I'm thrilled to share that Ben's wheelchair arrived before year's end, tacking the cost onto the long ago met deductible. Day one he practiced in the house. Day two he maneuvered on a quiet street. Day three he practiced on the gym floor at school, and this weekend he took it from home to the local bakery and back again with only minimal assistance. His poor hands were blistered and sore after the gym experience so I ordered him some bicycle gloves in matching red. It really is an exciting new world of independence for him. I'm starting to feel like high school isn't such an impossibility. Ben, who usually prefers to be home, has been asking to go places. That alone makes the whole process worthwhile. This chair is so much heavier than the loaner due to the power wheels that weigh about 25 pounds a piece. Right now the only way I can transport it is to break it down each time. We're looking into a foldable portable ramp, but I'm wondering if I have the strength to push the chair up the ramp into the van. If you give a mouse a cookie...
We had planned to host a party for some friends this past weekend, but the illnesses of said friends caused us to postpone. We'd already thawed the turkey, so we had to cook it. We tried to come up with a last minute dinner party of people we hadn't seen in awhile, but in the end, it was Chappy we were meant to feed. We had a big Gaudate Sunday celebration complete with Nerf war and it was joyful.
Sadly, a flu like fever has kept me from both of Alex and Gigis' Christmas programs and our big PSR neediest cases wrapping party. I think this year has been record breaking in mom illness. I haven't been this sick since my first year of teaching. The blame lies with lack of sleep and preschool germs. I raise my glass of Nyquil to a healthier 2015!
|Ready to Sing!|
Mom: Alex! Why haven't you emptied the dishwasher yet?
Alex: Sorry, God distracted me.
|Reading the Bible is effective anti-nag defense|
Gigi (pointing to our sofa): Is this an attack couch?
Gigi: Like the devil sits on a attack couch?
Mom: If the devil doesn't like it, he can sit on a tack. Ouch!