LJI Wk. 13
Jan. 24th, 2019 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dmouseyFlipping through the pages of a photo album, I stop at a rare picture of the kids and I, sitting on the steps of the L shaped porch of our first house, a three story Victorian twin with white siding and blue shutters. That house holds so many memories beneath its pointed roof -- and this photo is unleashing a torrent of many.
Pulling the photo from its cover, I turn it toward the light, taking a better look at it, and suddenly I'm back there. The kids and I are laughing, carving pumpkins on a gorgeous fall day, saving as much of the guts as we could for making pies, and the seeds for toasting. We were more or less making messes instead of masterpieces, but the laughter and giggles told of creating something more valuable.
Finishing up, we used the garden hose to flush the pumpkin debris from the porch into the grass of my front yard. Deciding to place our Jack-o-Lantern's on both sides of the stoop, and lighting the candles inside, my munchkins and I, taking a step back, felt satisfied. They looked appropriately scary.
The following August, thick vines began growing in our front lawn, eventually sprouting yellow flowers as big as dinner plates! The brats and I, curious as to what they could be, kept watch every day as the vines kept growing until -- pumpkins!!!! I certainly did NOT need to buy any that year!
Memories of the Sharon Hill house are bittersweet. Somehow I lost my first husband there. The warmth of our home's atmosphere, the very air, froze with the sudden chill of his indifference towards the very essence of family. Testing him, I once offered to give him the house, and pay him child support; the look of terror creeping over his face when he thought I was being serious ... utterly heartbreaking.
However, not being all bad, he readily agreed to watch the kids in the evenings while I worked. We were doubtful about our children's ability to communicate any potential abuse -- especially with our son being newly diagnosed as Autistic. At the age of three, he was practically non-verbal. and our daughter, going on six, often acted as his translator.
My ex's love for our kids was never in doubt, but his having to shoulder half the parenting responsibilities, all day, everyday, with a special needs child, proved to be too much for him to handle.
Hell, the one 'normal' child broke her neck while we were living there. Jumping from the curved edge of the neighbor's sloped stone structure, she landed wrong with her head snapping back and sideways. The force of the blow literally sheared her Odontoid process off- the small piece of bone that holds your first three vertebrae together. She should be dead, or a ventilated quadriplegic -- I don't question the miracle, but I do give thanks for it.
There were so many sweet moments in our Sharon Hill house, and I keep them close. My son at four and a half first calling me Mom, and at five speaking in full sentences, happened in that house. Despite his words being horribly mispronounced, and their literal meaning usually what he meant, it was enough. Improving his ability to communicate meant fewer meltdowns.
For example, his father calling me at work, desperate to know what 'pantate eggs' are. Hearing my son's full blown screaming in the background, and feeling pity for my ex, I divulge my secret recipe. Eggs, scrambled, but left untouched until time to flip like a pancake!! Ta Da! Easy peasy.
Winter mornings and their smells can sometimes bring on flashes of our Sharon Hill home too. Once we were heading out to drop my daughter off at school, and we opened our door to discover a shimmering wonderland outside from an unexpected ice storm. Everything, cars, streets, trees and bushes glistening in their cocoon of ice.
Pushing past us before we could stop them, our three dogs flew by, eager to empty their bladders. The munchkins and I could not stop laughing at our dogs' antics trying to do their business. Only our smallest, a terrier mix named Puppet, had success by walking on his front legs -- his hind legs in the air, balancing while peeing behind him!
A few weeks later, three feet of snow fell and my son, impatient and not listening as usual, couldn't wait to play in it. Pulling on his favorite red shorts (he had, and still has, an issue with pants!) and cowboy boots, he shot out the door and ... found himself stuck, armpit high, in snow. I'm sorry to admit I couldn't stop laughing as I lifted him out, but his cowboy boots stayed in!
Holy Spirit Elementary School in Sharon Hill, was where my daughter's first grade ceiling came crashing down on her and the rest of her classmates. Feelings of terror, relief, love, gratitude, and so many others flowed through me that day. Somewhere channel six news has archived coverage, and if they can't find it, i'm sure her grandmother can!
Memories keep flooding through me; The joy of hearing my children's giggles on their blanket rides down the house's steps, or my exercising by roller blading through its hallways. (Hey, it worked!) The time my spawn, whom, after securing my permission, sent their bowling balls crashing down the steps to see whose would finish first. My daughter won. (Girls Rule!)
Countless trips to the Sharon Hill Library for books, and movies (VHS). Half of the library's Sci-fi/Fantasy section are my donations! Full series too. None of this waiting seven-ten years for the next book, or having the author possibly die before full resolution of the story!
Closing my eyes I can go right back there, visiting the time when they were bratlets. To the many nights of reading, To Think I Heard It On Mulberry Street, and acting out Where The Wild Things Are. And when the hugs, kisses, and nigh'-nigh' songs had been sung, I'd make my weary way downstairs. Firing the kettle and picking up my book, I'd begin the wait.
I never had long. Hearing the thud of my son's jump across the upstairs landing, and the patter of his footsteps into his sister's room, I'd count to three. Sure enough, her voice, full of sisterly exasperation at his intrusion, would be heard telling him,"Go sleep in your own bed!"
And a few moments later her strident wail of "Mom!" when he doesn't listen. my sternly shouting his name was generally enough to send him scurrying back to his room. But once again I count, as this ritual repeats itself several times - until finally he wears himself out.
At last the house quiets and I can devote some time to reading, our pets, and a decent cup of tea, recovering for the next day's adventures.
Hard for me to believe this was almost twenty five years ago. We left the Sharon Hill house under duress, and how we wound up in Delaware is another, very long story...
maybe I'll tell it one day.
***the Odontoid process serves as a pivot point for the skull and first cervical vertebrae, which allows the head and neck to rotate. The Odontoid process is a projection that grows off the front portion of the second cervical vertebrae, which is also called the axis.
** All concrit is welcomed!And thanks for popping in! ✌ 🐭
Pulling the photo from its cover, I turn it toward the light, taking a better look at it, and suddenly I'm back there. The kids and I are laughing, carving pumpkins on a gorgeous fall day, saving as much of the guts as we could for making pies, and the seeds for toasting. We were more or less making messes instead of masterpieces, but the laughter and giggles told of creating something more valuable.
Finishing up, we used the garden hose to flush the pumpkin debris from the porch into the grass of my front yard. Deciding to place our Jack-o-Lantern's on both sides of the stoop, and lighting the candles inside, my munchkins and I, taking a step back, felt satisfied. They looked appropriately scary.
The following August, thick vines began growing in our front lawn, eventually sprouting yellow flowers as big as dinner plates! The brats and I, curious as to what they could be, kept watch every day as the vines kept growing until -- pumpkins!!!! I certainly did NOT need to buy any that year!
Memories of the Sharon Hill house are bittersweet. Somehow I lost my first husband there. The warmth of our home's atmosphere, the very air, froze with the sudden chill of his indifference towards the very essence of family. Testing him, I once offered to give him the house, and pay him child support; the look of terror creeping over his face when he thought I was being serious ... utterly heartbreaking.
However, not being all bad, he readily agreed to watch the kids in the evenings while I worked. We were doubtful about our children's ability to communicate any potential abuse -- especially with our son being newly diagnosed as Autistic. At the age of three, he was practically non-verbal. and our daughter, going on six, often acted as his translator.
My ex's love for our kids was never in doubt, but his having to shoulder half the parenting responsibilities, all day, everyday, with a special needs child, proved to be too much for him to handle.
Hell, the one 'normal' child broke her neck while we were living there. Jumping from the curved edge of the neighbor's sloped stone structure, she landed wrong with her head snapping back and sideways. The force of the blow literally sheared her Odontoid process off- the small piece of bone that holds your first three vertebrae together. She should be dead, or a ventilated quadriplegic -- I don't question the miracle, but I do give thanks for it.
There were so many sweet moments in our Sharon Hill house, and I keep them close. My son at four and a half first calling me Mom, and at five speaking in full sentences, happened in that house. Despite his words being horribly mispronounced, and their literal meaning usually what he meant, it was enough. Improving his ability to communicate meant fewer meltdowns.
For example, his father calling me at work, desperate to know what 'pantate eggs' are. Hearing my son's full blown screaming in the background, and feeling pity for my ex, I divulge my secret recipe. Eggs, scrambled, but left untouched until time to flip like a pancake!! Ta Da! Easy peasy.
Winter mornings and their smells can sometimes bring on flashes of our Sharon Hill home too. Once we were heading out to drop my daughter off at school, and we opened our door to discover a shimmering wonderland outside from an unexpected ice storm. Everything, cars, streets, trees and bushes glistening in their cocoon of ice.
Pushing past us before we could stop them, our three dogs flew by, eager to empty their bladders. The munchkins and I could not stop laughing at our dogs' antics trying to do their business. Only our smallest, a terrier mix named Puppet, had success by walking on his front legs -- his hind legs in the air, balancing while peeing behind him!
A few weeks later, three feet of snow fell and my son, impatient and not listening as usual, couldn't wait to play in it. Pulling on his favorite red shorts (he had, and still has, an issue with pants!) and cowboy boots, he shot out the door and ... found himself stuck, armpit high, in snow. I'm sorry to admit I couldn't stop laughing as I lifted him out, but his cowboy boots stayed in!
Holy Spirit Elementary School in Sharon Hill, was where my daughter's first grade ceiling came crashing down on her and the rest of her classmates. Feelings of terror, relief, love, gratitude, and so many others flowed through me that day. Somewhere channel six news has archived coverage, and if they can't find it, i'm sure her grandmother can!
Memories keep flooding through me; The joy of hearing my children's giggles on their blanket rides down the house's steps, or my exercising by roller blading through its hallways. (Hey, it worked!) The time my spawn, whom, after securing my permission, sent their bowling balls crashing down the steps to see whose would finish first. My daughter won. (Girls Rule!)
Countless trips to the Sharon Hill Library for books, and movies (VHS). Half of the library's Sci-fi/Fantasy section are my donations! Full series too. None of this waiting seven-ten years for the next book, or having the author possibly die before full resolution of the story!
Closing my eyes I can go right back there, visiting the time when they were bratlets. To the many nights of reading, To Think I Heard It On Mulberry Street, and acting out Where The Wild Things Are. And when the hugs, kisses, and nigh'-nigh' songs had been sung, I'd make my weary way downstairs. Firing the kettle and picking up my book, I'd begin the wait.
I never had long. Hearing the thud of my son's jump across the upstairs landing, and the patter of his footsteps into his sister's room, I'd count to three. Sure enough, her voice, full of sisterly exasperation at his intrusion, would be heard telling him,"Go sleep in your own bed!"
And a few moments later her strident wail of "Mom!" when he doesn't listen. my sternly shouting his name was generally enough to send him scurrying back to his room. But once again I count, as this ritual repeats itself several times - until finally he wears himself out.
At last the house quiets and I can devote some time to reading, our pets, and a decent cup of tea, recovering for the next day's adventures.
Hard for me to believe this was almost twenty five years ago. We left the Sharon Hill house under duress, and how we wound up in Delaware is another, very long story...
maybe I'll tell it one day.
***the Odontoid process serves as a pivot point for the skull and first cervical vertebrae, which allows the head and neck to rotate. The Odontoid process is a projection that grows off the front portion of the second cervical vertebrae, which is also called the axis.
** All concrit is welcomed!And thanks for popping in! ✌ 🐭
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Date: 2019-01-26 08:05 pm (UTC)And yes, indeed, you are lucky to have been to stay in the same home. That type of stability is hard won these days.Thank you again for popping in! 🐭✌🐁😊🎀
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Date: 2019-01-27 01:55 am (UTC)I am SO glad and amazed that Alicia didn't have lasting damage from that injury. That is really scary.
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Date: 2019-01-27 02:48 pm (UTC)Alicia's breaking her neck was terrifying. Especially because the pediatrician said take her home and keep an eye on her, but I forced an X-ray to be taken. (Heaven's sake, I worked with a head and facial trauma team.) When they came running from x-ray to stabilize her more shouting, "Is she Neurologically intact?" Yeah, no mother wants to hear that. Her pediatrician has never apologized. His colleagues in the practise did, but not him.
The consensus was, because she was so young (6 wks shy of four) her vertebrae were not brittle enough to break. I learned over the years to trust my instincts and not have any doctor intimidate me!
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Date: 2019-01-27 04:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-27 05:31 pm (UTC)I've always thought that this was why people take so many photos, to savor the moment then, and again in rediscovery jogging those precious memories loose!
Thanks again for your kind words! Always, appreciated. 😊🐁✌🐭🎀
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Date: 2019-01-27 10:42 pm (UTC)The ceiling falling on her - that was quite the scene. I'm just glad we lived close enough to walk to and back. Several children needed stiches, one little girl almost lost her ear, and the rest had bumps and bruises. My Alicia had stripes like a tiger going across and down her back. And I can not remember what caused the ceiling to fall!
Thank you for reading, and your interest! please pop in again! 😊🐁✌🐭🎀
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Date: 2019-01-28 11:42 pm (UTC)I just saw your response to babydramatic_1950 above, and I'm in awe of what the doctors could do to help your daughter. It's amazing she was ultimately ok after all that!! What an intense time. And the ceiling in her classroom, too! Good god.
I also love that the pumpkin seeds grew so many full pumpkins the following year!
There is a lot that's really charming about this, and I'm glad to have read it!
Also cool that you wrote you were in Philadelphia in the above comment - my parents are both from there, and I spent many summers and a few Christmases there, visiting family. :)
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Date: 2019-01-29 01:22 am (UTC)As for my son, he adored his sister (and she him- most of the time) and it became a game between them. Other than the car, my son usually slept in his own bed, as a matter of fact he'd put himself to bed for naps!!
That house holds its share of disappointments too, but the good outweighed the bad! Thanks for poping in and reading!! 🐭🐁✌😊🎀