Skip to main content


Another day....another morning. We've had difficulty getting Ashley to wear her leg brace. You understand that it's not easy being a nine year old girl and being 'different' in a world that isn't very accepting of differences---despite all it's protestations to the contrary--different is still not as cool as being like everyone else. Having CP will always set her aside in some manner.

This morning Lance put on her brace, after bandaging part of her foot where it had rubbed some skin off and created a blister. We kept it off her for a few days so it could heal.


Poor thing has had bronchitis for awhile. Doc has her on two medications and we have the nebulizer. She went to school for a half a day today. I'm sure she'll come home and sleep.

I leaned across the counter this morning as she was eating her cereal and milk and I just stared at her. She's incredibly beautiful..those big blue eyes, those blond curly locks. I could spend all day just memorizing everything about her but she thinks her mommy is weird when she does that.

She doesn't realize that if I will be over. I won't have her to cuddle in the morning or have her crawl into bed with me at night. She won't be asking me to do her ponytail anymore or to tie her shoes.

I'm missing it already and it's not even happened yet.....

So beautiful...



  1. She is a beautiful girl. I'm scared to blink too.

  2. So very beautiful Pammy...


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

I'll Love You Forever, I'll Like You For Always...

I rely on the kindness of strangers...

Or not so much strangers as readers of my miserable blog.

I received a beautiful card in the mail from my long-tine reader (perhaps my ONLY reader) that lifted my heart. Thank you, G. Parkes. It was kind of you to think of me. Seriously---you are so sweet. Thank you.

Perhaps we can meet in person one day. I'll be in Utah after Conference. We'll see how it goes.

I've been caring for my autistic grandson since July. It seems longer sometimes---and that's not a complaint. I adore this little man. He holds my heart. He fills my arms and my heart in the way that my own small babies used to do. When mine reached the age where they didn't want to be in my arms any longer, I felt their absence. Their absence from my arms was heavier than actually having them in my arms. It was an ache that is difficult to describe, a phantom pain where something once was but now is no longer.

Before my husband and I went to the cabin th…

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…