Life in HyperSpace is finally Out!!

The book that’s taken twenty plus years and a lot of hard knocks to write is finally complete and edited. If you have ADD/ADHD kids of your own and are in need of a laugh or maybe a little help, check this one out...

Christmas Eve, I finally launched the book about our life at home with four ADD/ADHD kids.This is packed full of laughs and advice from parents who have been there in the trenches.

Here’s the back cover blurb:

Spraypainting the cat? What was he thinking?

With four year college degrees under our belts and a dab of training in Child Psychology, my wife and I thought we were ready for anything when it came to this parenting gig.

We had no idea we would be outnumbered and outgunned. From diet to riot, meds to charts, we’ve tried it all, to train up our kids in the way they should grow.

From the Home School of Hard Knocks, our four ADD and ADHD kids have taught us more about coping and planning ahead than any four year college degree could have, especially when it comes to understanding what goes on in the mind of a five year old in a Buzz Lightyear costume flying on a treadmill. To Infinity, and Beyond.

Links are available on my author website at www.lynvia.com.

Home Alone 3

Today my wife headed to William Carey University with my daughter to register her for college, lock in her classes, see her advisor, and all that preliminary stuff to embarking on the college adventure.

My older son, 20, was watching my 11yo while I was at work.

I sent him a text around noon to see if he was working today, and he said he was, 3:15pm - 7:15pm. Another odd shift, but hey, cash.

So, this meant my 11yo would be home alone until i got home, usually around 6:30pm.

I was positive this was a bad idea, so I asked my boss if I could head home early, and left at 2:30. I arrived home at 3:05. My 11yo had been left home alone for 15 minutes.

Having seen the Home Alone movies, I came home a little nervously, checking for trip wires and traps.

What I found when I got inside was egg shells. Lots of them.

Appears my 11yo was trying to cook an omelette for lunch. 15 minutes alone, NINE bowls, 18 eggs, and he managed to burn two eggs into a brown crispy treat. No cheese.

He's following in the footsteps of some great men of science, like Thomas Edison, who tried almost10000 times before coming up with the right filament for the electric lightbulb.









After all his failed attempts, I came home to find him scraping his eggs out of the pan with a metal spatula, leaving on the stove and counter a trail of wreckage, as seen below...

After seeing his final offering, I got hungry, and cooked myself one, with cheese and ham, which prompted him to ask for one himself. Looks like I'm still good for something, anyway.

And we still have a mess to clean up. Like always, this reminds me of a verse, this one about a child left to himself... which is why I was hurrying home in the first place.

Time to go do life with my boy. Maybe we'll play some cleanup games...

Excursions and Diversions

This past weekend, my daughter came back from a mission trip to Northern Ireland. To return, she had to fly from Dublin through New Jersey to Seattle, then from Seattle back to St. Louis, when she lives in the Memphis area.

Talk about confused paths!

In a brief explanation, her missions organization, YMI, is based out of Seattle. It was a direct flight from there to St. Louis, so rather than have her change planes and gates alone on her return journey, we thought we'd drive up to St. Louis, and pick her up there. At midnight.

Right.

While there, we were going to see Six Flags and the Arch. We decided to go as a family, and take my oldest and her son (my grandson) along. That's a total of 7 people, which is too many for our Sentra, but just right for Bertha.

There was some discussion about whether Bertha, the antique Dodge Grand Caravan I drive now, would make the trip. She's been a great blessing, and should be good for a road trip. She made the distance to and from Awana Camp (a distance of almost 600 mi round trip) with no problems, so in mind she was good to go.

But, Bertha had other plans. She must not have wanted to go. On the way home from work the day before leaving, it started to rain. I turned on the windshield wipers, and Bertha, with a bang and clatter, threw the wipers off the windshield onto the side view mirrors.

Here's a picture of the wiper off on the side. I drove home in a torrential downpour with no wipers. It's amazing how slow you have to drive in the rain on the expressway, when the wipers don't work...


I had Thursday off, so I took the morning and tried to figure out why she wasn't wiping any more. A quick disassemble showed that some plastic bushings holding the wiper assembly together were gone. I tried to fashion a replacement out of black rubber using a Dremel and a lot of patience, but she tossed her blades again, and I ordered some replacement parts.

Bertha's seen a lot of miles, so if she wanted to sit this trip out, I wasn't going to deny her the chance to rest and relax. So, we chose to caravan with the Sentra and my son's Taurus.

While Bertha didn't want to travel, Bean Bun was insistent that he come with. While I was packing my travel bag with clothes, he climbed on top of it and tried to get inside. I was wise to his tricks, and told him, no pets allowed in the hotel.

He didn't get the memo, so I zipped up the bag to keep him out. That didn't keep him from climbing on top and hoping he'd be hidden amongst all that black canvas. Good camouflage, I must say...

Sorry, Bean Bun. No dice, you can't come.


We caravanned to St. Louis and dropped the rest of the family off at the hotel across from Six Flags, and my wife and I headed to the airport for a late night pickup.

While waiting at the airport I decided to see what Pokemon Go had to say about the place, and found out it was a Gym and Resource Center. Just showing up there allowed me to score a new bag full of Poke Balls and pick up another Eevee, cute little guy.

We made it back to the hotel with my little missionary and crashed. The next morning after reading a chapter of Proverbs from Blue Letter Bible, we headed downstairs for a breakfast of champions at the hotel restaurant.

My ADD family couldn't quite get it all together, so my oldest and I left with my youngest and the grandson, and had breakfast.

My wife and the other two came down a bit later, and descended on the all you can eat breakfast buffet.

Here my son Justin is with the all-American standard breakfast food of choice - Bacon. Note, no cereal, no eggs, no toast, just... Bacon.

I gotta admit, it was amazing to finally be all together again as a family, with all four kids, after having one married off and one back and forth six hours away at college, and one on the mission field, even if that was for only a couple weeks.

Something I can't get used to, as Rachel will be headed off to college in another couple weeks, and Justin won't be long behind her, heading back down to Hattiesburg in about a year.




We spent the day at Six Flags, enjoying our time with Bugs and the Gang, and only got losted a few times, when John or the parents would wander off while somebody was riding a ride. The weather was decent for the trip, it never rained, and didn't really get too hot for this time of year. It may have gotten to 90 once but we had sunscreen and Six Flags has a waterpark.

Which, unfortunately, was maxxed out on capacity, and tended to make hunting for your lost ADD kids a little difficult. Note to self, next time put them in Dayglo Orange from head to toe, to make them easy to find.

Thankfully, everyone knew how to get back to the hotel via the hotel bus, so there were no police reports that needed to be filed and no milk cartons had to wear one of our happy faces.

But Justin did have to find out where the building for Lost Parents resided, since we seemed to have lost ourselves.

On the way back, we went to the Arch. Note, I did NOT say, we went THROUGH the arch. It was intended to be an educational homeschool adventure, as John had just been studying Lewis and Clark, so a trip through the Arch museum seemed an intelligent thing to do, and we had time to do it. John was looking forward to it.

But when we got there, Siri invented an exit# that wasn't in the city, and since the exit number didn't exist (except maybe in Percy Jackson's dimension) we tried to get to the Arch on our own.

Last time we went, about eight years ago, there was a parking lot for the attraction, but this time, there were construction barricades everywhere, and the picture here is as close as we could get. There was a parking garage that would have allowed us to only walk a mile to get there, but it was full up, and so Dad got upset and we headed home instead.

Big Mistake. Disappointment found a new octave in our car, but it only solidified our resolve NOT to go to the Arch, since the city seemed so intent on keeping us out. I remember reading how Percy Jackson destroyed the top of it, so I expected they were still repairing it.

Maybe we'll be back that way in a few years when they get done with their repairs, and take a ride to the top.

Melatonin at Midnight

Our youngest, now eleven, is the most hyperactive of our brood, there is no doubt at all. The little guy could be hooked to a treadmill and generate enough electricity for the neighborhood. Reminds me a bit of Hammy from Over the Hedge.

Because of his propensity for zipping through life, we give him Vyvanse to calm him down (yes, a stimulant actually slows him down, much like Hammy did when time slowed down for him when he drank the Mach 7 drink. (You HAVE seen the Over the Hedge movie, yes?))

A negative of that is that when he comes down from the meds he takes in the morning, he's too wound up to go to sleep. We've given him multiple things for that, starting with a teaspoon of Benadryl, but settled on Melatonin, a healthier solution that's a natural hormone, one that regulates sleep. John takes a dose in the evening and is ready to crash about an hour or so later.

When he doesn't get his dose, he's chasing cats down the stairs at 2am, something Papa Bear doesn't approve of. And when Papa Bear ain't happy, well...

Papa Bear can get pretty ugly when he's woken up from hibernation. Just sayin...

This appears to be a common solution to the age old problem of put-the-kids-in-bed, so much so that they now make GUMMY Melatonin, which looks a lot like gummy vitamins, or the friendly kid-approved Dots candy. So much so that it's easy to confuse the two. Whereas, if you eat a box of Dots, you might get a bit of a sugar rush, but if you ate an equal number of Gummy Melatonin, you might sleep for a week.
Here's a comparison of what they look like... pretty similar, right? Ha, and they call it Adult Gummies. But the dose is small enough where it takes several to knock the boy out.

This story is not how my youngest OD's on Melatonin and has to visit the vacuum cleaner at the local hospital. Or another call to the Poison Control Center. But looking at the two, hey, it could happen. I mean, what were they thinking??

One evening, we forgot to give John his dose, and he was running around at midnight and woke up Papa Bear. So he got his dose then, and after a bit, he went to bed, and slept through morning bible, breakfast, and probably homeschool.

Recently our family started going to bed significantly later than usual, since we have new adults in the house, that is, not that we've added family members but that we've fed some of them and, gasp, they've grown up.

So my oldest boy, Justin, now 20, is often gone with friends or has them over, and so does my daughter, now 18. We usually get to evening prayer time quite late, and I'm wiped before they are ready to shut down for the night. My son Justin would just as soon play Uncharted 4 until 8 am and sleep through the day. Me, not so much.

I've taken to telling them I 'turn into a pumpkin' right about 10:31pm, a reference to Cinderella's carriage turning back into a pumpkin at midnight, and cranking it back to a Halloween time because Midnight JUST AIN'T HAPPENIN any more for me.

Or rather, until last night. My 18yo daughter just got on a plane to head out for a Mission Trip to Northern Ireland with YMI, and her red-eye flight left at 5am sharp, which meant we had to be at the airport about 3am, which meant if I was going to get any sleep, I needed to go down by 9pm. But with company over, and my daughter wanting to watch the end of a show, it just kept getting later. We finally turned the TV off about 11:30pm, and prayed. I went up to bed for a few hours sleep, but Justin wanted to play his video game, and he wanted me to watch him. So I stayed up, and so did John, watching Justin gun down baddies while hunting pirate treasure, until it was time to take my daughter to the airport.

So I am running on about 1 hour sleep. Whereas, John, well, this time he didn't need any Melatonin...

And I'll leave you with this verse, which applies to all of us I guess:

It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep. - Psalm 127:2

Memory, Memory Sticks, Memory Loss, and Loss

Attention, please.

What I mean is, I probably need to pay more, ahem, attention. Unfortunately, the memory bank is overdrawn, and I cannot afford to pay attention, not with all the dreams, projects, stories, outlines, songs, and games in progress.

Since my memory at 50+ isn't what it used to be, I've taken to storing in on these little USB memory sticks. You see them in the stores, by the register, currently running around 16GB for 8 bucks, or 64GB for 30. The problem really is keeping track of where you put them.

So, this is what memory looks like these days, when you crack the cover and look inside. Of course, when you crack the cover, you've usually lost your mind, too. At least, I did, when I did that. About 2 years ago, setting the laptop down, it cracked the case on my missing memory. I lost three month's work on a novel that day, because I ONLY stored my books on my memory stick. Easier transport.

You would think I'd learned my lesson. I bought another stick, and copied my work to it, and went on with life, happily rewriting, until that stick didn't have enough memory for my stuff. So I bought a bigger one, carried it around on my keys.

About four weeks ago, while in Pensacola I somehow lost my memory again. This time, I lost about four months' work on a novel and six months' work on a video game. Aargh! Hate this ADD! I looked everywhere, and could only conclude it was in our hotel room. But they never found it, so they say, anyway. It had other stuff on it, important stuff, like family pictures and bank records and all kinds of gee I hope nobody finds this stuff.

So when we got home, guess what, I bought another memory stick, a 64GB one, and started trying to catch up on the work I'd lost with the other one. Took a few weeks, but I finally started getting traction on the story I was writing, and a little on the Game I was designing.

Last night, I... Oh, I almost can't say it.

I lost my memory again.

And without having backed it up anywhere.

Honest, I do have an IQ over that of a potato bug. But maybe I've been storing that on these little sticks too.

The USB stick must have slipped off my keyring carabiner when I was getting my keys out. Another months' work, flushed. So today I've gone to the store and bought a few sticks on clearance. SanDisk, with Encryption Vaults to store my Don't Read my Bank Records stuff in.

I'm going to commit to putting anything and everything in the little Vault, and backing this stuff up daily that I've been working on. Otherwise, I think I'll lose my mind again, maybe this time for keeps.

Anybody else been there, done that??

Video Game Addictions

Video Games are an addictive pastime, and there are several generations of 'kids' now addicted to them. The fast-moving digital media can be unhealthy, too, because overexposure to it can reprogram the brain for rapid-fire, rather than cognitive thinking. See this article on it...

I for one have many that I've enjoyed over the years, on many platforms including the Commodore 64, the Atari 2600, the PC, the Playstation 1 and 2, the GameBoy Advance, and Nintendo DS. I'm even currently working through level 150 of ToyBlast on my iPhone. (A very addictive little game).

In our loving madhouse, we sign off from Electronics on Sunday, from morning until after evening services, to focus on God and unplug for a bit. Maybe do some healthy brain activity like read a book. Like, maybe, the Bible! Or work puzzles.

But little Johnny doesn't quite get it. Could be the ADHD, perhaps he wasn't paying attention. Since we confiscate his Nintendo 3DS for the day, he's leveraged the Color printer and a roll of Scotch Tape to create one we WON'T confiscate.

Believe it or not, what you are seeing here is the OUTSIDE cover of a Three-Dimensional, realistic, PAPER Nintendo 3DS. I'll open it up for you so you can see the inside...

Please forgive the rotated nature of the pictures, my iPhone created the pictures in landscape, and I'm having trouble rotating them back. Notice how John has a PacMan game going on his PaperCraft Nintendo 3DS. He's also got all the controller buttons, and along the sides of the unit, he has all the connectors to plug in power (a big no-no during no electronics) or an audio cable.

I gotta say, his PaperCraft Nintendo 3DS is so realistic, it's fooled several people in the family, and even visitors, and I've even managed to fool John himself with this expertly taped together game system.

It's certainly 'street legal' during our electronics fasts, but the only game that will probably play on it, other than PacMan, would be Paper Mario.

Focus, Dishes, Tea, and ACTS Praying Revisited

Ever tried to force an ADHD kid to have focus to complete a task?

So last night, it was John's turn to do the dishes. Actually, we have chores on rotation, so each week we rotate, with Justin (20) doing one chore, Rachel (17) doing another, and John (10) doing a third. Mom and Dad picking up the slack.

The three chores we rotate through are (1) Dishes, (2) Laundry, and (3) Sweeper.
The prized job is Sweeper, because we rarely force whoever is sweeping to actually sweep. It is usually just feed the animals (no cows and chickens, just Cats and Dog). Oh, and take out the trash. And maybe scoop the cat litter. Slack = scoop cat litter for the kids, and put a liner in the can for those who forgot. BEFORE you throw trash in the can and discover there's no liner!

Laundry is is a no-brainer. One load, make sure the washer has nothing molding overnight.

Dishes ought to be a no-brainer, but when the dishwasher went south shortly before Christmas, rather than buy a new one, we decided to hold off and wash by hand. We're still holding off, partly to make sure Rachel finishes funding for a Mission Trip, and kids have college. But we have one picked out, I think...

Anyway, whatever chore John is on is a sharing chore, because, well, he's ten. And ADD. And Hyperactive. And all boy. A wicked combo, especially when he's wrapped around the axle from too much video gaming.
I usually give the assist in the evenings, and don't mind dishes. My mom would die of shock, I used to hate hate hate hand dishes. So, I wash, and John dries and puts away. But what occurred last night was, I washed, and John played his game. When the dish racks were fully loaded, therefore, since John was on his game when he was supposed to be helping, I sent him to completely empty the rack while I finished reading The Ghost Box by Mike Duran. :-)

I had to break away from reading seven times to send John back in to dry. First, he couldn't find a hand towel, so he just chased the cat around the house. So, I got him a dishtowel, and sent him back (he knew where these were!) Then, he chased the cat with the dishrag. Trying to pop him, I think. So I sent him back. Then, he marched around the house with a towel and a glass.

You get the picture. He was so hyper he did a flying tackle on the cat, snagging him with the towel. It's a wonder we weren't back at the ER for a broken bone or Cat Scratch Fever. Or at the vet for a crushed rib...

I had to get a chair, and block exit from the kitchen, while reading my book, until he was completely done drying and putting away. Funny how being trapped in a five-foot by five-foot kitchen will give you focus.

After chores came the usual ACTS praying.


ACTS Praying is a thing our family does in the evening to wind down, focus on God, and get our hearts ready for sleep. It's an acronym for (A)doration, (C)onfession, (T)hanksgiving, and (S)upplication.

(A)doration is where we praise God for one of His attributes, like 'You are Holy'. Or one of the other Nine Billion Names of God.

(C)onfession is where we confess something we did wrong to God, try to make it right with each other if it's an offense against another family member. This one can be hard to draw out, or to nail down, especially with John. But, he's ten.

(T)hanksgiving - should be obvious, except when you're tire, you might end up saying Grace for a meal you've already eaten...

(S)upplication - 2 rounds. One for others, and a second round to pray for yourself.

John was still wound up tight, even after 10PM, so when we got to Thanksgiving, he just said, for Tea. I told him that the Tea in the fridge had been there too long, and was probably fermented. Thankfully, he didn't ask what that meant or we'd have been exploring beer and other fermentation.

But he said he meant T. As in, the letter T. I never really thought about thanking God for a letter before, but T is not a bad one, as it's used in so many things. It's even used four times in this sentence.

So, flashback to Sesame Street: Today's ACTS Praying time was brought to you by the Letter T.

We all got a big laugh out of that. You would too, especially if you were a Vols fan.

Life In Hyperspace, revisited...

Life In Hyperspace is a book I've been meaning to write on these misadventures with my family, and I'm finally getting traction on it.

Some of the chapters in the book will reflect stories you can find on the pages of this blog, and some of them you have never heard. Unless you lived them, with my family.

I've shared some of these laughs with coworkers and extended family, and they've all said I should put this in a book. Or a Movie. Or a reality TV show.

Well, I couldn't possibly let TV cameras into the home. Besides the fact that we have the usual ADD clutter issues we don't want to share on TV, I couldn't cover the liability to their cameras, laptops and sanity as my kids bounce off the walls around them.

But putting it in a book is safe enough.

Just for fun, I'll put the lead-in here to whet some appetites:


Only in Our House…
“What do you mean, is Clear Coat poisonous?”
My wife paused. “You left the spray can out after you were done with the Grand Prix car.”
I took a deep breath. “And?”
“And, well, John spraypainted the cat.”
I gripped the steering wheel. “He what?”
“You mentioned this morning that his coat looked dull. He was just trying to help.”
“The can was almost empty. Brush his coat to pull off as much as you can.” I hung up and shook my head, staring ahead at the evening rush hour traffic.
Spraypainting the cat? What was he thinking?

After about five minutes, the phone rang again.
“Hey honey. Did you get the cat cleaned off?”
“How far out are you?” She sounded troubled.
“About five minutes, I think. Why?”
“Want to meet us at the hospital? Rachel almost cut her finger off in the van door.”
I swallowed. “What?”
Rachel’s voice cut in. “I was looking for the DVD remote like you asked me.”
“In the van?”
Justin called out from the background. “It’s pretty bad, Dad. We’ve stopped the bleeding, but you can see bone!”
My head swam. “Justin, you know how I am about blood. I’m driving on the expressway.”
Rebecca took a deep breath. “I’m taking her to the E.R. Want to meet us there?”
“I’ll be home in three.”

Fast Food and Feingold

Today, boys and girls, we're going to have a word about Fast Food and Feingold.

As parents of ADHD kids, on a budget no less, early on we investigated non-medication methods for treating the wonderful adverse symptoms of... hey, is that a butterfly?

MWHAHAHA... Now that I have lost your attention...
One of the treatments we investigated is diet. Specifically, the Feingold Diet. The principle behind the diet is that we have lots of additives in our food that companies have put in there to make it fresher, brighter, tastier, and, well, many other ERs.

Food companies are in the business of making money. It's what they do, and why they exist, and we shouldn't shame them for it. After all, they employ a LOT of us, including now my oldest son, yay, he got a JOB!

But in order to make money, they need to pull out the sugar, which is kinda expensive, and replace it with Corn Syrup, which is also now kind of expensive, since we run our CARS on it. (go figure...). And they add BHT (Does anybody even know or care what that stands for??) to the packaging so that your cereal will stay fresher longer, meaning more can be on the shelf for you, and it can have a sell-by date many months in the future, rather than, like, next week...

Because you like your food brighter, they add artificial colors, like Red Dye #5. Or Yellow Dye #2. Sort of like Crayola, except you eat this stuff. Really, you DO. Just read the label on the stuff you're eating now while reading this. Those ingredients are just a tad scary.

So, these companies had the bright idea to add all this stuff into the food you eat. Nobody, not even the FDA, had a really good idea what that might do to you over the long haul, but they tested it out on mice and prisoners and some folks from Bug Guts MS, and there were no real ill effects. Right.

So, the basis on the Feingold Diet is to eat fresh food, and avoid all that other stuff you don't really need in you, because believe it or not, it really does seem to affect your brain. That's right, the effects of those chemicals affect your brain.

Anyway, lest I ramble further, we tried the Feingold Diet (There was an entrance fee for their book and subscription to their newsletter and website and some other goodies, and believe it or not, the DIET WORKED. Bringing a verse to mind, Psalm 34:8.

 

Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good;
Blessed is the man who trusts in Him!

I came into work after two weeks on the diet, and my head was clear for the first time in, like, ever, and I could actually think faster, talk slower, react more calmly, and in general was no fun anymore for my coworkers, who enjoyed my daily rants. One of them actually stopped me outside her office and said, "Ok, who are you, and what have you done with Chris??"

One of my coworkers actually started dropping by my office before staff meetings and giving me a Snickers Bar and a Mountain Dew so I would be good and wound up before our weekly staff meetings.

 

That's right, my coworkers sabotaged the diet, because I was no fun anymore.

Also, though the diet does not seem expensive, it actually is. You see, companies can sell cheaper food, well, cheaper, because fresh, natural, organic food is harder to grow, doesn't stay fresh as long, and therefore, costs more.

So now, we've got all the kids on medication, but one thing the diet DID do for us is give us a hunger for fresh food. So, while we do occasionally stop at McDonalds or Wendys for fast food, when we head to the grocery store, we usually try to pick up organics like apples and salad stuff.

So this weekend Rebecca came home with a bag of apples, intending to put them in a bowl on the table. But by the time she got a bowl out, this was all that was left...

Now, THAT's what I call FAST FOOD.

Where's The Cat?

Yesterday, we had an interesting and bizarre set of ADHD circumstances that I thought I'd share.

I came home from work, and on the way, picked up dinner for the family - PapaJohn's pizza and some 2-liter drinks. I was tired, and I have a laptop and case to carry in, usually stuffed with papers, camera, and various projects.

So I decided not to carry all the food in, but instead send the kids out to get it. After all, they were hungry, right?

Right.

So I stumbled in the dark into the house and told the kids to go get the food in the van. Kissed my lovely wife, and set my heavy laptop case in the corner. I could hear my teen son playing the piano in the other room, another videogame sonata.

Teen daughter was yabbering on the cordless phone to one of her many friends. My 5yo son seemed more interested in his Webkins Hamster. Yes, the Webkins now have taken over Habitrail, it's all digital.

So, I hollered a little louder to go get the food from the van, and collapsed in an easy chair, the king's throne (every home has one of these, I'm sure.) Closed my eyes and relaxed. After several minutes, I noticed I still heard yabbering, story-telling, hamster-playing, and Final Fantasy 27.5 Notoki No Papaya, or Don't Touch My Fruit.

So, I hollered a great deal louder, scaring cats, dog, and children with the bellowing bull voice. Or the Voice of Doom. Whatever you want to call it. Finally got the kids rousted to run out and grab the food. We all ate at the dinner table, then the wife and I ran out to get our 21yo daughter from college.

I noticed the ADD kids had left the sliding van door ajar, so I slammed it closed and we went and got the dear daughter.

This morning, I went through my usual routine, stumble downstairs, start coffee, let cat in, let dog out. Only, no cat. Cat didn't come in. But cat ALWAYS comes in. And he's a loudmouth.

Side note, don't ever, ever, EVER get a siamese cat. Or one that looks like one. Or one that had Siamese up to six generations back. Or move next to me if you have one. Because they are loud. Insistent. Obnoxious. Persistent.

Only, today, no cat.

Normally, I wouldn't care. He's a happy cat, if loud, takes care of himself, and sometimes dear daughter locks him in her room so that he'll be forced to spend the night with her. He's her pet, but he doesn't seem to know it.

Anyway, I called the kids to come down for bible. No cat. I opened the front door again, no cat.

I remembered that we have some big neighborhood dogs that sometimes get loose. The kind of big dogs that eat little loudmouth cats. So, I prepped myself to give dear daughter THE SPEECH. But I decided to wait 24 hours before filing a missing cat APB. After all, that's what the police do too, right?

Right.

So after bible, I head to my van to drive to work. And this is what I see:



The combination of the ADD kids, the neighborhood dogs, and the ADD dad, conspired to trap the poor loudmouth in my van. All night.

And without a litterbox, too!

Poor baby. Him just couldn't help himself, and now the ADD Dad is driving with the windows down, and not just because his A/C in the Van went south again.

Sigh.

I know you're wondering, if you even read this far, how I can possibly pull this around to a spiritual lesson.

Well, never fear. Looking at the cat in my van, I was reminded of a verse:

No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it. - 1Cor 10:13

And I'll try to remember that everytime I get in my van, from now on, at least until the... memory... of the cat's night in the van fades.

Giving the Cat a 'Shiny Coat' and a Visit to the ER...

Today is a 'Two-Fer', because I haven't posted in a while. This may lead some to think that life in the Solaas house has been pretty normal, but that is most definitely NOT the case.

Several weeks ago, NBC put on a Family Friendly show called 'Secrets of the Mountain'. The American Family Association sent me a personal email letting me know that this was a good show to watch.



I watched the trailer and was quite excited about this movie. So I called home as I was getting ready to leave, and talked to my 11 year-old daughter. I told her I wanted to watch this movie, and I wanted to DV-R it in case I missed some of it due to traffic etc.

She told me the DVD Remote was missing, not unusual in our household (or any other I should imagine). So I sent her searching for the DVD Remote, and informed the family I was on my way home.

Now, before you start asking what watching a movie has to do with a cat's shiny coat, or a visit to the ER, bear with me. Watching a movie isn't hazardous to your health, some experts say.

About the Cat. You should be careful what you say. We mentioned in our 5yo son's hearing that the cat's coat was no longer shiny. Tribble, our 11yo longhair Himalayan Tabby mix was about to shed his winter coat.

So I get a call on my drive home that they are going to have to give Tribble a bath. In a hurry. Seems that our 5yo wandered into the garage and found a can of clear-coat our 14yo son had left lying on the floor of the garage, and SPRAYPAINTED the CAT. Yes, you heard right. Only in the Solaas home.

Gave him a nice shiny coat. A coat of clear-coat. Poor Tribble. If that wasn't enough, he then proceeded to turn Tribble into a leopard by using a dry-erase marker to give him spots.

All of this washed off with no problem. Good thing - cats give themselves baths too, and clearcoat is very poisonous.

So, WHY was the clear-coat lying on the floor of the garage? Well, our 14yo son was working on a car. Here's a picture of him working on it. Very focused. Covered in sawdust, making his Awana Grand Prix car. (Like Pinewood Derby in Cubscouts).

It doesn't look much like a car though - more like an upright piano. Here's a picture of it in the competition. Nice and Shiny. But the paint and clear-coat never got put away. Always put away your tools when you're done. BIG ADHD rule. Otherwise, someone might come along and spraypaint the cat.



On to the E.R...
I'm almost home, about 5 minutes away, when I get another call - they're about to pack our 11yo daughter up and rush her to the ER. Seems she was searching for the remote in the van. Yes, the HOUSE DVD remote. In the van. Don't ask me why. In fact, don't ask her why. She didn't know. It was just someplace else to look.

She got in a hurry and jumped out of the van, slamming the sliding door on her finger. Cut it on both sides. Our 14yo dear son, always helpful, provided the information that they could see the bone in the wound.

I faint at the sight of blood. I'm driving on the highway. Don't tell me you see bone while I'm driving on the highway.

I ask if it's spurting blood, while trying to keep from fainting while driving on the highway. It's not, so I tell them to wait and stop any bleeding like a good boy scout, and I'd be home in just a few minutes to do the driving to the hospital.

The time was 7pm, right when the movie was starting.

I got home and we drove our precious daughter to the LeBonheur Hospital downtown, where they are always nice to kids. It's a kids' hospital. Even their logo has kids on it. Here they all are on a license plate.


Anyway, we get to LeBonheur at 7:30pm and check into the ER. The nurses mention they've seen us there before. Oh, really? We're the Solaases. You should recognize us, we've been here too many times.

Unfortunately, when you've brought your kids to the hospital too many times, they get just a trifle suspicious that perhaps you've been hurting your kids, rather than them hurting themselves.

This is expected, especially when they recognize you but they don't 'know' you yet. Usually (isn't that a scary word when talking about hospitals?) they take us to the left to the Disney rooms over in the 'lacerations' area of E.R., where you are treated to a TV playing the Disney channel, and a sweet lady comes in bringing toys and stuffed animals, and the rooms are painted nice kid-friendly colors, with Disney characters painted on the walls.

This time, a Drill Instructor with a Major Payne haircut came out with a clipboard, and said, in his best Drill Instructor bark, "You will follow me, please."

He led us to the right, through a huge blast door that banged behind us, into the Trauma Center.

There's a reason they call it the Trauma Center. You go through trauma when they take you there.

The room was completely white, with a rollaround gurney pretending to be a hospital bed. No TV, no Disney characters. Just a row of 'Bob the Builder' heads stickered on the window. Nothing to look at or entertain us except the screams.

Next door to us was some poor child someone had beaten in the head. I only know this because I heard the nurses discussing it just outside our room.

They went in to examine the poor child, and she began screaming like she was dying.

No, I'm serious. Like she was dying.

Shortly thereafter, four police officers came running around the corner, holding their nightsticks. I presume they wanted to survey the damage to the child and then go arrest Dad or Mom or whatever monster was responsible for the horrible act.

My poor daughter began laughing nervously, saying "That's comforting."

There was little comforting about the trauma unit. It was all business. The business of saving lives, and my jokes here are not intended to disparage their efficiency in helping kids survive trauma.

We were there for several hours. During which time they dressed our daughter in one of those hospital gowns intended to cover the least amount of body. To stitch up her finger. And, I expect, to check her for bruises and such.

But, we're actually a pretty good family. No bruises, no abuse. Just ADHD kids who get in a hurry.

Then they said they were going to have to look at the wound again, and stitch it up. At which point, Dad had to leave the room and stagger back to the waiting room. As I said, I faint.

We got out of there at 12:30am. Needless to say, we missed the movie. Good thing we got it on DVR so I could watch it the next day. Oh, and the funny thing is, we didn't need the remote to record.

The lesson here in both of these stories, I guess, is two-fold. First, Think before you speak. If I'd known what our son would do if we mentioned the cat's coat wasn't shiny, I'd be cleaning the garage. And if I had just thought about the fact that we didn't have to have the remote, maybe the visit to the ER wouldn't have happened.

Second, and more importantly, God is watching over us. He sent our 20yo into the garage to find out what our 5yo was up to. He preserved our daughter's finger, which is now fully functional, no nerve damage or broken bones or severed muscle. And He's watching over the rest of us too, with eyes of compassion.

Late Night Snack??

This morning, when I came down to fix coffee, There was an empty jar of Peter Pan peanut butter (creamy) on the counter, and this mess in front of it...

My first thought was, which of my four kids got up in the middle of the night, to make themselves a sandwich? And why a fork? a Spoon? A bowl??

So, I hollered up at my oldest dear son, asking him what was up with the PB sandwich late at night?

He really had no clue what it was about, and blamed the 4yo.

Hmmm. I couldn't see the 4yo doing this, and the finger smears through the middle of the bowl didn't look like toddler fingers...

Then I went into the bathroom.

It appears that the peanut-butter culprit also wanted some hand lotion. But why in the world? And with peanut butter all over their hands, too! What in the world?

So, then I looked next to the Lubriderm, and there was peanut butter smeared on the gargantuan Sams bottle of hand sanitizer. Looked like whoever the culprit was, they desperately wanted 'clean hands and a pure heart'.


Next to the hand sanitizer, it appeared the water faucet had been turned on by Peter Pan also, and there was also peanut butter under the tap, dripping down into the sink. Yuch. Peter was desperate to get those hands clean.


So, I started asking questions of the kids. Finally, R, the 11yo daughter, admitted it was her. Apparently, she'd gotten some of this stuff called 'Zing' gum. Here's the packet of it, pulled out of the trash.

She decided that if one stick of gum was yummy, then all 15 sticks of gum would be even more yummy. So, she crammed them all in her mouth, and sat up reading a 'Charlie Bone' novel until 2am, when she started to fall asleep in her gum and in her book too.

She knew it wasn't good to go to sleep with gum in your mouth (A baseball-sized wad is such a choking hazard, you know...) so she pulled it out of her mouth. But gum that's been chewed all day and all night tends to gain in stickiness, or at least, that's some of the 'Zing' in 'Zing'. It turned into a goo on the level of taffy, with an adhesive coefficient of tackiness equal to that of Gorilla Glue.

First it stuck to one hand, then the other, as she attempted to get it off the other hand. One finger after another was imprisoned in the wad of goo, until she had a cats cradle between her hands, like a pink spiderweb.

Eventually she managed to get downstairs, open a jar of peanutbutter, and sacrifice all its contents to remove the glue from her hands, her arms, and her face.

The peanut butter worked, but removing slimy peanutbutter from your body at 2am apparently requires liberal application of Lubriderm, Hand Sanitizer, and Cold Water.

Lucky for the rest of us, chemical reactions involving lanolin, alcohol, and peanut oil do not in fact cause fires or spontaneous explosions.

Or so their packages seem to imply. But I think I'm going to write the manufacturers of 'Zing' and 'Peter Pan', requesting that they please add to their verbage on the package, 'Keep out of reach of Children'.

On a side note, R's late-night foray into cleaning up this sticky situation should have turned into a teaching opportunity, because, just as King David found out, trying to cover up your sin, and deal with it yourself, leaves a much bigger mess than getting help and forgiveness.

R should think about this as she attempts to clean the downstairs bathroom before homeschool starts...