You are currently browsing the archives for September, 2005.
Quinn turned 5! He is my costume lover, so of course, a Nija Turtle costume was one of his presents.
He wanted a Spiderman birthday party, so that is what we had:
I can’t believe my little man is 5 already! My curly haired rascal!
The cake:
The child with his cake:
No need to tape the windows, but debris was scattered throughout the house. I had to restrain Bill from vacuuming until the last child was picked up this morning.
Since then, he has vacuumed 3 times. I think I heard him maniacally laughing.
Vocabulary words and phrases for the week.
Gravity. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Every rider experiences it eventually. They dread it, but gravity will have its way.
Road rash. Not the kind you get in your bike tights. I am talking about the kind of road rash that leaves you on the side of the road picking gravel out of your hand, elbow, thigh, calf and ankle.
Fate. It is also in play here. I mean, come on now, what are the odds that that particular big ass cicada killer wasp was going to be flying down the highway on my side of the road at the precise moment when I had just finished a hill, had recovered my speed back up to 18.5mph and had lowered myself onto my Aerobars?
Balance. It is key to using your Aerobars. You must have both arms on them, and cannot spare one, even if it is to frantically swat the HUGE wasp that has entangled itself in your hair.
Grace. Grace from above, because the truck that was following closely behind was not driven by a testosterone crazed, attention lacking teen, but an elderly couple who were watching carefully and reacted swiftly when applying their brakes as I went down directly in front of them.
Eternity. The time it felt like as I was being dragged by my bike for about 10 feet.
Numb. How one feels after almost getting hit by a truck, as you sit in a parking lot calmly picking gravel our of your hand.
Calm. The tone of ones voice when someone asks you what they can do and the first thing you say is "It would be a great help if you could get my bike off the highway, and hand me the cell phone that is in the saddle bag.
Love. The feeling you get when you hear your husbands voice on the line and his concern when you relay that you have wrecked on your bike. "No, I wasn’t hit by a car. Yes, I am hurt. Can you meet me at home and take me to the clinic."
Bewildered/amused. The wave of feeling that washes over you when you ask the elderly couple if they can give you a ride home, as blood drips from your elbow, and the lady replies, "Oh we can’t. We are going the other way".
A sense of humor. What one must have when someone says to you, "Did I hit my head in the fall? I was wondering if I had a head injury, because I think I just heard you say that you are going the other way and can’t take me home (i wanted to add "one mile down the road to my home.")
Gratitude. What one feels as another truck drives up on the scene and the driver volunteers to load you and your bike up and take you home.
Pain. What one feels sitting on the floor in the quiet of an empty house waiting for hubby to arrive home. While investigating the elbow wound, you note that the elbow feels like a half filled water balloon…..this really can’t be good.
Relief. How I felt when I found out that no bones in my shoulder or arm were broken. I ruptured my elbow bursa (hence the water balloon feeling and extreme pain), and wrenched every muscle on that side of my body. My knee got twisted, as my shoe did not unclip from the bike when I fell. I have a fair amount of road rash and lots of bruising and soreness.
Fanatic. One who must get back on her bike, 3 days after the fall, and go the same route, because DAMMIT, my ride got interrupted and I need/want to finish it.
Freakin’ wasp.
In reviewing my stats today, I found that someone came to my site while searching "termination due to clubfoot".
Please, please, oh God, please come to my site again and see this post. PLEASE e-mail me and I will show you my beautiful son who has clubfoot. He is gorgeous, funny, smart, adorable, and the joy of our lives and he is completely normal mentally and physically. His foot is a minor bump in the road of his life.
I will give you phone numbers and websites of people who can help correct your child’s feet/foot when he/she is born.
I feel so helpless. Please contact me. It is not hopeless. Look at my son!
His life is wonderful. He runs, jumps, skips and hops like any other child. He is learning to read now in school at age 4. He gives the most delicious hugs, and gives "Eskimo kisses". He climbs trees like a monkey, and has been riding a bike without training wheels since before his 4th birthday. This year for his 5th birthday he wants a rainforest animal cake.
His name is Quinn, and he doesn’t care one lick about his clubfoot.
So, please contact me. Your child’s life will be amazing too.
Internet, meet Buddy:
We are in love!
Today I had to stay home all day while I waited on Fed Ex to deliver a vial of fruit flies. Yes, I said I wasted an entire day waiting for a fruit fly delivery. Such is my life with boys.
This was because the last one delivered was left sitting on my front porch and an army of black sugar ants decided to burrow into the vial and contaminate it, sterilizing all the larvae. After killing all the ants, we waited for a week and 1/2 for the flies to hatch….nothing, nada, zilch. So, they sent another vial of maggots-that-hatch-into-flies via Fed Ex.
The newts, they are hungry. They would stare at me every time I walked by the aquarium. I swear I even saw a bit of drool fall from ones mouth when I opened the new vial of fertile fruit flies and dumped the poor things into the cage.
and baby makes 6! © 2007 All Rights Reserved. That means this is mine, all mine. Thou shalt not steal. Savvy? Using WordPress Engine
