Sophie on her bike October 24, 2010. About two & a half weeks after her delays became apparent.

Part 1 of this story is here. You’ll want to read it first.

I want to try and tell you what it felt like to be told how significant Sophie’s developmental delays were.  Not just to be told, but to understand that you don’t know what you thought you knew.  That your reality is…not reality at all.

We buried my Grandpa on Wednesday.  Sophie had speech therapy that day, and as she and Joshua were too young, I felt, to attend the funeral, we sent Joshua to school and my friend Luanne took Sophie for the day and took her to therapy.  I sent a note with Luanne, asking Tanya, her therapist to call me.

Tanya called me on Thursday.  I think I went over the list of the preschool teacher’s concerns with her.  And then I asked her, “So can you tell me, how far behind on speech is Sophie?  Like, six months, a year?”

That was what I thought.  Six months, a year max.  After all, Sophie was three years and 11 months old, and she had known all her letters since age 2, all her colors, shapes, etc.  She even could recognize several words.  She had a great vocabulary, but she didn’t converse or answer questions.  I knew she was smart.  And stubborn. She was smart, sweet, and crazy.

“Her delay is significant.”  Tanya said.

“Significant?”

She then rattled off some test scores, and then admonished that “standardized tests are not the end-all be-all.”

“How far behind is she?”

“Her test scores were that of a child aged two years and four months.”

Sophie was three years and 11 months old.

“How long do you think she’ll need therapy?”

“She will likely need therapy for three to four years.”

Suckerpunch.  No words.  I don’t remember the rest of the conversation, except that Tanya offered to write a letter to Sophie’s teachers telling them how they could help her and what sort of expectations they should have for her, and to call and talk to them about it.

More crying. I called my husband, and my mom.  Cried some more. I made an appointment with Sophie’s pediatrician.  My mom started making calls to get information about getting Sophie into a preschool program that would be more appropriate for a child with her level of language delay.

Immediately, even through our shock and grief (yes, grief.  This sort of thing, a friend told me, has to be grieved.), we got the ball rolling on getting Sophie back on track.  A pediatrician appointment, a referral for an occupational therapy evaluation (they couldn’t get her in for three weeks), and phone calls and appointments to get Sophie into a preschool program for kids with developmental delays in our local public schools.  And almost immediately I started working with her at home on her hand strength and cutting as well as her speech.

But I was scared, you guys.  I was so, so scared.  I cried for days.  Howling, wailing, keening.  Like, I lost my sh*t. For at least two weeks, I would say probably close to a month, I didn’t talk to my close friends about any of this.  I couldn’t talk about it without wailing.  I am pretty sure Bobby thought I would never be normal again.  Joshua, who not quite seven, asked over and over, “Why is mommy crying?”  Sophie didn’t say much but did wipe away some of my tears at times, and snuggle me. Really the only people I talked to about it were Bobby, my mom, and Emily.  And Emily I just talked to about it over instant messenger because I can’t wail over instant messenger and therefore was much easier to understand.  I think I texted Cortney a little about it.  As much as I could stand.  I wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed or angry, but I was terrified.  ”What if she can’t learn?” I asked Bobby over and over.  He tried to reassure me.  I KNEW she was smart, I KNEW she could learn, after all, it was because of all she COULD do that I had failed to realize how much she couldn’t do.

My mom told me that first day, that Tuesday, “The Lord made her, and the Lord’s going to take care of her.” I held on to that.  I cried and prayed to God, to help me to help Sophie.  To do the right things for her.  To put the right people in our lives to help her.

Praying comforted me, and I know God heard me.  But still the fear.  The fear was paralyzing.

To be continued.

About a month ago, Kate and I packed up and headed to Beaverton, OR to visit the Nike world headquarters. As I told you then, it was an incredible trip.

Here are some highlights:

Aren’t I a good videographer? Just kidding, that video was courtesy of the Nike paparazzi who joined us that day (as are some of the other pictures in this post!).

The main focus of the event was the Nike Free line of shoes. They were kind enough to give each blogger and child a pair of their own, and let’s just say you could see our group coming!

These are the shoes that were waiting for me when we arrived at our hotel.

I am far too practical to ever have picked out bright orange/pink shoes… but I love them! The color makes them so much fun to wear – I am not exaggerating when I say that multiple people have pulled their cars over, rolled down their windows, and complimented my shoes as I’ve walked through town.

What I really love about my Nike Free shoes, though, is that I know they’re good for my feet. After having learned about all the science and testing that went into making them, I am totally confident in them.

And I have been walking in them a lot. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it on the blog yet, but I recently registered for a three-day, 60-mile walk. I know. Pure and total insanity, but a dear friend asked me to do it, and, you know, peer pressure and all that. So anyway, the walk isn’t until October but I am three or four weeks in to the 25-week training plan, so my Nike Free shoes and I have traveled nearly 40 miles together. Which means I’ve had a lot of time to think about how they perform! One thing I continually think of is one of the Nike guys saying they were designed so that the wearer can “feel the ground.” I didn’t quite get what he was saying at the time, and frankly I don’t have a good way to explain it in words here, but it’s true. I can really feel the details in the ground when I wear them. I know that makes no sense, but buy some and I promise you’ll be all “Oh, THAT’S what Emily meant!”

The first few times I wore them, my feet and shins were sore. Had I not known that that was the point, I may not have thought they were great shoes. But, that is the point – not being sore, necessarily, but the shoes are designed to strengthen foot, ankle and leg muscles. Strong muscles = fewer injuries. So, while they took some getting used to, I’m completely confident that they are the best shoes for me to wear while training and during the actual walk.

So confident, in fact, that I saw another pair of Nike Free shoes on sale over the weekend, and I had to buy them.

Look how bend-y they are!

They’ll live in my closet for a few months, I’m sure, but I will need them eventually! I am not the only one who loves these shoes, either – when I was buying my second pair, I overheard a teenaged boy telling his mom she should buy some Nike Free like he has, and when the salesperson brought my shoes to me, he said “These are great shoes – I have the men’s version myself.” It was like a Nike Free fan club.

My husband and both kids are also members of that fan club – I bought Andy and Sam a pair at the company store when we were on our trip, and they both love them as well. Just a couple days ago, Sam was putting on his shoes and he was talking about when I brought them back for him as a present from our trip. He said “I wasn’t really suspecting shoes for a present. But they grew on me and now I really like them!”

Kate (who is impossible about shoes. Impossible.) loves hers as well, and she can’t wait for the ones she designed herself to be delivered to our house!

Jill wrote in her recap of the trip that she’ll never buy another brand of sneaker – and I must say, I am right there with her. Nike Free forever!

*********
Kids Nike FREE Run: If your feet flex, shouldn’t your shoes flex too? Must-have flexibility for young feet.

Disclosure: Compensation was provided by Nike via Glam Media. The opinions expressed herein are those of the author and are not indicative of the opinions or positions of Nike.

Let’s start with handbags, because they’re my favorite.

This is the Canvas and Leather Stripe Medium Tote.

I love this bag so much! I just love the look and style, and I also love the functionality – the sides unzip to provide more space if needed. I took this when Kate and I went to Portland, and it held my iPad and everything I needed for our flights.

Jenny and I also both carried the Linen and Leather Totes.

Here’s Jenny carrying it in red.

Those last two bags are also currently on sale, in case you need a late Mother’s Day present for yourself!

This Straw Market Tote was my traveling bag – it was perfect for the flights, as well as for the conference… plenty of room for my iPad, conference book, notes, etc. And it is so cute!

Ok, let’s move on… how about some shoes??

When we were waiting in the airport for our first flight, I texted this picture to my friend Gina, with the message “I am sort of obsessed with these shoes.” She immediately responded “Adorbs!! I can see why!!”

Those are the Parker Mid Wedge Knotted Espadrilles and they are also on sale right now! I may have to order the gingham ones.

We both wore the Hadley Linen Mid Wedge Quarter Strap Sandals, Jenny in Classic Navy and me in Natural (with red accents).

Gorgeous, and so comfortable.

Another one of my favorites was the Trista Mid Wedge Leather Slingback Espadrilles.

I think I will probably wear these just about every day all summer. They are perfect for work because they are dressy, cute, and extremely comfortable.

Let’s see… what else.

We also both wore the Amelia Embroidered Closed-back Braided Thongs – Jenny wore the white ones and I wore the Luggage Tan ones to the White Party, and I wore the Cayenne to the Friday night beach party. They also come in Gunmetal and Algae, both of which are lovely as well.

We also wore pearls!! Here’s me with the Pearl Torsade Necklace and Jenny with the Fresh Water Pearl Endless Strand Necklace.

And finally… bathing suits. I think you all know how we feel about Lands’ End bathing suits, but if it’s possible I think we love them even more now than we did before.

Here’s a picture of us on the beach!

Sorry, but that’s as close to you’re getting of pictures of us in bathing suits! But here are the ones we wore.

Jenny went with the Floral Beach Print Tankini, with this cute matching Shadow Floral Chiffon Cover-up Pareo.

I went with the new Lands’ End Swim Mates, and I loooooooooove it. It might be my favorite suit ever. Here’s the deal with Swim Mates, as described by our new friend Nicole Feliciano from MomTrends.

Mix and match swim wear – Love it.

There you have it… how we accessorized for Mom 2.0. Lands’ End had absolutely everything we needed to look and feel great all weekend long!

Sophie on her first day of preschool, September 7, 2010. Age 3 years, 10 months.

I’ve never written this story before because it is hard.  But like I said, it’s time to start telling more of the hard stories.  I want be able to tell it all at once.  I’m not sure how many posts it will take.

It was October 5, 2010. It was a Tuesday. I was about seven months pregnant, and my Grandpa had been dead for three days.  That Saturday night, I had to call my cousin Mackenzie and tell her that Grandpa had died.  Mackenzie had come with her toddler from North Carolina and had been at my grandparents’ house all day.  Grandpa had been failing for a few weeks but he was…he was ok that day.  He was joyful at meeting Mackenzie’s daughter, Molly, for the first time.  Mackenzie fully expected to see him again the next day.

Mackenzie and Molly came to my house for dinner.  We had an awesome time.  Then they went back to their hotel.  By the time they got there, our Grandpa had died of a massive heart attack in his bathroom.  My mom called me.  Grandma can’t get the bathroom door open.  Rescue squad on the way.  She calls again.  Grandpa passed away.  Can I call Mackenzie?

“Hi cousin, what’s up?” she must think it’s weird that I’m calling so soon after she left my house.  Have you ever had to make that call before?  I didn’t know what to say.  I pause, struggling.  ”Grandpa died.”  It’s all I could say.  I think I blurted out the few details about the bathroom and the rescue squad.

I can’t remember what she said back.  Or much else about that night.  I know Mackenzie packed up her toddler and went back over to my Grandma’s house.  Just Grandma’s house now.

But back to Tuesday.

I am dropping Sophie off at preschool, and one of her teachers says to me, “I wonder if you had a few minutes to talk.”  I don’t want to talk, but what can you do? She leads me into another room.  I am too tired and drained to even wonder what this is about.  My Grandpa’s funeral is the next day.

“We have some concerns about Sophia.” she says.  I sigh internally. “Ok.” I say.  She starts to read from a list.

“She can’t follow simple instructions.” Yes she can, I think. But I let her go on.  ”She just stands there when I tell her to wash her hands.  I have to help her do everything.”

“Ok, well, I don’t know why.  She washes her hands at home.”

She goes on.

She isn’t interested in the other kids.  She won’t do any of the crafts, she just sits there.  She doesn’t really play with toys, she just wanders around the room.

I’m not overly surprised by some of these things, what I’m surprised at is that SHE’s surprised. I told her teachers before preschool started, when we’d visited the class, that she had a speech delay, was in therapy, and I gave them a list of things about her that I wanted them to know.  Some of these things were on the list.

On the other hand, I am concerned that she is not engaging more with the others.  This isn’t something I’d expected.  And the thing about doing the crafts and the work, well I’d never been able to get her to do any of that at home, and I was hoping she’d just fall in line at school. But apparently she wasn’t going to.  Her teacher said she seemed to hardly be able to hold a crayon, that she had no idea what to do with scissors.  Questions raced through my mind.  Was it that she couldn’t because she wouldn’t or that she wouldn’t because she couldn’t?

I left the room upset and barely holding it together, but trying not to show it.  I had already been crying for days.  I took the list of concerns the teacher gave me.  The next day Sophie had speech therapy, but I couldn’t be there because I’d be AT MY GRANDPA’S FUNERAL.  This was the LAST thing I needed that Tuesday.

I can’t really remember what I did next.  I called my husband and my mom and read the list of concerns and probably cried a lot.  I was very confused.  Sophie had never been a “joiner” and I felt like it was going to take her a long while to adjust to preschool.  She’d only even been to seven classes at this point.  Was it just that she was going to be a slow adjuster?  Or did she have more problems than just her speech delay?  Her speech therapist had just recently finished testing her and we didn’t even have the results yet.

I tell you what, it is hard when you sit across a table from someone and they tell you something about your kid that you don’t want to hear.  Especially when you are already an emotional mess.

Tuesday was rough.  I did not enjoy Tuesday.  But I decided to deal with Tuesday on Thursday.  Because Wednesday, we had to bury my Grandpa.

To be continued.

Jonah having some diaper time before bed

Well, the results are in.  The new “leak lock” thing they’ve got going on is working! The new & improved Snug & Dry lived up to their name!

Now, on to the Huggies wipes.  I have always loved Huggies wipes, so I’m not sure what they had to improve upon.  But, since I’ve been letting Jonah go at it with a spoon at mealtimes, I certainly had several sticky situations (non-diaper related) to try them out with!

Jonah covering himself with yogurt. I mean, learning to use a spoon.

I liked the Huggies wipes. They did a great job getting all the sticky, thick yogurt off of Jonah. I am not sure how they are better than the old Huggies wipes, but maybe that is just because I already loved the old ones, beats me.

Anyhoo,  if you didn’t formerly love these products, definitely give them a second look!  Or check Huggies out on Facebook and Twitter @Huggies while you’re at it.

__________

I participated in a campaign on behalf of Mom Central for Huggies. I received product samples to facilitate my review and a promotional item to thank me for participating.

Hello, pretty pinners!  That’s right, I am sweet-talking you, ’cause I want you to LINK UP today!  I love seeing all your winning pins!

Here’s what I was up to this week.  I went pin-hunting for a Bible story craft.  Because of Sophie’s language delay, she was a little behind on learning Bible stories, so she and I have been working on that.  She loves her Sunday School lessons (even though we go to church on Saturday night, ha ha), and I decided to try some Bible-y crafts with her to keep the lessons going for a couple of days into the week.  Here’s the first one we attempted: a net full of fish.  The original pin is here, from I can teach my child.

This craft was inspired by the story in John 21 when Jesus (after his death and resurrection) appeared to his disciples and did a miracle, causing their fishing nets to be suddenly full even though they had fished all night long and caught nothing.  Here is the text, John 21:1-14 (NIV):

Afterward Jesus appeared again to his disciples, by the Sea of Galilee. It happened this way: ² Simon Peter, Thomas (also known as Didymus), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other disciples were together. ³ “I’m going out to fish,” Simon Peter told them, and they said, “We’ll go with you.” So they went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

⁴ Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.

⁵ He called out to them, “Friends, haven’t you any fish?”

“No,” they answered.

⁶ He said, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.

⁷ Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, “It is the Lord,” he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water. ⁸ The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were not far from shore, about a hundred yards.^[c] 9 When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.

¹⁰ Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you have just caught.” ¹¹ So Simon Peter climbed back into the boat and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. ¹² Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. ¹³ Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.¹⁴ This was now the third time Jesus appeared to his disciples after he was raised from the dead.

****

After reading the Bible story, Sophie and I made a “net full of fish” with a paper plate, some blue glitter paint, construction paper, plastic wrap,and a Sharpie.  First, Sophie painted the paper plate with the glitter paint.  But even coloring it with a plain old blue marker will do.  While the paint dried, we cut out little fish that I had traced on different colored construction paper. (I folded the paper together so that we cut several fish at once). Then, we put the fish on the plate, covered it with plastic wrap, and drew lines for the net on the plastic wrap with the Sharpie.  Here’s how it turned out:

Cute, right?  We drew little eyes and smiles on our fishies, too.  You know, to make it accurate.

What did you pin this week??  I can’t wait to see how clever, crafty, and culinary you all are!  Add your links below, there are just a few rules:

1) In your post, please link to your original source – the pin you got the idea from.

2) Make sure and link back to our original Pin For the Wednesdays Post here at Mommin’ It Up! (please!)

3) In the Mr. Linky below, leave a direct link to your Pin FTWednesdays post, not to your main website.

4) Totally optional – grab our cute #PinFTW button! The code box is over there in our sidebar.

Ok ok, you know I can’t leave it at that.

You may remember a couple weeks ago when Jenny and I were at the Mom 2.0 Summit in Miami. I think we might have mentioned it.

You may also remember that as we were standing outside the hotel waiting to go to the Versace Mansion, we just so happened to be standing in the presence of greatness right by Jenny Lawson. The Bloggess. Who totally wrote the funniest book in the history of the world (see above).

Jenny (my Jenny, not the awesome Jenny.) and I were all “OMGgggggggggg, it’s the Bloggess!!!” and I was all “Quick, take my picture!”

Which is how we wound up with this classic piece of photography.

But then, since Rachel is a normal person and all, she was like “Hi I’m Rachel, could we get our picture taken with you?” And so we got another picture with the Bloggess, this time like normal people.

I am really getting away from the point here, people. The point is, this book is freaking hilarious.

Last night I was in bed reading a chapter about Jenny (not my Jenny, the awesome Jenny.) OD’ing on laxatives, and I was cracking up and making such a racket that Andy came running into our room to see what in the holy hell was going on. He said he thought there was an intruder murdering me or something, which is ironic since a good portion of the book is dedicated to the possibility of being attacked by things like zombie cougars.

In other news, I must have a really pleasant laugh.

Seriously, though, I haven’t laughed like that since I saw my own life portrayed on the big screen in the movie “I Love You, Man.”

I am pretty sure this book will out-sell the Bible.

Go buy it. You can thank me later.

While I was away last weekend, I thought I might wean Jonah, but I was on the fence about it.  Cold turkey isn’t really the way I like to do things, but he’s almost 17 months old, and the problem is, the child won’t leave me alone for two seconds.  Like his sister before him, he wants to nurse whenever he wants to nurse, as often as he wants to nurse.  And I’d like him to nurse two or three times a day at most.  All attempts to pare down the nursing had gone, let’s see…how shall I put this?  The opposite of well.   I don’t really want to be nursing a two-year-old again, like I did with Sophie.  So I went to Miami armed with a breast pump to give myself relief, but I left Jonah at home with Daddy and some bottles and cups of whole milk.  I thought, “We’ll see what happens.  Maybe when I get home, he will just be done.”

Ha ha, hilarious.  While I was gone, Jonah did not forget his love of nursing.  When we arrived home from the airport last Sunday, he immediately started trying to nurse.  He was going crazy, fussing and flailing.  I decided to have Bobby make him a bottle, and see if he would take the bottle from me.  So Bobby handed me a bottle, and after a brief protest, Jonah started taking it.   I held him while he slurped that milk down greedily

It was the first time I have ever given my baby boy a bottle.

It pretty much ripped me apart.  I don’t know why, but I was not expecting it to hurt like it did.

As I held him, and he held his bottle, I began to cry, then shake with sobs.  Hot tears rolled rapidly down my face and splashed onto Jonah’s plump baby cheeks.  He reached one hand up, like he does when he’s nursing, and played with my ear while I snuggled him close and cried.

I guess I wasn’t ready.

Later that day, I did nurse him at his nap time.  I felt relief as he nursed and cuddled me, relief that I could still have this if I wanted it, if Jonah needed it. That my trip out of town hadn’t taken this closeness away. I discovered I wanted to hold on just a little bit longer.  He is my last baby, after all.  I just don’t think cold turkey is going to cut it, for either of us.

By the end of the evening I’d decided that since Jonah will take a bottle from me (but not, as I’ve since discovered, a cup in lieu of nursing), that I am going to cut back significantly on nursing and get the weaning process jump-started.  This week I’ve only been nursing him in the mornings when he wakes, with two or three exceptions when he just wore me down. Most of the time he will take the bottle from me, but a few times he has just been adamant about nursing even after a bottle.  For the most part, it is going well – better than I expected.  I feel like, for the moment, we are both in a good place with this.

I’m thinking about one more month of nursing.  I can already tell my milk supply has dropped, and he’ll be eighteen months then.  I’ve got some health-related things to take care and I’d like to be done nursing sooner than later to work on those.  So, we’re getting there. It’s nice to have a weaning plan, and it’s nice to be the one in charge of the plan.

As much as it will be nice to not be on a tether anymore, I know I will miss it.  My baby is so sweet when he nurses each morning.  And I do love him so.

She was totally right.

However, against my better judgment, we did it anyway.

A few weeks ago, we brought a dog home from a shelter. Have you ever tried adopting a dog from a shelter? I am fairly certain we could have brought a kid home from Rwanda with less scrutiny. Anyway, after we convinced them we weren’t Michael Vick wannabes, we brought home a dog whose name (at the time) was Yonkers. He had been adopted from the shelter as a puppy and was in a home for five years, but his owners got smart had kids and couldn’t care for him anymore, so he wound up back at the shelter. So anyway, this was the only dog we had come across that we all felt remotely comfortable with (and by “remotely,” I mean not 100% opposed. And by “we,” I mean me.), in no small part because he was not a puppy. I am not a complete idiot – I drew the line at bringing anything into our house that wasn’t sleeping through the night and potty-trained. Because really – that ship has sailed.

So.

The shelter’s policy is that interested parties bring a dog home for a week-long “home visit” before making the adoption final. (See also: Rwandan child.) I held out the slightest bit of hope that a week would be long enough for all of us to realize that we didn’t need a dog.

I was wrong.

I realized it. The rest of my family, not so much.

But let me back up. The night Andy brought him home from the shelter, it was a Friday and the kids and I were in my bed watching television. Andy and the dog got home, and the dog’s first course of action was to tear through the house and jump up on our bed. I was not amused. Then he proceeded to bark the entire night. Kate, the girl who flips out when she can hear crickets chirping when she’s trying to sleep, was hysterical. She wanted the dog to be gone, and I quote – “Mommy was right. We aren’t ready for a dog.” I was gleefully chanting “I told you so!” in my head and picturing returning the purchase the next day.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last – the next morning she was in love with the damn thing.

I, however, was not.

Since Andy and the dog had gotten home late the night before, Andy had put the dog’s crate (which was gianormous, btw) in the kitchen. I came out to make the kids breakfast and the kitchen table had been moved to the side to make room for the crate, there were dog treats on the counter and leashes and toys strewn across the floor. I felt like the dog had taken over our entire home. Our house suddenly felt three times smaller, and the dog suddenly seemed three times bigger than I remembered. Later, Andy found me in the shower, sobbing. I just felt like our lives had been turned upside down – and I had liked our lives quite well just as they were.

Mid-morning, I took Kate to a birthday party for like 7 hours. It was so long I wanted to shoot myself. But being there felt like a better alternative than being at home with the dog – I was utterly convinced I would never want to be at our house again, especially alone. That thought was devastating to me.

After the party, I took Kate to the mall to kill some more time. When we did eventually get home, I discovered that Andy had spent the whole time getting our house back to normal. He moved the crate and all the paraphernalia to the basement and cleaned the entire house. It felt like home again and it was such a relief to me. He is a nice guy.

So anyway, after the initial shock wore off, things got better… but the conclusion I came to was that I just didn’t like having a dog in our house. It wasn’t about that dog in particular – all and all he’s a pretty good dog, and Andy and Kate had absolutely kept up their end of the bargain in terms of caring for him. It just felt like an intrusion.

To me, anyway. Everyone else – including Sam, who had been completely afraid of dogs a week before – loved having him around.

So, our week came to a close and we had to make a decision. It was not easy. I agonized over it, but after a long conversation with my dad, I decided that I would take one for the team.

We are now dog owners.

While I am still not overjoyed about this change in our life, I am trying to come around. I have decided that at this point, it’s in no one’s best interest for me to be angry and resentful. The dog is here to stay, and I need to make the best out of it. That’s what’s best for all of us.

So, readers, meet Siggy.

On the bright side, at least I’ll have something to blog about.

Bobby had come outside with me and almost immediately we heard “Joseph Albertson! The house is surrounded! Please come out with your hands up!”  We peered down the street and there was another police car and a cop with a bullhorn three doors down. Well, YEE-HA!  Just another Sunday afternoon in the city!

Naturally, Bobby and I turned on the Wii for the big kids so they wouldn’t notice the drama. Then, we pulled up chairs on our front porch and sat back to watch the drama.

The cop with the civilians was literally RIGHT in front of our porch.  From the conversation we surmised they lived in the house or were related to the person that was being sought.  The man was on the phone trying to make arrangements for someone to come get the kids.  I felt so sorry for those kids.  The younger woman was yelling at them a lot and using the “F” word.  Lovely. I know it’s a high-stress situation, but geez.  It was really hot so I went in and got a box of Capri Sun and took it out to the woman, but she declined, saying the kids were leaving soon.  Fortunately, they were all soon escorted away.

By this time they had completely closed off our block so we definitely knew I was not getting out to the grocery anytime soon.  I wasn’t too thrilled but I figured this wouldn’t take too long.  Soon, I’d have my bread and milk, and anti-fungal cream for Jonah’s wicked diaper rash he had developed while I was gone? Right?

Then, we heard the cop tell the people on our sidewalk that SWAT and the Hostage Negotiation Team were coming. WHEEEEE!

It didn’t take long.

Soon this was the scene across the street from our house!

Soon there were SWAT guys with assault rifles all over the place.  They were being very stealthy – jumping over fences, creeping through alleys, etc.  All this time, the policeman with the bullhorn was constantly calling the guy to come out.  Bobby and I could see a news camera crew down the street filming the action.  He and I were constantly updating our FB statuses, and I was tweeting and instagramming the drama.  And also, after about two hours, I was complaining HEAVILY about not being able to get to the store!

At one point a SWAT team member, or HNT member, dropped an orange box right in front of our sidewalk.  I was all…umm…I hope that thing’s not going to blow up!  Luckily my friend Jen, whose husband is on the HNT, told me that’s the “jump phone” they use to talk to the perpetrator.  From online news reports, we found out the guy was wanted on a domestic violence charge, and was believed to be holed up in the house with an automatic weapon.

At some point we went in and made the kids dinner, then after that we let Joshua and Sophie continue to play Wii so they would not know that their were men with assault weapons right outside the house (they remained clueless throughout. We turned up the TV so they wouldn’t hear the bullhorn.)

But since we are super-stellar parents, we took Jonah out on the porch with us and let him swing on his baby swing so we could keep watching the drama!

So we were just sitting there minding the SWAT team’s business, when all of a sudden a stealthy SWAT guy crept up right next to our porch! I didn’t even hear him but Bobby pointed him out to me. So, I did what any good blogger will do:

photo heavily edited to *try* and hide the fact that I had been up for like 14 hours and had no makeup on.

LOOK AT HIM SMILING!!! HE LOVES IT!

I wasn’t as stealthy as him, because he saw me take the pic and said. “Don’t you go putting that on YouTube.”

No worries, dude.  But you didn’t say anything about MAH BLOG!

Soon after this, things stopped getting fun.  The bullhorn kept going.  At one point they blared the SWAT truck’s sirens (it was on this guy’s front lawn at this point) really loudly for a really LONG time to try to get him to come out.

It got late. I still didn’t have any groceries.  Jonah’s biscuits were still burning and he needed that diaper rash cream!

We put the kids to bed.  It took forever.  At one point I went out and saw the SWAT guys all in a row, with their shields up, in tight formation – it looked like they were ready to go in and get that guy!

But then nothing.

And about 45 minutes later, the trucks packed up and left.  Huh?  Bobby finally got out to the store after 10 to get us a few things, and I went to bed.

Then I woke up to news reports the next morning that THE GUY WASN’T EVEN IN THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  WHAT?????  I don’t know how he got out but he wasn’t there.  He ended up calling police from a location several miles away and turning himself in without incident.

After holding my neighbors and us hostage for over FIVE HOURS!   Ugh.

If he moves back to the house three doors down after he gets of jail, I am totally leaving a bag of flaming poop on his porch!