Sweet Freedom!

Bob will be on a train in approximately 30 minutes to go see the egg donor for a week. Hallelujah! I am going to enjoy this week....a break is LONG overdue. Merry Christmas everyone!

Mishaps with a plunger

Last night I about packed my bags and moved out....for good.

It started when our 4 year old came running up the stairs to report the downstairs bathroom toilet was plugged up. The only one who uses the toilet in the downstairs bathroom is Bob. No one else is brave enough to go in there...it truly is HIS bathroom. I told Bob to grab the plunger and go take care of it. He hollers from the bathroom "Hey, I don't think I did this...the water is really brown". Newsflash Bob...that is what happens when turds sit in water for who knows how long. We tell him to just plunge it and get it over with.

Next we hear Bob say "Hey, do you guys want me to rinse off the plunger?" The hubby happened to look down the stairs and see Bob standing in the hallway, plunger in hand with it dripping all over the carpet. The look on the hubby's face made me get up and go take a look. I quickly told Bob to get his butt back into the bathroom and sarcastically said I didn't really want poo-water on the carpet!! I couldn't believe it! I swear, just when you think there could be no more stupidity....SURPRISE!

I told Bob that yes, he needed to rinse off the plunger. I walked away. Trying with all I had to keep my cool. To a normal person rinsing the plunger would mean flushing the toilet and rinsing it in the clean water. To Bob that meant putting the plunger in the sink. I heard the water running and went back downstairs...praying I wouldn't find what I suspected I would. Sure enough...there was Bob holding the plunger in one hand under the sink faucet and WIPING THE PLUNGER OFF WITH HIS OTHER HAND!! There are no words for this. As I write this I feel myself getting angry again.

Note to self: Do not shake Bob's hand....ever.

By the light of the saber...

Bob has a pretty strict bed time because he has such a hard time getting up in the morning. If he wants to read before bed, he needs to do it before 'lights out' time. One night as the hubby was going up the stairs (at about 11:00pm...well past Bob's bed time) he noticed a faint glow coming from Bob's room. The hubby opened the door to find Bob laying on his bed holding his light saber and reading his book. Wow. Desperate times call for desperate measures apparently. Bob just gave him that deer in the headlights look and didn't say a word. He shut off his light saber and closed his book. The door got closed and everyone went to bed. One of these days Bob will realize that putting a blanket, shirt or pillow in front of his door would eliminate the chance of us seeing any light coming through under the door. I'm not going to be the one to share this secret. It's pretty funny how un-sneaky Bob is.

The mother of all gifts

Bob came home from school with quite a little trinket today. In honor of "Vader's" arm break he was awarded a certificate for bravery with the name DARTH VADER printed on it. As if that wasn't good enough he was also given a light saber. That's right...a light saber. To any "normal" teenage boy this would have been embarrassing...but to Bob it meant everything. I'm just glad Dr. Marvin convinced Bob to tuck it away under his coat while walking home from school. There is no doubt in my mind that Bob would have been fighting invisible Star Wars creatures on the way home if that conversation hadn't taken place. So THANK YOU DR. MARVIN. Bob loves his light saber. It's so special to him that he won't let his 4 year old brother play with it. He is also holding his certificate close to his heart because I cannot find it anywhere. I wanted to scan it in for the world to see, but it is nowhere to be found. I assume Bob carries it with him at all times. Thanks to the school and Dr. Marvin for making Bob feel even more "special" than he already is. :)

Vader is down!

I'd like to start by apologizing for the lengthy post that is coming. There are far too many details and none can be excluded from the story. So here we go...

I'll start with a little background on "Vader". According to Bob's school counselor, Bob has the grand idea that he is going to dress as Darth Vader for senior prom and his graduation ceremony. My husband and I were not aware of this plan. Bob has more than likely kept it from us because he knows what our reaction would be. Therefore Bob now has the nickname of "Vader" which the school counselor and other staff members use when referencing him. Fantastic.

So a couple of weeks ago I get a call from the school saying Bob was badly injured in P.E. and the school nurse thought he had broken his arm. She told me I needed to come pick him up right away and take him to the emergency room. Luckily the hubby was here that day so he ventured off to the school to retrieve his son.

When the hubby arrived at the school, he met up with Dr. Marvin and went to the nurses office. Dr. Marvin asked the nurses if Bob was ready to go and one of them replied "yes, we're just waiting for his father to get here." What makes this funny is that the hubby was standing right there, in plain sight. I still think the hubby should have requested a DNA test back in the day, but what do you do? There is no physical or mental comparison between Bob and his dad. After they left I guess the nurses were asking if that really was Bob's biological father. Priceless.

They headed straight to the hospital. I'm so glad I was able to stay home and have the following conversations with some of the faculty of the school.

First I spoke to the school nurse to see if there was any explanation of what happened in P.E. that day. I was told that the class was playing soccer and for whatever reason Bob decided to try and stop the ball with his hand (no, he was not goalie). He ended up falling and landing on his arm.

Lesson #1: Teach Bob to play soccer with feet....not hands.

My husband called from the hospital saying Bob did in fact break his arm. They had him pumped full of morphine and were going to try and set the bones. Both bones above the wrist were snapped completely through.

Lesson #2: Bob on morphine = Bob speaking Spanish.

Apparently once Bob had some good drugs flowing through his veins, he felt as though he needed to speak Spanish. I'd like to add here that Bob did not do well in his Spanish class last year. I can only imagine how entertaining and irritating this was.

The next day I gave Dr. Marvin (Bob's counselor) a call to see if there was any more information on how this happened. I certainly wasn't looking for someone to blame, we know that Bob is very uncoordinated and doesn't really pay attention to anything. Bob changed his story about three times when trying to remember what happened, so I figured I'd ask someone else. It was about this time that my conversation with Dr. Marvin went from good to great. He didn't really know any of the details, but informed me of how he was made aware of Bob's accident. Dr. Marvin was on the phone when his secretary came by his office. She indicated she needed to tell him something, and she proceeded to say "Vader is down! Vader is down!" Until that moment I had no idea they referred to Bob as "Vader" but I about lost it. I was laughing so hard it was difficult to breathe.

After spending all afternoon at the hospital, Bob and the hubby came home and indicated Bob would need pins put in his arm to help set the bones. Great, just great. Sad to say but I was actually a little bit irritated by this. The last thing I wanted was Bob lurking around the house all day. Have I mentioned how much I love public education? (Just a side note there). I really do cherish my 6 hours of Bob-free time during the week.

The following day we got a call from the substitute teacher that was in the P.E. class the day Bob had his accident. He spoke to the hubby briefly, just checking in and seeing how Bob was doing. I thought to myself, 'wow, that sure was nice that the teacher cared enough to call.' Then it hit me. More than likely he was doing damage control seeing as how we live in such a sue-happy world. The school had no need to worry about us pursuing damages. We know the kind of kid we're dealing with here. He can barely walk in a straight line and chew gum at the same time. There is always some sort of "distraction" that causes him to fall or walk into something.

When the hubby got off the phone, he indicated how nice the teacher was and told me his name. "Um...what?!?" was my reply. He had to say it again just so I could be sure. Surely there couldn't be two of these men walking around our town with the same name. I knew exactly who he was....and I debated on whether or not to call him back and say hi. I knew this man very well when I was in high school...he was my basketball coach and I was friends with one of his kids. I swallowed my pride and got his number off the caller ID. He was slightly confused as to why I was calling him and how in the world I got his number. I explained that he just talked to my husband about my step-son Matt. PURE SILENCE! I don't think he knew what to say. He laughed and said "are you serious? I would have never connected the dots on that one!" I have never in my life been complimented so highly. Ha ha ha. I hang onto those words every time I'm having a bad day....just knowing that it's obvious Bob isn't my biological son. The teacher and I shared some good laughs and he shed a little light on how the accident happened. The story is as follows:

The class that day was playing soccer. Bob spent the first half of class coming up with excuses as to why he couldn't participate. "I'm thirsty"..."I'm too tired to play"...etc. The teacher kept trying to encourage Bob. He'd say things like "your team needs you"...."come on Bob, get out there and play, they could use your help!" I guess the teacher finally got through to him and even got him excited about playing. That is when it happened. Bob took his first steps onto the playing floor and dove for the ball. No one is quite sure (including Bob) why he dove for the ball. He dove, fell and landed on his arm.

It was nice to be able to catch up with this teacher and we shared some good laughs about the incident. Good gracious what a small world.

So there is the story of the infamous arm break. More to follow....

Um....we have clippers for that

I'm not really sure I even want to write this, but it has to be done. The other night I knocked and quickly entered Bob's bedroom to let him know it was time for lights out. What I saw was the one of the most horrific things ever. It certainly could have been worse, but it was bad. There was Bob perched on his bed with his toes in his mouth. I asked him what in the world he was doing. He just looked at me with that crazy, glassy-eyed, 20 foot stare in a 10 foot room and said "Huh? Oh, my toenails are pretty long, gotta take care of that". Are you kidding me?? I didn't know whether to puke or smack him in the head. I let him know that we are the proud of owners of not only one, but several fingernail/toenail clippers and asked him to please use them next time. Two and a half years until graduation (hopefully). I can do this.....I can do this.

Lead Kindly Light

We have the best neighbors ever. It just so happens that we attend the same church as them. Since the day we moved in they have been so kind and friendly. We are truly lucky. They happen to have a son that is a couple of years older than Bob. When Bob moved here he was a freshman in high school and the neighbor's son was a senior. The son was undoubtedly very popular and had a lot of friends. This made me nervous because Bob tends to latch onto people quickly and I have never wanted to have "that kid" that people have to tolerate. The son was always so nice and willing to help Bob get acclimated to the school. He even let Bob sit with them at lunch. We are truly grateful for this...we know it made Bob's transition to the school a little easier.

Once Bob feels he has a friend in place he will ultimately take advantage of that friendship. I don't feel it's intentional on his behalf, but still. One instance that made me want to crawl under a rock happened a few months before school was out. Since we and our neighbors attend the same church, Bob and their son would be at activity nights at the same time. Bob would always ride his bike over to the church while the son would drive. On one particular night the activity ran a little long and it became dark outside. Bob, having nerves of steel apparently, asked the neighbor's son to follow him home while he road his bike. The reason? Because there are a lot of cracks in the sidewalks. The headlights would help lead the way. Are you kidding me?? We don't live in Mayberry. There ARE street lights along the roads. Good grief. The visual in my head still makes me shudder. A tall, lanky, uncoordinated kid on his bike....riding SLOW....and the poor guy in the car following the kid on the bike, cursing under his breath and giving Bob the finger. Just goes to show how truly great our neighbors are. I'm sure their son could not move away to college fast enough! Hopefully there are no Bob's waiting in the wings for him there.