I know that I have anger issues and I need to deal with them. It is not fair to my family to not know how my mood is going to be. I do not want to be unpredictable if I do not get my way or if there is a situation I cannot control. I know I have control issues, and I am working on them. I can explain why and what has caused these issues, but I do not know how to address them or deal with them without feeling extremely upset.

A lot of this stems from my relationship or lack thereof with ***, the woman who gave birth to me. I was watching an episode of Celebrity Rehab with Dr Drew on VH1 and Steven Adler had to confront his mother. She kept saying things *** has said to me over and over. I felt his pain because I am right there with him. *** and his mother could be two peas in a pod. When the psychologist supporting Steven told her that she had not earned the right to be his mother, that struck a chord within me. That is exactly how I feel about ***. She has not earned the right to be considered my mother.

His mother kept thrusting the blame on Steven, but he was just a child. It was not his fault, and yet she continued to blame him. I am constantly blamed for a supposed bad attitude and her having to put up with so much from me, so his story and mine are similar. Watching this episode actually made me start to de-construct my own situation. While I realize her actions are out of my control, such behavior does not hurt any less.

I tried to remove myself from the situation with *** completely. I have to some extent, since 2005, and it got rid of my depression. I was actually depressed because she was a part of my life, and now I have no stomach problems or depression. Those both went away. This is because I do not speak to her if I can help it. However, she lives with my 92 year old grandfather. So…if I call him, I am sometimes forced to speak to her. I am always civil, but I usually do not say a word other than to ask to talk to my grandfather. Today, she decided to give me one of her lectures, and I, in turn, hung up on her mid-sentence. I was not going to deal with it.

She wanted to “Tell me happy 30th birthday,” but she could not just leave it at that. She wanted to let me know that she forgave me for saying bad things about her. This is when I hung up. I have long been accused by her of dissing her. Nothing I have ever said has not been the truth. This is a woman who for all intents and purposes, tortured me daily for the last five years I lived with her.

I believe I was abused and I was. The definitions for abuse include:

1. To hurt or injure by maltreatment
2. To assail with contemptuous, coarse, or insulting words
3. an unjust or wrongful practice

It does not matter what anyone else says. If I feel I was abused because I was maltreated physically and treated contemptuously and unjustly then no one can tell me I was not abused. I could go into specifics, but that is a story for later. The only thing I have ever said about her is how unjust she has treated me. At the same time, she has been saying horrible things to others about Ashtyn, about our son and even Ashtyn’s mom and brother. Yet, she accuses me of bad mouthing her and turning her in to authorities and doing all kinds of other things I have not done. It is just BS for her to do all these bad things to me and refuse to admit she abused me or admit it was her who did it without making excuses/blaming me for her actions. THEN, she has the nerve to say she is forgiving ME for bad mouthing her, when I had not said anything. I just could not nor would not deal with it.

What she fails to understand is that if I turned her in I would have turned her in years ago, when she was claiming I lived with her (but I stayed at school), so she could get money for taking care of me. At the time, I had no money myself and yet I never turned her in for that when I could have. She also does not get I’d rather she just pretend I was never born. She needs to move on and forget about me. It would make life easier for everyone if she and I are not a part of each other’s lives. I am not going out of my way to provoke contact with her, so therefore I am not going to give her reasons to try and contact me. Hence, I really am not bad-mouthing her, as that just invites a confrontation.

When I finally called back, my grandfather told me she was just trying to be nice. I told him I was not going to argue with anyone, but that it was presumptuous of her to say she forgave me for something I never did. Further, it was pompous for her to “pretend to be the bigger person” when she has done so many horrible things to me that she says I deserved or denies she did. She is always the victim in any situation and I know she truly believes she is the bigger person in this one, but really she is just doing this because she is holier than thou. Oh look, I apologized and I am wronged again because the apology was not accepted. People do not know the whole story. This is a game she plays to get people to feel sorry for her and gush all over her. I know the game well. She has been playing it for years. I told my grandfather she needed to get help. I believe she has mental health issues going on that need to be treated, but that I did not want to talk to her unless she got them assessed.

I am angry about this situation. I want to talk to my grandfather because he is old and believes he will not be around much longer. I just hate calling him because there is a potential risk of having to deal with her. My grandfather is dealing with Bell’s Palsy, so I have been trying to avoid stress when it comes to him. I will not fight with her if I can help it, for his sake, but I also do not deserve to be treated like crap, either. I am a person and I have feelings, too. I am upset that she continually gets away with this. I am trying to work past my anger and heal, so I can celebrate my birthday, but right now I just feel frustrated.

Technorati Tags: Family, Abuse, Child Abuse, Torture, Birthday, Stress, Emotional, Sadness, Precarious, Anger, Lies, Heal

Even before I had committed myself to a polytheist-loving lifestyle, where I (and my family) celebrate(s) Saturnalia, Winter Solstice and a secular-version of Christmas (aka Santa Claus), I found those who complained about the use of Happy Holidays to be thoughtless towards others. You see, I was raised knowing and loving people who celebrated more than just Christmas. I understood how important their own holidays were to them, and I wanted them to feel as happy as I did about celebrating Christmas. In a world dominated by Christmas Carols and excessive advertisements exploiting the joys of Christmas, I could not understand why people could not have enough kindness and acceptance in their hearts to simply say Happy Holidays, Good Tidings, or Season’s Greetings. These encompass all religions and lack thereof, as well as all of the December Festivities.

Don’t get me wrong. If I know someone personally celebrates a specific holiday I will say to them Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Yule, Lo Saturnalia, or whatever greeting is appropriate for them. I see no problem with that. In general, especially to those I do not know well or those I just meet, I feel Happy Holidays is more appropriate. Then, I am not making assumptions about them nor am I excluding them in any way because I am acknowledging the fact they celebrate any holiday (even Christmas). It is those that complain when strangers tell them Happy Holidays or those that say Merry Christmas to be spiteful because they refuse to acknowledge or care about other human beings on this planet, that upset me the most.

A few thoughts on this. Long before a little baby named Jesus was supposed to have laid in a manger (let’s ignore the fact that all signs from The Bible point to either a spring birth or a September birth), the Ancients of the various parts of the world, the Greeks, the Romans, the Celts, celebrated a variety of festivals. The Greeks celebrated a festival to Dionysos. The Romans celebrated Saturnalia. The Celts celebrated Yule. All celebrated and paid homage to the Winter Solstice. Many modern day followers of these Ancient religions celebrate variations of these festivals.

Another Festival, known originally as the “Festival of Lights” dates back to 2 BCE or before. Today, we call it Hanukkah or Chanukah. My brother used to call it Chunken when we were little, though that is a story for another day. This was just a few years before Jesus was said to be born. These are Ancient celebrations that still continue today. By telling people Merry Christmas who celebrate something other than Christmas, you are saying to them…your holiday is less important than mine. It is not about taking away from the joy that Christmas brings to those who celebrate it. It is about acknowledging and embracing the differences we all have, being kind to our fellow man (and woman) and being compassionate.

Here is a list of some of the holidays celebrated in December:

Christmas/Noël/Jul/Family Day
Hanukkah
Yule
Sveti Nikola
Winter Solstice
Kwanzaa
The Birth of Mithras (Festival)
Saturnalia
Festivus

With Christmas, there are many ways to celebrate. There are two aspects of Christmas that may be celebrated together, but do not have to be. Those are the birth of Jesus and the story of Santa Claus. Both stories speak of charitable men who were selfless towards others. Some celebrate for the birth of Jesus. Some people do not even bother with gift giving. They donate their time to charitable activities, in honor of the kind of man Jesus was depicted as in the story of his life.

Others celebrate Santa Claus or Ol’ Saint Nick, a man who gave presents to children and was selflessly charitable to those around him. They celebrate with time spent with their family, Christmas Trees, decorations, food, and gift giving. Still, some celebrate both. There is no right way to celebrate Christmas. The entire idea of a December holiday was borrowed from other religions, and most of the Santa Claus based traditions (the tree, gift giving, family time, food, etc.) are from celebrations like Yule and Saturnalia.

Those of us who celebrate these Ancient holidays do not care that these traditions have become a part of Christmas, too. Religions borrow from other religions. That is always how it has been and how it will be. What we do care about is people becoming so self-righteous as to assume these religions no longer exist and that Christmas is the only celebration in December. We are not asking these people to celebrate the old holidays themselves, but they also need to realize Christmas is one of the youngest holidays celebrated on the list above. As such, it is not the only one nor the right one for everyone.

What breaks my heart is that I see this happen the most in the United States. This is a land that was founded on the principle of religious freedom. The pilgrims came here to escape religious persecution. The Founding Fathers feared any establishment of a national religion because they believed in acknowledging all the various religions and denominations. The salt on the wounds of the pilgrims was still so fresh, they wanted better for this nation of immigrants…this new world where anyone could be whatever they wanted and live and celebrate however they believed they should. Most who complain about not saying Merry Christmas hide behind religious pretenses. They say it is because Jesus is the reason for the season and Christmas is the only holiday that should be acknowledged because it IS the only holiday…but it’s not. Jesus is the reason for Christians’ season, but 2/3 of the world is not Christian. We shall not all be forgotten nor shall our holidays be deemed substandard.

We, as human beings need to realize that Happy Holidays is not done to leave anyone out. It is meant to include EVERYONE and EVERY HOLIDAY! By saying Happy Holidays we are saying Merry Christmas, Joyous Yule, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Festivus…whatever is individual to you. We are saying Happy Holidays to you, whatever holiday you may celebrate. If it is Christmas, it means Merry Christmas, but if it is not, it means Happy Holiday you do celebrate. You ARE included in such greetings. All people are included. Isn’t that what the holidays truly are about; Peace, Happiness, Health, Love and Acceptance, to all?

So please, I implore you. Have a Happy Holidays and consider those in the world around you as they celebrate their own unique holiday, too.

Technorati Tags: Happy Holidays, Season’s Greetings, Merry Christmas, Happy Festivus, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Yule, Lo Saturnalia, Winter Solstice, Kwanzaa, Holiday, World, Peace, Love, Acceptance

December 17, 1996 began early for me. I had to be to the hospital by 6 AM if I remember correctly. It was the first day I was not worried about anything. For some reason I was very calm. I was also certain I was going to die. I don’t know why, but I thought I would. I was having Spinal Fusion surgery. I’d been told without it, I had maybe ten years left to live, if that. My organs would start to crush one another and death would be painful. I had no real choice in this. In matters of life or death we most almost always pick life. I am no different. However, the surgery also came with a 50% chance I would no longer walk.

I was terrified of not being able to walk. My father and Pam always made it clear if you stop walking then you give up. I was not a quitter. Yes, I have a degenerative, progressive muscle disease. The progression was slow, but it was happening. Still, I could not help but feel like if I stopped walking it would be my fault. I would not have tried hard enough. I was under this immense pressure to remain on my feet, so the prospect of not being able to walk was inconceivable to me. It was not an option.

I spent 14 hours in surgery, 2-3 days hooked up to tubes. I was in and out of consciousness barely able to remember anything. Then I was hooked up to morphine in my IV and I became a total dick. Everything and everyone pissed me off. I was too tender to move much. Every movement hurt. Trying to get me on my feet was quite unsuccessful. They told me to give it time to heal. I had grown four inches overnight and had absolutely no sense of balance. My doctors said that was normal. We’d try again later. Then came the complications.

My incision opened up. It is common for people who have taken steroids such as prednisone, as I had a few years before this for asthma complications. Then it got infected with e Coli. My doctor was at my house on New Years Eve checking my bandages. I had medicine pressed and packed into the hole in my back. It was so painful I would grip my bed railings and shake them. I was on so much medicine I regurgitated everything in me, sometimes even the pills and water. I couldn’t eat anything and every food I smelled made me nauseous. I also developed thrush and was on medicine for that, as well. An electrode from the surgery burned a hole in my hairline. I had a scab over the charred flesh. Over the past 14 years some of it has grown back, but I still have a random bald spot where the center of the electrode was. My hair manages to hide it now, because it is no longer such a big patch, but at the time, it was a scab that began to peel into my hair.

A few months passed and things got better. I could have died from my infection, but I didn’t. Yet, I still couldn’t walk. Now that I was on the mend, Pam started pushing me to get up. I went through Physical Therapy but still couldn’t stand without someone holding me up. Pam pushed me into water therapy. It helped my arms, but again I could not gain enough strength to stand. I developed a massive phobia of falling because in an effort to get me to stand, I was dropped more than once. It got so bad I would cry, scream and have a breakdown any time anyone tried to make me stand because my legs felt weak and wobbly and I felt like I could not do it. My body would be worked into exhaustion. Still, standing on my own, was out of my grasp.

To encourage me to learn to stand and walk again, while I was at MDA camp, Pam gave back my Hoyer lift to the medical company from which we were renting it. I came home to the new régime of getting me on my feet. I was required to wiggle myself in and out of bed, because I could not lift myself into it. Some nights it took over an hour for me to do this. It was physically taxing to wiggle, but asking for help into bed was not an option.

I received my first wheelchair (I had been using an electric scooter until then) in September 2007. My doctor requested I get one as it gave me much better back and neck support than my scooter did. Honestly, going into a wheelchair, for me, was a relief. Those last few years walking had become hard. I was always falling and hurting myself. I had sprained my ankles and feet more times than I could count. I missed out on a lot of social opportunities because I became too tired from walking. A wheelchair meant I could finally rest and it gave me independence to get around and participate with my peers. Some of my greatest memories are racing around my High School with my best friend, Ron, in our wheelchairs.

I did not feel like I was giving up. I felt like I was regaining my freedom and blossoming into something new…kind of like a caterpillar blossoms into a brand new butterfly. Not everyone felt that way. Parents put way too much emphasis on wanting their kids to walk and less on all the things their children still CAN do, in spite of their disability. They do not realize the massive pressure they put on their children with their expectations, while they should be encouraging their kids to follow their dreams and finding alternative methods and ways for them to attain their greatest goals.

I, personally, have begun to accept the fact that the path my disability took is not under my control. Still that day, 14 years ago, nine days before my sweet 16th birthday, will never be forgotten. As much as I am grateful for my wheelchair, it is a day like today where I feel glum about having to use it. I feel frustrated I cannot just hop up and take myself to the bathroom or slide into the shower for a hot bath. I am sad I have to have Ash lift my arms up to give her a hug. I want to curl up on the couch with her and watch a movie, but I can’t. This is the day that reminds me of all my can’ts.

Two years ago, to add to the sadness of the day, my grandmother Melba Louise Ogle Ryan, a woman we called Noonie, who baked me birthday cakes, shared salads with me and chased me around to spank my butt with a wooden spoon when I was bad (in the most loving of ways) passed away. When she went into hospice earlier in December I just knew she’d die on the 17th. As much as I miss my abilty to walk, I also miss my Noonie.

Well, the day is almost over, and tomorrow I will wake up happier. Gone will be the glum and I will return to doing everything and anything I can in my life, as a blogger/writer/editor, and on my career path for school. But…for one day I simply cannot forget…14 years alive…14 years unable to stand/walk…14 years of mixed emotions.

Technorati Tags: wheelchair, walking, Spinal Muscular Atrophy, memories, family, grandmother, death, sadness, loss

While Ash’s brother is the king of making Gingerbread Houses, this was our first time attempting to do anything like this. Needless to say, it turned out to be a lot more fun than we anticipated!

We started out with a Gingerbread House Kit. We purchased the Create-a-treat Gingerbread House Kit, Deluxe Model from Amazon for under $10. This was a great investment.

Initially, it looked like there weren’t any broken pieces, but upon further inspection, we found one. In quick order, Ashtyn was able to patch it back together, with some creamy, thick frosting. It held together with absolutely no problems and there was no way you could tell anything had happened to the piece once the house was constructed.

I let Ash do all the heavy lifting…errrr Gingerbread House molding. This is what it looked like after she iced the house together:

This was, of course, before we started icing the roof. The problem with the icing is they say to make a 1/4 inch cut in the bag, but even this small of a cut was too big.

It would have been better to use some kind of icing squirter to make it easier, because we ended up with thick gobs of icing all over the house. Ash could not outline the windows, for example, so we just kept them covered in frosting to pass them off as “snow and ice covered”. This squirting issue was the one downside we found to the Create-a-treat Gingerbread House Kit.

From there, we started to decorate the Gingerbread House. I directed Ash and helped with the lower layers of the house, pushing the candy into place.

You can see I am hard at work pushing candy into place here:

We added the candy included in the kit. There were Round Peppermints, Gumdrops, Gumballs, Sprees and Jellybeans.

We primarily decorated the roof and the front. The only thing lacking were the amount of peppermints. They give you plenty of the other types of candy.

I was busy eating the Sprees we had to spare. I love Sprees, so I made Ash continue decorating while I chowed down!

We got one side of the roof done, so I decided to show it off. It has rows of each individual candy that is mostly color coordinated. I guess even when I am designing Gingerbread Houses, I am OCD!

I decided to make funny faces while showing off the front of our Gingerbread House, which we decided to do next!

We also decided not to do the back. The frosting was being finicky anyway. We were still having fun, as we watched Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, in the background!

Finally, Ash showed off her our hard work!

Oh! Then I made some funny, improved videos with the Gingerbread House, which you can check out at my YT Channel: http://www.youtube.com/user/DominickMEvans

Making our Gingerbread House was a lot of fun. However, Ash discovered that she does not like to eat Gingerbread, and my butt really doesn’t need any. I’ve been spending the time since making it nibbling on the candies!

Happy Holidays Everyone!

Technorati Tags: Gingerbread House, Happy Holidays, Family, Fun, Build, Gingerbread, Family Time, Candy, Frosting

We’ve participated in the evolution of Elfing yourself since it first started a few years back. Lemme tell you, it gets more fun every year I do it. That’s probably because the songs are better, you have more options, you can add more family members, and the dance moves are a lot more crazy.

This year, my favorite, two choices for my family were the 80s and the Hip Hop themes.

Here’s the 80s dance:

This dance features me, my son, Robert, my nephew, Braxton, and Ashtyn. We are gettin down to some funky beats. Let me say that it brings me such joy to see myself breakdancing. I truly never would have expected myself to do such a thing!!

These online videos are fun enough to last until January 2011. You can email them to family and friends, as well as share them on a selection of social media sites, including Facebook and Twitter. You can also download the video to keep forever, for a nominal fee of under $5 (it’s $4.99!).

This year, Elf Yourself is presented by Office Max and JibJab. You too can elf yourself by visiting http://elfyourself.jibjab.com/. The cool thing about this site this year is you can log in with your Facebook and use pics you already have uploaded there to make your Elf Yourself music video. You also have the option of uploading up to six pictures/family members and using/reusing them again and again for themes that include Country and Surfing, as well as the ones I mentioned previously.

So, what are you waiting for? Gather up the family pictures and start Elfing Yourself, too!

Technorati Tags: Elf Yourself, Family, Fun, Holidays, Dance, Hip Hop, Music, Video, 80s, Kids, Family, Christmas Elf

It’s hard being a kid and having any form of special needs. Robert, like me, is a person with a disability, only his are not physical. He has Asperger’s Syndrome, a social disability, and Bi Polar Disorder, a mental disability. Though you cannot tell he has any disability by looking at him, if you hang around him, it does not take long to realize he is socially awkward. He is also lovable, helpful and caring, but most people his age do not stick around long enough to see that side of him. Kids are cruel and that means he is the butt of their jokes and does not have very many friends his age.

I worried he would have another disappointing birthday, so I set out to make sure people were at his party and that it did not matter that he did not have many friends his own age. I invited my new friend Joey, who is closer to me in age than Robert, but loves hanging with kids of all ages. I invited my new friend Katie, who loves to sing. I also planned a surprise. Ash’s friend (from High School) Kris, her two girls and her niece would drive Robert’s Nana and cousin, Braxton, down to surprise Robert. In all, we had one Nana (60s), two 30-somethings (Ash and Kris), three 20-somethings (Joey, Katie, and I), a 16 year old (Robert), a 9 or 10 year old (Kris’ daughter Koda), a six year old (Braxton) and two five year olds (Kris’ daughter Kenzie and niece Brit).

When Kris arrived, they all went to TGIFriday’s (sadly I cannot get in her van, so I stayed home). That is where Robert wanted his birthday dinner. Then they came home where Joey and I were waiting. We just received a Playstation Move to check out and that’s when the party began!

After it took five adults (and finally Robert) to figure out how to set up the Playstation Move and Singstar Dance, we were in business!!!

At first, Robert was apprehensive about dancing, as were all of the adults, so we let the little kids dance! My friend, Katie, decided to spend her time singing!

But, after seeing how much fun Kenzie and Braxton had, Robert was raring to go. He decided to try it out with Joey!!!

He is actually pretty good and this game kind of makes everyone look awkward!!! He had a blast dancing and that’s the important thing!

By this time, everybody was getting into it!!! We had hours of dancing fun!

We got Ashtyn into it, by having her dance with her nephew, Lil B Man….

Kris’ girls had a blast and Kenzie was a little diva on the dance floor!

We even caught some hidden moments that people had no idea we were filming.

For instance, watch Kris get her groove on:

Robert got lost in the music and we captured him singing Lady Gaga:

We caught Nana (Sylvia) getting her dance on, which is rare, since she does not even like her picture being taken (nor does Kris, who is dancing with her):

We honestly believe Nana is set to be the next YouTube sensation!

Of course, the funniest moment not caught on tape was when Ash and Kris were dancing and Braxton, on beat started singing, “Old People, Old People are Dancing…” while he danced in front of them! Now THAT would have been a moment I’d have liked to capture on film!

Either way, Robert had the 16th birthday I’d hoped he’d have! That’s the most important thing. As his parent, I am happy!

Technorati Tags: Playstation Move, Singstar Dance, 16th Birthday, Family, Friends, Parenting, Kids, Birthday Party, Video Games, Fun

After reading about Maria and her six year old, Bella, I felt enraged. I am furious that a public school has been able to get away with this for almost an entire school year. I am incensed that young Bella was “punished” for exercising her Constitutional right while whoever was getting the kids ready for lunch was breaking the law. Yes, anything Unconstitutional is illegal and the worst part is the perpetrator of this particular crime was doing such to innocent, impressionable children. Punishing a child not involved in the law breaking hardly seems fair, but this entire debacle is one big mess candy coated with religion.

You can check out the full story on Maria’s blog at http://www.icanonlybe.me. However, in short, the event that occurred at Eastern Wayne Elementary in the Wayne County School District (North Carolina), involved daily recitation of a prayer before the kids were to go to lunch. These children were led in a prayer familiar to most of us raised Christian, “God is Great, God is Good…” What some may dismiss as just a harmless incident holds tragic implications for those who do not practice Christianity or even those that do, who prefer to be the ones to introduce their young children to the God they believe in.

This is a public school. Prayer is not allowed in a taxpayer and government funded institution such as this. Maria, a taxpayer and an atheist, pays for these teachers to be in this school. She does not pay for her child to go to a school to learn about a God that her daughter knows nothing about nor one she (Maria) does not believe in. If a teacher were leading a prayer based on Islam, Judaism or any other religion, you can bet Christian parents would be throwing a fit (with the school scrambling to fix this), and yet, Maria is still waiting for answers to why such law breaking practices are allowed to occur in a school she helps to fund.

Every child has a right to pray if and when they want to, but it should not be required or led by a teacher or other authority figure at any public learning institution. Every child has a right NOT TO pray. I am sick of self-righteous people of any religion trying to stuff it down the throats of everyone around them. I am sick of them believing non-believers must be coerced to convert from their own beliefs. The forefathers believed religion was a private thing between man and whatever God (or lack thereof) he believed in. Thrusting religion into the public sector defies everything the forefathers stood for and disavows all of the freedoms they offered to American citizens.

This apparently, does not apply in North Carolina. If you don’t subscribe to the religious practices of the public school, you get punished. After Maria raised the issue, Bella was put out in the hall, so all the other little kids could be led in prayer. Bella was punished for upholding her constitutional rights; rights she is too young to understand she has. Instead, she just knows she is the one put out in the hall, while those in her classroom continues to break the law.

Technorati Tags: Religion in schools, Religious, Atheist, Eastern Wayne Elementary, Wayne County Schools, Children, God, Religion, Prayer, Prayer in School, Constitution, Illegal, Break Law

Ash shopped around for another school, both public and private, before deciding that homeschooling was the best option. A series of discriminatory instances at his public school (damaging incidents that no child should have to endure), led to his removal from public school. They were sending his work home for Ash to ‘make him do’ anyway, so why bother making him endure such a hate-filled, negative environment, when she was doing all the teaching?

The options for other schools were slim around here. With public school, he could face similar, negative environments (the school had a special ed trailer parked in the school lot for crap’s sake!). The private schools in the area wanted Ash to sign waivers allowing them to physically discipline CT in any way they saw fit. With a child who has mental health problems, and most educators unsure how to deal with these children, we saw daily beatings in his future. That does not help kids like CT. It just makes them mad and they act out worse than they do when they are misunderstood. Ash realized the travesty of such a situation and wisely declined enrolling him at one of these establishments.

So, back to my comment.

Here is what I said: “I homeschool my son to give him a better education.”

In his situation, the best education he can receive is at home. He does a lot more work, work that challenges him and work that does not assume he will never make something of himself. He’s reading classic literature, taking high school level courses, and taking part in college prep. He’s not spelling cat, because his teacher assumes he is a moron simply because he’s socially awkward. He is expected to perform on a level befitting his intelligence, and it may not always be easy to get him to do so, but when he does, knowing we didn’t give up on him is worth it.

Well, this simple little statement set off a hail storm. The teachers on my friends’ list and those related to teachers vehemently disagreed. There were cries of, “who said homeschool was better than public or private education in a school?” I guess I can understand that. If I’d have spent years in college to get a degree, I’d hate for others to assume it was worthless. I tried to explain I was not saying homeschool was better than public school. I was saying it was better for my son. While I believe homeschool has the potential to offer so much more than an in school education can, I also realize some parents SHOULD NOT homeschool. Some parents cannot homeschool. Their children need public school and in these instances, public school is the better option.

The discussion spiraled out to discuss how unsocialized homeschool kids are (proven to be not true except when kids are kept locked up/sheltered by parents). Some who were homeschooled themselves spoke out positively towards their experiences. Others took my stance, that it depended on the parents, children and the school environment in the area. I am just amazed at how polarizing a topic like homeschooling children can make people. It just adds to my belief that people find it hard to get along with those with whom they have differing opinions; a trend becoming more and more common with these new, later generations.

That brings me to the point of WHY I am writing this blog post. My little Facebook comment explosion made me reflect upon all of the problems with public education. I wasn’t hurt, but I was disappointed that some people felt Ash and I were making the wrong decision with home educating. It is our job as parents to determine what is best for our child and to be told that isn’t right is insulting. So, I began to think about all of the problems with educating in a classroom and this made me realize, our children aren’t safe anywhere.

This really has nothing to do with home education. I was just led down this path in a very twisted way by my comment on home education. This is about the safety of children and how that has changed since when I was a kid. At school, kids are not safe. It is less of a risk to imagine a child being kidnapped by a stranger or another, demented parent, at the school, especially since so many schools have police on campus, metal detectors, etc. The real concern is with those working at the school. Not all teachers, but some, and you never know which ones until it is too late, party with their students, have sex with their students, and do other crude and lascivious things with their students.

I was browsing the web recently and I saw a blog post (with pictures) of the Top 50 Most Infamous Female Teachers Involved in Sex Scandals. There are so many sex scandals in schools that they are able to make a Top 50 list. All of these teachers were semi-recent (90s and beyond). These were just the female teachers. There is no count out on the males, especially since male teachers who engage in such acts with their students get far less press than the females. We are shocked when a female teacher does such things, but apparently, it should be expected of the males. Why would I want to send my teenage son who has no ability to say no, even when he knows he should, into such an environment?

The sad truth is that our kids aren’t safe anywhere. They’ve been kidnapped and harmed from within their home. They’ve been snatched up on their way home from school or during recreational activities proceeding school. Playing in their yards with no parent watching every single second can mean a child could be snatched. Stores, restaurants, and other public places are just as vulnerable as neighborhood hangouts. So, where are our kids safe?

It is amazing the way my mind works. It is crazy that my brain got to this place and this question from where it started…on the benefits of homeschooling. That being said, it is a valid question. I would love to say kids are the safest at home with their parents. In most cases, they are. In some cases, it is the parent the child fears most, because they are the abusers. For those of us who aren’t abusing our kids, we cannot be with our children 24/7. We have to sleep. We cannot keep them locked up forever and not let them experience life. These things can happen in a split second, and they do happen.

So, where are our children safe? In this world…nowhere. We just have to hope that in the event something does happen, we did the best we could as parents to prepare them to fend for themselves.

Technorati Tags: homeschool, child safety, abuse, parenting, education, children, home education, thoughts, family, environment

My dad wasn’t the friendliest of guys. He was grumpy. He slammed the drawers on the cupboards. He swore and screamed at the television. He would get so angry he would shake. I knew how to push all his buttons and he mine. In many ways, I see how I’ve adopted some of his habits, especially yelling at the television when my team is losing and losing my cool relatively easily.

Davey, as I often called my dad, when I wasn’t calling him stupid or some other childish name, passed away eight years ago today. I have moved on and I don’t feel pain at his death, or regret about our failed relationship anymore. I’ve made my peace with my dad, and I’ve realized, he’d be more likely to accept me, as I am, then any of my other relatives, because deep down, that’s the kind of guy that he was. Sure, we’d fight, but I found, perhaps a little too late, that in the end, he had my back.

My dad and I did get along well, if we were on our own. Yes, this did happen. In fact, we spent the morning together (he took me to the doctor) the day he had the first of his four heart attacks. When he was sick, we talked on the phone every day.

Unless you knew my dad, you probably wouldn’t know he was deaf. Our phone conversations often consisted of him yelling “what?!” into the receiver and then eventually him asking the nurse to tell him what I said. I called him every day, but the day he died. I had two finals and a meeting that day, so by the time I got home it was 7 or 8 PM. Exhausted, I got into bed early that night, only to get out to head back to Toledo because he’d died.

My dad was a funny guy, in retrospect. We shared a love for music, obscure television shows, and sports. He was a rampant Ohio State Buckeyes fan. What started out as preteen rebellion grew into my longstanding love for the Michigan Wolverines. He would get so mad if my Wolverines won and I would gloat ceaselessly causing him to not talk to me for the day. Of course, if his Bucks managed a win (rare in the 90s), I never heard the end of it, either.

My dad was born to Polish speaking, first generation Polish Americans. He grew up speaking Polish and also could sing in Latin (something I assume he picked up at the Polish neighborhood/Catholic church he attended for church and school). Sometimes, when he’d take me to places alone, mainly events for MDA or when he took me to the Polish festival, he’d sing songs.

I assume they were church songs because they were in Polish and Latin. Despite being deaf and requiring the use of hearing aids, my dad had a nice, deep singing voice. When I’d ask him to teach me, he’d insist he didn’t know anything worth teaching. This was very frustrating, as I found my heritage quite intriguing. In the end, he would teach me how to count to three (how exciting) and I learned a few different swear words (like dupa – which he sometimes would call me in those early mornings when he woke me up for school – I’m sure he was joking, of course).

My dad showed he loved me in ways I never realized when I was growing up. They weren’t outright displays of affection, because I often thought he didn’t love me. For example, when I was little, I often had Vicks smeared over my chest and back. I hated Vicks. It’d make my skin burn and I remember crying because it hurt to wear it. My dad would hold me on his lap and it was one of the few times since I was a baby I’d let him hold me.

He also caught a fly ball for me during a NY Yankees/Cleveland Indians game. He later admitted it hurt like heck as the ball bruised his side from the impact of being hit so hard, but he wrestled it from a man who tried to snatch it from him, telling the guy it was for me. Of course, no man wants to look like a fool and take a ball from a kid in a wheelchair. My dad also took care of me when I got sick during that trip to Cleveland, too. He didn’t do anything but clean me up and tell me it’d be okay. He didn’t even say we had to go home. He let me stay and enjoy the game because afterwards I’d “felt better”.

I never realized until he was dying that all these things he did, these small things showed he loved me. It took me quite a few years of guilt-ridden shame to accept we’d made our peace before he died and to forgive myself for all the mean things I’d done to him. I know he forgives me though and I know he’s in a better place, free of pain and sickness.

Today, I don’t feel the guilt, the pain or the sadness I felt. I can finally say I have moved on. I will miss Davey Lawniczak and I will never forget him, but I know he’s on another plane of existence watching over me and encouraging me to scream at the television with him, whenever my favorite teams play.

Technorati Tags: my dad, death, anniversary, David Lawniczak, parent, mourn

Hoyer Lifts get people in wheelchairs in and out of bed and to their wheelchair. They are a safe way to lift a person with a physical disability. I once did unsafe transfers and that is how I fell and fractured my tibia, which created all kinds of other health problems. Now, I would be lost without my Hoyer lift.

My old Hoyer lift is manual. The pump gets stuck. The knob gets stuck, shooting me down towards the ground quickly and scarily. It’s starting to creak and groan. It’s over 5 years old, so it’s about time for a new one. The best, recommended option by my doctors is an electric Hoyer. My current insurance will not pay for the electrical part of the Hoyer. Since an electrical Hoyer is safer and the buttons won’t stick like the manual (a safety risk), we decided to hold a fundraiser to make money for the Hoyer.

I couldn’t just raise money for myself though. I decided to give 15% of the proceeds to a charity run by my friend, Danny Brown. 12for12k holds a charity event per month. 12 charities are chosen and the goal is to raise 12K ($12,000). This months charity was Hospice of Peel. My grandmother, Melba Ryan died in Hospice of Northwest Ohio on 12/17/08. Hospice is such a wonderful organization. They were amazing to my grandfather who lost his partner and wife of 69 years (4 of those courting).

So, I spent the whole weekend with Ashtyn on Twitter and Facebook. We posted and posted to raise money for the Hoyer and Hospice. Something happened today though. I was accused of running a scam and begging for money. It wasn’t by a stranger. It was by someone I’ve known my whole life.

I didn’t feel as bad for myself as I did for Danny and the cause I was raising money for. At the hint of accusations, our donations number dwindled and stopped. I then decided I’d give it all to Danny. It was drama that followed me around that had caused this shift in donations, but Danny would hear none of it. Like a prizefighter, he jumped to my defense. There was no proof to such allegations, anyway.

So, in stepped SuzeMuse to re-rally the troops and 30 minutes later, the donations started to pour in again. Everyone was so very supportive. People don’t like sabotage, especially when its clear the person having the fundraiser is only trying to do some good. With it down to the wire, we made our goal for the Hoyer and then some!

Well the first thing I did was make an announcement. I wouldn’t just give the 15% to Hospice of Peel. I would give $300. That left a little over $500 for my Hoyer. We could pay the rest out of pocket. Yes, we make enough to feed our family, clothe ourselves, and take care of our basic needs (a 4 person family). We are incredibly LUCKY and grateful in this respect.

That being said, when you are in a wheelchair you have MANY more expenses. Insurance doesn’t always pay for these expenses. In fact, some things no insurance will pay for (like van lifts) and government assistance is usually only available if you are under 18.

I am so grateful my friends were willing to help plan this fundraiser and help see it through. I HAPPILY donated $300 to Hospice of Peel (if you don’t believe me email Danny Brown through the 12for12k link up above — he will tell you he already received payment). I donated it in honor and in the memory of Melba Ryan. I want my grandmother to get the credit for this one. Noonie, I miss and love you. It is you who inspire me. It is you who I think of every day. It is you who I know would want me to donate to Hospice.

Thank you Noonie. The world was a better place with you in it, and now that you are gone, we will never forget.

Technorati Tags: Noonie, Danny Brown, Melba Ryan, donate, Hospice of People, In Memory, Melba Louise Ogle, Hoyer Lift, Thank you, donation, charity