Following Bunny Trails

“I don’t have ADD, it’s just that…OhLookAKitty!”

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The Boy

This precious boy was a long time coming.   Hubby and I had been married 12 years when we finally conceived our little miracle.   I did everything that I was supposed to during my pregnancy, I stayed away from all the mercury and chemicals possible, daddy always changed the litter box, we went on daily walks, etc.    I guess I should mention that I have type II diabetes, but was religious about keeping it under tight control.  (In fact, the doctor said my A1C was a little too low at one point.)   I enjoyed every well-earned flutter and kick, his hiccups made me giggle.   Bedtime was when he got really active.  I’d lay on my side with hubby’s hand resting on my belly and the boy would kick at daddy & do cartwheels for our amusement.

At 38 weeks, full term but two weeks before the due date, my water broke.  We headed to UofM hospital and they immediately started a pitocen drip to get things moving along.  What a happy, exciting time!    About seventeen hours later, baby started showing signs of distress; with each contraction his heart rate would drop.    They had me try different positions to relieve pressure on the cord, because they were guessing it was being compressed.   By nineteen hours they were talking C-section to a very disappointed first-time mom.   The alarm bells on the monitors had been going off for a couple of hours, but the boy’s heart rate was getting lower with each contraction.   The third time it dropped into the 80’s (normal is around 120,) the nurse said “that’s it, call the doctor.”   But the doctor was in the door frame already, “Let’s go” he said.  So they kicked off the brakes and wheeled the whole bed down to the operating room.   I remember at one point someone saying, “let’s not run, somebody’s going to get hurt.”   I was completely panicked and sobbed all the way to the O.R.   A masked face bent over mine and said, “it’s ok honey, we do this all the time.  You’re going to be just fine.”   It wasn’t me I was worried about!  You see, when they kicked off the brakes and started wheeling me out and running me down the hall, they had forgotten to explain to me that they were removing the monitor from my baby’s scalp.   The last thing I saw as they wheeled me out was his heart monitor going flatline.

I awoke groggy and on morphine and they immediately placed a bundle of swaddled baby into my arms.  I regret now that I was too stoned to cry, because he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen!   I know all parents feel that way about their child, but seriously, I had geared myself up for a purplish, wrinkled, vernix covered, wailing creature.  I guess I missed that part.  He was my gorgeous, pink, chubby cheeked little cherub.  The tearstained hubby recorded our first meeting, I laugh now because you can see how out-of-it I was as I picked through layer after layer of swaddling blankets to see his body and count fingers and toes.   After a while, hubby and mom told me that baby boy had managed to get his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck 3 times during his nightly acrobatics.

Our new baby boy was so calm and quiet all day (he was born at 8AM,) occasionally letting out a cute little squeak or yawn, causing his visitors to go, “awwwwww!”   It was about 2AM when we first heard the piercing, hawk-like cry.  Hubby and I looked at each other and said, “THAT just came out of our tiny baby?”   After trying to console the screeching baby for a while, the nurses wheeled him out of our room & kept him at their station, where I’m completely positive they fed him bottles and gave him a pacifier against my wishes, hahaha!    This would be my only night of respite for the next three months.   Our baby had colic.




Seeking Your Opinion

It is going to be difficult for me to anonymize my family in a blog that is almost completely about them.  As I said in a previous post, I tend to be a tell-all type of gal. Before I even set up my site, I chatted with a friend and fellow blogger.  She reminded me that my writings would be going world wide, and that there are some, lets just say, interesting individuals out there.  That I may not want pictures of my son getting into someone’s hands, or that it might not be the wisest idea to put his name out there, lest his identity be stolen. (Even if I use only their first names, all someone would have to do is piece it together with my last name and they’ve got the whole shebang.)   Not to mention that some day my children’s classmates may get a hold of my blog posts and cause them to feel embarrassed.  I am honestly not afraid of my children resenting me for writing about them, I hope that I am giving them enough stability and security so they understand that everything I write about them is written with the utmost love.  Besides, eventually mom’s going to get blamed for everything that is wrong with junior’s life anyway.  This usually lasts from the age of 16 to approximately their mid twenties, when the child has an epiphany and realizes that mom was more wise than once thought.   In junior’s thirties they discover there was a method to mom’s madness after all.  Their forties, all is forgiven; fifties, you’re completely exonerated, and by the time they reach their sixties, you’re practically a saint!  (Did I just go on a bunny trail?)  Anyhoo, no, I’m now worried about scarring my children.

Do you think I should continue calling my family by “Hubby,” “the boy,” and “the girl” just to be on the safe side?  To protect them from would-be predators?  I’m not sure how I feel about this.  I had envisioned my blog with pictures of my kids to go along with the cute stories, but their safety is #1.  I have looked up quite a few mom-blogs and many have pictures and names, many have no pictures and nicknames.  What is your opinion?

Excelling at Mediocrity

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hibiscusSo let me introduce myself.  My name is Kendra, my job is wife, mommy (and everything that goes with the first two,) I am an independent distributor of a jewelry business, and now a blogger.  In other words, a stay-at-home-mom who’s trying to help daddy make ends meet.

As far as mediocrity goes, I was a straight C student in school.  Not that I was lacking the intelligence, more that I just had better stuff to do than homework.  I much preferred daydreaming or reading Stephen King novels and stashing them under my bed as I heard my mom’s footsteps approaching.   Hubby and I have managed to repair our post-college, newlywed-dashed credit and claw our way up to a solid middle class.  We met and married while attending college,  but I never managed to finish a degree.  I was envious of  hubby because he knew what profession he wanted to be in since freshman year of high school, lucky bum.   I thought about cytology but found that those jobs are disappearing at a jackrabbit’s pace, plus my aunt is losing her eyesight from looking into a microscope for 37 years.  Then I tried my hand at nursing, but I couldn’t get through the chemistry requirements.  Well, maybe I could have if I hadn’t treated college as the most awesome (and expensive) party EVER!   After recovering from the disaster I made of NMU and maturing a little, I attempted an associates degree.  But, here again, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.  All I knew was that after being a home health aid for 6 years, (about as low on the totem pole as you can get in the health care occupation,) I wanted to do something where I didn’t have a large amount of direct physical contact with people.  I may have been possibly experiencing some burn out at the time.   I attempted the coursework for becoming a CPA, *snore* not for me.  Then I switched over to computer information systems but couldn’t get through the programming courses.  I have decided that if I found something I was truly passionate about, I’d go for the degree and have the drive to stick with it.   Still looking-haha!

I’ve been called a “supermom” once or twice because of my cute homemade preschool snacks, but NO, mediocre mom at best.  I spent 5 hours on the hibiscus cookies that were decorated with colorful royal frosting because I enjoy the artwork, it’s zen-time for me.  And before you get this picture of a 5-year-old in one of his daddy’s old t-shirts helping stir the batter, I’ll admit that I baked them while he was sleeping and decorated them during his school day.  The 17-month-old just wandered around keeping herself busy, occasionally stopping and looking at the PBS cartoons that are perpetually on at our house.  In my defense, I was supposed to have a sitter to help out while I embarked on my project, but she had to cancel.  Yeah, Not a supermom!

You’ve heard the expression “Jack of all trades” [master of none]… well that’s me.  My cakes and cookies are cute, I get an” A” for effort anyways.  My artwork’s so-so.  My cooking is pretty good, but I’ve had some doozy’s go on the “never attempt again” list.  (Who knew that okra could turn a pot of gumbo into aloe consistency slime?) I do not keep a filthy house, nor am I able to keep a clean house.  My garden is organic, but weedy.  I honestly am not berating myself, nor am I attempting to garner compliments or accolades, I’m just letting you know who’s writing.  I’ve always been the type to wear my emotions on my sleeve, and I’m an unabashed tell-all type of gal.  I find humor in my failings and have the ability to laugh at myself, and I invite you to laugh with me too.


In Honor of Mother’s Day


Thank you mom for teaching me that it just isn’t dish water unless it’s too hot to stick your hand all the way to the bottom of the sink.

T.Y.M. for discovering that a combination of Lestoil & fels naptha can get out just about every stain, but that if you scrub at anything with a hello kitty nail brush from the 80’s for too long, you will remove the color from the fabric.

T.Y.M. for letting me know that it’s ok to laugh at someone when they hurt themselves in an interesting way, but that it’s just good etiquette to ask them if they’re ok first.

T.Y.M. for reminding me to “walk in someone else’s moccasins” before hating them for their actions.

T.Y.M. for not allowing me to hate people who have wronged me.

T.Y.M. for taking me stomping through the woods to hunt for mushrooms & blueberries.  That semester you took Botany 101 was maybe one of my favorite seasons ever.

T.Y.M. for not being grossed out when I brought home frogs, toads, salamanders,  monarch caterpillars, & crayfish in cool whip containers.  And for not instilling in me the [entire] family’s repulsion of snakes.

Thank you mom for being you and for making me who I am today!

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Goals of “Following Bunny Trails”

It seems that most parents I am acquainted with now-a-days has at least one child who is “differently abled.”   The other day I ran into an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in a while, and she asked how school was going for my son.  It was just her bad luck that I had happened to have come from a meeting with the school staff earlier that day.  She told me that she understood what I was going through because her son had his own eccentricities that had gone undiagnosed for years.  During this time she said that she felt so alone, and that her son was oftentimes thought of as a “bad kid” by the school and even some friends.   But it was this morning’s conversation with a girlfriend that really turned the light on for me.  She mentioned that she wished there was a support group for what she’s going through with her daughter.  I responded that I too had asked a pediatrician, psychologist, and a social worker (sounds like the beginning of a joke… “all walked into a bar together…”) if there was a support group for parents of children with ADHD.  That’s when it hit me…  I would love to do a blog about how we got our diagnosis, treatment options, and life [in general] with my beloved child that has ADHD.   I want to make it very clear that this blog is not meant to diagnose, or change the course of any current treatment of the reader’s children, I am not going to EVER review a medical drug or encourage anyone with an excessively hyper or unruly child that they may want to investigate ADHD as a cause.  This blog is simply to commiserate and celebrate the individuality of my child.  And if a reader laughs, wonderful!  Gains a different perspective, awesome!  Realizes that she’s/he’s not alone with this whole “parenting isn’t as easy as it looks” thing… that’s even better!

Writing has always been a passion of mine.  Several years ago I found a book at a garage sale that was written by one of my favorite authors.  It was a book that was all about writing, much outside his usual subject matter.  The first or second page said that if you don’t have time to write, you’ll never be a writer.  I put the book down and to this day, it sits unread on my shelf.  I do not have a degree in writing, I have taken some college courses that are required for graduation, so I know a little, but not enough to avoid the inevitable mistakes of the many rules of the English language.  Here are some faults of mine…  I enjoy run-on sentences, and over,use,comas:  I often forget the rules for using colons and semicolons…oh, and whatever these three dots are for… I love them!  And a college prof once told me that I tend to overuse “I” when I’m writing about myself.   (What?)  Last but not least, I have been known to insert a “LOL” here and there, but mostly after saying something mildly sarcastic that may possibly offend someone if the exact context of my comment wasn’t understood.  Now that I’ve apologized in advance for my writing style… (If you’re anything like me, noted misspellings, misuse of punctuation and, god forbid, the misunderstanding of when to use words such as “their, they’re, and there,” are like fingers on a chalk board!)  <- [bunny trail]        (P.S. In my opinion, parenthesis are the perfect punctuational excuse to digress…I tend to digress A LOT.)


Starting the blog, “Following Bunny Trails.”

Whew, the hardest part is over!  I knew I was going to agonize over the name of my new blog!  Me, Miss wishy washy, Miss. Safe in my comfortable box, Miss. “Undeclared” at the age of 38…   I have half-written mini essays and silly rhyming children’s stories scribbled on unattached scraps of paper or saved on a dinosaur computer that overheats and is in jeopardy of the blue screen of death at any moment.   Once the inspiration hit me, I had the first blog post written in an hour.  It took about 3 days of brainstorming, however, to come up with a valid name that didn’t pigeonhole me into a tight niche or to find one that wasn’t so general that the reader would have no clue as to what the blog was about.   (Ok, maybe mine is closer to the latter of the two.)    Day 1 was when I was absolutely sure of the topic that I would be blogging about.  Then the internal questions started: “What if I run out of subject matter?”  “What if I wanted to post general stories or observations?”  “What if I want to post a fun new recipe or pontificate about something that’s happening on the news, would my reader say, ‘hey, this has nothing to do with the name of the blog!’”  I’m my own worst enemy, I tell ya!   I started the domain procuring & naming process this afternoon, but soon found out how many other wonderfully sarcastic and snarky blogs with amazingly creative names are already owned.  My husband was actually the cause of the name break through.  He told me to describe myself in a few words, it didn’t work.  Then he suggested I reread my first blog that was saved on my computer.  And there it was!  The very last sentence was the idea for the name of my new blog.

The Urban Dictionary’s definition of “following a bunny trail” means to go off topic during a discussion.    Perfect!   The first time I heard the phrase was from my Aunt.  Her quiet demeanor and deadpan delivery was key to causing my laughing fit, which put the phrase into my memory forever.   She had just finished a long phone conversation with my mother, and simply said that she was exhausted from trying to follow her bunny trails.  This image popped into my head of a scared little bunny hopping left and right, zig zagging all over the place, and it was the perfect description of a normal conversation with my mom!   She’ll be talking about one friend and then she says something about dinner then back to another friend and on to a medication she read about… no segue whatsoever… you’re just expected to follow the conversation.   And you know what?  Heredity being what it is, I have a tendency to go off on my own little hard to follow bunny trails.  Most of my close friends are not afraid to interrupt me and say, “Wait, what are you talking about?  Ohhh, I thought we had finished that topic two minutes ago- hahahaha!”

I had originally wanted this blog to be about living with a child with ADHD, and it will be about that, but I didn’t want it to be written solely on this topic.   The Mayo Clinic staff defines ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) as a chronic condition that affects millions of children and often persists into adulthood. ADHD includes a combination of problems, such as difficulty sustaining attention, hyperactivity and impulsive behavior.  I don’t feel the need to go in depth about ADHD at this time because, as they say, it affects millions and no doubt you already know a little something about this malady.   We’ve all heard the joke:  “I don’t have ADD, it’s just that…OhLookAKitty!”    Otherwise known as “following bunny trails.”