Posts in month: June, 2009

Have you ever had a nightmare about drowning? How about your children? Do you know in “30 percent of [drowning] cases, most children were supervised by one or both parents, proving that it only takes a few moments for a child to slip under the surface and drown.“  I just read this alarming statistic. This number is based on approximately 300 kids under 5 drowning in their backyard swimming pools every year.

I grew up with a swimming pool. It was a good sized one that my dad put in one year with as much help as I could give since I was only about 8. It was above ground with a wooden deck and built in fence. At least once a day my siblings, friends, and I would be swimming without any supervision and it was very deep. One side was 4 feet deep above ground while the other side was 8 feet, with the extra 4 feet going below ground level. We would dive and play with no thought of possible drowning.

If this wasn’t bad enough late at night we would sometimes wake up to splashing outside. The teenagers in town would be using it as a getaway play area. One sound from us however, and they would be gone.

In case you find this surprising this was the early 1960s to mid 70s. In those days these statistics weren’t available and people assumed this sort of thing was safe.

But I am surprised considering we once almost had a drowning in the family. It was a nice summer day, a perfect beach day. My dad packed up the family consisting of his wife and 5 kids, hooked up his small power boat, and headed out. Not long before we had found a pond not far from where we lived. It was nice and quiet there but large enough to use the boat. It was quiet because not too many people knew about it. It was owned by the prison across the street. We found out about it because an uncle of mine worked there.

To get to it we followed a dirt path into the woods. As we drove along we would come to a wooden gate. Dad would stop the car, open it, drive through, stop and close it behind us. This would happen 5 times before we got to the pond. Once there we would drop the boat in and then we would ride, swim, and picnic. Usually we had the place to ourselves as you can probably imagine.

One day when I was about 5 we were out swimming and having a grand time. Suddenly from around the boat, which was just sitting in the water, my younger sister came floating face down. We didn’t react immediately because all the kids had learned how to do the dead man float and we were practicing. But then we realized that she was doing it too well. My parents rushed in, grabbed her and pulled her onto the sand. Mom was a nurse and knew cpr. Within moments my sister was awake and resting comfortably. Since all the kids were so young it wasn’t until years later when our parents told the story that we really understood what had happened.

My wife had a similar problem when she was 5 or 6. She was walking in the water at a beach on the ocean when she suddenly dropped into a hole. She tells me that for some reason she wasn’t able to swim to the top. She was on the bottom watching people walk by when suddenly a man, realizing what was happening, reached down and pulled her to safety.

I have always been pretty protective of my son Max. If he is swimming I have always kept my eyes focused on him whether I am in or out of the water. But then something happened that shocked me. When he was about 4 years old we had gone to visit my wife’s parents. They lived in an apartment complex with a large pool. It was 3 feet deep at one end and 8 feet deep at the other. There were stairs with a railing that stretched out almost the whole width of the shallow end.

It was hot and the pool was crowded that day while Max and I swam and played. My wife, her parents, and her brother sat on chairs at the shallow end beside the life guard, watching us. After awhile I got out to sit and talk with them. The whole time I kept my eyes on Max who was now just going up and down the stairs and splashing.

On one round he kept going. He stepped down the stairs all the way to the bottom; he then turned to look at us. I watched him for a minute; everyone else also watched him. Then it dawned on us at about the same moment that he was staring at us from the bottom of the pool. The water was so clear that it looked like his head was above it.

I immediately stepped over to the edge, reached with one arm, and lifted him bodily out of the water. He gasped as his head came up. I turned with him in my arms to see my wife and in-laws watching with horror on their faces. My wife was halfway out of her seat and her father was struggling but he is semi paralyzed from the waist down so it was going to be tough for him to get there. The lifeguard was totally oblivious to what was happening.

My son is 8 years old now and is a very good swimmer but I still try to keep my eyes on him at all times. As you can see this type of situation can happen at any time, when we least expect it, even if we are watching as best we can. All parents should read this article; from personal experience I can say that it is true, “it can take only a few moments.”

I read a wonderful post on respect over the weekend. How do we treat our children? Yes, I know we are the parents; we “know” what’s best for them and they must listen to us. Okay, maybe we do but how do we get it across to them?

Do we treat them with respect both at home and in public as we try to discipline them? Or do we yell and scream at them, humiliate them, maybe even swat their butts…especially when people are around watching us. Too many parents feel those eyes as their child is misbehaving and consciously or subconsciously feel the need to get the upper hand quickly; perhaps to show that they are “good” parents.

As a result our children can end up feeling like a nobody. They can not only lose respect for themselves but also for their parents. Have you noticed how they can stop listening to us? Sometimes it is almost like we aren’t in the room even though we are standing over them.

“How crude can we be at times in our conduct with our children. We’ll scold them in the middle of everyone in the party. We’ll drag them in the mall. Worse, we’ll nonchalantly criticize them in a group using words like ‘fussy’, ‘irritable’, and ‘stubborn’ in their presence.”

I don’t know how you were raised but can you remember back what it was like as a young child looking up at your parents towering over you? And being angry with you? Perhaps yelling at you? And what about those other parents watching everything that is happening? How did it make you feel?

Respect has been in my mind a lot lately. I’ve been wondering if we are treating our son well. Max is 8 years old; he has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, adhd, odd, pdd/nos, and ocd. Both in public and private he can become very explosive if things aren’t going his way. Our rule is that if this happens publically we cannot go back to that location for awhile. But we tend to do more than that, especially if we are exhausted by all of the daily drama.

Just before I read the post above Max and I had gone to the movies. We saw the “Night At The Museum” sequel. He had already seen it once and couldn’t wait to go again. After I bought the tickets he suddenly realized he had wanted to see the new movie “Up in Disney Digital 3D“. He had a meltdown. My response was to tell him if he didn’t want to see the museum movie he could go sit in the corner and wait until I was done watching it. And I said this in front of a lot of other people.

He did go to the movie and he did enjoy it but it set the tone for the rest of the day. Everything he did was wrong…mostly by his standards not ours. If he spilled something he would get upset with himself. If we tried to comfort him he would turn his anger on us.

Most people treat others respectfully. Even if you are angry with a friend or coworker would you scream at them? Or would you find a better way to get your message across so there won’t be a lot of upset? But as mentioned in the article we don’t treat our children the same way as we do other people. Not only that we expect them to be “adult” about it, that is, “take it like a man”. We also expect them to learn from us. And they do; they learn to treat their children the same way. In some cases their spirits may even get broken.

My eyes were really opened after reading this article. I love my son and I don’t want him feeling any worse about himself. He already feels badly considering the way his disabilities make him feel.

I hope other people can recognize a little of themselves too and perhaps make some changes in how they react to their kids.

I’m ticked off right now!  I had planned on a different post for today but one event has pushed that off until next week.

I stopped at my Mother’s house this morning only to find her crying.  Apparently one of my siblings got it into their head to tell her all the bad things she had done to raise us.  Now they were terribly screwed up because of her!

Let’s stop here for a moment.  Think about your parents.  Were they good parents?  Were they perfect?  I bet each one of you can point out one or two flaws they might have.  Would you turn on them because of these issues?

Is my mom perfect?  Not by a long shot.  Has she done some unforgivable things?  Well, there were a couple of things that it took a few years for me to get over.  But here’s the thing, my siblings and I are between 44 and 55 years old.  We are adults.  If something she did made us turn out badly, guess what, we have the power to fix it ourselves.  Sitting her down and yelling at her for what she did is not going to change who we are!

I said that there were things that she had done to me that I found unforgivable.  After reading tons of self help books and being angry inside for what she had done I had a breakthrough.  Basically what it come down to is this: We have a choice!  We can decide whether we want our keep parents or do it alone or even find someone else to parent us.

But you’ll say they birthed me or they adopted me.  That’s right but you can still walk away from them if you want.  You have the power to choose!  Not only that, you have the power to change yourself if you don’t want to be the person they made you.  Cut the belly aching!

My mother is in her 80s.  She has always believed she was a good mom and my dad worked hard at being a good dad and good provider.  He worked 3 and 4 jobs while we were growing and was home for us as often as he could.  My mom stayed home to raise their 5 children and 2 that belonged to relatives.  When the oldest went off to college she went back to work to help support us.

They weren’t screamers.  They didn’t beat us.  They taught us right from wrong and how to survive in the world.  My mom is a grandparent and a great grandparent.  All the kids turned out great.  What more could my parents have done?  Sure they made mistakes, who doesn’t?  Sure we got hurt sometimes by something they did but we should be able to get passed it.

I choose my parents.  They are not yours, they are no one else’s.  I won’t trade them.  I struggle every day to be as good a parent as they were.

Before I posted this a friend of mine read it.  She shook her head as she told me some people go into therapy for years as a result of what their parents did to them.  Sometimes the only way they can get passed it is to confront them.  We agreed, however, that there is a right way and a wrong way to do it.  Will beating them down really make you feel better?

I haven’t forgotten that some people were abused or even sexually abused by their parents.  I once took part in a self help weekend with a lot of men.  I went in angry about what my parents had done to me.  Frankly, as I listened to the things some of them had gone through growing up it made me realize that my parents were not as bad as I thought.  When I left that weekend I visited my dad’s gravesite for the first time since he died nine years before.  I sat down with my mom and told her that whatever the biological connection I had with her, I was choosing her to be my mother.

Where are you at with your parents?

Some of my siblings don’t seem to be at the same place I am right now.  Somehow I have to show them that hurting mom is not going to improve their lives!  I think they need to make amends with her and themselves and do it soon, she is in her 80s after all.

My wife just got back from the doctor.  This wasn’t her medical doctor; it was her doctor of alternative medicine.  Now there are many people who are going to read this and shake their heads, “why would we waste our time and money going to one of those?”  I get that all the time.

My answer to them is “why do you go to medical doctors?”.  A lot of people look at alternative medicine as snake oil, but I would like them to tell me what they get from their regular doctor that is better?  Why is it that a doctor will tell me they can find nothing wrong with me but I can tell that there really is.  Every day you read about people going to a dozen different doctors before finding out what is ailing them.

Now I’m not here to diss doctors; I have a primary care physician and I see him regularly, so does my wife.  We have found that there are some “alternatives” that can help when doctors can’t.  For example, my wife has had pain in her arm.  She has been to a number of doctors that have been telling her that she has bursitis.  Even though they have been treating it there have been no results.  She finally talked to our alternative doctor and he determined that even though the pain was coming from her arm, the actual source was in her neck.  He has given her several laser treatments and already her arm is much better.

I can hear the naysayers now, “that is just a placebo effect.”  Perhaps they are right.  But is this a problem?  Doctors weren’t solving the issue and it was costing us money.  Our alternative practioner took care of it and we paid a lot less for his treatment.

A lot of our medicines and medical procedures attack our symptoms; they don’t actually cure the original problem.  I just started using a cpap machine.  This helps me breathe properly at night so that I don’t snore, I don’t stop breathing, and I get better sleep.  Is this going to cure me?  Heck no, originally it was designed to be a temporary stopgap until a cure was found.  As time went on nothing was found so people are just using the machines long term because it helps breathing; it doesn’t solve the problem.

What does an alternative practioner recommend.  Perhaps some supplements but most assuredly he will tell you to exercise at least moderately and on a daily basis.  She will also probably tell you to start eating healthier.  Most often people that aren’t sleeping properly are fatter than they should be.  In my case for years I believed that I was slim; why even now I take a size 33 pant.  But when the doctors were testing me and measured my actual waist size, it is actually a 39; I tend to wear my pants lower.  To find out what your waist size should be take your height in inches and divide by 2.  You should be less than this.  I am 70 inches tall which means my waist should be less than 35 inches…not 39.

I have a choice here.  I can use the machine for the rest of my life or work with my practioner and get myself healthy enough so I won’t need it.

I won’t give up my practioner just because there are people that don’t believe in it.  I actually had one man shake his head, tell me not to waste my money, stick with medical doctors even if it means that I won’t get better.  He claimed to have done a lot of research and found that he is  right, I am wrong.  It turns out that his research came from reading books by people who don’t believe in alternative practices.  How about reading some objective books on the subject?

Anyway, I’m a lot like Doctor Andrew Weil M.D. who is a teacher in a medical school.  He believes that people should use both medical doctors and alternative practioners.  Look at both sides, find out what works best for you.  Don’t just ignore one way of doing things because you’ve heard it doesn’t work.

And yes there are snake oil salesmen practicing what they call alternative medicine but there are also dishonest medical doctors.  You have to do your research either way but remember there are also very good doctors.  And there are also very good alternative practioners; don’t ignore them.

Traveling the road to glory is never easy. It will be full of pitfalls waiting to snare people and preventing them from reaching their goals. Now I’m not necessarily talking about President Obama glory or Michael Phelps Olympic gold though they surely went through a lot of pain to get to the top. Even regular people following their dreams can reach road blocks too.

Some people will take issue with the idea that Obama and Phelps are not “regular” people that are accomplishing their goals. And they would be right. One homeless person which is certainly a “regular” person struggled to write a book while living in the back of a car. She would steal time in corners of cafes and libraries to put her words down on paper. When it was finished she shopped it around to dozens of publishers before one decided to take a chance on publishing it. Today, next to the queen J.K. Rowling is the richest woman in England. Her Harry Potter exploded into our homes and continues to reach new heights. Any one of the barriers she met on her path could have stopped her; and have stopped others.

I am not trying to gloss over the accomplishments that people like these have made. My point is that everyone around us has much smaller dreams and goals that they are working towards and they run into pitfalls too. I think “smaller” is not a good word either. My dreams would put me on top of the world but you may think that I’m not reaching high enough. Who’s to judge?

Recently I included a post from a friend of mine regarding an organization called suitcases4kids; established to provide suitcases to children in foster care who only have trash bags to carry their belongings. The founder, Ron Nickerson, would not consider his goals as lofty. He takes in the foster kids that no one else wants, the hard cases. He has been very successful in turning them around making them productive members of society.

He came across the idea of giving suitcases to these kids from an article he read. He did some research and found that nothing like this was happening in New England. He jumped at the chance to help them. He put together a team and to date has brought in over 1500 suitcases just for the pilot program.

He also coaches parents on how raising their “incorrigible” kids.

None of this was all smooth sailing for him. He lost a few kids that couldn’t be turned around. There have been towns that don’t want to help the kids. And most recently he has found in the midst of all of this he may be losing his house. He doesn’t own it so it may be easy to find another rental. But with all the boys in the home it might be difficult to find a suitable place. But this is not stopping him; he has his road to glory and he is continuing to travel it by resolving his issues not letting them stop him.

The front page of his site has a letter written by a child that is moving through the foster care system. He talks about the trash bags and ruined family pictures. What is his goal? “I am in a new home now and I really want it to work.” I have met C.J. and he seems happy and adjusting well. His foster parents would love to keep him but they are waiting to find out if this is working for him. It appears he is well on his way.

And then there is my son Max. He has a lot of 8 year old dreams. He wants to be a soldier, an inventor, and an engineer to name a few. Recently he was not only promoted to third grade but he was also promoted to sixth grade reading. Major accomplishments (I didn’t even know he liked to read, he never does at home). But he also has personal goals too, like expressing his anger in less destructive ways. Hey, he’d even like to find out why he gets angry so easily!! Will he become president? That is a subject that is now less important to him than why he is so explosive. The anger and destructiveness are two of his road blocks. Once he gets through these he will be able to look forward to new dreams and new heights to reach for.

Everyone is on a road to glory, their own glory. It is up to them to get passed the pitfalls and even though a child needs to learn how to do it it’s up to the parents to guide them.

Hey parents, you know the drill. It is the end of the school year. Time for the field trips. How many of your kids are going to spend a day at an amusement park with their classmates?

Last Monday my son Max’s van picked him up as usual and took him to school. The kids were there long enough to check in and then the whole school went off to Canobie Lake Park in New Hampshire. My wife and I met them at the park; hooray for me, we are chaperones today. I’ll get to ride on some rides!

It started out with a nice surprise. Because all these kids have disabilities they got special wrist bands that allowed them to jump the lines. The purpose of this is to help these kids who have zero tolerance when it comes to being patient. With the bands they go in the exit, get a choice of seats and then are allowed to ride twice before moving on to the next ride.

There are 7 kids in Max’s class; my wife and I took him and his buddy Bobby with us, the rest went with the two teachers. As we walked through the park they set their sights on a ride called “The Corkscrew”. It is one of those new wave roller coasters. It is not very long but it is very fast; and you can guess by its name that one section spirals like a corkscrew so there are moments when you are whipped upside down and side to side. I haven’t had the urge to try this one yet.

The boys, not understanding the wrist bands, got in line first. They moved up the ramp and inside the waiting area too quickly for us to stop them. Are you kidding Max was too excited; this was the first time he was tall enough to go on this ride. Once inside we lost track of them and we had to wait for what seemed like a half an hour (it was probably only ten minutes) before they were on the car and finished the ride. Now we were able to explain the use of the bands and sent them through the exit for their second ride. When they came out they were in heaven; best ride they had ever been on! (Actually it was only the first today.)

This time Max and Bobby had a difference of opinion on which would be the next ride. Max went in one direction and his friend disappeared. We were frantic for several minutes before we found him in line for a ride which was around the corner and down the block. We had to speak to him severely because he just couldn’t understand the problem; so he disappeared, so what? And we told him “so what”. He was our responsibility and if he couldn’t stick with us he would have to go back with the rest of the class.

Once that was out of the way they settled on their next ride. You’ll notice a pattern during the day; even though they are only 8 years old there would be no kiddie rides for them, they wanted the biggest and scariest ones. “The Boston Tea Party” was next. It was based on “The Log Flume” which we got later. It was a long log that sat at least 10 people and worked like a roller coaster. It travels up a high ramp before circling around and dropping down a very steep chute into a “river” of water. Everyone got soaked, the riders and even the spectators. When the boys came out they were sopping wet and because we didn’t have towels they had to air dry.

They continued to ride the crazy rides and because I was a chaperone I had to watch and make sure they were okay. This meant no riding! I was itching to get on the rides and feeling frustrated just walking around the park. The worst part of it was when they chose to ride “The Yankee Cannonball”. This is one of those large old wooden rollercoasters and it is fun. No it doesn’t have any track that goes upside down but it is at least 4 times longer than “The Corkscrew” and it has several peaks and valleys. It is enough to give you a lot of jolts…and it is my favorite ride in the park. I got to watch them ride it twice!

At one thirty Bobby and his class go back to school but Max stayed with us. This was what I was waiting for; Max won’t ride by himself he has to drag his dear old dad along with him. (Read BIG smile on my face!) What does he want to ride first? It is his dad’s favorite “The Yankee Cannonball”. It was more bone jarring than I had remembered. I found that I had to brace myself slightly off the seat as we shot down into the valleys, otherwise I would get tossed around like a rag doll. And my boy was sitting along beside me as I rode!

When it was over the attendant leaned over and asked Max if he wanted to continue. Can you guess the answer? After the second time I felt like I had just gotten off one of those astronaut centrifuges. I had to check to make sure my hair wasn’t standing on end. Shucks, it wasn’t…where’s the next ride.

Max chose “The Log Flume”. This is a smaller version of “The Boston Tea Party”; our “log” has 2 seats which will take 4 people but it was just the 2 of us today. With Max up in front and me behind him in the first seat we floated down a river and went up and down some small hills. It gave us the impression we were on a nice relaxing kiddie ride but watch out! It had a ramp just like the other one but in this case at the top there was a photographer taking pictures. When we reached him I had a change of heart, “I want to get off!” He smiled, “too late” he said as we sailed off the edge. It was a blast and I had had no intention of getting off!

When it was finally time to go home we hopped on the Ferris Wheel which was next to the exit. As we got to the top Max turned to me and told me a secret, he is afraid of heights. This was a surprise, I hadn’t realized any of this stuff bothered him. He bit his nails while we went around and around. I tried taking his mind off it by pointing at the tops of the trees which were below us. “Oh wait I can see our car in the parking lot, see that tiny thing over there?”

In the end nothing I said calmed him…I can’t understand why. When we got off he was more than ready to say goodbye to the park. But one thing we have found is that all of this excitement tends to rev him up and it is several hours before he calms down enough to stop ricocheting off the walls. He did go to sleep early that night which was great for us since my wife and I were exhausted.

And oh by the way, I bet you thought I was talking about Max or Bobby when I named this post “The Daredevil”. Nope, it was about this 53 year old guy with multiple sclerosis who really feels like he is 8 years old again when he is with his son.

Just got back from my son’s “graduation”. As most parents know it is not a real graduation; kids now take part in these end of the school year celebrations as they get promoted to the next level. My son, Max, is now going into the third grade, and sixth grade reading. Yep, they tell me he is an excellent reader. Could have fooled me; he never cracks a book at home.

It was a nice ceremony which was held in the gym/auditorium/cafeteria; and lots of cakes for me to enjoy afterwards. Kids got their grade certificates and awards for different things. My little engineer got an award for all the awesome things he can make with paper, cardboard, staples, and duct tape. His teacher told us that just yesterday he made an electric guitar and amplifier for the band he and his classmates put together. He has it in his head that he is going to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) after high school.

This is a special school for kids like Max who have disorders such as bpd, odd, ocd, autism, etc. He gets picked up by a van that takes him to the school a hour away every day. Unlike regular schools these know how to handle him. In the local schools Max was always being suspended because he never could handle transitions well. He would have an outburst and four teachers would tackle him to hold him down. The same boy my 5′4″, 113 lbs disabled wife can settle down without all the extra artillery.

This school has a “quiet” room; kids that cannot control themselves spend time in there. In a year and a half Max has never been in that room. He does have bad days but he doesn’t ever want to spend time in there so he controls himself. Just today his teacher was telling us that she knows when he is angry with her because he will seethe but he won’t yell, scream, or get physical. She says she tells him that it is alright for him to be angry but she is proud of him for not expressing it. And as my wife says, he saves it until he gets home. We get the brunt of it.

Other kids have different issues and do spend time in that room; lots of it.

Then there are the kids that we can’t read. One little girl goes to school with Max on the same van. She seems very sweet. She calls me daddy and my wife mummy. She would love to spend time at our house and she is always hugging my wife. We don’t know what her issues are though she apparently doesn’t have parents and lives in a group home. My wife would adopt her in a minute but because she is disabled and Max has so many issues it would be difficult to take on another child.

And then there is Bobby, Max’s best friend. We haven’t figured out why he is there yet. He comes across as very easy going. Even when Max is having a melt down he will look at him and say “cut it out”; then one of two things happens. Max will either calm down or will accelerate. If he explodes Bobby doesn’t know what to do about it except ask to go home.

The boys love to play at our house. Bobby lives in an apartment complex for seniors that consists of just buildings and parking lots, no play areas. If Max goes there they spend all their time in the living room watching television. We dropped him off last night at dinnertime and he was calling us to come get him before we had even gotten home.

We are thinking that on top of everything else he might be claustrophobic. It is a small apartment and very dark. They keep the shades drawn and it smells of stale tobacco smoke. They can’t make any noise because they are the only kids in this huge apartment complex which is strictly for elderly folks. Generally there isn’t any supervision. Bobby’s mom works constantly and his stepdad just locks himself in his room and leaves the boys to their own devices, that is, the TV. At least at our house they can be outside and free.

So back at the graduation, there were lots of kids with a lot of disorders. I’ve heard complaints that some of these schools are spending so much time managing the disorders they really don’t have time to keep the kids up to their grade level. Parents definitely have to keep an eye on what is happening and make sure their kids are getting what they need. Max will be starting the MCAS training in third grade so we will be able to see if his school is keeping up.

But today all you could see were happy and excited children. It was a fun time and yes, dad ate a lot of those cakes. Don’t tell my wife!

In the past few weeks I’ve written a couple of posts on judging people. I called them Judge Not and Judge Not Part 2. In them I talk about my friend Rob and I try to point out that we cannot judge him for his problems.

Today I find that I am having a very difficult time not judging someone. I don’t even know who that person is!

It started out like any other day. Occasionally I go to my mother’s house when I have free time so that I can get some things done there for her. Since money has been very tight for me lately she pays me a small amount to do the work. I try to go down every couple of weeks.

My brother does most of the work. He’s a physical kind of guy; he loves getting his hands dirty. I, on the other hand, would rather write, read, or do any other kind of mind work. Recently with all of the economic issues in the world he has found that he has to put long hours in at work to make up for all the layoffs. I’ve been trying to take up a little of the slack down at mom’s.

Now here’s the thing. Today my mother pulled me aside. She said, “I want to ask you a question. You are the executor of my will. I have put in a clause leaving your brother extra money. Do you have a problem with that?”

I laughed, “you’ve asked me that question before.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Mom, that’s okay. Ask it as many times as you need to. Here’s the deal, he does a lot of work around here. He comes down at least once a week and spends a few hours getting the things done that you need. And he doesn’t take anything for it. I think he deserves the extra money. I don’t have a problem with you having that clause in your will.”

She said, “Thank you. I’m asking all the kids how they feel about it. The problem is I had something I needed to get done and I asked around. Someone said, ‘Let Ryan do it. He’s getting that extra chunk of money in the will, ‘ so I need to know how everyone feels about it.”

I was shocked. Here my brother is doing all of the work and not getting paid. No one else in the family has been stepping up. Not only that a lot of the work Mom wants done is to get the house ready for when she goes. She believes that the more she does will make it sell for a higher price. All of the profit would then be divided up among the siblings. So here he is doing the work so the rest of us will reap the benefits.

Now Mom says she doesn’t know who made the remark. I would rather think that no one really did but she doesn’t make things up.

So the bottom line is I’m having a very difficult time not judging this person badly, whoever it is. Maybe they have legitimate reasons. I don’t know. I just know that Ryan has done a lot for our family and he asks nothing in return. I know he feels the same why I do…that Mom should enjoy her money, not worry about us after she is gone. But she is a mom and that’s what they do.

I would like to hear from you. What do you think about this situation. Please comment. And just for fun I’ve thrown in this survey to tally the votes:

Following is a guest post by Rich Mountain of Suitcases 4 Kids which helps foster kids.  He is a friend who’s son is the same age as my son Max.  We are all looking to get the word out about the Suitcases 4 Kids goal.  Connect with them, get on their list, donate suitcases and money, or help out.  Everyone is needed.

Suitcases 4 Kids held their pilot program event on Saturday, June 13, covering the Haverhill Massachusetts Department of Social Services (DSS) district.  People lined up to give us their new or slightly used suitcases, backpacks, and duffel bags.

Our organization was formed to provide suitcases to kids who are moving through the foster care system.  On average each child moves 3 to 4 times but I have met a few that have gone through 14 to 20 different homes, group programs, and hospitals.  These kids only have trash bags with which to carry their belongings.

“We want to make this project special for the children. The message we hope to send is ‘You are important. You are valuable.’ We believe that the love, care, and commitment from this Haverhill area project will light a fire of inspiration and spread Suitcases for Kids across Massachusetts and beyond.” said Donna White, co-chairwoman of Suitcases for Kids, and a mother of two.

There are 700 children in the Haverhill system.  Our goal was to bring in 1000 suitcases to make sure we covered all of them.

I have been involved with the program almost since its inception a few weeks ago.  My primary duties have been to develop and maintain its website.  I also do some of the research.  It is our awesome team that gets the word out about the kids and the need for suitcases.

I mentioned the drive for suitcases to my 8 year old son.  He is a hoarder from way back.  He still has his first pair of shoes.  Like his dad he has never found a book that he doesn’t like to squirrel away.  To even suggest getting rid of something will cause him to run kicking and screaming from the room…just like his dad.

But today was different.  Just the mention of foster care kids and suitcases had him scrambling for whatever he could find.  You see, several of these kids are his friends and the idea of them being without was enough for to get him moving.  In the end he came up with a suitcase, a backpack, and a duffel bag.

He didn’t just hand me his finds; he insisted that I drive him to one of the drop off sites so that he could contribute.  He chose the Triton High School location in Byfield Massachusetts hoping that he could spend some time with the co-chairman Ron Nickerson’s boys.  And yes they were there but when he saw all the suitcases and the work that needed to be done he pitched right in.  And rather than stand around and wait until he was done, dad joined in too.

There were many wonderful people working along side of us inspecting, cleaning, and stacking the donations.  At the end of the day there were still more waiting to be processed.  At our location we filled one trailer to overflowing.  Luckily we had a truck in reserve which took not only the extras  but also the unfinished ones and the trash.

By Sunday we realized we had received over 1300 suitcases, backpacks, and duffel bags and more are still coming in.  The response from the community has been overwhelming.  I can understand it seeing how my son, the hoarder, reacted.

But we aren’t finished.  Yes, there is still the job of distributing the suitcases to the Haverhill DSS area, but there is also the state of Massachusetts, New England, the East Coast, and, and, and….  With everyone’s help we can provide suitcases to all the foster care kids in the United States.

And when my son and I went home I was ready for a nap but that didn’t happen.  For the rest of the day he worked on his bedroom either throwing away or giving away most of the stuff he had piled up in there.  He now has a bedroom and closet!!

When you give from the heart wonderful things can happen.

My Dad was a school teacher.  He started out in kindergarten and over the years worked his way upwards until he reached twelfth grade.  He got along well with the students but most especially with a young boy who was retarded.  As he grew Ryan never progressed beyond the sixth grade level.  He was in my dad’s kindergarten class and actually moved through the grades with him.

After about twenty years of teaching dad went on to other things.  Ryan kept in touch and would call regularly.  In fact many times in my teenage years and into my twenties I would answer the phone and end up having long conversations with him.  Most often he only wanted to talk about what a great man and friend my dad was.  I had no problem listening to all of that.  By this time he was in his late thirties and early forties; but even with a man’s voice he spoke like a child.

On a regular basis Ryan would take the train in to my dad’s office and they would go to lunch.  Dad always made time for him.  His own kids weren’t jealous; he did the same for us too.

I don’t really know what Ryan’s home life was like.  I only know that his dad had died and it was just his mom who took care of him.  What did he do when he wasn’t visiting my dad?  I never found out.  He was kind of like a distant relative that never came to visit.

Then one day he called and my mom answered the phone.  He was crying and wanted to speak to my dad.

He said, “I want to tell him I just lost one of my two best friends.  My mom just died.”

Mom hesitated a minute before telling him, “I’m sorry Ryan but…Mr Corr died last week.”  Ryan never called again.

I’ve thought about it a lot over the past twenty five years since my dad died.  What happened to Ryan?  He lost his two best friends inside of a week.  Where did he go?  What did he do?

5MinSpecNeeds asked in Twitter “Do you worry about what will happen to your child with special needs after you are gone?”

A close friend used to worry about that.  Not about his kids, they are healthy and happy moms now.  He worried about children with special needs.  He worried about his sisters.  One has multiple sclerosis and is now living in a nursing home.  The other was severely brain damaged in a car accident when she was 16.  Mentally she is still 16 even though she is in her late fifties.

He had been a successful restaurant owner before walking away to start a financial planning firm specializing in helping children and adults with disabilities.  He was instrumental in setting up over a dozen charities and putting together events to raise money to help.  And he worked with companies to develop products to help families take care of their loved ones with special needs.

As a financial planner his goal was to set up programs to allow his clients to learn and grow every day.  He would also put together contingency plans for them if their caregivers could not support them anymore for whatever reason.

Sadly, he died when he was 54 after living with diabetes for years; but he left many children and his sisters with the support they needed once their parents were gone.

We can’t leave things to chance.  We never know what is going to happen.  I still think of Ryan and wonder if he got the support he needed when his two best friends died.