Parenting The Hoovers

Save Veronica - Charleston, SC Child Removed from Adoptive Parents at Age Two

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 21:52:00 +0000

I can't imagine the anguish these parents are feeling. To watch this video, I imagine myself having to carry one of my own children in this same scene. I would not be able to walk.

There is a link at the bottom of this one to a website created to Save Veronica. CNN is apparently considering picking up the story.

If you can imagine the anguish of the parents, imagine what the baby is going through right now.

If you are one of my readers, I urge you to follow this story and respond. There is a petition you can sign. You can also contact CNN to show your support of having them cover this story.

There is also a facebook page called Saving Veronica.

God bless this family.

Couple forced to turn over 2-year-old

A Case for Bad Mothering

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 19:08:00 +0000

As four of the six Hoovers spent Christmas on restriction and all the Hoovers were presented, on Christmas Eve, with the New Hooverville Level System that will be utilized to monitor (eg reward and punish) their behavior, I'm glad the following issue already has legal precedent:

Read article here

Christmas Eve

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 03:29:00 +0000

Okay, if I admit I don't like this time of the year, I get all sorts of groans and moans from everyone -- especially those people I live with.

My husband leads the attempt every year to get me to get some Christmas spirit. In fact, right now, the house is full of tiny candles. Fake ones. Fake tea lights with little switches underneath them. I imagine they all have watch batteries inside (there's no room for anything else) which WON'T be replaced.

The thought of all of it does nothing for my Christmas cheer. It just reminds me that...

I DON'T LIKE THIS TIME OF YEAR!

It's been all I could do to "do" Christmas this year. The gifts have been sparse. The house is barely decorated (save the fake tea lights).

Tomorrow morning won't be as well planned as those in the past. It has only been with some help that I've been able to do what I have.

I'm ready to move on now.

My favorite month is January when it's time for organizing, resolutions, re-do's.

Hopefully, some better, more organized posts.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

It Has Been Decided

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 05:27:00 +0000

It has been decided that December 22 will pass without revelation from us regarding the hell we have lived through in the past nine months.

I will attempt to focus on the positive or the slightly negative only. Positive was that my baby turned 11 yesterday - the baby who we did not know would live to eleven with the neuroglogical condition that he has. He was quite proud of himself and actually acted more mature this evening.

Until Captain Rex took missing. I would not know this Captain Rex characvter except that my husband bought him for the baby's birthday. Captain Rex is a character in Star Wars. When I saw Star Wars many moons ago, there was no Captain Rex. Now, my husband is quite glad that there is such a character. This particular toy has buttons that can be pushed, one of which causes the character to say, "Hi, I am Captain Rex. But you can call me 'Mister'." Something like that. My husband, Rex, likes that . I suspect he secretly bought the toy for himself.

Captain Rex was no where to be found at bedtime tonight. Hoovers sleep with their presents for several nights until they are told they cannot any longer. Even hard, electronic toys. I assured the baby that Captain Rex was somewhere in the house sleeping soundly, but that was not good enough. Eventually, I convinced the purchaser of Captain Rex to go looking for him. The baby would not sleep and would turn the sleep of the others upside down to find Captain Rex.

Captain Rex was found and returned to his proper, new owner.

And my last baby turns 11 on December 26. Until then, the Hoovers are 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, and 19.

Makes me tired.

Christmas Cards, Letters, and December 22

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 03:17:00 +0000

There are still miracles all around us. One is that in the middle of all the chaos of this thing we now call life, I managed to get a great groupon for some fabulous photo Christmas cards from some site called Mixbook.

The compounding miracle is that they are going in the mail tomorrow.

Not only did I buy the groupon. But I assembled the photos on the card. Had them shipped. Opened the box. Addressed the envelopes.

Honestly, an unbelievable follow-through of events for me at this point.

The photos on the card and on this site were taken before. They show the darling faces of children who had struggles. But nothing like now. Now, the eyes are not as bright. The smiles are not as big. The confidence of one has been shattered.

In the past, I've always generated a Christmas letter. One that filters out the "bad" stuff and lists all the lovely things happening in our lives.

This year, the cards will go out without letters enclosed. Inside the cards will be a link to this blog.

The Christmas letter has been written, but it is not pretty or happy. There was no way to filter out anything of the past year. To actually print it on paper at this point was more than I could bear.

The news of the past year is written in the most factual manner possible for me. It is scheduled to post here on December 22. Nine months after the news broke that would change our lives forever.

My silence of the past nine months will break with that posting.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

If I Should Have a Daughter...

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 06:12:00 +0000

Absolutely incredible video that shapes me every time I watch it. Worth the time, as well, to watch to the end to see the performance of "Hiroshima".

http://www.ted.com/talks/sarah_kay_if_i_should_have_a_daughter.html

The Hoover Mom Prepares to Break Her Silence

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 04:14:00 +0000

The Hoover Mom has been uncharacteristically silent since March. For a reason. Now she is preparing to break her silence.

A story that could not be predicted. One that is not over yet. One that may never end. One that has brought her to her knees and kept her there, her head held under water until she has had to struggle to breathe.

There she has floated. Since. Trying to keep the others from drowning. Unsuccessfully. Or possibly successfully. She really doesn't know much any more.

There is nothing left to laugh about. There is only the struggle to survive. And it is only the children who need her and the husband who loves her who have kept her alive. Pulling her up for air just enough.

Barely.

December 22 will be nine months since. Since the devil himself unleashed his wrath. Since the Hoover mom was changed for what she thinks will be forever. Since the loves of her life were sacrificed to never be the same again.

Nine months. Quiet.

Nine months. Oh, dear God. Screaming silently.

How?

WHY!?!

The Hoover Mom Got the Finger

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 04:34:00 +0000

The Hoover mom needs a device that de-dramatizes anything it touches. She would pay good money for this sort of device. Hell, she'd wire the money to a foreign country for just the promise of something of the sort.

As she began writing this post, she was sitting in the middle of the most flu-infested location known to man --the pediatricians' office. And she was there because of a finger. Not two fingers or more. But a single finger.

Just one finger on hand of the most ungrateful Hoover of the six, and it's not even a finger on the hand he writes with. It is an expendable finger (in the Hoover mom's opinion) on the left hand. This finger is certainly not worth exposure to the flu. But drama and quasi-medicine mixed that day at the school, and the finger that was poked Friday with a pencil, spent the weekend at home with not ne'er a mention, and even entered the school that morning without rearing its ugly head began to lead its owner straight toward the promised land that morning.

Where is the promised land, the reader might ask?

For a Hoover, it's the nurse's office. The Hoovers collectively have already used up more passes to the nurse's office than mankind EVER intended for them to receive. Before moving to the Hoover mom's school, when the Hoover mom was a stay at home mom, and when she might have a moment or two without an entire string of Hoovers in tow, it never failed that the school nurse would call the Hoover mom. Should the Hoover mom EVER have the pleasure of eating lunch with a friend in a restaurant that just might happen to play music fairly loudly at lunch, she could be certain that the damn school nurse would call just at the time a country song would come on so that it could easily appear, on the other end of the phone, that the Hoover mom spent her "free" time at Juke joints while the Hoovers were busy trying not to die at school.

The Hoover mom was called any time a band aid was applied to a Hoover. Anytime a mosquito bite was scratched to the point of bleeding, it was for sure the Hoover mom would get an urgent call from the nurse. In fact, the Hoover mom was called once to be told that Betty had gone blind in her resource class (the reader should remember that this is NONFICTION) and the nurse likely thought that the Hoover mom would panic and cry and come running up to the school. Instead, the Hoover mom talked to the newly- stricken child and healed the blindness over the phone by offering to come up to the school and heal it on-site.

The nurse just could not let it soak into her head that a mother of six children does not get too worked up over something that a band aid will cover. Or over sudden blindness.

The poor nurse literally killed herself trying to over care for the Hoovers. On her last day of work, she walked out the front door of the school and fell into the bushes, blond wig and all. Her example is why the Hoover mom won't get too bent out of shape over some Hoover ailments. Very little is worth falling into the bushes over! In addition, the Hoover mom does believe that each person is placed on this earth for a certain number of days, and that if the Ingrate was going to pass that day because of this finger, he would have passed that day anyway. Three days, some fried chicken, brown rice, and deviled eggs along with a few folding chairs and an awning, and the Hoover family would have had themselves what is known in Hooverville as "a proper burial".

(For the sake of reference, the Hoover's first (and only) cat was helped along into cat heaven at the veterinarian. When asked if she wanted to retrieve the cat post-mortem, the Hoover mom declined. However, the Hoovers became too inquisitive about what the vet did with the cat once the cat was given "the shot that helped him die". The Hoover mom had to answer something, so she said that the cat "had a proper burial". It was a response that apparently left the Hoovers at complete peace about the whole situation. Not ne'er a Hoover asked a question and accepted the fact that a "proper burial" was just that -- "a burial that was proper." Therefore, the standard in Hooverville for any breathing thing that dies or that might commence to dying is that it will be given a "proper burial".)

So back to the Hoover mom and the finger, first the teacher called before most teachers had even had time to take attendance (the same teacher upon whose portable classroom the patient pissed just a mere two months ago) and said that the finger appeared to be red and was painful. Although the Hoover mom was aware of the potential outcome, she agreed for the Ingrate (aka The Whiz) to visit the school nurse. When the Hoover mom's desk phone rang a few minutes later she was not at all surprised. However sometimes it still gets to be a little much for the Hoover mom, in spite of her being a doctor among her many degrees and classifications.

As it was reported to the Hoover mom, the finger was reddening before the eyes of the school nurse.  Now, of course the Hoover mom wanted to say something to the effect of "Seriously!?!" or "Are you crazy, too?!?" Or even, "Please don't say you're buying this crap, too!"

But to maintain peace and harmony among all, the Hoover mom often doesn't speak her mind. Instead, she assured the school nurse that she would make an appointment with the pediatrician as soon as was practical (which means in Hoover mom-speak, "I'm not clocking out over a finger.")

So, the Hoover mom retrieved the Ingrate once school was out and headed to the pediatrician's office. By this time, although she had previously examined the red finger with her own eyes prior to making the appointment, the redness was gone except for a small space around the original pencil-poked hole. Apparently, the finger had forgotten to get into character for the show at the doctor's office.

The doctor, so as not to be accused of not doing her job, wore gloves to make the entire situation appear official. The finger was bent at each isolated joint and there was only minimal pain at the previously pencil-poked joint. She declared that some bactroban and a band aid were definitely in order along with approximately three antibiotic pills. She likely though she was easing the Hoover mom's mind when she turned and declared that it was not Mersa. She couldn't read the Hoover mom's mind which is probably for the best. The Hoover mom was still weighing the value of the finger over the exposure to the flu, and then she had to weigh the value of the finger against the flu and Mersa.

The Hoover mom then began to think that the finger had needed a proper burial rather than a trip to the pediatrician's office. Again, it was an expendable finger and now, it had not only exposed the Hoover mom and the Ingrate to the inconvenient diseases but also the deadly ones. The Hoover mom knew that finger was not worth all the attention it was receiving.

The finger has not made ne'er a sound since returning home, probably for fear of that awning and the folding chairs. However, it appears that another Hoover has lived through a life threatening case of ..... nothing.

The Hoover Mom Could Not Be More Relieved

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 03:24:00 +0000

Now, yes, the Hoover mom is WAY behind in blogging. She has not even blogged about the events of this past week with the spinal tap and all of the events surrounding and following.

And right now, she just about wants to stop blogging right in the middle and just lie down flat on her office floor. One of those "OMG" lie downs that you feel like doing when things have either gone terribly right or terribly wrong.

Today is the terribly right.

The Hoover mom has just hired a "Mother's Helper". That sounds a whole lot less snobby than "Nanny." The poor woman practically HAD to take the job. Even the Hoover mom, in all of her professional jobs, has never had a FIVE hour interview. Once you've interviewed for five hours, the Hoover mom thinks that one's head is spinning so much that she probably took the job just because she'd already invested so much in it.

The Hoovers have given her a rounding endorsement. It is likely that they are already planning their honeymoon phase with her, because they like to lock people in before they "give it their all". The Hoover mom predicts by mid-March, they'll be ready to give her the old 1-2-3 and break her in.

The dogs have already approved her. They sniffed her from head to toe, and Henry, our BIG dog said he didn't care if he DID weigh more than she did. He thought we ought to keep her. He said she looked like somebody who would sneak him a cookie or a piece of bread every now and then. Stella looked at the Hoover mom and asked why her life story couldn't be told to the new lady, but the Hoover mom told her that we had to leave the Hoovers something to talk about.

The Hoover mom finds it very cute that her new "Mother's Helper" has feet smaller than Betty! And she's definitely older than 13. Old enough to have some experience and old enough to have some sense.

The Hoover mom is so relieved that she can't think about anything other than sleeping. Of course, since Miss Smarty Pants talked about the Hoover mom and dad while they were gone to Charleston, the Hoover mom feels like she might shouldn't go to bed so early. Miss Smarty Pants, with her infinite wisdom and with completely forgetting where she came from, told the Hoover mom's father that the Hoover parents hadn't taken her to church in a while because they have slept late. And she also felt it appropriate to tell the Hoover mom's dad that the Hoover mom and dad drank beer to calm down.

So the Hoover mom was met at the door by her father who said, "I hear you've been sleeping through church and drinking beer."

Now there was a time in her life (like 20 years ago) when the Hoover mom would have never argued with someone about beer being a completely appropriate breakfast beverage even though she didn't like it. But to hear this statement fly out of the mouth of the Hoover grandfather, it made it sound as though the Hoover parents made it a habit to sleep late and throw a couple back around 11am on Sunday mornings.

Now, Miss Smarty Pants is completely in the here and now because she has completely forgotten about the cinder block building she lived in when she came to Hooverville. And she's completely insane because the Hoover mom doesn't drink beer. Never has.

Anyway, the Hoover mom has already dealt with Miss Smarty Pants. And she can't remember the last time she had a "cocktail". And she's about to go to bed and enjoy her relief that someone, although a miniature size, is reliable and is going to pick up the Hoovers on Monday AND cook dinner.

The Hoover mom has been blessed!

The Trip Toward a Diagnosis

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Tue, 22 Feb 2011 03:55:00 +0000

On occasion, the Hoover mom tackles a topic that is difficult and does not lend itself much to humor or to the Hoover mom talking in third person.

This is one of those times. As I’m writing this, we are heading down I-26 on the way to Charleston, a convoy of sorts. I couldn’t go alone this time as there is no way I’d be able to hold up should something happen. And the likelihood of something happening is high.

So, in our suburban, Rex is driving and I’m riding. Behind us sits Ethan. And following behind us are our two dear and dedicated autism therapists, with Nicholas riding with them.

It’s almost as though the two boys can tell there is a difference in their experiences planned tomorrow, although neither knows anything other than the fact that they are headed to Charleston. Charleston to them is the hotel and the breakfast buffet at the hotel. And a few boats parked outside along the bay. They don’t mention the endless hours spent with the doctors. And this will be first procedure. This trip will likely change the perception of Charleston from being about a hotel and food and boats and water to one of pain and suffering. And again, although neither boy knows anything other than we are going to stay in a hotel and that Dell and Amanda have come along with us this time, the demeanor of both indicates that somehow they know what the next day does hold for each.

Ethan, the youngest, is sticking near mom. He’s riding behind me, and we just sang along together to Darius Rucker’s “My Bad Come Back Song”. Ethan sat beside me at dinner and was subdued and quiet the whole time. Nicholas, the older brother, is riding with Dell and Amanda behind us and was beside himself at dinner. Like we’re headed to Disney world. He nearly knocked into a waitress swinging his hands around to explain what he was trying to tell all of us, in his loud voice that he seemed helples to control.

Ethan is scheduled for a spinal tap at 7:30 am tomorrow. I can hardly stand myself right now with the fear and worry that I have. I've done nothing this past weekend other than cry and sleep. We’ve avoided this step since he was three or four years old and there is no more avoidance. Should this show no results, the next steps will be muscle and skin biopsies, more tests we have avoided for years. More than I sometimes think I can take. And I'm not the one who will be feeling the pain.

The spinal tap is done by ICU doctors and critical care nurses. That was enough for me to know that I would not be able to be down here by myself. Supermom, I am. But if something were to happen to this baby and Rex were not here, what would I do? Although it’s two hours from home, two hours is too long for anyone to get to me and him.

So tomorrow morning, with our adjoining rooms, Dell and Amanda will care for Nick while Rex and I take Ethan for the procedure. Afterwards, we’ll be able to feed Ethan which is his whole reason for wanting to come to Charleston to start with: the breakfast buffet at the hotel. Afterwards, four doctor’s appointments attended by four adults and two children. Then the trip back home.

The input of four adults is vital to the information that the doctor’s need. And someone has to keep the kids entertained while the doctors are talking to us and giving us advice about where to go next.

Either way, by tomorrow night at this time. We’ll hopefully be home.

And closer to a diagnosis.

Now, Honestly.....Have You EVER Seen More Beautiful Children?

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Tue, 08 Feb 2011 04:50:00 +0000

I don't know. Maybe I'm biased. But I think these are the most beautiful children I've every laid eyes on. And I'm SO proud to be their mom!

Addie Matthews -- Like, One of My New Heroes

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 00:57:00 +0000

So the Hoover mom has this new hero -- Addie Matthews. The main reason why she likes her is because of her looks. Now, honestly, the Hoover mom is just about as real as they come. And if you see the drawing of Addie on her site, and you close one of your eyes about one-quarter of the way, it looks a lot like the Hoover mom. Seriously.

In fact, Sophia, the Hoover mom's best friend/life coach told her today that she looked like a rail. Now, the Hoover mom was back from missing four days of schools from having the flu. But you can't be a rail if you weren't on your way there to start with, right? And the Hoover mom was ONLY wearing two Spanx products. If you don't have Spanx, honey, GET SOME! They came in handy today when it was pouring down rain, in the 30's, and the Hoover mom was coming out for the first time since having the flu.

The big question is how much weight the Hoover mom has lost. "How much", you say?" The Hoover mom has lost count. Definitely double digits with the first digit being a 3. Now, the Hoover mom can remember the dress sizes. She's still not telling those, but down by two on most things.

Anyway, this Addie Matthew. (The Hoover mom does love to talk about herself.) She's crazy. Like crazy in a good way. And anybody named Addie is crazy. The Hoover mom can prove that with a series of psychologicals she has here at Hooverville. One of the Hoovers' REAL names is Addie.

Anyway, check out Addie's take on life. And go see what the Hoover mom is looking like. Don't forget to close one eye one-quarter of the way shut. http://addiematthews.com/

This Article Won't Die -- Autism Mom's Face Stress Similar to that of Combat Soldiers

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 22:47:00 +0000

If you find it hard to believe, call me. This article has been top on Disability Scoop for nearly 3 months now. Because it's true.

http://www.disabilityscoop.com/2009/11/10/autism-moms-stress/6121/

Of course, I think that any parent with children with the types of difficulties faced by autistic kids -- it's a hard life. Autism probably tops the heap because of the pervasiveness of the disorder.

Having six kids with special needs, I can't decide which one is the most difficult.

Boy 1: age 10, autism, neurological disorders misdiagnosed twice and currently attempting to be diagnosed, ADHD, learning disabilities, mood disorders, migraines and/or seizures, dysarthria, bladder condition, sleep disturbances.

Boy 2: age 11, autism, neurological disorders, major fine motor delay, being assessed for a growth hormone disorder, mood disorder, learning disabilities, speech and language delays, bladder condition, sleep disturbances (severe).

Boy 3: age 12, mood disorder (bipolar with primarily mania), conduct disorder, ADHD, being assessed for a growth hormone disorder, learning disability, language delay, bladder condition, orthodontics, ODD.

Boy 4: age 18, learning disability, (in grade 9), previous growth hormone deficiency, delayed puberty, low but not below normal IQ.

Girl 1: age 10, learning disability, generalized anxiety disorder, PTSD, bladder condition, sleep disturbance.

Girl 2: age 13, learning disability, mood disorder (bipolar), PTSD, ODD, bladder condition, sleep disturbance, scoliosis, orthodontics, being evaluated for a growth hormone deficiency, bone age of 10 1/2.

So who is the most difficult? Let me sleep on it.

Hell Hath No Fury.....

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 02:29:00 +0000

....Like Hooverville with the Flu. The Hoover mom has been down for the count since the weekend. And she missed the Tamiflu window because who would have thought "the flu". Certainly, it wasn't the Hoover mom. She couldn't think about anything. The Hoover dad believes that he should lie down when the Hoover mom does. So no thinking there. And the Hoovers have been their little Hoover selves (their momma loves them) talking to her through the door and checking on her and such. And Miss Smartypants makes the best nurse there has ever been in these parts. She has made sure the Hoover mom had everything she needed and has faithfully washed her hands with soap and water immediately following.

So, the Hoover mom has lots to share. Some of the most gorgeous photos of the Hoovers ever seen taken with their Grandpa. And some fantastic video (three of the four Hoovers won awards last Friday at school and the Hoover mom caught it for the world to see). But getting all of this where you could all see it has been beyond what the Hoovver mom could do.

And there is going to need to be an investigation launched on how Bipolar Bob made the honor roll. The Hoover dad says ignore it. Before she fell ill, the Hoover mom said,"There was a "C" on that report card!"

Thanks to all who are so supportive. The Hoovers are accepting drop off meals at this point. The Hoover dad, who loves to cook, has about cooked himself to death (the Hoover mom always wonders why a fish stick can't be thrown in here and there), but whatever.

Anyone going by Sam's wholesale, please call in first. The Hoover mom has a small list. And she's not even bothering to check spelling on this. It's 9:30 and you could hear a rat pee on cotton in Hooverville..... except for the sound of the Hoover mom's typing. However, the Hoover mom's head is elevated just a little too high for her comfort level. Good night to all from Hooverville.

A Letter to the Teacher of a Hoover (aka: So Sorry This Child is Such an Ingrate)

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 01:58:00 +0000

Dear Mrs. Poor-Teacher-Who-Has-to-Teach-My-Child,

That child in your room who has my same last name has some sort of brain malformation, damage, or either a low IQ regarding mothers and teachers. He did not finish his homework tonight because he was too busy threatening to punch his brother in the face, lying about saying it, getting caught lying, receiving what he was due, and then daring to threaten his sister, (formerly Princess Punella and currently re-nicknamed Miss Smarty Pants), his Duke TIP sister who uses her brain to its fullest extent and against whom I will tolerate nothing that might alter her brain. She does appear to be our only hope at this point.

Threatening his brilliant sister, who just so happens to be in the top 5% of all children in her grade level, left him with the need to conference yet again with me so that I could inform him that his formal conference would be held with his father upon his father's return home.

Now, this set him back even more time when he came to me at exactly 6:15, the typical time his father returns home from picking up the older sister from after school tutoring. At this point, he had called up all the humble he had within him and attempted to explain how he had not tried to do his best but that he was going to apologize to his teacher, he apologized to me, and that he was going to change his ways.

I listened intently to this speech he had worked so long and hard upon and then informed him that first of all, I didn't believe a word he said and that second of all, he will be on restriction either until he dies or until Jesus comes back -- whichever happens first.

Therefore, if you would be so kind as to place in some sort of envelope anything and everything you want him to do, can find for him to do, etc., between his chores this weekend, he will certainly spend his time working from his “work due” envelope. Please enjoy the thought that although we don’t have definite plans to eat out, I HAVE had his sister sit at a restaurant table with a bag supper (usually a PB&J) and her incomplete work while the rest of us enjoyed such fare as pancakes or Mexican food (and, of course, the chips and salsa are not free -- they come with the paid meal). So please know that I will make it my personal mission to make him as miserable as he has made me this week, all the while offering him the opportunity to leave should he choose. We have five doors through which he may leave, and there are likely some windows which would work equally as well. As he has done this several times, he is quite adept at travelling by foot, even by bare foot, although he has been offered the opportunity to take shoes, a coat, a pillow and blanket with him on his next trip.

And as for your dear son who is so generous to want to try to mentor my child, the Ingrate, I found your son to be delightful and would love to have him although I’m afraid he might find the Ingrate's company to be quite boring right now with his current state of restriction. However, your child is very welcome to come over and go fishing as long he doesn’t mind turning around toward the house and waving at the Ingrate every 30 minutes or so. He can also play basketball or he can sit and do HIS homework in sort of a “mutual restriction club” kind of sense.

Now, The Ingrate has apologized to me and claims that he is going to apologize “to his teacher” tomorrow. I’d love to know if that really happens because I don’t buy anything he says at this point.

I do hope you have a lovely Friday and an even more lovely weekend.
Thank you so much for your time and effort toward the Ingrate.

Yours truly,

The Hoover Mom

The Last Thing the Hoover Mom Said Was, "DON'T EMBARASS ME!"

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Thu, 20 Jan 2011 03:39:00 +0000

Would it have mattered, really? It has been several years now that the Hoovers have attended the same school where the Hoover mom works her real, primary, important job. Today, Tistic Tim was somehow chosen to be part of a focus group with the guidance counselor and several other various and sundry adults to talk with kids about how to resolve conflicts.

Tistic Tim, who has to be prompted to say ANYTHING in class, pipes up and says, "Well, I'd just cuss the out."

Apparently, as it was described to me, the room was so quiet that you could hear a rat pee on cotton.

Except for the people who were thinking, "OMG. That was one of the Hoovers."

Instead of sensing the quiet and REMAINING quiet, Tistic Tim figured he hadn't yet said enough, so he stands up in front of the group (Tistic Tim has NEVER stood up to talk in front of a group of people), slings his hands around like some rap singer, and says, "In fact, I got a bunch of brothers and sisters that are driving me crazy, and I'm going to cuss every one of them out."

Yep, that boy knew that one day he'd get me!

Christmas, Christmas Cards, Christmas Letters, and the Whole Damn Holiday

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 07:34:00 +0000

The Hoover mom is opinionated. She has earned the right to be that way, and considering that she's opinionated at her age, it would probably take the same number of years for her to become un-opinionated. She lacks the energy for that kind of change. So, call it what you want, but she tends to say what's on her mind. You won't catch her lying -- that's too much to keep up with. And she doesn't keep secrets. Now, there are the FBI kind of secrets that you'd have to kill her to get them out of her (those are secrets of another kind that usually involve attorneys, strategizing, and the like), but as far as your basic run-of-the-mill gossip-y secret? If you don't want it repeated, don't tell the Hoover mom.

So here's something that's no secret for anyone IN Hooverville or NEAR Hooverville. The Hoover mom does not like Christmas. She loves the baby Jesus, and she's glad he was born and all of that good stuff, but as far as trees and lights and wrapping paper and candles and extra decorations all around that either shed or collect dust, she does nothing more than tolerate those things. She can barely wait to get the stuff put back up where it belongs! In the upstairs storage area.

This year, the Hoover dad made the mistake of falling asleep on the couch the day after Christmas. Bad, bad mistake. The Hoover mom slipped Fred a ten to take down as much of the Christmas hoopla as he could. She felt like she got her money's worth, too. There were ONLY seven trees put up in Hooverville this year much to the Hoover mom's chagrin, and she told the Hoover dad and his little Hoover elves that she WOULD compensate for the light bill by turning off the heat. Then, the Hoover dad and the little Hoover elves could all sit around the fireplace (with it's fake logs and propane fire) and try to stay warm while looking at all of the lights stuck here and there, to include the front yard and the back yard.

Now, the fake, lighted snowflakes that hung from the roof of the dock? THAT the Hoover mom could get into. From the dinner table and the entire back of the house (where ne'er a blind gets closed because the scene is just too pretty), those snowflakes were quaint and pleasing. Then, the Hoover dad had to go and mess the whole thing up by putting a tree on the dock so it could reflect off of the water. He seemed to not notice that WE paid for other people to see the reflection (something that probably wouldn't bother him one bit) because you can't see a reflection in grass which is what is on OUR side of the dock.

The Hoover mom thought the whole thing had gotten out of hand when the she came home one night after dark, and the Hoover dad and a couple of the Hoover-ettes had been in the front yard lighting a bush. The Hoover dad got him this thing at Lowes (actually, it is theorized that the Hoover dad has one of EVERYTHING they have at Lowes, but that is another post), that is like a fake hand on the end of a very long pole. Therefore, it will hold onto a string of lights and place it high up in the dead tree that is nearest the road. So our dead (actually dormant) tree was all lit up so that no one would EVER accuse the people in the big white house of being Jewish.

Now, again, the Hoover mom thought that was just about the last straw. However, there was a Saturday that the Hoover dad was outside in the cold for the entire day, and then he tried to convince the Hoover mom to come out and look at what he had made.

The Hoover mom didn't take the bait. Fred had already reported that there was rebar involved and the Hoover mom had hoped neighbors had forgotten that she lived here, so she refused to go out and look at it.

It was actually a good thing because during that night, a huge storm came through with some voracious wind, and the next morning when the Hoover mom had no choice but to go out, she was able to see the Hoover dad's creation. It looked like something out of Whoville from that Dr. Seuss story about the Grinch stealing Christmas. It was bent over at just the right angle that the Hoover mom thought she might pee her pants (just a little) when she backed out of the driveway, stopped and stared at the creation, and then backed right on out to go wherever she was going. Work? She can't even remember now. She was likely going somewhere to hide.

So, the Hoover mom is waiting. Just waiting for that electricity bill to come out from all of this light shining and decorating that HAD to happen at ~~Whoville~~ Hooverville. Turns out the bill she paid at the end of 2010 when the electric company readjusts the monthly bill up or down according to the yearly usage was nearly $1100. The Hoover mom has been telling the Hoovers for a year now that the SC Electric and Gas is NOT a not-for-profit. However, Hoovers either LOVE lights or hate to flip a switch.

All of this blogging and the Hoover mom didn't even get tot the topic of Christmas Cards.

The Hoover Mom is Addicted to Office Supplies

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 22:06:00 +0000

Like, she is SO serious. In fact, those who know her best are aware that when she dies, part of her ashes are to be sprinkled in Office Depot. (The other half should be sprinkled in TJ Maxx, but ash sprinkling is a whole other topic.)

Anyway, for some reason, she was perusing Big Lots (please don't tell anybody, but she LOVES a good bargain, too), and she found her FAVORITE pattern of "office supplies" that she would have previously purchased every single one of already (to keep Big Lots from ever getting their hands on them), but of course, in bulk, they were out of the office supply budget of the Hoover mom (like she really has an office supply budget -- hahahahahah!).

So anyway, she found this one "product" that has to be the best thing she has EVER, EVER, EVER seen, and it's in her favorite pattern, Hot Chocolate, by Jackie.

Now, until the wee hours of last night, the Hoover mom didn't know that there was a "real" Jackie, but there is. And OMG, in trying to find 100 more (that would be the LEAST number of these things that the Hoover mom would want because everyone she knows who saw it would be trying to steal it), she found her website and her products: The Coolest Office Supplies EVER Seen!!!!

Who could think that a file folder could bring someone like the Hoover Mom such joy. Well, she's here to tell you that all of her hum drum file folders are about to be replaced by the Jackie McFee Hot Chocolate Collection!

So, being the type of person who will talk to just about anyone, the Hoover mom sent her an email last night. And she's just as nice in a typed email as she is in file folders! Turns out SHE has a blog (listed on our blog list as a blog not to miss) and has a niece with Leukemia. Of course, that's when things aren't fun or funny anymore. She doesn't know (yet) all of the diagnoses that float through this house and the fact that the Hoover's last grandparent has been diagnosed with Leukemia. But of course, a child with Leukemia is a whole different thing from a 71 year old man.

Anyway, get to know Jackie through the link above and buy her stuff! She is fully endorsed by the Hoover mom. For what that's worth!

When it Snows in Hooverville

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 21:31:00 +0000

Hooverville has effectively moved to some place very cold, very dark, and filled with a lot of ice. Alaska? Minnessota? Who knows.

But somewhere upwards of several inches of snow has fallen on Hooverville, and upon that has fallen ice all day. The ice is predicted to fall all night and all through tomorrow morning.

SNOW DAY!!!!!

The Hoover mom doesn't "do" snow. She was just happy that the schools were closed and that she could sleep late one more morning. By the time the Hoover mom got up, the Hoover dad had decided (the Hoover mom told him so) that he was NOT driving into work. The Hoover dad's life would be a whole lot easier if he was not so reluctant to say, "You're right" to the Hoover mom. If it didn't nearly kill him for those words to come out of his mouth. He could have slept in, too.

The funnniest thing, though, that the Hoover mom has EVER seen .... well, not EVER but when you haven't been out of the house since Friday (and you came almost straight home from work), the following is hilarious:

Our local TV station (and website) has page upon page of closings for today. Little did we know that Tistic Tommy, known in real life as "Ethan," has closed his very own corporation today. Apparently he owns a corporation, from which we are receiving no income, no benefit, and with him being near the top of the most difficult Hoovers to live with, we've got some problems here.

Anyway, here's just a snippet of the closings listed online for today:

Elite Electronics: Closed Through Monday

Emmanuel Family Clinic: Closed Today

Ethan Corporation: Closed Today

Eye Concepts: Closed Today

FAIRFIELD CO. CAREER TECH. CTR.: Closed Today

FAIRFIELD COUNTY SCHOOLS: Closed Through Monday; No evening activities

FAITH CHRISTIAN ACADEMY: Closed Tomorrow

Family Healthcare Newberry: Closed Today

Family Medicine Centers of SC- All Locations: Mon- Closing at 3pm; Tues will open at 2pm

Fed Ex Office - Forrest Drive: Closed Through Monday

So, the Hoovers have been in and out enjoying the snow. The dogs took a run for it shortly after the Hoover mom got up (photos to come later), but the crowd had to take a rest in between playing in all of that snow:

The snow play for the day has ended, and the Hoovers are showering before the power goes out. Thank goodness for our puppies to lie down and keep us warm.

The Hoover Mom Has Always Preferred a Grand Entrance - Welcome Back to Me!

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 04:38:00 +0000

The Hoover mom is back from vacationing in the islands -- the islands in her mind. Six months of social internet seclusion, rest, relaxation, and everything one would need to recover from the first bout of pneumonia (just 40 days long) and then to hit the second attempt before it turned down the same road.

All is well. Lots to tell. However, beauty rest is a must these days! There's no sense in wasting all the good wrinkle cream money by not getting enough sleep.

Lesson learned: When in hell, keep going. (Wish I had coined that, but some guy named Winston Churchill got there before me.)

Toodles!

Normal Around Here is Just a Setting on the Dryer

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 23:34:00 +0000

The Hoover mom has not yet formally introduced one of the most important people in HER life and in the life of the Hoovers. In fact, the Hoover mom is pretty sure that she wouldn’t be able to be the Hoover mom if it weren’t for this particular special child.

Now, the special child is not actually a child, but the Hoover mom and dad have realized they are old enough to be her parents. And although she has become a dear friend to the Hoover mom in addition to her other roles in Hooverville, at 24 years old, the Hoover parents consider themselves to have adopted their seventh child. And the Hoover mom and dad couldn’t be happier that she moved in just a little over a week ago.

The Hoover mom is proud to announce the addition of Marlee. Marlee, in addition to her roles as friend and adopted grown up daughter, also is the Hoover’s nanny. Now, many might think that the Hoover mom has a nanny so she can run around the country club in her tennis skirt, have lunch with the girls, or generally do nothing at all. In fact, the Hoover mom has had enough “rumbling” about having a nanny that she sometimes hesitates to refer to her that way. However, the Hoover mom, after digesting two comments from people who know, is no longer going to restrain herself when discussing Marlee, the nanny.

One comment came today at church when the Hoover mom struck up a conversation with the person who was the caseworker when Bob and Prunella came into foster care and who was also a caseworker when their older sister, Betty, was in care. Now a caseworker for therapeutic foster homes, she told the Hoover mom today, “I don’t know anybody else who has done what y’all have done.” The other comment came from Dr. Feelgood, the psychiatrist to the Hoovers. He told the Hoover mom a similar thing one day. He said that any family that he had seen do what the Hoover parents had done (adopt this many children with this many special needs) had given the children back.

Now, the Hoover mom won’t EVER pretend like this life is an easy one or that it’s one she enjoys every single day. The Hoover mom won’t act as though this path has not taken a toll on her and the Hoover dad. But the Hoover mom WILL tell you that although occasionally she imagines what life would be like without a Hoover who might be misbehaving right at that particular moment, there is no way she could sleep at night without all the Hoovers accounted for and under her wing. Which accounts for why none of the Hoovers have ever been hospitalized for psychiatric reasons and none have ever been placed in residential treatment. And definitely, no Hoover who was ever declared a Hoover has ever been undeclared a Hoover. Some have pushed the envelope. But the Hoover mom knows that no night would be restful if there was an empty seat at the Hoover table because the Hoover mom had signed somewhere on the dotted line to place a Hoover elsewhere.

The Hoover mom and dad are no heroes. They are just regular people who are trying to do what God has told them to do. She doesn't claim to have any better ability than anyone else. The Hoover mom just believes that if you're sick, piling up with a bunch of other sick people is not the way to get better. The way to get better is to be at home, in your own bed, with your own people, with outpatient resources. And the Hoover mom has been told that she has "a right" to hospitalize a Hoover or two for her to get a break. The thought of that is absolutely foreign to her -- the Hoover mom should put her children in the hospital because she feels like taking a break?!? And then go back and pick up her children who are in WORSE shape and everybody goes back home? Uh......no.

So Marlee, the Nanny to the Hoovers, is an essential part of Hooverville and the Hoover mom is going to quit making excuses about having a nanny and just go ahead and call her what she is. And to the naysayers, the Hoover parents don’t expect Marlee to work for free, so of course they pay her. The Hoover mom has decided to tell the next naysayer, the one after that, and any of the naysayers who might wander up on her site that if truth be known, Marlee is an essential element in Hooverville. It is for sure that the Hoover mom could find a lot of other things to do with that much money. And the Hoover mom wouldn’t be caught dead in a tennis skirt. Besides the fact that God made her legs WAY too white to have fabric up that high in public, she has too many irons in the fire and too much sense to pay somebody to work with the Hoovers while she regularly wastes time. Oh, please.

Now, the mom is feeling especially happy about Marlee’s presence in Hooverville right now, on Sunday afternoon, as Marlee left on Thursday night (right after Betty turned 13), and drove to the beach to spend the weekend with her family (her biological family). Therefore, the Hoover mom was the referee in Hooverville all alone on Friday. The Hoover mom rose early, got herself dolled up, and set up a satellite office in the den so she could still do the things she needed do but could also monitor to make sure no Hoover lost an eye. By 10am, the Hoover mom had resorted to having the Hoovers “take a number” if they needed her attention. The Hoover mom is a master at multi-tasking but she can’t possibly hear six Hoovers at one time. By 4pm, the Hoover mom had come undone, had completed nothing of her own, but had stopped at least every 5 minutes if not less to address the need of the Hoover before her who was “next”. When the typical southern, summer afternoon storm blew up, the Hoover mom had every Hoover sitting and not talking in the den. She dared the Hoovers to make a sound. Of course, every time she left the room, the group would resort to faking passing gas, or imitating someone else passing gas, or actually passing gas, and would break into resounding giggles. By the time the Hoover dad arrived home from work, the Hoover mom had collected data on who needed what sort of consequence and she told the Hoover dad that he was in charge.

So Marlee is due back in Hooverville sometime this evening. The Hoover mom actually thinks she could cry at the thought of the Nanny returning -- her long, lost grown daughter. The Hoover mom did this gig alone for many years and now that both she and the Hoover dad work, she knows her limitations. She knows that some of her ability to be patient has passed or been used up. And she knows that her body will release some endorphins the minute Marlee comes in.

The Hoover mom will post some pictures of Marlee at a later time. And she will tell some great stories about Marlee and the Hoovers. The Hoovers are insanely in love with Marlee.

But right now, the best picture she has is the following one. Marlee took the Hoovers to Carowinds in 100 degree weather:

In the front row are Prunella (trying to figure out how to get out) and Fred smiling. In the second row is Tommy with his face showing the effects of the G-force of the ride, sitting beside Marlee, and Bob in the third row, alone, loving every minute of it.

Laundry in Hooverville

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 04:26:00 +0000

The only thing the Hoover mom can think to say is "damn".

The Hoover mom believes in the Good Lord, especially as she is writing this post on a Sunday, but she still thinks there might have been some mistake, just a slight error, with the geographical location into which He dropped the Hoover mom when she was just a babe. (Okay, well, before she was a "babe," which was in her 20s and on into her early-30s -- she has photographs to prove it --  but when she was a BABY to be entirely correct.)

The Hoover mom was not made to endure heat and/or humidity.

Either alone makes her grouchy, but combine the two, and she'll get downright demanding. Add Hoovers into heat and humidity, and you've got the recipe for hell. Stir in the fact that the Hoover mom has tried to avoid the laundry room for as long as possible until today, and the Hoovers didn't have to even worry about what temperature it was outside. Because it was boiling inside Hooverville.

The Hoover mom erroneously believed that between six Hoovers, somebody should be able to wash a load of clothes, dry them, and then hang them up properly.  The Hoover mom's mom is not here to clarify, but the Hoover mom is pretty sure she was doing laundry before she could walk.

The Hoovers can certainly fold a towel, all six of them, better than most college students living in the area.

With the rise in heat, the Hoover clothes have begun to emerge from the laundry room with a slight sour smell to them. The Hoover mom can tolerate a lot of things. But one thing she CANNOT tolerate is a Hoover with a smell.  She's been known to bathe nearly full grown Hoovers until they smelled fresh when they refused to do so themselves.  And whilst still a stay-at-home-mom, she always got comments on how fresh the clothing of the Hoovers smelled. She knew it was true. She had a secret.

Now, she has two front load washers, two front load dryers, six Hoovers and the Hoover Dad. How in THE world could there be six months worth of laundry stored up, and how in the world could THAT much of it smell like it got wet, sat in 100 degree weather, and then got dried.

And just to use that word again, be DAMNED if some of the stinky stuff didn't belong to the Hoover mom and dad. Ohhhhhhhh. NOT good.

So, now, rather than her regular "to do" list, the Hoover mom is cracking down on laundry. Most all the Hoovers fell right in line and knew they'd better get involved somehow. It seems that the youngest Hoovers are the brightest ones, even though they have been on the earth the least amount of time. They KNEW the Hoover mom wasn't messing around. However, Bipolar Bob did everything he could to hide from the Hoover mom. And Betty did everything she could to huff and puff and roll her eyes every time the Hoover mom requested (oh, so politely) her assistance.

It was ONLY the arrival of the Hoover mom's own personal computer tech, nicknamed "Geek Squad," that saved the Hoovers from having to hear the Hoover mom go on and on all night about the laundry. (Geek Squad belongs to himself, but the Hoover mom wouldn't let anyone else touch her own laptop, affectionately known as, "X".)

But the Hoover mom goes to bed only to get up and start another day. And this will be a day filled with PERSONAL classes given to one and two Hoovers at a time about the fundamentals of laundry. Soap. Fabric softener. Sniff. Dry. Hang up immediately with all the little hooks of the hangers turned the same way.

The Hoovers WILL learn to do laundry, will do it right, will not stuff clothes directly out of the dryer into the dirty clothes baskets (a dirty Hoover trick), and will hang up clothes appropriately.

Will Someone Tell the Hoover Mom Where to Go?!?

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 04:50:00 +0000

The Hoover mom is ready to quit. Would someone pass her the phonebook with the number circled for where one would call or the address to write to quit several jobs at one time: Motherhood, wife hood, HBIC of the Hoovers and Hooverville (and if you don't know what that means, you don't want to know). The Hoover mom wants to submit her cumulative resignations to someone or some office but doesn't know where to go. Advice needed, wanted, and will be heeded. Where does one wave the white flag when on the donkey ride through hell and one wishes to get off of the donkey?

It is a known fact for most who are close to the Hoover mom that she hasn't been in her happy place for some time now. In fact, she hasn't been there in such a long while that she's lost the directions. The Hoover Mom lost her way sometime in the wintertime, and she hasn't been there since. She can't remember where it is. It's like some vague memory of some place that she KNOWS exists and she is dying to go back to. She's thinking it may be under the covers of her very own bed. However, the Hoovers can pick the lock to her door now, so even if it had previously been there, it has probably hit the road by now. The Hoovers are not a happy bunch to be around, at least not collectively. Some damn body is ALWAYS mad about something, and it generally leads to some fit pitching and such which can set another Hoover off or remind another Hoover of something he or she forgot to tattle about, and then it just drops off of a cliff from there.

The Hoover mom wonders how 4200 square feet and 2 acres could be too small of a space for Hooverville to exist peacefully.

The Hoover mom got out of Hooverville and was near her happy place tonight. The closest she's been in a while. At least she was with "her girls" who have known each other through more than 11 years of thick and thin, before kids, with kids, and through many jobs and situations. The kind of group that picks up right where it leaves off no matter how long it is between times spent together. They get the Hoover mom's humor. In fact, they laugh at the same things the Hoover mom thinks is funny. Each so individual, each extremely good at and successful at what she does, and each to remind the Hoover mom that only good people have and keep friends like these. To remind the Hoover mom that SHE still is "good people" even when she is recovering, so to speak, from herself.

The government official one of us, with her skillful, sneaky, and wise negotiating tactics, invited the three non-private-beach-homeowner friends (which included herself) to a weekend AT the private beach home of the private-beach-homeowner friend. After nearly falling out of the booth at how the Hoover mom was invited to Heaven-on-Earth even before she knew it was happening, the Hoover mom began thinking of the other times spent there. No schedule. No expectations. And how somehow, the Hoover mom landed what she thinks is the best room in the house on the first trip, and it's now known as "her" room. Once her luggage is dragged up the stairs to the room, she literally could stay there until it was time to leave. Her laptop (nothing less than a Dell will do). Her Kindle (thank you, Amazon, for the Kindle). The view of the marsh and then the ocean. The memories of the fun had there. The favorite seafood restaurant (okay, one exit from the room).

So a trip is in the works. And the Hoover mom is determined to get where she needs to be before that trip. With this being Hooverville's first "REAL" week out of school (last week was a beach trip that was a vacation for the Hoovers), the dust will settle and eventually the Hoover mom will felt she has caught back up with life. Marlee, the Hoover mom's long lost daughter and big sister/nanny to the Hoovers, is moving in this weekend. Hooverville will house three adults, six children, three large dogs and one HUGE dog, and one guinea pig. During the day, there are currently three but soon to be four to five ABA therapists working with the autistic Hoovers, two supervisors to the therapists, one speech therapist, one behavior interventionist, one coordinator to the behavior interventionist, two autism specialists who will phase out with the entrance of the ABA therapists, and one adoption preservation specialist who will start as soon as the Hoover mom tells her when to come.

That's a hell of a lot of people.

The Hoover mom needs a hotel room to herself.

The Hoover mom is told constantly that Hooverville needs its own reality show. Honestly, will somebody tell the producers of Kate Plus Eight that they haven't seen anything yet? That they haven't seen ratings fly through the roof like they would with this chaos?

So, if given the chance, the Hoover mom would quit. Right now. She would feel better about quitting if someone were applying for her job. If anyone needs her and cannot find her, check under the covers.

The Hoover Mom Loves a Quote #2

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 02:45:00 +0000

God sometimes removes a person a person from your life for your protection.

Don't run after them.

--Rick Warren

The Hoover Mom Loves a Quote #1 - A Little Truth Worth Contemplating

noreply@blogger.com (Parenting the Hoovers) — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 07:23:00 +0000

Truth is -- everyone is going to hurt you. You just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.

---Bob Marley