mom, you make such a great assistant."

To rub salt in the wound, Camille followed in suit this morning. As we prepared to step outside to wait for the morning bus, I opened the door and Camille descended out onto the porch, exclaiming, "Mom, you make such a great door holder!"

No "Mom, you are the most loving, creative, inspired woman I know." No "Mom, we are so thankful for all of the wonderful things you do for our family." No "Mom, you are our heroine."

Okay, okay. Two hours later, Camille did say, "Mommy, you are my best, best, BEST mommy ever, " and Livvy did tell me, "I love you with all my heart."

Maybe I'm not all of the way down from the pedestal quite yet. Maybe in the lives of 3 and 5-year-olds, assistants and door-holders are pretty cool things.

The Men in My Life

Couldn't resist posting this pic of the two men I live with.

Aren't they cute?

And do you find it as spankin' cute as I do that they make such preppy clothes for such little people?

And just in case you were wondering, the little man in the picture has officially gotten dubbed at daycare as "The Baby Who Won't Nap." No foolin'. He doesn't sleep during the day. What baby doesn't nap? Apparently mine. Not at daycare, not at home. And when I try to discuss this matter with him, this is the look he gives me. Either that, or he toots and then smiles.

Oh, well. I guess I should be thankful he sleeps through the night.

My Little Goblins

Don't even ask where I've been or what I've been doing. The truth is, it's just been plain busy.

We've had some of the flu bug that is circulating in a thick cloud in schools, homes and workplaces.

We've had conferences, birthday parties, 50th day of school parties, Halloween parties, swimming, dancing, camp, pumpkin carving, field trips, homework, mom work, dad work and a lot of good old family time the past month...or so.....since my last blog.

So, to get back in the groove, I'll post a pic of my little goblins as we set out to trick-or-treat Halloween night. Our resident butterfly LOVED being able to fly all over the house and the neighborhood, our resident cat especially loved her "whiskers" and our resident amphibious creature of some sort loved Halloween so much that he ralphed all over his costume first thing in the morning which warranted an immediate change of his clothes and mine.

All in all, Halloween was wonderful. The girls have had more fun than they have ever had and Grandma O'Neill was here to share it with us to boot.

Speaking of Owls...

See previous post.

What can I say? I was at Target and these jammies just jumped right off of the shelf into the cart.

Things like that tend to happen at Target.

What a Hoot

Remember my post awhile back about loving the phrase, "What a hoot"? I guess it should come as no big surprise that I have a little love affair with owls right now, too. In the scrapbooking world, they are all the rage right now.

I have this wonderful new neighbor, De, who is the neighbor above all neighbors. I actually met her in a stamping club and then soon realized that our new house was being built right across the street from hers. She and her husband brought us welcome goodies, bring over large carts when we are humbly hauling mulch with our mini-barrow, and clip diaper coupons for us---the kind of neighborly stuff that doesn't always happen in our world today.

The best thing of all....we share the love of scrapbooking, stamping and crafting. So, we've had a few big girl playdates where I sheepishly take part in all of the cool projects De finds for us to make, mooching of her time and creativity.

Below is my favorite so far. An owl made of different punches and cardstock. Isn't he a hoot?

Just looking at him makes me smile....and he happens to have a striking resemblance to the new man in my life, who happens to be nocturnal as well. Like last night at 11:3o p.m., for instance:

BFF's, Ballerinas and Big Noses

Q: What could these three things possibly have in common?

A: Livvy.

And all of the entertainment that she's given me in the last week.

Let's start with BFF's.

BFF's. Best Friends Forever. Livvy had her BFF, Morgan, over for the first time last week. As I noted in a previous post, the two have been hooked at the hip since before they knew how to talk. Growing up together crib side at K4J, I think they have inherently developed their own secret lanugage which only they understand. The minute Morgan came in the door last Wednesday, it was one big continuous hootinanny. Look at that, they even have the same squinty eyed smile. For awhile, I just sat on the stairwell unbenknownst to them and listened to them giggle, say a few comprehensible words, dance around, say, "And then I said, Doh, doh, doh" and break into fits and fits of three year old laughter. Honestly, I consider myself a mother who spends a lot of time with her children, and when I wasn't looking, I could scarcely tell one voice from the other.

When Morgan's mom came to pick her up, the frowns were instantly donned by both. As their truck pulled out of the driveway, Liv stood at the door, puppy-dog face affixed perfectly in place. As I stood behind her at the glass, she looked back at me and somberly stated,

"Mom, I have to do this alone."

Well, okay then. I gulped down my pride and exited to the kitchen as she watched Morgan ride off down the street into the sunset. Quite obviously, at the age of three, she found it necessary to grieve alone.

Next up: Ballerinas

Saturday was Livvy's first "dance class." It was too cute. When it comes down to it, it was really more hopping around like bunnies and tumbling around, although I'll hand it to the teacher---they were working on some ballerina-ish type things like toe pointing and such. What I did find out is that I know nothing about dancing.....like the fact that 1) even at three, you are not supposed to wear panties under the tights and leotards because they show and then ride which leaves the three year olds obsessed with readjusting and 2) you are please and thank you supposed to tuck in the strings of your ballet slippers, not tie them in little bows. As you can see, this is a learning curve for ME....not her.

And finally, Big Noses

L: Mom, look! I drew a picture of you!

M: Awwwwwwww! Liv, that's so good! Thank you!

L: And there's

your big nose in the middle.

M: No cartoons for the rest of the night.

Okay, all of you, quit laughing at my expense.

Oh what a beautiful morning

See post from last night.

Owl eyes slept from 11 p.m. to 6 a.m. Go Jackster!

Today is my day off. Oh what a beautiful day. The girls got up without incident, Jack got up without incident, and loading Camille on the bus was a highlight of the day thus far.

Okay, that sounded bad. Shipping her off wasn't the highlight of the day...it was the way I shipped her off.

We always sit on the steps and wait for the sound of the bus and then proceed down the driveway for her front-door service. As the bus approached this morning, she grabbed my hand and literally RAN down the driveway with cane in hand, running boot securely in place, and backpack donned. All the while, Paul and Diane, the two semi-retired bus drivers, were cheering, "Yay Camille!! Woo-hoo!"

The truth is, I think they've caught the bug. The inspiration bug--Camille's very own little communicable disease otherwise known as 'zest for life.' Granted, these two people are so darn sweet that they likely already have a history of prior infection, but I'm still happy to see Camille is bringing a smile to their faces. Paul was eager to tell me that she sang on the whole bus route yesterday afternoon from school to afterschool care at K4J (where Livvy and Jack go); not only did she sing the length of the journey, but she also had most of the rest of the bus singing by ride's end.

Makes ya wanna whistle, doesn't it?



Oh, and as an aside: Chicks dig Jack.

Too funny baby boy humor compliments of Uncle P.J. and Aunt Carol.

Okay, off to rescue Liv from PBS and head off to the toy lending library to see our friend, Linda.

Nothing much

I don't have anything earth-shattering to blog about tonight. The kids are ALL sleeping, which means I ought to be sleeping.

But instead, I decided to blog about nothingness. Hey, I didn't claim to be the queen of time spent wisely.

I do have a lot of cool pictures to post but am lacking photo-downloading energy at the time being, so instead, I'll just make a list of happy little life things right now.

• Camille is running in her walking boot....so I suppose this technically makes it a running boot and not a walking boot. Though we still don't know what exactly warranted the need for a boot, she appears to be cured. Now we just have to muster up the nerve to remove it for good and see what goes.

• Livvy is just plain in 7th heaven. Her "best friend" Morgan is coming over to play and have supper tomorrow night. The two are soul sisters, born one week apart, and have been buddies since their days in adjoining cribs at K4J when both were less than three months old. Can't wait to listen in on their conversation....it'll be a hoot.

• I love saying things will "be a hoot." It is just such a happy phrase.

• Camille has a new little girl friend. So far, it is a friendship that tugs at the heart. After a playdate on Sunday that was just as sweet as could be, another is in the making. Brooke likes to wear things with bumps on them in the hopes that they configure something in Braille that Camille might read to her. Sigh (of contentment).

• Jack is Jack. Seemingly laid back. Started daycare yesterday and was held by everyone in the building. Took a bottle without incidence which is more than can be said for child-who-shall-not-be-named-but-is-closest-in-age-to-him when she was that age. Is cooing, smiling, and sputtering. As noted in last post, is just a hoot (there's that hoot word again) when he is awake as he is more fully awake than most any infant you will find and surely more awake than the two adults to whom his care is most often entrusted.

• I returned to work yesterday, which was actually not the happiest moment of the week. HOWever, once I got there, I realized that I do find it highly entertaining. I could never be creative enough to make up the stories of our patients' lives......and for that, I am grateful.

Okay, that's all I have to say for now. I am going to go to bed before little owl eyes decides it is time for a snack.

What goes around...

Yep, that's right. Comes around.

My mom and dad torment me with stories of how awful it was to try to get me down to bed when i was little. I know they are right, because I remember it. And I remember the ritualistic mantra I had to say each time they re-tucked me into bed. After the drink of water. After the third trip to the bathroom. After going out to the living room to report that I was hungry.

"Good night. I love you. See you in the morning. Sleep tight so the bed bugs don't bite. Sweet dreams. Are the doors locked? Is my window shut all of the way?"

I could never quite understand that underlying vibe of frustration that I felt mounting with each additional time I got out of bed.

Until I had kids of my own. I'm sure, like me, they had things they just had to get done after the kids went to bed, and with each of my meanderings out of bed, they watched their own sleep time drift away.

Livvy is currently out of bed for the sixth time tonight. She just came downstairs into the office after I sent her back to bed for the fifth time. Do understand that her attempts at trying constitute usually much less, but certainly no more, than 60 seconds in bed before trudging out into the hallway again.

Mommy: "Okay, Livvy. We've gotten drinks, we've gone potty three times, I've rubbed your back, Daddy's rubbed your back. Please just go lay in your bed and try to relax and go to sleep. You have a field trip tomorrow."

Livvy goes into bedroom. Silence. Mommy goes into office to check email. Two minutes later, Livvy comes plodding down the stairs.

Livvy: "Mommy, I can't sleep. And I don't know how to try."

And speaking of awake:

It'll pass

On August 2nd, little Jack William was baptized. It was an amazing day. The mass and ceremony took place at the little, small-town church in Eddyville, Nebraska where Bill went every Sunday as a child. Though it is no longer open reguarly, it is opened for special occasions and Christmas Day Masses.



Many things have taken place in that church. Bill's memory of it, of course, extends back more years than mine; he still hears the echoes of his Dad's singing in his mind when he enters the doors.



My memories of this church, though dating back only about ten years, are monumental. And, fortunately and unfortunately, my little family has been the reason that those doors have been reopenend on more than one occasion in the last five years. Sam's funeral was there. Hannah's funeral was there. And now, Jack's baptism was there. Life has come full circle in that church.



Presiding all of those sacred celebrations has been my Uncle Jack.



Uncle Jack is known for his gift in liturgy, especially in giving a homily that you can sink your heart into...a message that you can take home and either use immediately or keep in your tool box for use later.



Such was the case on August 2nd.



One of the things I love about Uncle Jack is his "realness." He didn't take the easy road that day, which would have been to ignore the memories that church has held for us. Instead, he delievered a message that I will keep in my heart always; one which I have already had to pull out of my toolbox.



I will likely get the details wrong, but here is the meat of the story he started out with:

Thomas Merton was a noted monk, theologian and poet.



He once had a man come to him for advice. This man happened to be at a very
low point in his life. His relationship with his wife was strained. The family
was financially strapped. His job was becoming increasingly stressful and he was
in danger of losing it altogether. His children were acting out at school. He
was life tired. He asked Merton for advice. Merton said,



"Don't worry. It'll pass. "



The man, perplexed and uninspired thought, "That's all you have to
say?"



A few years down the road, the man returned. Merton asked him how things
were with him. The man replied, "They are wonderful. I got a new job and got my
affairs in order. My wife and I have reconciled. The kids are doing great and
are now both in college. Things couldn't be better. "



Merton replied, "Don't worry. It'll pass."

Uncle Jack went on to point out that so very much in our life is ever-changing. There is so much that we cannot control. Very little remains constant. But, when things are good and when things are not so good, our family, our friends and our faith CAN be constant. They can be the things that we lean on when things swing up and down. They can be the things that don't pass.



Now, please reference my blog post from July 23rd, "Summer of My Soul."

You guessed it. The tranquility passed. Though not completely, it passed.

Last Monday, after recovering beautifully from surgery, Camille woke up limping noteably. Since then, it has been a mystery. With a mixture of pain and decreased mobility which she now stubbornly refuses to talk about, it has gotten to the point where she will barely walk. An ortho visit and a week later and we still don't have answers.

And it is ripping my heart out because she had been doing so well. As usual, she somehow has put it in a compartment and kept her loving, laughing spirit up.

And meanwhile, my spirit suffers. But I think of Uncle Jack's homily and Merton's words and think "Don't worry, it'll pass." Hopefully.

In the meantime, we went back to Kearney and Sumner for a weekend of family, friends and faith to help get us through. Which it did.

Now if only it'll pass.

Grammie and Pappie

Welp, we are officially having withdrawl at the O'Neill Omaha residence today. This is the first day without Grammie and Pappie here since last Tuesday.

God Bless them. They came to stay while Camille started Kindergarten last week--to help out while we all settled into our groove....oh yeah, and I suspect largely because they love our kids to pieces and didn't want to miss out on this monumental milestone. Arriving Tuesday night, we got to see the whites of their eyes until Sunday afternoon.

We loved every moment.

And there were so many moments to love....seeing Dad tirelessly line up and organize all of Livvy's little pet shop animals....hearing Camille say Sunday afternoon with all of the sadness that she could muster, "But Pappie, you can't leave. You have to stay here".....having their young energy fill our lives.

And then, of course, there are the two-sided conversations that Grammie and Jack have together. I LOVE them. Mom has had them over the past five years with all of the kids when they were not yet able to speak for themselves. The story lines she weaves entertain them...and me...for hours. I think it is one of the things I will miss the most about having children who are babies.

Here's just a few snippets of the lengthy conversations that we so love:

At the crib:

Grammie (looking down at Jack in his crib): "Whatsa doin' down there?"

Grammie as Jack (GAJ): "Say, 'Well, Grammie, I don't know. You put me here. What am I doing down here?'"

Changing a diaper:

Grammie: "Whoa, you gotsa load. Yes. You are soaked to the brim. Yes you are."

GAJ: "Say, 'Grammie, you are always talking about loads when you change me. Load, load, load. That's so embarrasing.' Say, 'Don't talk about my loads in front of everyone, Grammie.'"

At 11:00 p.m., when Jack suddenly comes to life:

Grammie: "Yes, Jack, I see you are awake. Yes, those eyes wide open. Not even close to shutting. Nope. "

GAJ: "Say, 'Yep, Grammie. Time to party. My sisters are sleeping and I have all the attention. Yessir. All I have do do is wake up and all you have to do is do whatever I want to do. Yep. I set the schedule.'"

See how lucky we are? Do you see why we miss Grammie and Pappie's presence this week? Does this leave you hungry for more? It does me.

This could be the start of something wonderful....

Well, the first week of Kindergarten is over. The backpack was donned. The days came and went.

And so far, it's been a hit.

How could it not be when the Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Lee, sends home magic confetti to put under the pillow the night before the first day of school?

Yep. Camille is in love.

Though a bit tired at the end of the days she's had, in true introverted form, once she's had a few minutes of quiet, a few m n m's, and a glass of milk, she's been ready to chat.

About new friends and teachers.

About books that have been read.

About what she's played on the playground.

About conversations she's had.

Oh....and about role call. For some reason, role call has been a big hit.....so much so that we've had to reenact it at home.

"Mommy, when I say your name, your shout "HERE!"......Mommy!"

"Here!"

"Now you say my name and I will say here."

"Camille."

"HEEEEERE!"

Oh that we all would be this enthusiastic. As the now nearly cliche saying goes, "All that I ever really needed to know, I learned in Kindergarten."

Perhaps we should all play role call at the beginning of the day. Maybe we would all be a little more positive if when we got to work, we took turns calling each others' names and gleefully shouting, "HEEEEERE!" when our name is called. Maybe when we wake up each morning, we should call each others' names to make sure that we've really checked in for the day and aren't just glazed over and going through the motions.

Hey, it works well for five year olds.

Kindergarten Eve

Here sits a brand spanking new pink backpack, ready for little arms to fill it tomorrow.

Today is Kindergarten Eve.

My mom tells stories of hating the first few days before school started when I was growing up. Apparently, as a child, I always had trouble sleeping as I so worried that I wouldn't already know the things I was expected to learn. She still laughs at the irony of that.

We may evolve as beings, but roots run deep.

Tomorrow, my girl begins a new chapter. She isn's particularly nervous at all. She spent the weekend labeling all of her school supplies and then asking to relabel them. She took them to the open house to stake out her ground in Mrs. Lee's classroom. She came home already asking, "Mommy, where is Mrs. Sue Klopp?" the vision para who will be one of the many helping her find her way. She already found a favorite spot in the classroom--not surprisingly-- in the reading corner on a rug next to the toy fireplace. Her lanyard that says, "Please do not talk to me. I am busy." was already hanging in her cubby...and for obvious reasons as we made it through the building and were stopped by so many to chat. We already feel at home with our Reeder family since she has been there for two years in preschool. She is in amazing hands and we are so very blessed to have such a committed learning environment for her.

I don't think I'll particularly be a mess tomorrow. Perhaps just a little sentimental. But still, I've found my own elementary days creeping back in, worrying a bit about whether I have prepared her enough to know what she needs to know for Kindergarten.

I know, I know. It's entirely pathological.

Summer of My Soul

"There are years that ask questions and years that answer." ~ Zora Neale Hurston

I will be the first to admit that the past five years have been an emotional marathon. Don't get me wrong....there has been so much joy in them....but there has always been at least one thing, if not many, that has ultimately sat on my soul and weighed heavily there, either surfacing from time to time or daily reminding me of its presence.

In speaking with other mother of premature infants, namely those with visual impairments, I have found that I am not alone. Often in the beginning of our children's lives, there are too many unanswered questions. Whole years where you have nothing but questions coming at you or from you. A plethora of unknowns. The answers can take years to come and in the meantime, you have to find a peace with the unknown, and the search for peace ebbs and flows with any given day. And....when the answers do start coming, you have find peace with whatever they might be. And the peace ebbs and flows with any given day.

But there is peace to be had. And for me, that peace happens to be now. This is the summer of my soul. Will it last? Only time will tell. Overall hopefully it will. The day to day worries will come and go, but hopefully they will not camp out on my heart.

The reasons for this blissful summer are many.

• Our new house has instantly become a home, full of little life and lots of love.


• I have a wonderful Billy Bob with whom to share my life.


• Little Jack William has come and is divine.


• Our spirited Livvy shares her zest for life with us every day.

and the exclamation point:

• Camille is blossoming and my mom has been here so many of these summer days to watch her grow.

Early in the summer, Camille underwent yet another surgery, hamstring releases in both legs, which left her double casted for a month. She came out shining and has thrived through all of the change after a few bumps in the road. Her spirit is so alive. She is constantly chattering, full of love for this world and the people in it, and still breathing life into those she knows and meets.

Last Saturday, she, Jack, mom and I went to the Farmer's Market while Liv and Daddy were at swimming lessons. It was an amazing morning. Getting her strength back, she walked around all of the booths, exploring all of the flowers, herbs and vegetables. She was hungry for information, "Mommy, tell me something else!" Afterwards, we strolled over to the coffee shop where she giggled with delight as she learned the words, "Candybar latte coffee" and indulgently sipped out of Grammie's cup, who was obviously spoiling her to high heaven. Later, she endlessly threw pennies into the fountains outside and wished for a new car...a real one, mind you. (Oh, the irony). That night, she helped me make homemade pesto with the basil that she had picked out and she was so proud of herself that she ate two helpings, which for those of you who know her, is soulfood for me in itself. And all of the while, Bill and my mom and I held back tears as we see before us how far she has come and how much she loves life.

For now, at this moment, we have a year that has answers. A beautiful family. A house to call home. A Jack. A Livvy. A Camille that has come so far and is thriving.

P.S. Thinking of you, Sammy J.

Weighing In

Camille had her Kindergarten physical yesterday. She weighed 32 1/4 pounds, which I believe is actually 1/4 of a pound less than last year at this time. Though she is undoubtedly much taller, I believe she's hanging out around the 5th percentile, which will likely make her the pee wee of the KDG class. Oh, well. What she lacks in size she makes up for in character, might, and smarts, giving a visual image to the words, "little fireball."

Paradoxically, Jack weighed in 11# 1 oz at 5 weeks old....rougly 1/3 of Camille's weight. Keeps this up and he'll be wearing her clothes by Christmas.

Okay, maybe not........unless it's her Creighton T-shirt.

Five Years in the Making

Sigh.

Sunday the 12th, my big girl turned five years old.

Sigh.

It was an amazing day. The best birthday she's had yet. A far cry from spending her 2nd birthday in the ER for glaucoma. Miles away from me wondering if she was ever going to overcome her visual impairment to be able to piece the whole experience together.

She was in her glory. And so was I.

Grammie, Pappie, Grandma O'Neill and Uncle John came down to celebrate starting on Saturday. Uncle Mitch and Uncle P.J. happened to be in town and got in on the partying on Sunday.

It was a day full of her favorite things....her family.. unlimited carbohydrates (Panera cinnamon rolls for breakfast, mac n cheese for lunch, chocolate cake with chocolate frosting), many rounds of "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" cardgame and "Candyland Castle", books, and music. She relished in opening her gifts and even more so, loved reading all of her cards in print and braille. (Leave it to her to be one of the rare five-year-olds who loves reading her cards more than opening her gifts). Endearingly, she chattered all day about all of the things that she could do by herself now that she was 5. Don't think I won't milk this one.

Tonight, she went to get her pictures taken by our beloved Jacki in honor of her fifth birthday. She was so grown up and loved every minute of her photo shoot. I was floored at how much she embraced her time in the limelight.

Camille, you leave me speechless. I learn life lessons from you every day about courage, love, and the power of determination. You are the gift...on your birthday and everyday you are a part of my life.

Welcome Jack William!!

Our household has certainly been a lively place since I last tapped out an entry.....in May.....





Camille had hamstring release surgery on May 29th and was in Gumby-green casts for four weeks.





We moved into our new house on June 19th. Woo hoo! We are absolutely loving it.





But, undoubtedly, the best event of the summer came on June 12. At 9:44 a.m., Jack William O'Neill came into our lives weighing 8# 8 oz and measuring 20 3/4 inches long. He is the new man in our lives and he is a completely amazing little individual.





The birth of a child is a surreal experience. You would think after meeting my five children in the last five years, I would be used to it; however, I find no anticipation more heart-fluttering than wondering what it will be like to see my child for the first time, to know what he looks like, to feel her soft skin and to begin that bonding experience which results in one of the most of complicated endeavors of a person's lifetime.





So, that's where I've been. Of late, I have given up the blogosphere for late night dates with my wonderful little Jack, knowing full well that these days will be gone in a whiff and I will never get them back. But, the time has come to introduce him to the world, in picture and in word. So, here are my favorite things.





His name. Jack William. It is so sprouty. So lively. So full of possibility. With a name like Jack, he will certainly have a spiky cowlick as a little man. Named after my Uncle, John (Jack) Raymond Rademacher, I can picture my grandma smiling down at his name, the name she gave her own son. And though Jack is my first child that Grandma Irene has not gotten to meet in person, I can see her rocking him and commenting on his nice ears. Also named after his Daddy William and his Pappie, Frederick William, how can he go wrong in life?





His yawns. How can a yawn be so exaggerated and so cute except in a baby?





Okay, this is so cruel, but I love that game I can play with him when he is so hungry. The rooting reflex is such a curious thing. When it's time to eat, all I have to do is poke around his mouth with my finger and he chases it around with his head and pants like a little puppy and gets more excited than I do in Archiver's or Hobby Lobby.





Undoubtedly, the best feeling is the world is having him fall asleep on my chest, curled up in a little baby ball. Baby breathing should be captured for relaxation therapy.

Baby snores. How can something so annoying in adults be so endearing with babies.

Baby burps and toots. Ditto.

Snoozing together and burning the midnight oil. In the past three weeks, we have managed to learn everything about Michael Jackson by watching AC360 and Larry King Live, sometimes
two or even three times in a night as they repeatedly re-run themselves on CNN. (What can we say---it's better and cheaper than infomercials.)

I love you, my little man Jack. You are already growing up way too quickly but I will promise to try to savour every moment as we grow together. Thanks for curling up with me as you become a part of mylittlespace.

Quiz Bowl

Thursday night, we had to make a jaunt across town to pick up a package from the UPS store, after which we drove way to the other end of town to check out the progress on the new house.....which I am very happy to report is set for closing on June 19th.



This evening field trip proved to be a perfect time for a Camille-hosted version of Quiz Bowl.

C: Mommy, I'm going to tell you something and you tell me the answer.



C: Mommy, what do you put your shoes on?

M: My feet?

C: Gooooood jobbbbbbb!



C: Mommy, why do you go to sleep?

M: Becuase I'm tired?

C: Excellllllleeeeent!



C: Mommy, when do you go to church?

M: On Monday?

C: Ooops. Nope. You go to church on Sunday.



C: Mommy?

M: Yes, Camille?

C: Which one doesn't belong: Monday, April or Thursday?

M: April?

C: Waaaaay to go!



After several rounds of this, we apparently reached the bonus round:



C: Mommy, why do you walk around without any clothes on?

M: WHAT???????



Seriously. Where did this come from? I burst out laughing. Uncontrollably.



M: Because I just took a bath?

C: Riiiiight.

Phew.

Pomp and Circumstance

A rite of passage.

Last Friday, Camille graduated from preschool after spending two beloved years in Mrs. Miller's class at Reeder Elementary.

The graduation ceremony was completely wonderful. The kids were in their glory as they proudly belted out four numbers, including "4 Hugs a Day," "Down on Grandpa's Farm," and "Bop Until You Drop." It was pure joy to see how far Camille has come in the last two years and equally as fun to see how her friends have grown. She was so proud to be up singing with her classmates and particularly loved her graduation star and the cookies served afterwards.

Though the ceremonies took place last week, the kids' actual day was today. Double sigh with tears on top. No more drop offs and pick-ups at Preschool. No more talk about playing blocks with Joshua. And worst of all, though I am certain and hopeful that we will remain close to her preschool teaching team, she will no longer be in their classroom everyday.

And though this is inevitable and I know she will be in amazing hands next year, my heart is sad because they have brought her so far. As I have blogged before, they are the 'A' Team and they have wooed our hearts and and won us all over. Mrs. Miller, Mrs. Headly, Jessy, Pam, Carrie, Maria, and all of Camille's team.....we love you! The stars were aligned when we landed you as a team.

For a complete peek at this past year, visit www.picasaweb.google.com/jenbilloneill and watch the slideshow "Ode to Preschool" set to the tune of "For Good" from the Broadway production "Wicked." (As you know, I'm a Wicked junkie.) Can't think of a better song to say how we feel about our teachers.

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?

I do believe I have been changed for the better.

Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

I will caution that the quality of the slideshow once placed on the Picasa site declined dramatically, but it's still worth a peek. And I will caution you never to ask me, "How did making that slideshow go?" because though I managed to get it put together without too much incidence, after adding the final touches after graduation last week, do you think I could get it burned to a DVD format to give to the teachers? Let's just say I had to call in professional help. Humiliating though it was, it was worth it for the cause.

Return from the depths

I've been severely AWOL. Filling you in on all of our meanderings would likely turn into a long narrative that would lack character and serve to bore. So, I'll just return with a story from yesterday---just a little moment---but one of the many that make my life highly entertaining and worth living.

Liv (face highly serious with frown in place): Mom, my head hurts.

Mom: Oh, that's too bad. Why does it hurt?

Liv: I think because I talk too much.

Amen, sister....


...but I love it.

Grassy-haired Girl

Fun was had.

The proof is in the hair-do: disheveled braids. ..grass poking out from here and there.

You simply don't get this kind of hair by sitting pristinely sipping tea with pinky elevated. Not to say that isn't a kind of fun all of it's own.

Nope. This kind of hair is created when one learns to log-roll down a grassy hill in the springtime.

On Friday night, Bill, Camille, Liv and I headed out to see Uncle P.J. at the Burke High School track here in Omaha. As the girls varsity pole vault coach, he was just finishing up for the day with his coaching duties. We all perched on a hillside to watch the finish of the track meet, and the magic began as we watched P.J. put on his too-fun uncle hat.

P.J. always has it in him to teach the girls something new and fun...something that probably woudn't even occur to mom...in style that I could never match. Friday, it was Camille's lesson in log-rolling down a hill. I watched in complete adoration as he tucked himself into a straight line and demonstrated the perfect log-rolling technique and then proceeded to line-up Camille, cross her hands on top of her chest, and nudge her on the first of many, many, many rolls down the hill. Before long, she was scrambling up the hill, asking for more...and more...and more. "Uncle P.J., I want to roll down the hill again with you!"

Seemingly always needing to add her own style to any situation, given her 5-inch waist span, every time she rolled down the hill she started to lose her pants and show a little moon, which made her giggle even more.

I wish I would have had my camera to catch that ear-to-ear Camille grin....the perfect accent to the spring green backdrop. But, alas, since I didn't, you'll have to settle for the proof in the do.

We love you, Peej.

Cast Away

Today was the day.

No more yellow fiberglass.

Liv's cast is gone. The only trace that the cast existed is the lizard skin that it left behind.

Oh, yeah...and the fact that she won't walk. Which actually means that since she had been running on her cast means that we've taken a few (okay, several) steps backwards. I don't suppose it helps that Camille has frequently reminded her all afternoon and into the evening that she isn't wearing her cast anymore....that seems to only draw attention to the fact that she had, indeed, been injured and does, indeed, have a certain entitlement to milk it for all it's worth.

There's always tomorrow.

Chicks in there

One of my favorite parts of being a mom has to be that the girls have a knack for pulling me into their alternate universe---the world where everything is possible and the only limit is how far the imagination will stretch. Everyday experiences take on an entirely different perspective, which often results in quite a string of story-telling. Life is so much more fun and exciting in their world...and this balances out my previously mentioned tendency to overthink and over-analzye.

Liv was sicker than sick over Easter. We had to cut our trip back to Sumner/Kearney short for fear that we were infecting the greater part of Central Nebraska with the wretched stomach bug that she somehow managed to contract. I have never seen someone vomit so much as this poor girl did---literally every 5-45 minutes for over twelve hours. Even ice chips evoked an undesireable response. By the 10th hour, her lips were bleeding from the acid and her poor little dry mouth. She was even passion-less about the Easter Bunny for quite some time.

When we got home, the fever set in (and continues to this moment), but at least after the vomiting stopped, her imagination reignited and the wheels started turning again, spilling out her unique perspective on the world. As I sat with her in bed last night, her eyes glossed over and her cheeks flaming red, she peered up at me and with the seriousness of a courtroom testimony, told me, "See that," (pointing at her non-casted knee and nodding earnestly) "there is a momma chick, a baby chick, and a daddy chick....living right inside there."

How curious.

And then I began thinking in Livvy mode...in that alternate universe.

"They're my babies in there."

I get it. Mommy's pregnancy meets the Easter Bunny.

Stories and Human Experience

One of my favorite classes of all time was an English class I took at UNL, I think in my sophomore year, entitled "Stories and Human Experience." The just of it was about how the written word effects each one of us differently based on our experiences in life, some stories speaking to us more because of what we have been through---good and not so. It was a very cerebral class with lots of introspection, which of course was right up my alley--after all, I have been called to the carpet more than once for thinking too much....and I'm guilty as charged.



For my term project, I compiled a portfolio of both written word and music that connected with my human experiences up until that point in my life, and of course, since it was an English class, I had to write about all of it, too. I hadn't thought about it much until lately when I had my Ipod on and was thinking of all of the songs certainly have connected to my experiences in the last five years, affording me much healing.



Isn't it great how music can be so very healing?



My indulgence within the last month has been the download of David Cook's debut album. I suspected that since he is quite a cerebral creature himself, I would get an album full of depth, and disappointed I was not. I also suspected that there may be a song somewhere in there dedicated to his brother, Aaron (hence the AC on David's guitar) who is fighting brain cancer. Suspicion confirmed. He wrote a beautiful ballad, "Permanent" dedicated to Aaron, and it's posted below if you want a good listen.



It's a song that speaks to all of us who have loved and have felt pain for our loved ones. Though it connects to me not because of a brother, it connects to me because of Sam and Hannah....and because we've seen Camille through an enormous amount of pain.



Stories and Human Experience.



Perhaps sometime down the road I'll share a few more songs with you.

David Cook - "Permanent" Live (HOB Orlando)

30 Weeks

Today, we had our 30 week visit for Baby O #5 at Dr. Roberstson's office. The girls provided waiting room entertainment for all. Camille held a literary reading of "Dr. Seuss's ABC's" with a double encore musical production of the Alphabet song. Liv just chattered incessantly whilst carrying around an orange which seemed to be serving as her baby.

The estimated weight of the baby is now 4# 2 oz, quite ginormous for gestational age. I will mention that this is just a few ounces shy of Camille's weight of 4# 7 oz when she came home from the hospital 11 weeks after being born.

Sometimes, life just serves you loaded moments on a platter where all you can think is, " hmmmm."

Beeps Galore

Yesterday, we had one of our favorite annual events....the beeping Easter egg Hunt sponsored by Boystown Lied Learning Center here in Omaha. Kristal Platt, a geneticist at Boystown and a woman we have grown to adore, does an amazing job organizing the event for visually impaired children and their siblings. I have to say that compared to any typical Easter Egg hunt, this is the mecca. Beeping eggs are stationed around the Hall of History (the Hunt had been moved inside to April winds and rain), all the kids get to find every egg by listening or looking and trade it in for a prize, the Easter Bunny makes an appearance, there are cookies and punch, and the same devoted group of volunteers keeps coming back, watching the kids grow and change.

This is the third year the event has been held and the third year we have attended...and it was the best year yet. Camille certainly has the hang of it by now, so much so that she didn't want to quit after she had found all 19 eggs and traded them in for prizes like candy, stuffed animals, braille books, and Easter novelties. She did an amazing job of listening for the beeping, heading for it, and finding the eggs by sight and sound when she got close enough. Liv loved it, too...so much so that she was inspired to walk---check that---run on her cast for the first time since donning it.

Ask Camille, though, and her favorite part was getting to see Anna, Emma and Maura. We met the Loberg family---Jean, Ken, Collin, Emma, Anna and Maura last summer at a family weekend at Nebraska Center for the Education of Children who are Blind or Visually Impaired (NCECBVI). The two oldest Loberg girls--Emma and Anna--doted on Camille the whole weekend. Yesterday, they spoiled her rotten again and Camille loved every single moment. For an hour after the hunt was over, Camille ran, she played balloons, she spelled, she sang...and when it was time to go home, she still wanted to stay and play with Emma and Anna. Livvy had a grand time, too....mostly hogging Maura's time and showing off her cast.

How fortunate we are to know such great families and have such great experiences.

Ear Glubs

We nearly had a tragedy tonight. The alarm clock next to the bed with the CD player which lulls Livvy to sleep was not working. On the fritz. Out of commission.

Of course, there were tears to be had. "Mom, I don't want it to be broken!"

Trust me, Liv. NEITHER do I.

But.....no worries! Super mom to the rescue. I remembered than in the catacombs of the girls' closet, we had a set of speakers to hook up to their Fisher Price MP3 player. Perfecto! Though we don't use it often because it sucks up batteries and has no adapter, this was the perfect fix for a messy situation.

But....do you think that I could get that thing to work either? Of course not. That would mean the stars are in alignment at our house, and, as noted in a previous post, that rarely happens.

"Oh, well," I thought. I'll just put her headphones back on and hope that she can fall asleep with them affixed to her head.

On go the headphones. Liv is thrilled.....however, she won't lay back on the pillow.

M: "It's okay, Liv. You can lay back on the pillow."

L: "Mom....I CAN'T lay back. See? I have my ear glubs (translation: ear gloves) on."

Luckily, with some propping, problem solved...and mission accomplished.

That's My Girl

At bedtime tonight, Camille and I were laying among her ladybug sheets, lamps still alight, listening to one of her Pooh audiobooks. 8-ish-o'clock.

Into the bedroom walks daddy, fresh off his monthly phone group for dads with children who have ROP.

Camille: "Daddy!"

Bill: "Camille!"

Camille: "Daddy!! Will you read with me....and then mommy can go scrapbooking?"

My Dear God, this child is brilliant and so thoughtful! I promise I didn't even put her up to it.



Okay.....I know...... reality check.....she just wanted me out of the picture so she could have some of her coveted one-on-one with her dad.

Still, she could have said "Will you read with me....so mommy can go clean the toilets?" I'll count my blessings that she senses how to get what she wants...quickly....no matter the motive.

Rhyme Time

Last week, Camille and I were waiting for one of her beloved physical therapists, Brad, in the waiting room at Munore Meyer Institute at UNMC. He'd been held back a bit, and in the spirit of making the most of it, we played a little game of rhyme time....

M: What rhymes with sat?

C: Cat!

M: What is a color that rhymes with the word "sink?"

C: Pink!

This went on and on and on...and on for several minutes, the result being me having to pause to keep thinking of more rhyming words. Capitalizing on the lull in conversation, Camille jumped right in (in a very serious, teacher-y, quiz-like fashion):

C: Mommy...(dramatic pause)....what is a shape that rhymes with the word "Ri-angle?"

What can a mom do but burst out laughing? She, too, broke into a fit of giggles, so proud of her ingenuity, unable to keep her game-show-host face on.

Maybe you had to be there or maybe you have to be able to hear her little Camille voice in your head and see that funny girl smile to fully appreciate the moment. If so, trust me, it was one of those moments that has come frequently back to me since last Thursday, making me laugh out loud in the silence, causing others to say, "What's so funny?"

Stories from the front line

Liv is officially home.

After a week at Grammie and Pappie's, she came home, cast in tow, though noteably more cheerful, relaxed, and certainly more pampered.

Many stories emerged from the front line in Kearney.....Pappie acting like a puppy and Livvy portraying a cat....a mere sponge bath turning into a magnificent to-do complete with bubbles, spritzers, lotions, blow-drying and the like....art projects involving stamping, strings and creations that Liv deemed "absolutely beautiful. Pappie even let it slip that his new favorite T.V. show is "The Backyardigans." It must certainly have been three-year-old heaven.

Perhaps one of the stories that made me laugh the most involved Livvy's get well card from Grandma O'Neill that was delivered to Livvy at Grammie and Pappie's by the mailman. Liv was even spoiled via the postal service, for when she opened the card, out slipped a bit of presidential green. Grammie read Livvy the note from Grandma:

"Hi, Livvy! Grandma was sorry to hear you have a broken leg. I hope it is feeling better by now. Maybe Mommy or Daddy can buy you a treat from me. Maybe a new color book!! Or Maybe some ice cream. Get some for Camille, too. Love, Grandma O'Neill."

In what was actually less than the blink of an eye, Livvy snatched up her bill, thrust it inside her pocket, and matter-of-factly told my mom, "Camille doesn't like ice cream."

Okay, so we're still working on the virtue of sharing.....

Financial Freedom

To the average Joe, financial freedom may mean:

• Paying off the house mortgage

• Having no car payment

• Eliminating credit card debt

Not for us. No way, no how. We have achieved the ultimate financial freedom. We are no longer bowing down to the diaper and pull-up goddess. We are Pampers and Huggies free going on two months. All four of us are potty-trained. Whoopeee.

Unfortunately......the bliss is to come to an end soon. In June, the cycle starts all over again.

But until then, we'll bask in the glory.

Baby Talk

A few days ago, it dawned on me that 28 weeks into this pregnancy, I've not yet had an official baby blog.

So, here it goes.

Come June, we'll not only be moving into a new house, we'll be adding a new baby to the household.

Will it be a he or a she? We can only guess. The girls, however, have their opinions....their very strong opinions. Livvy and Camille are getting very strong girl vibes.

Camille is readily telling everyone that the baby is going to be named Madison or Mackenize.....oddly enough, the names of the two family friends who both just turned three. She likes to talk about the baby in my tummy, but whether or not she really knows how this may rock her world, I really have no idea. My prediction...she will be completely fascinated. These days, she talks nonstop ALL of the time at home. The arrival of a newborn will merely be new subject matter for an endless stream of commentary. She was quite young and in quite a little pain when Livvy was a baby. I am so excited that this time, she will be able to take in the whole experience and enjoy....provided the stars are in alignment. I am a little concerned that she may want to hide the baby in the pantry as she currently likes to hide everything, including herself, in there.....we'll see how it goes.

Liv. Oh, sweet Liv. She has informed me that the baby is never coming out. Nope. And if it does, it will be a girl....because she doesn't like boys unless they are grown up like her daddy. I proposed to her that there is a chance that the baby could indeed be a boy. She stubbornly holds that it will be a girl....and by the way, she likes my fat tummy and baby girls live in fat tummies. I have proposed that if the baby is a boy or a girl, she may be able to help feed and change it if she is a good and loving sister. This is under consideration. We'll let you know how it goes.

The question of the hour.....which will come first? The house or the baby?

A Series of Unfortunate Events...

Consider yourself warned.

If you are ever caught in a thunderstorm, run far away from anyone in our family. Otherwise, you may get struck by lightning.

If you are hoping to catch a homerun ball at a major league baseball game, don't sit next to us. The ball will probably bounce off your head into the hands of the guy behind you, who happens to be obnoxious and laden with barley.

It seems that sometimes, many times, the stars just don't align correctly at our house.

Case in point: Please note the neon yellow, full length leg cast sported by Livvy at picture right.

Wouldn't you know. Last Wednesday, Liv fractured her tibia. The break was a result of an incident at the playground involving dad and Livvy on the slide, a very fast ride down, and what seems to have been an unsteady landing. By Thursday, knowing something was wrong when she wouldn't bear any weight, wouldn't play on the cool play equipment while Camille was at PT, and most importantly, wouldn't run to the kitchen for chocolate, we limped off to the doctor and ended up with four weeks of casted bliss.

What can you do but laugh? After all, it isn't permanent and no one died.

So, this brings us to things about the whole incident that make me laugh:

• Upon leaving the park on Wednesday, Livvy turned to Bill and said, "Maybe next time we will just use the swings."

• On Thursday, Bill met us at the peditrician's office and we drove together to the pediatric orthopedic office for casting. Forgetting that we had left the car at Dr. Cicero's, we settled the girls in at home and waited for the babysitter, who was coming so we could go to Camille's kindergarten information night. With the stars off again, the babysitter forgot, so I headed off to the meeting while she scrambled over to relieve Bill. Of course, the car was still at Dr. Cicero's, so Bill ended up coming to the meeting in style--in the babysitter's black Volkswagon Beetle with a bumper sticker reading, "I drink the beer I brew." Dear God, please don't let anyone at the school have been looking out the window.

• What a sight we must have been. A pregnant lady walking down the sidewalk carrying a three-year-old in a neon cast, dishing out oreintation directions to Camille, who was following behind with her cane in tow, hollering out, "Mommy, how do you spell, 'take a right?'"

Well, now it's Monday. Liv is settled in at Grammie and Pappie's house in Kearney for the week as dear Papps insisted she come stay for a week of vacation. So...the stars are now aligned. Liv is tickled pink and in her glory with all of the attention, and the pregnant lady is a lot less tired.

Laughter

I love that I have a hubby who makes me laugh.

As you probably well know, our children are not tall. Likely won't ever be. Genes are not on their side. For about three months, Livvy was in the 90th percentile for length. She now measures in at the 18th. To top it off, all of her length is in her torso and none is in her legs....a Rademacher and O'Neill family trait. So, what does this mean? Never, ever will she get to shop in the 'average' jean section. She will constantly be searching for those stores that carry "ankle length" or "short".

At her three-year-old check, the nurse was buzzing through the developmental checklist. "Is she starting to walk up stairs with alternating feet?" I burst out laughing. She might if she could, but her legs aren't long enough!

Nevertheless, we were at MMI today for Camille's PT session and Liv had a room to run wild. It is so darn cute to watch her run with those little legs----the best way to describe it is a long string of stutter steps which putters her right across the room. Every once-in-awhile, she throws in a couple of jolted half-jumps which turns the puttering into kind of a skip-jump-putter. All the while, she laughs and smiles from ear to ear.

In watching her today, Bill took one look, paused, and noted, "Oh, Liv, there you go, with all the grace of a gazelle."

Thanks, Billy, for the 10+ years you've always been able to make me belly laugh.

What happens in the dark

I am most certainly going to get killed for this post in about 10 years. Eyes will roll. Words like "C'mon, Mom, really!" will roll out of the mouth. But....Bill and I had such a belly laugh over this one tonight that I'll take the consequences later in order to preserve the memory.

Camille has this oooh-too-cute pair of button down sage green, brown, and cream flowered pajamas that she likes to wear to bed. Tonight, I had a conference call and Bill tucked her in. When I came out in the living room, I could hear her carousing in the dark of her bedroom, so very obviously not at all close to the bliss of silent sleep. Bill reported that she wanted me to go in and say goodnight after my call was over. Off I went.

When I opened the door and the light shined in, I could see her laying in bed with a ten-mile-wide smile spread across her face. "Mom, did I take my jammie top off?"

Yep, sure did. No clothes on from the waist up. We redressed, said our goodnights, and retucked.

Thirty minutes later, Bill and I could still hear the rumpus coming from behind closed doors. Bill headed off to investigate and in a few short seconds, I heard his laughter emerge, "We better go show your mommy this." Out he comes, carrying Camille, completely stark naked. No jammie top. No jammie bottoms. No panties. Ultra-commando. Buff to the bones....and smiling and laughing from ear to ear. She couldn't have been prouder. When he had opened the door, she was just sprawled out in bed, covers nowhere to be found, basking in the breeze.

Guess all of the practice with dressing and undressing independently as of late has paid off--sort of.

Obviously a Kodak moment was not in order and posting it to the blog would have crossed the line, but the thing that made it so funny was just how plain cute her caboose is and how completely thrilled she was to be showing it off. No matter how many cookies this girl ingests, no matter how many Reese's peanut butter cups go down the hatch, this girl still has a 5" span from hip to hip and the boniest, tiniest little bum you ever did see.

Having said that, let's just hope this is a phase.

Forgetting How

As we were leaving Ash Wednesday Services tonight. Liv felt the need to be carried. Coddled. Extra-specially loved.



L: "Mommy, carry me."



I obliged. I hadn't seen my girl since the wee hours of morning since I had worked a long day and met Bill at the church after he had picked up the girls. I needed a little extra mutual TLC.



Of course about half way across the parking lot, as I was dragging myself--my big pregnant self--across the parking lot with Liv in tow somehow saddled over my big baby bump, I thought maybe she'd be ready for a brisk walk.

M: " Okay, Liv, you ready to walk?"

L: "Well......I'm afraid I forgot how to walk."

Umm.

Ladies and Gentlemen, We Have a MacGyver in the House

What do these things have in common?

• 1 1/2 medication syringes


• A pair of Barbie Sunglasses


• A child-size Reach toothbrush


• A hair comb

Let's just say we have a resident MacGyver in the house. Her name is Liv. Yesterday, she came out of the bathroom, plopped them on the coffee table and announced, "Mom, here's my tools. I'm gonna use them to fix the window."

Super. Didn't know it was broken. But, after you pull that off, would you mind taking a look at the loose towel rack and the broken drain in the bathroom, too?

Disclaimer

Try as I may....OVER and OVER and OVER...I can't get the spacing to come out right in my following post. I am really not as much of a formatting idiot as this blog would make me seem....

Good Press

I've blogged before about Camille's Monday Night swimming lessons in the Adaptive Swim Lesson Program directed by Glenn Wragge, the adaptive PE teacher through Millard Public Schools. Today, the Saturday edition of the Omaha world herald featured a story on the program; we were so glad to see Glenn's program get some great coverage as it is something to behold. Without it, we would be shy of somewhere to take Camille for lessons as her visual impairment commands one-on-one instruction.

The picture at left was one of the pictures featured in the story. The story follows my post.

Camille started in the program probably about two years ago. It has been amazing to see her progress since those first days in the pool. Once she hits the water, she goes and goes and goes, sometimes in a swim vest solo, sometimes with her instructor's assistance. Her newest endeavor is holding her breath underwater and floating completely independently for short periods of time.

What's more, she gets extremely excited on swimming lesson Mondays and often asks every other day of the week when it will be Monday so she can go swimming with Tara, Jill, or whomever her instructor happens to be during the particular 8 week session that she is in at the time. She has developed such positive bonds from the program, both with the instructors and with Glenn and Mike, two of the program directors that are there year-round. Mike, a professor in the physical education program at UNO, has particulary become an object of Camille's fascination. His shaved head drew the attention of Camille early on, and she has been known to ask him, "Michael John, where did your hair go?" or "Mike, did you lose your hair?" to which Glenn replied, "Oh, yeah...she is way out of her shell."

You just don't get the whole package like this everywhere, and how we realize how fortunate we are to have such amazing people committing themselves to such an amazing program.

The story from the newspaper:

******************************************************

Water power

BY CAROL BICAK
WORLD-HERALD STAFF WRITER

It's Monday night, and the swimming area in the Lied Physical Fitness Center at the College of St. Mary is ringing with the sounds of splashing water, excited chatter and squeals of delight.

But it's not the school's swim team making noise. It's a special swimming class for people with physical and mental disabilities.

The program began about 15 years ago when Glen Wragge, an instructor with Millard Public Schools and the University of Nebraska at Omaha, and Barb Simpson, the health, wellness and aquatics director at the College of St. Mary, joined forces.

"It started with a parent's request, because he didn't have anywhere to take his kids swimming," Wragge said.

The classes have grown over the years. Now the eight-week sessions draw between 40 and 50 people every Monday night. The participants' ages vary from 1 to 50.

Each student gets his or her own teacher for two reasons, Wragge said: safety and training that is tailored to each swimmer's needs.

Although there are a few paid instructors, students from UNO, other area colleges and Millard high schools volunteer to help teach the classes. The college students are doing practicums for credit or working on service hours, Wragge said. The others just love swimming and working with people.

Wragge had praise for all his , instructors.

"Sometimes, people aren't comfortable working with people with special needs," he said. "For the most part, this (mix of instructors) works out really well."

Liz Opitz, a junior at Millard North, doesn't claim to be a world-class swimmer but volunteered because she had worked with disabled students at school.

"I enjoy it and helping others," she said.

The swimmers, no matter what age, seem to have a great time in the classes. From 6:45 to 7:15 p.m., the younger children take a turn in the pool. The older students and adults get a little longer in the water, from 7:15 to 8 p.m.

All Mary Holtmeyer has to do is tell her 5-year-old daughter, Emma, who has Down syndrome, that it's swimming night, and the little girl lights up.

"I like that the teaching is one-on-one, so she gets special attention," Holtmeyer said. The instructors "are just great. They do everything they can for the kids, and that's all a parent can ask for."

Karen Richardson enrolled sons Ryan, 12, and Tyler, 5, in the classes, mainly for Ryan's sake. It's the fourth session he has taken, Richardson said, and she has seen a difference in both his swimming skills and his self-esteem.

Before he began lessons, Ryan was shy about scars he has from surgeries and didn't like the water, his mom said.

"The lessons are really like private lessons, and the cost is reasonable," Richardson said. "They are great for kids who just don't fit in."

Logan Schneider, 12, has improved so much in the classes that he now competes in Special Olympics. His father, Mark Schneider, said Logan entered three swimming events last March and took home three ribbons.

Before taking the classes, Logan "knew how to swim, but he'd never been in a big pool like this," Mark Schneider said. "And he loves to compete."

Another Special Olympics competitor, Matt Frohm, 21, has Asperger syndrome and has been taking the class for four years.

His parents, Scott and Judy Frohm, recently watched him work with his instructor on the far side of the pool. They can list numerous ways the swimming program has helped Matt.

"He has learned confidence and interacting with other people," Judy Frohm said. "He has developed stamina and is in better physical condition." ,

• Contact the writer: 444-1067, carol.bicak@owh.com

Copyright 2009 Omaha World-Herald. All rights reserved.
---------- End of Story ----------