Monday, October 31, 2011

In The Spirit!

This darling card was made by Claire & Lola, with the help of our new babysitter, Tracey!  LOVE IT!!!

We are officially in the Halloween spirit here in The Hooligan House!  We are decked out with costumes & festive gear galore.  It's a real hot mess treat!  In an hour or so (maybe a little later for our Barf-O-Rama/Reflux Queen -- AKA Lola... yikes!), I'll get the girls suited up in their costumes & get ready to show off what I believe to be -- quite possibly -- the most awesomest costumes on the planet.  Oh yes... our dwarves will NOT disappoint this year!!!  Stay tuned for pics in the next day or two!

The past week has been filled with parties & festivities geared toward Halloween, and I wanted to share a few snapshots with you while I had a few minutes...
Our Old School Rapper in full effect, y'all...

Kaitlyn & Cal, on their way to a Halloween Party last week.  And yes, yes that IS a duct tape dress/boot ensemble.  Our girl, Kaitlyn has mad duct tape creation skillz... seriously, UNBELIEVABLE!!!

During Occupational Therapy last week, Claire & Lola both made shaving cream/glue spider webs with Shelly (who ALWAYS does the *coolest* art activities with them!).  Unfortunately, I only got to eyewitness Claire's escapades, as I had to take a phone call during Lola's antics therapy time.  I clicked through these pictures on my computer, and I swore they told a story.  A story I liked a WHOLE LOT.  No one can EVER say our Mimi cannot communicate... nosireebob.  Emotions.  On sleeve.  CHECK!

I am sooooooooo done!!!!!  HA! 

Claire chose the orange spider, and Lola was left with the black.  And the answer is YES -- Scott, Cal, & I were ALL shocked that Lola's was the "neater" of the two.  This is rare!!!  Shelly said she was "in the zone" -- emotionally frozen -- during her masterpiece.  HA!  I fully intend to bust out the shaving cream about 3:00 am next time that dwarf decides to NOT SLEEP! 

Happy Halloween from all The Hartley Hooligans!!!

Romeo  ~  Photo by Cal
"I'll bet living in a nudist colony takes all the fun out of Halloween."
~Author Unknown

Monday, October 24, 2011

So much more...

“Why fit in when you were born to stand out?”  ~ Dr. Seuss

Claire... Oh, how I love you!!! 

When you are in my arms, you make me feel like ME.  You calm me.  You melt into me in such a way that I forget where you end & I begin.  You feel like an extension of myself  ~  my heart, my soul, my reason for being here  ~  all wrapped into one.  I remember saying when you were born that I'd NEVER be the same EVER AGAIN, and at that time, the mere thought of that TERRIFIED ME because I worried I'd lose you early on & I'd spend the rest of my life grieving.  Or that I'd be thrust into this "special needs world" that I wasn't so sure I wanted to be a part of at that time. 

My, how my views have changed over the years... how much I've grown... how far I've come... how much deeper I am capable of loving than I ever knew to be possible.  Every day I am amazed by the strength you possess.  The wisdom in your eyes.  The "knowing" that I feel in you when I hold you.  You are *so much more* than most of the world gives you credit for.  Long gone are the days I ache for you to walk or talk, and that desire is almost comical to me now because I remember back to that first year & how I SOOOO craved that.  I SOOOOO longed for development to occur which somehow in my mind equalled HAPPINESS -- for you and me. 

Nope, no more do I wish for that, Claire.  (Unless you decide you want/need to do that.)  Now, I live in the moment as much as I possibly can.  I cherish the little things, celebrate what most may consider minor or even insignificant accomplishments, and revel in the most important fact of all  ~  YOU ARE HERE. 

Check this out...
Yes, you are officially on your tummy, pushing yourself up & ENJOYING IT!!!
NO CLUE what the little red spot is on her right calf... think she had boots on & the other leg rubbed it?! 
Cal & I were SOOOOO proud!!!  He held her arm so she didn't base jump/face-plant off my bed.  LOL


My girl is SO HAPPY!!!!!!!
(But damn that Spastic Quad Cerebral Palsy making her legs cross!  But look how my girl uses her tone & makes this whole thing work?!  She's f'ing AMAAAAAAAZING.)

Showin' off!  Look at her push up!  OMFG!!!!!

Claire is seeing right now... notice the focus.  Suck on that, Dr. T., our former neurologist who said she didn't see a thing!!!

MORE GRINS!  Love this girl o' mine.  SO MUCH.  xo

We are also so grateful for her new Special Tomato Chair (Thanks, Rachel & Sophia!), which is allowing her the chance to sit upright supported, be zoomed around the house on our hardwood floors, and most of all, DANCE!  We spin her around & around, and it makes her smile!!!
I heart your knobby knees.

First time in a long time that we have seen her legs APART & not scissored.  LOVE THIS CHAIR SO MUCH!

Just so incredibly PROUD of my Claire-bug, my Mimi, my Buggy-Boo!  Proud that she is making strides in development at her own rate, proud of her little grins/personality showing through, and proud that she can make faces as AWESOME as these:

Can you tell she was pissed at me for waking her up to feed/change her?!   DIVA!!!!!!!   I wish she'd not be afraid to tell me how she REALLY feels!   HA!
If only we'd crossed Mr. Fake-Tiny-Skeleton's legs... they'd be twinkies!  And holy balls, Claire's head looks ENORMOUS compared to this guy's melon!!!!!!  HA!  (First time ever!  LOL)
Happy Monday from our Mimi...  xoxo

Muscles/extreme ripping courtesy of CP365X (a Hartley made-up sister program to P90X!  HA!)
CP = Cerebral Palsy, 365 days a year, and her beautiful, scissored legs form a perfect X!!!!!!  BRING IT!  LOL 

Buff beauty!

"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go..."

~ Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You'll Go!

Monday, October 10, 2011

The Shitstorm

I've gotta be honest and upfront here.  I don't want you to think you're coming here to read this post and it's going to be all fun & games, flowers & rainbows, something inspirational, or a real fabulous end to your day, because IT'S NOT GONNA BE.  This post is gonna get ugly.  REAL QUICK.  If you are squeamish, you *MIGHT* not want to read past this point.  Just "X" outta this bad boy PRONTO.  Trust me, you'll thank me for the warning.

Those of you who are making the poor choice of reading on, I apologize in advance for this crappy manifesto.  It's a real load of shit, straight up.  Really, I'm sooooo sorry.  I've been absent for 10 days & THIS is the ish I come up with?!  Damn. 

OK, so yesterday was going to be a fun, family day.  We were headed over to celebrate my niece's 10th birthday, stopped to pick up a veggie tray at the local Dillon's store, and I sent Scott in to grab it while I stayed in the car with Cal & the girlies.  Easy peasy.  He'd be in & out and we'd be off to the party on time, for once!!!  SHOCKING, I know, but I was feelin' good about it. 

Cal & I are chatting away while we wait for Scott to come out with the goods when I spot him exit the premises, heading our way.  Instantly I smell poop.  Maybe one of the dwarves is "prairie doggin' it."  No wait... it's not that hint-of-a-turd, fart-like aroma which dissipates rapidly.  It's that full-on, disgusting, rank, hideous feces stench that hits you like a ton of bricks THAT EXACT MOMENT, you feel nauseous, and you vomit a little in your mouth.  And seriously, we have a PARTY to get to!  We don't have time for someone to grow a tail, for the love of God!!!!!!

I scream, "I SMELL SHIT!  Someone shit on the coats (for you Dane Cook fans!)!!!!  Seriously, Scott, CHECK MIMI.  I think she shit like 3 seconds ago."

Scott says, "Gwen, she's clean." 

I question, "Cal, did you fart?  And do you have MAJOR intestinal distress if you did?!?!" 

Cal retorts, "NO!  IT WASN'T MEEEEE!!!!"

I panic.  I know that it can only be one person then.  And that one person is sitting directly ON MY LAP.  And she didn't strain.  AND she looks guilty.  And it smells like straight cha-cha.  I lift her up rapidly & take a whiff, and folks, it was THE WORST, most FOUL-SMELLING Dump of the Century.

As soon as I realize the culprit, I swiftly set her back down on my lap, muttered the F word, got in a huff about being on time & not having time for Pocket to "drop the kids off at the pool" as we've got a party to get to, and as I let go of her, I realize that my hand is.... ummmm... WET.  And brown.  More vomit in mouth.  OMFG.  We've got B.M., folks.  &*#$!!!!!

I turn Lola's ass around to get a better look -- and yes, all of this IS still occurring in the back seat of our truck (which is just one year old & seriously Scott's pride & joy STILL...) -- NOT GOOD.  REALLY not good.  Let's just say this wasn't exactly a minor dingleberry to blame, a simple shitkabob, a run-of-the-mill dookie.  This was a liquid shitstorm of epic proportions... Mississippi Mud at it's finest... the work of a massive dose of Super Colon Blow.... Queen of the Sharts.  BRUTAL, yo.

What ensued after this moment is but a blur to me now... a frightening blur.  I'll do my best to recount, with more apologies, of course. 

OK, so somehow, Polly Ann Pocket, all 9-10 whopping pounds of her, managed to defecate in her diaper in such a way that it not only filled the diaper itself & perhaps slightly escaped one or maybe even both leg holes... but instead she magically channeled this effortless, non-straining poo out a SINGLE leg-hole with such velocity and force that it actually was bubbling out through her darling, boutique sweater pants onto my hand and jeans and a burp rag in the general vicinity of this caca.  It was one of those deuces where you almost don't even know where to start... how to proceed to rectum-fy... oops!!!... I mean RECTIFY the situation. 

Scott tried to play it off on me, saying, "Since I'm The Shit Whisperer and all, I end up changing WAYYYYY more shitty diapers than you, so I'm just gonna let you handle this one." 

I freak out, yelling, "Ummm, heeeeeeeeeeeeell no, get your ass over here & help me!  This is wayyyyy more than a one-person job.  I need you -- right f'ing NOW!!!!!" 

He hems & haws, then finally saunters over, sees the wreckage, and I think, fearing for his truck, decides he might want to help me after all.  We both aren't sure where to start, Polly Ann is looking innocent as ever, and we're both in a full lather trying to get her disrobed while also maintaining the safety of the truck, its surroundings, my clothes, the seat, the door, the door jam, the floor, and our dung-covered daughter. 

My mind is racing... what did she eat different than normal?  OK, that would be NOTHING.  Is she sick?  Ummm, NO.  Has she been really fussy?  Not a bit.  Did she sleep well last night?  Ironically, she HAD.  Anything different going on whatsoever?  ZILCH.  What the F is going on then?!??!?  FULL MOON!??!?!  F'in A.

I barely know where to touch, what to try to remove, it's all a clusterf***.  Scott dives into the skids, carefully pulls the pants down to expose Mrs. Poopypants' blow-out, which by this time has smeared down to her SOCK on that one leg.  We act fast, remove the socks, curse some more, make note of Polly Ann's amused look on her face, proceed with pant-removal only to realize it's wayyyyy worse than we thought.  FUDGE EVERYWHERE.  Smell intensifying.  Nausea in waves.  I'm in Turd Town, and Lola's the Mayor. 

OK, pants off, socks off, leg COVERED in doodoo, we send Cal into the store to grab a few plastic grocery bags for the fall-out.  One for baby wipes/diaper/trash/possible vomit, and one for the clothes.  Half-way through the clean-up, we realize that's not enough.  We send him back in for more bags.  We need to divide the clothing into TWO bags.  One that is only partially soiled, and one that is completely drenched in warm trots.  Cal remained at our sides, opening the bags & providing commentary as needed.  Good times.

As soon as the clothing was completely removed, I tackled my jeans/lap skids with a baby wipe, only to smear it in further, I'm sure, but at least most of the stain was "gone."  It would have to do, as I didn't have back-up jeans on hand, dammit.  After I scrubbed my jeans for like 3 straight minutes until the baby wipe wore completely through, we cleaned up Mrs. Pocket's cling-ons.  27 baby wipes later, swabbing from mid-back to ankles, we had 'er whooped.  (as well as ourselves, but that's a whole 'nother story...)

Our daughter is now nekked, in a new, fresh, clean diaper, and ready to take on the world after her run-in with Mr. Hankey, who clearly reigned victorious.  I dig to the bottom of the diaper bag, which I admit, I've not cleaned out or "updated" in quite some time.  I seem to just toss a few new diapers/burp rags on top & NEVER check to see if I've got back-up outfits on board.  Until today...

It seemed a fitting "punishment" for Polly Pocket to have to wear a hospital, baby bag, newborn-sized, one-piece number (which fit her PERFECTLY, ironically... *sigh*) to the party instead of her cute, festive Halloween get-up.  Karma, babyyyy.  She seemed smug after taking me to Browntown.  Maybe even happier in this outfit than her previous adorable one.  Brat!  HA!  (kidding... sort of!)

iPhone snapshots from the car (excuse the blurs -- Scott was driving like a bat out of Hades to get us to the party on time.  I'm happy to report that we made it with 1 minute to spare!  YESSSSS!)...
Notice the witchy barrette... it perfectly completed her Halloween garb till she ruined it allllllllll!!!!  HA!

What did I doooooo????
Notice the plethora of burp rags under her volatile booty?!  Ummm, yeah.  Necessary for this Mama's peace of mind!!!

I present you with the evidence... you are damn lucky I didn't take pics with my iPhone "at the scene."  You're welcome.
I will luckily only bless you with the view from the outside... observe shit stains/fecal matter from hell smeared all over the inside of the bag... ewwww. 

Later that evening, Lola tried to charm me at the birthday party by looking SUPER cute in my niece's new American Girl doll's glasses.  Cal NEVER thought they'd fit her, but they were PERFECT.  I'm gonna have to bookmark the American Girl website now for Mrs. Pocket.  Greeeeeeat.

I SO love this #2 girl o' mine.  :) 

And again, I am so sorry for the graphic images, 39+ crap references, and for detailing out our daughter's shart attack.  My apologies!!! 

"When you're up to your nose in shit, keep your mouth shut."  ~Jack Beauregard

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