Wednesday, November 18, 2009
"She struggles with sitting right now, but that's only temporary, right?" I once asked her physical therapist. "You can never tell," she answered "all we can do is treat the child and wait."
I couldn't believe that a physical therapist could not know whether or not my daughter was going to be fine. I so badly wanted to hear a word of hope from an expert.
Months later, I traveled for hours to see my daughter's geneticist. By then, Katy's seizures had disappeared. at 18 months she had not only mastered sitting but began crawling as well. I was sure that she was on the quick path to recovery. Wanting to hear good news from an expert, I asked her geneticist what he expected of her development into adulthood.
He told me that we should make sure she went all the way through high school and then had her pursue a single skill so that she could eventually find a simple job. Among his suggestions were hotel cleaning and fast food chains. After all, according to him, she was never going to have a high IQ. I told the doctor that I wanted much more for her, to which he replied -
"Well, the way I see it is: somebody's gotta flip my burger."
I went home feeling defeated and devastated. I screamed. I cried. I prayed...
Then, I dusted myself off and moved forward. In my time of grief I made some conclusions. The doctor's were simply doing their job. Now I needed to do mine. Katy was MY daughter, not theirs. Conclusions about her destiny are better left in the faith of a loving parent.
As many of my readers know, Katy has beat out many odds and is on her path to conquer all of her giants. But now I work in a special ed unit for a public school, and I see parent's devastation very often. I see their hearts crushed as an "expert" labels their child with mental retardation, or any other destiny robbing title. I watch how the parent pins his hopes and fears on the words of these licenced clinicians and it breaks my heart.
Because I can relate.
If I could write a letter to every physician, doctor, therapist and any other person relevant to a child's medical files I would say this:
Finding out that my innocent child has been "unfairly" robbed of her future is a devastating experience. I am grieving, and looking for someone higher than me to validate my hopes and dreams. In the middle of my darkest moments, I may turn to you yearning to hear a word of hope. If I should ever ask you what the future holds for my baby, this is what I wish you would say:
"The fight of faith is an individual one. I am a doctor and you are a mother. My job is to assess and diagnose your child. I can't change what I see, but I can encourage to to always hope and believe that the best is yet to come. I am here to help you find a treatment or a cure, but the bulk of the work is going to land on your shoulders. It is up to you to decide how much, how far, and how hard you will run for the sake of your child. There are countless stories of diagnoses turned over by people who stood in faith and worked with their physicians. I invite you to team up with me in the fight for your child. As long as there is life, there is hope. I am here to serve you."
I understand that as a doctor you must keep your professional distance, and I imagine that is very hard. I know that what I am asking for may not be entirely possible. If that is the case, I just want you to encourage me to hope, because if I don't- who will?
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
there. The date. Its up.
(as if anyone is reading this)
Well, I don't feel like being all fancy or creative and crap, but I do feel compelled to let you know that I didn't fall off the face of the planet. I've had quite a number of big changes in my life, and they're all connected to each other:
1. I got a job. I'm a teacher's aide in a pre-k classroom. (I only interviewed 2 times. I got hired right away. It was a totally randomized school. I didnt choose this particular school over other schools. This point will matter as you read on...)
2. I was allowed to transfer Katy to the same school where I work.
3. Katy is in a Preschool program for children with disabilities (PPCD unit).
4. It hurt to write that last point, but I want everyone to take careful note of where she is at RIGHT NOW. Cuz she's gonna take the world by storm and they will never believe where she started.
5. The school's principal is specialized in special education. She has a big focus on this group and intends for all special ed kids to intergrate in the regular classrooms.
6. Her program is so good that Katy's class is overly full.
7. They're going to have to make a second PPCD unit to keep up with the demand.
8. I've been asked to transfer to the second unit (not the one where Katy is at) to work with the special needs kids!!! (I peed my pants a little right now).
9. Not only will I have a chance to learn and apply, but I will also have extremely close access to Katy's educational team!
Did you notice God's Hand in all of this? Backtrack through my blog. Its hard to miss. He's been so good to my family.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The American Airlines supervisor led me to a more private ticket counter. She took me to a clerk and began to speak to her in some sort of ticket counter code. The instrucctions were short, mean and confusing. There was a short squabble in true New York style that also left the clerk in tears. She was tougher than me, though, since none of her tears rolled down her face.
As she typed away at her little screen I began to collect the clues of my destiny. The airline was going to send me home, but not immediately. She asked if I wanted to spend the night in New York or in Dallas, since I would not be able to fly in to Mcallen that same day.
I had always wanted to see New York, but not like this. It was scary to be stranded in one of the worlds most important cities without having a single clue as to where I was going, how I was going to get there and how to pay for whatever I needed.
Being much more familiar with Texas (location wise and culture wise) I decided to fly to Dallas spend the night, and fly out to Mcallen in the Morning. Besides, it wouldnt be the first time an airline has sent me to spend the night in a Dallas hotel due to a missed flight. It happened once before, when I missed my anniversary with Isaac, but that's another story entirely.
As she typed and typed, more clues to my future were revealed. I was to have courtesy meals and courtesy taxis.
Yes. I asked that too. My flight to Dallas left from New York, but not from the same airport. I was to catch a cab to an airport called "La Guardia" and zoom directly to my gate in a near miss schedule.
The clerk handed me about a million tickets and vouchers and pointed me in the direction of a cab. The redness in my face was already fading and my eyes were finally dry. I thanked the clerk wholeheartedly and she gave me a very short, but tearful smile. She knew I really meant it.
With my new tickets in hand I walked the streets of New York for a second time, only this time with more confidence. I stood and waited for the cab that had been ordered for me by the airline.
I began to wonder if I was standing in the right place. Not having one minute to waste, I decided to dash back in and ask if I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. As I walked through the sliding doors a man in front of me pointed down at the floor
I looked down and saw a bunch of dollar bills rolled up. A closer look revealed a hundred dollar bill, neatly tucked inside.
He turned back with a look of "WHAT THE CRAP DID I LET GO" and continued to rush forward. I looked around to see if anyone was looking for missing money, but everyone was hustling about. I picked up the money and turned to the security guards. They too, were in their own world. I looked around for the candid camera crew. There was nobody. Nobody to claim the money. Nobody looking for money. Nothing.
I put it in my pant p0cket and hurried through to get the information I needed. It turned out that I was in the right place.
I hoped in a cab and headed off to La Guardia airport. With a moment to finally look, I took out the money from my pocket and counted it. I had $135 dollars in cash, a ticket to go home and meal vouchers for the time in between.
It was a joy to see the streets of New York from a cab. I felt like such a strong, independant woman- regarldess of the baby I had been thirty minutes ago. I was a New Yorker, if only for half an hour.
Yes. I believed it.
I arrived to the airport and headed straight for the security checkpoint. After the routine groping I darted off to my gate. I arrived with twenty minutes to spare. For the first time in a day and a half- I HAD A MOMENT TO SPARE!!!
I headed straight for the bathroom. A BATHROOM! HA! Next, I bought myself a sandwich. It was mozzeralla with basil and tomatoes. I even had a coke, something I have ditched since my weightloss plan.
A boarding call was made and I was actually THERE to hear it. I picked up my beat up carry one and went straight to the line. I was getting closer to home.
Stick around for part 4, because YES- this story keeps getting weird.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
I started looking for a way to go back home, but American Airlines was my original flight. The problem was that they had connected me with Delta Airlines from LA to New York and Berlin (eventually). After speaking with four clerks and one supervisor, I was instructed to LEAVE the terminal so that I could get on a "sky train (glorified name for some outdoor trans system)" and head to the American Airlines ticket counter.
The airport was humongous and I really got lost in it. As I circled and ran through the airport, I kept receiving calls from Isaac, all the way from Berlin.
Well, it only takes a couple of words from a caring husband to make me bawl. He kept asking me for the latest information, too. All I knew was that
1. I was lost.
2. I was deliberately leaving my plane and now-
3. I was crying.
I eventually found the street that led to the "sky train" and crossed it like a total idiot-not knowing the designated crossing zone. I boarded that and headed to the American Airlines terminal.
I arrived to the American Airlines ticket counter, where after much deliberation I was directed to the supervisor. She was a woman of African or Caribbean dissent. Her face looked like a stone carving.
I proceeded to tell her my story, about all the flight messes and how I hadn't slept or eaten in 24 hours, and how now I had a death in the family and needed to return. She looked at me with hard eyes and tight lips and a face full of mockery
"AND?!" Again with the mocking look.
I was already on the emotional edge, and Isaac's phone calls had made me very vulnerable. I broke. I cried.
By now the other workers began to tease the supervisor.
The supervisor's eyes circled around at her coworkers. Her gaze finally fell on me. She had a different look.
And yes, it gets- WEIRDER. Stick around for part 3
Sunday, August 9, 2009
I arrived at my gate and waited for my flight from Mcallen to Dallas Texas to start boarding.
An announcer informed us that severe weather in Dallas would delay our boarding time half an hour.
Add another half hour to the wait
Boarded at last.
As we flew in circles above Dallas, the captain announced that we would circle for 45 minutes more. The airport was having issues. My connecting flight to London was going to board at 8:30. By now, I was sure I missed it.
We finally arrived. Too late for me. Chaos all over Dallas airport. Everyone was running, yelling and crowding. All the employees were surrounded by dozens of panicked travelers.
Finally got to talk to an employee. She didnt want to help. I asked her to please look up my international flight, since it was nowhere to be seen. She grudgingly typed the info on her screen.
"Dallas to London ALL DONE! GONE!" she shouted at me and left me there to rot.
I finally got another employee to help. She told me that I had been re-routed to Los Angeles and that the flight had been boarding for five minutes already. I had only 8 minutes to get halfway across the Dallas airport and reach my gate before the plane took off. With no time for questions, I raced in a panic.
I got there as they were preparing to close the gates. They let me in and flew me three hours in the opposite direction of my destination- Los Angeles. I discovered that my next flight would not be until the following morning.
11:30PM (LA time)
I arrived and everything was closed. I was thirsty as heck since Dallas (from all that running), and there was not one store open. I also hadnt eaten all day.
I texed my sister who lives in LA. I hadnt seen her in 3 years.
I said "whatcha doing?"
She responded "working"
"Oh man, that sux. Im here in LA for 7 hours"
She freaked and moved heaven earth and sky to come to the airport and see me.
Looking for a source of water, an airport employee decided to take up my cause and help me get some. He took me into a store that had already closed and demanded they sell me some water. They strongly denied, saying the register was closed. Both got really agressive with each other and fought really ugly as I just stood there.
"Dont worry, Ill just drink from a fountain. I think I saw one out there," I said.
But they ignored me and continued to fight about me. Finally, the manager agreed to sell me her own bottle of water for three dollars (it was a huge bottle). She had her name writen all over it, but it had been unopened. Her name was DITA
I looked for a quiet corner to sleep. When I had made myself at "home" some employes arrived to vaccum. I forced myself to sleep through it.
I awoke with a call from my sister. She was there. I jumped out of there and left the secure area as I met her downstairs. We walked for nearly an hour looking for a place to eat. Nothing was open so we ended up at the baggage claim and caught up on years of each other's lives.
Back through security and headed to my gate- LA-New York. I made a friend. She was a local from Berlin. The interesting part is that she was also from Taiwan, but had lived in Berlin for quite a while. She and I talked and talked about family, culture, and of course, Berlin. We even went to the bathroom together.
Boarded for New York.
4:40 PM (NY time)
As the plane taxied I turned on my phone. I got a call from mother in law. She told me her mother had passed away. Mother in law was going to take care of Katy through my trip in europe. She asked me if I wanted her to take Katy with her to the funeral or if I wanted to come back. (of course I would come back. She needed to be free to mourn her own mother)
.... to be continued.... It gets weirder and weirder.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
You've been replaced.
Yes. Its come to this. I found someone else. His name is
How can I resist his 140 character offer? How can I resist its simple layout limitation? Twitter's expectations over me are low. He doesn't take up an hour of my day asking for a detailed update on my potty training experience. Neither does he request pictures of the messy ordeal. No. All twitter asks is one simple thing:
"Hey! What are you doing?"
Now that's something I can cope with during a hectic summer that allows a total of 3.5 minutes a day for a shower and a cup of coffee. In just a minute, I can update all my followers on the status of my breakfast as I catch up on their stuff as well.
But don't worry. This relationship is just a fling. Once school starts and I find myself lonely, I will find myself back again, blogging away about the smell of my toast or the length of my hair.
Are you on twitter?
Follow me at http://twitter.com/michelle_e_hays
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
"Mrs. ----- please"
"Mrs. ----- please"
"If you are looking for Mrs ----, that's not me"
"Yes it sure as hell is, you b!#c! I'm gonna ^!*##))$+@*##@!! (cussing and yelling like Ive never heard before)"
*I hung up*
Then, the phone rang again, but I didn't answer it. Instead, I called 911.
I know. Over dramatic. I know...
But I was in a panic. I didn't know what to do. Every time my husband is away I have a crisis. If you've followed my vlogs, you know Ive dealt with crap and more crap. Its such a common occurrence that I didn't bother to mention that two days ago a scorpion was in my room
So, for situations I cant talk about, I have some reason to be on the lookout for possible harassers. Its nothing I did, but I cant explain. You just have to trust me.
Even though Im over dramatic.
So, you know who they dispatched to my house? A former POW of the "war on terror." He wasn't trying to brag, when he told me. I'm sure he wouldn't had said anything. But the moment I gave him my date of birth, he just kind of froze- in a daze. When he finally shook off the mental lapse, he apologized and explained why that date was so significant to him. He was taken hostage that day. He was a POW for nearly a month.
Yes, ladies and gentleman, this American hero was dispatched to my house to deal with my frantic panic over a dumb phone call. It was probably the wrong number anyway.
I Feel Like An Idiot.
I'm sure Officer Edgar has taken care of a few emergencies in his lifetime and I'm positive this was not one of them.
Ugh. I'm gonna crawl into a hole now. See you when I'm 60 and forgetful.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The European Organisation for Rare Diseases (EURORDIS) represents more than 300 rare disease organizations in 34 different countries, covering more than 1,000 rare diseases. It is therefore the voice of the 30 million patients affected by rare diseases throughout Europe.
EURORDIS is a non-governmental patient-driven alliance of patient organisations and individuals active in the field of rare diseases, dedicated to improving the quality of life of all people living with rare diseases in Europe. It is supported by its members and by the French Muscular Dystrophy Association (AFM), the European
Commission and private donors
In other words, Katy's troubles may light a beacon of hope in the search for a cure. At least, her story will receive attention from people who can make a difference. Im totally floored and exuberantly thrilled.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Now onto some breaking news-
Not too long ago, I made a vlog explaining what PKU is all about. Shortly after, I submited my video to the "rare disease day" organization. Seeing all the other (serious and matter of factly) videos submitted made me feel like the oddball. Still, I thought
Within a few days, my video quickly climbed up the rare disease channel "charts" and became number one! Suddenly, people started pasting my video everywhere. Its on so many blogger, facebook, myspace and other social networks that I cant even track it anymore. It was also sent out on several PKU email listervs and shared on a PKU fundraising for awareness site. The other day, a neurocisentist told me that he's incorporated my video into his graduates class. I have even found my goofy talking head on encyclopedia.com!
Not to mention (although I am), that MY video is the #25 most discussed this month (um...that would be in the "news and politics" section of the french branch of youtube. But still.)
I know all of this because I've been cyber stalking myself.
People often say that they "like comments." Thats not true. I know it because I say it too. I dont like comments. I like compliments. Thats what "comments" are all about. They are expressions of love to a socially deprived cybergeek. That's why I went on a hunt to gather as many as I could find. Let me toot my own horn here and tell you that I cannot keep up with the kudos and props.
Cuz Im all that. and a bag of chips.
Not too long ago, Isaac, Katy and I made our five hour trip to see the genetecist in his new location. Since he moved, he had a new metabolic dietician and we were looking forward to meeting her. When the door opened, I was greeted by
"I know YOU! You're that mom in the PKU video! Wooow! You're like a celebrity!"
*let me take a second or two to gloat in silence*
Fame and fortune, here we come!
I can see it now...
ps- leave compliments, ahem- comments...
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Isaac had come by to give me that box (along with a shovel) at nine AM. The wait seemed eternal. Butterflies tickled my stomach as I paced my house with impatience and curiosity.
It was two minutes until 2, and I decided that enough was enough. I opened the box. Inside were the oddest things. A pile of change, a disposable camera, a knife, several envelopes and Eric’s phone number.
I grabbed the envelope labeled “Read me first,” and opened it.
“You are about to embark on a quest,” it said. “The items that you need are provided in this box. These envelopes will guide you through. The camera is for taking pictures of your journey, the, the knife for cutting things loose, the change to use public telephones, the shovel for digging and Eric’s number in case you face unexpected accidents or mistakes. He has the master plan.”
How exciting! There was another envelope in the box. It read “In the beginning.” There was a love note inside detailing how Isaac and I first met. Then, my very first set of instructions. “Call Raymond at work at 2:10. He will give you further instructions.” I dialed Joe Brand Company and asked for Raymond. He picked up the receiver and began to sing the theme song from Mission Impossible.
“Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to go to the place where you and Isaac first met. You have fifteen minutes,” he hung up.
The church! I met Isaac at church! I drove in a hurry and there, at the church entrance was taped up another envelope. It was labeled “Month One.” Inside, were some brief memories from our first month of dating, along with the next set of instructions. I was to go to the back of the church and dig for the next clue. I had five minutes. The following clue was a box, in it, an envelope labeled “Month two.” Just like the previous one, It detailed the happenings of our second month as a couple and gave me further instructions.
One by one, my clues were preceded with memories and concluded with a time limit for the next finding. I used the camera, the tape, the change- everything. I was led through all the romantic spots we had known in the city. In each memorable location was another clue. There were also many people involved in my adventure. People from Isaac’s work, family members (his and mine) and friends were all participating.
At last, I found the final clue. Month 19. It had a bible verse and a prayer. Then, it instructed me to walk a block to the nearest orange grove. My heart skipped a beat. The orange grove! In the early months of our relationship, Isaac and I were taking a stroll down that very same grove.
“Michelle, will you marry me,” he asked.
I smiled, “sure!”
“I’m serious,” he continued. “The next time I ask you this question I will have a ring in my hand and we will stand in this very spot.”
Now, I was headed to that same orange grove. My heart was pounding and my feet were racing. The sun was hot, but the breeze was cool and the trees were dancing in the summer wind. The sunset was spectacular, as it always was in “the valley.”
I could see him in the distance. His tall, slender figure stood in the midst of the tress. He was dressed in a black Armani suit. I nearly froze. I approached him, slowly. When I was just a few steps away, he got on one knee and pulled out a little black box from his pocket.
“Michelle, will you be my wife?”
The wedding was six months later. Isaac and I have been married nine years now and have a beautiful little girl. It’s a dream come true. My very own fairy tale.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
When I hung up the phone I cried.
I had such emotional chaos. I'm thrilled for them. Absolutely thrilled. But I wish that letter had been in my mail box...
But I can't live my life wishing I was someone else. This is MY blessing. This is MY herriatage. This is MY baby- and I am HONORED and HUMBLED to be her mother. I know that I too, have received amazing letters that others wish they had in THEIR mailbox. We have fought against serious odds and conquered. Slowly but surely. I cannot let envy keep me from looking up. I cannot let jealousy steal my blessing.
My God is real and He is also working miracles in our lives. Just watch and see. He's not done. The greatest things are coming up.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Here's what makes the picture extra special: I am a Huguenot descendant. Now, here is the ultra short explanation of the Huguenots. They lived in France about five hundred years ago, when Martin Luther began his protestant movement (doing "outrageous" things like translating the bible so that everyone could read it, not just the priests). The Huguenots were deeply transformed by Luther and his vision (And also Calvin, but lets not dive so deep into this ocean), that they cast off their Catholic commitments to follow Martin Luther's vision.
This is LUTHER- the movie about the dude I'm talking about(He changed the world):
Well, you know what happened. It was a bloody mess. Literally. Infidels were persecuted and murdered. My Huguenot family ended up fleeing to Ireland for safety, where they eventually migrated to Canada and United States. Now, understanding the scope of this religious alliance, along with all its implications, take one more look at the painting above and tell me-
Is it not more tragically romantic than Romeo and Juliet???
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Yes. It drives Isaac bonkers.
But, the other day I was offered to go watch "He's just Not that Into you," a movie that Isaac would NEVER agree to watch (he would probably gouge his eyes out five minutes into it). I went out with another friend who's boyfriend would also hate the experience just as much as my man.
When I came back home, Isaac had a video to show me. It was this:
...so much for perfection. At least they had fun.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
This time, even turning to each other didn't ease the pain or the horror. There was only one place to turn for hope- God. During all the poking and prodding, and even before there was a diagnosis made on our little one, Isaac clung to a specific word for our daughter.
Hear my cry, O God;
listen to my prayer.
From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the foe.
I long to dwell in your tent forever
and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.
For you have heard my vows, O God;
you have given me the heritage of those
who fear your name.
Increase the days of the king's life,
his years for many generations.
May he be enthroned in God's presence forever;
appoint your love and faithfulness to protect him.
Then will I ever sing praise to your name
and fulfill my vows day after day.
Isaac turned that psalm into his song. Literally. As Katy seized or lay absently from us in her bed, he would sing these words over her little life. For months, he couldn't get through the song without breaking down and crying. That song was our anthem, and we believed it whole heartedly.
As a declaration of faith over our daughter's healing, Isaac and I became very public about Katy's testimony (hence this blog), saying that no matter where she was at today, the whole world would stand in awe and see God's faithfulness over our lives. We challenged people to stick around and watch a miracle unfold in front of their very eyes. Then, Isaac would sing his song.
Every time he played his song, hundred's of people began to respond in faith for the miracle that they needed. Pretty soon, people began to ask if Isaac's music was recorded. Seeing the need for this message to get out, we recorded Isaac's first CD.
It hasn't even been one year since its release, yet nearly one thousand CDs have been sold. As a natural consequence, hundreds of people have contacted us to tell us how Katy's story and Isaac's song helped them believe for their miracle as well. As of now, Isaac has toured the entire country of Mexico and shared his music and our testimony more times than we can count. In April, he will be performing in a concert for about five thousand people.
The following is Isaac's video for Psalm 61. To think it all started over a crib with tears streaming down his face...
Although the video is in Spanish, you can read the lyrics in Psalm 61. The intro says
"This is a song that came at a time of few answers. We stood powerless over our daughters future, upon knowing her diagnosis: She would not walk or talk..."
For the story of the amazing debut of Isaac's first concert Click here
Thursday, February 26, 2009
I was eight months pregnant, and Isaac was away on a trip. Cookie spent nearly 24 hours circling around the computer desk. Litterally, circle, circle, circle, circle- ad nauseum. Cookie had OCD (obsesive compulsive dissorder) issues, so I usually ignored it. Except this time there was YELPING. This is what the entire day sounded like:
AURR! AUUUR!! AAAUUUURRR!
AURR! AUUUR!! AAAUUUURRR!
AURR! AUUUR!! AAAUUUURRR!
You get the picture. Since she was walking around the power strip to which all my computer gadgets were connected to, I wondered if there was some sort of electrical discharge coming from there. Of course, being eight months pregnant I was not about to touch the darn thing. Cookie would suffice as a lab rat.
"Look!" I pointed excitedly at the power strip "Cookie! Look!"
Cookie would press her black, wet nose right up against it. Sniff, sniff sniff-
No yelping. Now, I was very confused. I could see nothing else that could be provoquing all that doggy yelping. Still, my psychoneurotic dog continued with her stupid endevor.
AURR! AUUUR!! AAAUUUURRR!
AURR! AUUUR!! AAAUUUURRR!
AURR! AUUUR!! AAAUUUURRR!
After a few hours, I decided to look at everything one more time. This time, I got down on the floor, belly and all, and watched Cookie do her stupid thing. I noticed that she always yelped on the same tile. When I finally looked at the tile, I discovered that it had a little tiny hole. Cookie was getting her toe nail stuck every time she walked over it, but that didnt stop her from circling and cicling. This went on all day and all night.
A week later, I had to move my desk and dicovered the motive of her obsession. An old tennis ball had rolled under the desk and she could not get it. I suppose that she figured running around in circles would help a great deal.
ps- this is me at about the same time in my pregnancy
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
But you know me. I video taped the episode so nobody goes calling me a drama queen. This really happened people. Here is the proof:
I also recorded my MOUSE INCIDENT, and if you didnt catch it, here is the vlog (only three stars?! GEEWIZ! Rate it higher if you get a chance):
Monday, February 23, 2009
Seeing them brought an old story to mind. Its way too unique not to share, so Im going to put you through my mysery. This happened a while ago, and if you followed me on MYSPACE you may already know the story:
A couple years ago, a danish friend of mine came over to my house for a quick visit. We were having a jolly ol' time when all of the sudden,
"I would like to speak to Mr. Joel Sanchez, please"
I could recognize that voice anywhere. It was Omar, my friend's husband. Omar and I have been playing practical jokes on each other for years. Phone pranks are a classic, so I just played along.
"No, sir. That person doesnt live here," I said
"Whom am I speaking with?"
"Michelle," I replied, almost in a sing song
"And, Michelle- where do you live?"
"Are you married?" He proceeded.
Now he was getting weird. Fine. I would just play along.
"Why do you want to know?" I wondered
"Its for my database. Are you married or single?"
(the nerve! )
"Ah. I see. Well, then- perhaps you could tell me what company you are calling from." I commanded
"No, mam. Im here to ask the questions, not answer them. Now, are you single or married?" He proceeded
"Ill tell you what. Im going to give you an opportunity. This is a rare and unique offer that I, Michelle, grant to you, mysterious telemarketer, to tell me who you are. Now, Im going to give you three seconds. If by the time that I count to three, you do not disclose who you are, I will proceed to holler into the telephone at the top of my lungs. Is that clear?"
"Please mam, no games, just your complete name."
"Single or Marr-"
After I ran out of breath, I threw the phone at my friend.
"Its your husband, " I said as I laughed.
Well, guess what?
It turned out, that some guy had lived in the same house, years earlier and left a HUGE debt to a number of companies. This was a collection agency intending to intimidate anyone who would fork over the money.
After my little "joke" the man was furious. I mean furious. He threatened my friend, who frantically handed the phone to my husband. The conversation got pretty heated and ended with threats on both sides. The caller came in person to my house, and my husband called the police. Even though we were not at fault for this debt, I continue to kick myself for being such an idiot.
Ah, good times, good times!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
But recently, Katy has developed quite a good sign language vocabulary (is that even how you say it). Her therapists and I have taught her a few basic words ("eat," "drink," "ouch," "ball," "give me," etc.) I can see Katy's excitement when she can communicate something to me, even if its not via words.
Today, she was watching a baby Einstein video that she hasn't watched in months. Its called "Baby Wordsworth" and it teaches all the basic vocabulary having to do with the house. Whats more, they put a person signing the word as it is spoken, illustrated and written.
Katy was so excited that she litterally tripped over and fell! The people were signing the very same words she already knew. They signed "blanket" and she signed "blanket." They signed "tree" and she signed "tree." She was so wild with excitement that she began to twirl and run through the house as she watched and participated with the video, each time running to me so that I could see that she understood.
I was floored with exitement. Suddenly, my daughter could talk to me! I decided that night to scrap the whole "make her use her voice" plan. Katy has been trapped in herself for long enough, and if she wants to kick off with sign language, so be it.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Did I ever mention that my dad has been a lifelong friend of the worlds "heaviest man?" His name is Manuel Uribe, and I think he's lost the title of "world's heaviest man" because he's dropped some 3 or 400 pounds. I've been watching all the Discovery channel documentaries on him. They've had quite a focus on him lately. I crack up at the slogan for the "wedding" episode.
"Sometimes love can't be taken lightly."
Clever line. Those jerks...
Actually, my father in law (who is a pastor) was originally going to marry them, but had a last minute change of plans due to a trip. I have to be honest, when I started watching the programs, I was very amused- but halfway through the show, I was deeply touched. This man's character was so sweet, loving and kind that by the time I watched the wedding episode I was in full blown tears.
He has always been a christian, and even though there was no mention of it, you could see it clearly with his attitudes. Even as the media hammered down on him and his every move- he kept his integrity. I don't think I could have behaved half as well under all that media nightmare.
Anyway, watching these discovery shows made me realize just how important I am.
I grew up playing in his back yard. I never really talked to him though. While my dad visited him, I played with his dogs. The one I remember the most was a shaggy black haired thing. I think it was an unkept poodle or poodle/mutt. Whatever it was, I loved it. He was the firecracker sort of dog that I have now grown to hate (remind me to tell you about my dog from hell. It was probably that evil creature that turned me off to dogs for good).
Anyway, Meme (that's what we call him. "meme" is short for Manuel) wasn't always fat. In fact, at one point- he and my dad were almost just as plump. Yes, my dad has always been a bit on the pudgy side- and for a while, he and Meme enjoyed food in equally.
But after some years, both of their wives left them. Meme turned to food. Dad turned to cigarettes (thank God). I don't know how Meme let himself get so huge. I think that there must have been a day when he thought
"wait a minute, I haven't gotten up from my bed in days!"
He has gained so much weight that he hasn't been able to walk in years. My dad was helping him by bringing him some nutrition supplements and giving him special massages (ew. I know. I told him).
But all that changed when Discovery channel came along. Suddenly, dad was not allowed to perform any sort of weight loss procedure on Meme (dad has a beauty and weightloss company). The Zone Diet took over, and no one else was allowed to help. There's some sort of contract out there- via "the Zone." Its like they own him or something.
Dad still visits Meme a few times every month, and I hear great reports on his health. Contrary to popular belief, Meme did not become "stinkin" rich from his contract with Discovery. He still lives modestly in his new home, but does enjoy a few medical perks provided Discovery Channel and other staff.
Im rooting for him. I cant wait for him to get up and walk again. Go, Meme!