So this will be very Seinfeld-ian of me...a blog about nothing.
MAJOR breakthroughs with Princess this week:
1. Actually said "I WANT TO GO TO THE PARK" so we went. If she actually asks for something, and it's not ridiculous like "mommy make it snow in August," oh it's gonna happen. It's the minor communication miracles that are worth it.
2. Walked THE WHOLE TIME at Kroger and I didn't want to strangle her.
3. Helped label ALL her toy bins, even picking what they say "Pet Shop Guys" "Disney Guys," and seems excited to actually pick them up...since she seems to understand from the labels where and how things get put away.
In other news, you may have heard tell of a cleaning revolution at this joint. Yeah, if you have kids you know, it's never-ending. Stay tuned...
A-Roid** So it's no secret, I am Cleveland Fan. Also no secret, I hate the Yankees. For 4 days now, every single time A-Roid** comes up to bat, I put my right hand on my head and say out loud, to no one in particular, "I will never stop crying if he hits 600." So far (knock on wood the Yankees don't have another 8 run inning and he gets 1 more at bat) it has worked swimmingly, and the bum is stuck on 599. Let me explain why this would suck:
1. he's a cheater. I don't care if he's clean, I don't care if he admitted it, he cheated.
2. The Boss was DENIED the Indians in 1973, so there's the whole "can you imagine?" factor.
3. If it happened against the Indians, until the end of time, when they show him hit 600, I would remember this as the summer of Legone and my blood would boil with rage....and trust me, no one needs that, least of all the squirrels.
It is now 34 days 21 hours and 57 minutes until kickoff...Ohio
My Rumblings About Things That Don't Matter in Real Life
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Autism Assessment #1
I call it "#1" because it's definitely not the "first" assessment. But according to this round of doctors, it is. This is the first "official" round of testing, though, with an actual team of doctors working towards a diagnosis and therapy planning, so this is "#1." But before I get into that, I want to discuss how we got to "#1" in the first place.
Aside from day 1 at home from the hospital, when hubby was out stocking up on formula and diapers and I was actually left alone as a "new mom," I've never been one to overly freak out about all the can do's and can't do's. If it worked out, I did it. We had some issues with digesting milk and soy-based formulas, some sleep issues, and a rough, although brief, transition to milk, but no developmental issues. Princess reached all of her milestones on time, and in some cases, early.
At her three year check up, though, I was discussing with the doctor some abnormal things I was noticing: no attempt at the potty at all; no conversations initiated by her and most conversations seemed to be "scripted;" small fears of other children and some adults. He suggested we run a screen for Autism, at which point I agreed but shared my feelings on the subject. For the most part, he agreed with every concern I had but since we both agreed something was a little off, we screened her.
It came back that she was "normal" except for some social categories, and the doctor said he didn't see too much cause for concern, since Princess isn't around kids regularly. Still, I asked him to send in a referral to a developmental pediatrician anyways, better to know for sure. So he sent the referral and we heard from Children's Hospital. They sent us a mountain of paperwork to complete and send back, only they sent no address to send it back to. And even after leaving countless voice mails and sending emails, we never heard back from them. At the same time, though, Princess was making great strides and progressing so we figured she was just a little bit quirky and she just does things on her time. So we went on with our lives.
Around January, though, things turned around yet again. Fear was beginning to take over in all public scenarios, even some occassions where she knew the people around her very well. Her communication was virtually non-existant, though she spoke very well. She just wasn't speaking in ways that "made sense," never questioning "what's that? why?" etc. And while we had been 100% toilet trained by Christmas (thanks to a good friend's suggestion to tell her Santa wouldn't come if she didn't use the potty), she was regressing a bit there, too. I had put off the 4 year well-baby checkup as long as I possibly could (almost 2 months). I knew she would be screaming and it's just embarrassing. I shouldn't say that, but it is. People see children having tantrums or getting upset and they immediately judge "bad parent," not "wow that kid must be special needs." I do it, too, especially working in retail. So yes, it's embarrassing. But I finally made the appointment, for April 1 (the irony of this is not lost on me). That morning, as soon as I told her we were going to the doctor, she started screaming. The entire visit was an absolute nightmare, culminating in the doctor, yes the exact same doctor from 1 year before, saying, and without hesitation, "I think it's time she see someone, we'll call today."
Within a week, we were contacted by Children's Hospital. Since it is so incredibly difficult to get an appointment with a developmental pediatrician, we were initially sent to see a Behavioral Psychologist to help with Princess's fear and anxiety issues. The only problem here, though, is that without an official diagnosis, and since our psychologist isn't an Autism specialist, it's difficult to figure out an actual course of action. Still, we went, with the smallest glimmers of hope that SOMETHING would click. Many of her suggestions, for everything but the toilet training, were helpful. And it was, after all, her calling that did finally FINALLY get us an appointment with the developmental pediatrician.
So Princess and I go to THAT appointment, at yet another office. This is the appointment we've been waiting a year and a half to get in to, so of course the day before, Princess has a fever and both ends going. There was NO WAY I was canceling, so I stuck my little trooper in the car and off we went. I thought this was the appointment where we would get some therapy suggestions and start to get sent on the right path...
Turns out this "assessment" (if you're keeping track at home, this is now the 3rd doctor to evaluate her) was just to see if she needs further assessments. Which, surprise to no one, least of all me, she does. So now, we need to schedule THESE sessions. It is 2 3-4 hour sessions over 2 separate days, running a gamut of tests and analyses to come up with where "on the spectrum" the child is and how best to proceed. Our team would consist of a neurologist, developmental pediatrician, speech therapist, occupational therapist...
Which now, FINALLY, brings us to "#1." Not being one to be late, we arrived about 15 minutes early...not really a good thing for an Autistic child with a tiny waiting room full of other Autistic children, but need to learn how to be a member of society, right? Anyway...so the developmental pediatrician who heads "our team" comes out to greet us and take us back to our room. Once there, Princess is given the chance to "play." Let me just say, I feel kind of dirty using "play" as a judgement on how "normal" my kid is. Shortly after we went back to the room, the occupational and speech therapists came to get Princess to take her for individual testing, while I got to stay back and endure the Spanish Inquisition (ok, so she's Indian) on where it was that I messed up (I kid, I kid...though that truly is what it feels like, especially when you don't have every minute detail written down). At the end, we all came together to discuss what "they discovered," which, as it turns out, is exactly the same as all the other doctors we've paid alot of money to already...she's "on the spectrum." Though this group did add "but she's got some really awesome qualities" to their diagnosis. (Btw, this is now the 4th doctor that has given this diagnosis.)
So what now? Well, session "#1" was last Wednesday. They gave me a 3" "Autism Manual" to read before session "#2," which is this Friday...not even a half inch into the reading. This session is supposed to be Princess going through even more, intensive, individual testing. Hopefully after Friday, "testing" will be done (this, of course, does not include the testing the school system has to do to determine if she's "autistic enough" to warrant state-funded educational programs) and we can move forward with therapy.
Aside from day 1 at home from the hospital, when hubby was out stocking up on formula and diapers and I was actually left alone as a "new mom," I've never been one to overly freak out about all the can do's and can't do's. If it worked out, I did it. We had some issues with digesting milk and soy-based formulas, some sleep issues, and a rough, although brief, transition to milk, but no developmental issues. Princess reached all of her milestones on time, and in some cases, early.
At her three year check up, though, I was discussing with the doctor some abnormal things I was noticing: no attempt at the potty at all; no conversations initiated by her and most conversations seemed to be "scripted;" small fears of other children and some adults. He suggested we run a screen for Autism, at which point I agreed but shared my feelings on the subject. For the most part, he agreed with every concern I had but since we both agreed something was a little off, we screened her.
It came back that she was "normal" except for some social categories, and the doctor said he didn't see too much cause for concern, since Princess isn't around kids regularly. Still, I asked him to send in a referral to a developmental pediatrician anyways, better to know for sure. So he sent the referral and we heard from Children's Hospital. They sent us a mountain of paperwork to complete and send back, only they sent no address to send it back to. And even after leaving countless voice mails and sending emails, we never heard back from them. At the same time, though, Princess was making great strides and progressing so we figured she was just a little bit quirky and she just does things on her time. So we went on with our lives.
Around January, though, things turned around yet again. Fear was beginning to take over in all public scenarios, even some occassions where she knew the people around her very well. Her communication was virtually non-existant, though she spoke very well. She just wasn't speaking in ways that "made sense," never questioning "what's that? why?" etc. And while we had been 100% toilet trained by Christmas (thanks to a good friend's suggestion to tell her Santa wouldn't come if she didn't use the potty), she was regressing a bit there, too. I had put off the 4 year well-baby checkup as long as I possibly could (almost 2 months). I knew she would be screaming and it's just embarrassing. I shouldn't say that, but it is. People see children having tantrums or getting upset and they immediately judge "bad parent," not "wow that kid must be special needs." I do it, too, especially working in retail. So yes, it's embarrassing. But I finally made the appointment, for April 1 (the irony of this is not lost on me). That morning, as soon as I told her we were going to the doctor, she started screaming. The entire visit was an absolute nightmare, culminating in the doctor, yes the exact same doctor from 1 year before, saying, and without hesitation, "I think it's time she see someone, we'll call today."
Within a week, we were contacted by Children's Hospital. Since it is so incredibly difficult to get an appointment with a developmental pediatrician, we were initially sent to see a Behavioral Psychologist to help with Princess's fear and anxiety issues. The only problem here, though, is that without an official diagnosis, and since our psychologist isn't an Autism specialist, it's difficult to figure out an actual course of action. Still, we went, with the smallest glimmers of hope that SOMETHING would click. Many of her suggestions, for everything but the toilet training, were helpful. And it was, after all, her calling that did finally FINALLY get us an appointment with the developmental pediatrician.
So Princess and I go to THAT appointment, at yet another office. This is the appointment we've been waiting a year and a half to get in to, so of course the day before, Princess has a fever and both ends going. There was NO WAY I was canceling, so I stuck my little trooper in the car and off we went. I thought this was the appointment where we would get some therapy suggestions and start to get sent on the right path...
Turns out this "assessment" (if you're keeping track at home, this is now the 3rd doctor to evaluate her) was just to see if she needs further assessments. Which, surprise to no one, least of all me, she does. So now, we need to schedule THESE sessions. It is 2 3-4 hour sessions over 2 separate days, running a gamut of tests and analyses to come up with where "on the spectrum" the child is and how best to proceed. Our team would consist of a neurologist, developmental pediatrician, speech therapist, occupational therapist...
Which now, FINALLY, brings us to "#1." Not being one to be late, we arrived about 15 minutes early...not really a good thing for an Autistic child with a tiny waiting room full of other Autistic children, but need to learn how to be a member of society, right? Anyway...so the developmental pediatrician who heads "our team" comes out to greet us and take us back to our room. Once there, Princess is given the chance to "play." Let me just say, I feel kind of dirty using "play" as a judgement on how "normal" my kid is. Shortly after we went back to the room, the occupational and speech therapists came to get Princess to take her for individual testing, while I got to stay back and endure the Spanish Inquisition (ok, so she's Indian) on where it was that I messed up (I kid, I kid...though that truly is what it feels like, especially when you don't have every minute detail written down). At the end, we all came together to discuss what "they discovered," which, as it turns out, is exactly the same as all the other doctors we've paid alot of money to already...she's "on the spectrum." Though this group did add "but she's got some really awesome qualities" to their diagnosis. (Btw, this is now the 4th doctor that has given this diagnosis.)
So what now? Well, session "#1" was last Wednesday. They gave me a 3" "Autism Manual" to read before session "#2," which is this Friday...not even a half inch into the reading. This session is supposed to be Princess going through even more, intensive, individual testing. Hopefully after Friday, "testing" will be done (this, of course, does not include the testing the school system has to do to determine if she's "autistic enough" to warrant state-funded educational programs) and we can move forward with therapy.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Lazy Blogger....
One my favorite bloggers, Dumb Mom, has posted, today, tips for being a "better blogger." I present to you why I am the WORST blogger....Seriously, if there were a corner for bad bloggers, I would be mayor of that corner. I would be permanently entrenched there, with my bad blogger dunce cap on my head. Knowing me, I would be shouting orders to the people that get stuck there with me, or complaining about how they couldn't possibly be as bad as me, so they clearly don't deserve to be in my bad blogger corner.
Let me explain why I SUCK as a blogger (insert Tommy Boy finger quotes here):
1. I am irregular as a 75 year old woman, with or without my milk of magnesia (you know they never use brand names). I can't seem to find the time in my day that other people have. Either that or we're the only people stuck in the 90s with a desktop, though it is a really nice desktop, instead of a laptop, thus allowing for other people to actually blog.
2. My life is completely void of activity....that anyone but me cares about. OK maybe not, but see #1...I don't got the time. There is PLENTY going on right now, wish I had the time to share!
3. I don't generally care about "target audiences."
4. I am as irregular as a 75 year....ah crap, I used that one already.
5. I have no clear, coherent thoughts....probably all of those brain cells I killed in college.
6. I think I've acquired adult A.D.D. I will be in the middle of something and then....OH SNICKERS!!
7. I live in Ohio. There is nothing fun to do unless it's football season. Period. Though the Ohio State Fair starts tomorrow...insert white trash for 12 straight days!!!!!
So, ladies and gentlemen that don't read anything I write, this is just the top of the surface! This is just a little bit of why I am the world's worst blogger. So don't read this and go on with your merry little lives!!
Let me explain why I SUCK as a blogger (insert Tommy Boy finger quotes here):
1. I am irregular as a 75 year old woman, with or without my milk of magnesia (you know they never use brand names). I can't seem to find the time in my day that other people have. Either that or we're the only people stuck in the 90s with a desktop, though it is a really nice desktop, instead of a laptop, thus allowing for other people to actually blog.
2. My life is completely void of activity....that anyone but me cares about. OK maybe not, but see #1...I don't got the time. There is PLENTY going on right now, wish I had the time to share!
3. I don't generally care about "target audiences."
4. I am as irregular as a 75 year....ah crap, I used that one already.
5. I have no clear, coherent thoughts....probably all of those brain cells I killed in college.
6. I think I've acquired adult A.D.D. I will be in the middle of something and then....OH SNICKERS!!
7. I live in Ohio. There is nothing fun to do unless it's football season. Period. Though the Ohio State Fair starts tomorrow...insert white trash for 12 straight days!!!!!
So, ladies and gentlemen that don't read anything I write, this is just the top of the surface! This is just a little bit of why I am the world's worst blogger. So don't read this and go on with your merry little lives!!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Hoarders...
So here's the deal: my mother is moving this weekend. Princess has her first BIG autism assessment this week. Father-in-law's retirement party is Saturday. This has been the busiest summer of my life. There is literally something every other day. I'm not one to not be bored, but I would love being bored right now. I'm sick of getting in the car and doing stuff, and quite frankly, so is Princess. She's lost all ability to comprehend "future" tense, and if you tell her you're going to do something or go somewhere in the future, she flips out and screams that she wants to "go to our house."
But I digress....like I said, my mother is moving this weekend. Since the males in our lives don't enjoy actually helping, hubby has hired movers for her. This fact notwithstanding, we've been cleaning and moving since Thursday, because it's not moving towns, it's moving a few city blocks over. Saturday, hubby and I went over to help get the trash out of the basement....I may have neglected to tell hubby it was 40 years worth of trash. He was a little miffed...but 3 dumpsters later, we were done.
I've used this as my inspiration. If I don't need it, it's going away. Period. End of story. So in conjunction with EVERYTHING ELSE going on, I'm also cleaning, and I mean really cleaning, my own house. So I'm exhausted...
In other news: bro and sis in law are having a boy, which I, of course, knew immediately since she's not at all fat and hasn't been throwing up. So my sis-in-law has a penis.
And Lou Brown has died...in honor of that, the Indians seem to be wanting to win all their games in the 2nd season. They swept the Tigers in a 3-day, 4-game series! Makes that game on August 7 seem like it won't be a waste of money after all! Well, I mean, it's not because it's Kenny Lofton bobblehead night, but still...
But I digress....like I said, my mother is moving this weekend. Since the males in our lives don't enjoy actually helping, hubby has hired movers for her. This fact notwithstanding, we've been cleaning and moving since Thursday, because it's not moving towns, it's moving a few city blocks over. Saturday, hubby and I went over to help get the trash out of the basement....I may have neglected to tell hubby it was 40 years worth of trash. He was a little miffed...but 3 dumpsters later, we were done.
I've used this as my inspiration. If I don't need it, it's going away. Period. End of story. So in conjunction with EVERYTHING ELSE going on, I'm also cleaning, and I mean really cleaning, my own house. So I'm exhausted...
In other news: bro and sis in law are having a boy, which I, of course, knew immediately since she's not at all fat and hasn't been throwing up. So my sis-in-law has a penis.
And Lou Brown has died...in honor of that, the Indians seem to be wanting to win all their games in the 2nd season. They swept the Tigers in a 3-day, 4-game series! Makes that game on August 7 seem like it won't be a waste of money after all! Well, I mean, it's not because it's Kenny Lofton bobblehead night, but still...
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Dumpster Divers...
So I've not posted since Legone (he sucks) and this one promises to be quite short....
I've been super busy this week with cleaning/organizing/rearranging the basement. I seem to do it every 7 months or so, when I just get to that point where I can no longer take it, but this time has been severely different. This time, instead of just neatly stacking boxes in new corners, I've been OPENING the boxes, looking at the stuff IN them, and throwing stuff away. It's so much easier than you would think.
One of the first boxes I opened, marked "Holiday Dishes," had 2 coffee mugs and a bunch of newsprint in it. The dishes, you see, were still neatly tucked inside my kitchen cabinets. So since the cabinets have been spewing forth much lately, I finally got my lazy ass up, took the dishes OUT of the cabinet, and packed them back in their box, neatly wrapped in newsprint. This would be an example of "something that is actually used, only seasonally." Much like the 8 or 9 boxes of Christmas decorations I have (yet only 1 box for Easter and Halloween, combined).
Much later in the process, I opened a box marked "bar glasses." To say we're not "drinkers" would be a flat out lie, but to say that we are "drinkers who require bar glasses" is ridiculous. We are lazy, we work smarter, not harder. If it comes in a bottle that has a twist top, we are content to use a koozy, if necessary. So I open said box. 8 margarita glasses: we have never been margarita drinkers (I had an awful encounter at Howl at the Moon with golden tequila margaritas when I was "21") so POOF! They gone. 8 martini glasses: I love love love martinis but....if I'm gonna drink one, chances are I'm at a bar, because who wants to take the time to make them? POOF! See ya. 8 very large, very bulky, very heavy beer mugs...seriously? Why the hell did we register for this stuff? Keep 2, 6 go POOF! You see where this is going. By the end, a "large box" had been reduced to half of a "small box."
The baby stuff (crib, changing table, matress, changing pad, maternity clothes) will be going to bro-in-law-1(it's an age rank, not a favoritism thing, I don't play faves) and wife, as they are due in December (here's hoping it's a girl so they can take the 4 80-gal totes of baby clothes I have...).
Some fun things do occur when going through your junk....you find some CRAZY things! If you have a basement/closet/storage locker full of your junk, I highly advise you to go through it, and for 2 purposes: 1. downsizing, 2. entertainment! With that said, Imma git back to it! Basement remodel day 3!!!
I've been super busy this week with cleaning/organizing/rearranging the basement. I seem to do it every 7 months or so, when I just get to that point where I can no longer take it, but this time has been severely different. This time, instead of just neatly stacking boxes in new corners, I've been OPENING the boxes, looking at the stuff IN them, and throwing stuff away. It's so much easier than you would think.
One of the first boxes I opened, marked "Holiday Dishes," had 2 coffee mugs and a bunch of newsprint in it. The dishes, you see, were still neatly tucked inside my kitchen cabinets. So since the cabinets have been spewing forth much lately, I finally got my lazy ass up, took the dishes OUT of the cabinet, and packed them back in their box, neatly wrapped in newsprint. This would be an example of "something that is actually used, only seasonally." Much like the 8 or 9 boxes of Christmas decorations I have (yet only 1 box for Easter and Halloween, combined).
Much later in the process, I opened a box marked "bar glasses." To say we're not "drinkers" would be a flat out lie, but to say that we are "drinkers who require bar glasses" is ridiculous. We are lazy, we work smarter, not harder. If it comes in a bottle that has a twist top, we are content to use a koozy, if necessary. So I open said box. 8 margarita glasses: we have never been margarita drinkers (I had an awful encounter at Howl at the Moon with golden tequila margaritas when I was "21") so POOF! They gone. 8 martini glasses: I love love love martinis but....if I'm gonna drink one, chances are I'm at a bar, because who wants to take the time to make them? POOF! See ya. 8 very large, very bulky, very heavy beer mugs...seriously? Why the hell did we register for this stuff? Keep 2, 6 go POOF! You see where this is going. By the end, a "large box" had been reduced to half of a "small box."
The baby stuff (crib, changing table, matress, changing pad, maternity clothes) will be going to bro-in-law-1(it's an age rank, not a favoritism thing, I don't play faves) and wife, as they are due in December (here's hoping it's a girl so they can take the 4 80-gal totes of baby clothes I have...).
Some fun things do occur when going through your junk....you find some CRAZY things! If you have a basement/closet/storage locker full of your junk, I highly advise you to go through it, and for 2 purposes: 1. downsizing, 2. entertainment! With that said, Imma git back to it! Basement remodel day 3!!!
Saturday, July 10, 2010
2 Days LeGone and It Still Hurts...
I know this is usually about parenting and my neurosis, but this is just too much for me to not mention. I have to talk about Lebron...
Cleveland fans have taken a beating in the media, at least in my opinion for their reactions to "The Circus" Thursday night, so I feel the need to justify mine and my fellow Clevelanders reactions. (This will be painful, my friends, but bear with me.)
My earliest memory in sports is not the Ohio State football game I went to when I was 3 or even the game in 1985 when the Buckeyes shocked #1 Iowa. No, my first sports memory is the 1986 Cleveland Browns (I'm sorry, loyal friends, it stands to be mentioned...)
So there I was, January 11, 1987, 8 years old, with my milkbone "pin," painted orange, brown, and white, adorned by cute ribbons (no doubt made by some church lady somewhere), watching the Browns. They take the lead 20-13, kick off with a bizarre kickoff that sails behind the Broncos, and they are pinned down on their 2 yard line, with only 5:32 left in the game. SUPER BOWL! SUPER BOWL! Chants all over Municipal (RIP) Stadium. The fans believe it. Bernie Bernie, OHHHHH YEAH!!! Super Bowl....wait, what? THE DRIVE... If reading it isn't enough to make you want to kick yourself in the face...watch this.
Incidentally, the Cleveland Indians in 1986 had a record of 84-78, which was, sadly, it's best since the 1968 season. 1987 they would go 61-101, finishing dead last, and inspiring the movie "Major League."
But I digress...January 17, 1988, Mile High Stadium in ...
Denver, Colorado. The Broncos were up 21-3 at the half, absolutely killing my beloved Brownies. In the second half, though, Bernie Kosar (who STILL holds an NFL record for most completed passes without an interception, btw) led the team to 4 touchdowns and halfway through the 4th quarter it was 31-31. John Elway then led the Broncos to a score, making it 38-31 Denver with 4 minutes left. The Browns then drive down to the Broncos 8-yard line with 1:12 left in the game. Byner goes left, he's in the end zone, the ball is not...
May 7, 1989, Richfield Coliseum, Richfield, Ohio...the
Cleveland Cavs are playing in the 1st round of the NBA Playoffs against Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. The Cavs are up with 3 seconds left and the Bulls call timeout. There I was, 10 years old, sitting on the edge of an old white leather chair in the living room. Michael Jordan was going down!! Everyone could feel it. (He wasn't quite Michael yet, remember) The Bulls inbound the ball...you gotta be effin kidding me.
Go back in time to 1973.
Art Modell leases Municipal Stadium to the city for $1/year, then refuses revenue sharing with the Indians. In 1994, the Indians convince the city to build the Gateway Project, with Jacobs, I mean, Progressive Field, and Gund, I mean, Quicken Loans Arena. Art Modell refuses to take part, believing that the Browns will still make more money. He was wrong, dead wrong. November 6, 1995, the Browns were 3-4, Art Modell announced he was up and moving the team to Baltimore the following season. Fans were outraged, sporting "Muck Fodell" shirts, holding protests, even a protest in Pittsburgh, the ONLY time the two sides were united, though that protest was hardly mentioned, and filed countless lawsuits against Modell. The NFL, Cleveland, and Modell came to an agreement in 1996, in which the Browns Franchise would be "deactivated," retaining all of it's colors, history, accolades, while Modell would be given an expansion team in Baltimore, but retain all the players and contracts of the current Browns. The Browns would be inactive for three years, while they built a new stadium.
The Browns returned in 1999. They've had only 2 winning seasons since their return. The Ravens have, however, been to the playoffs six times, and won Super Bowl XXXV, January 28, 2001. Art Modell is no longer the majority owner of the team, going bankrupt and selling 49% in 2000, and more of the team in 2004. He is still the most hated man in Cleveland, going all the way back to 1963 with the firing of Paul Brown.
1995: Cleveland Indians vs. Atlanta Braves, World Series.....Atlanta 4-2.
1997: Cleveland Indians vs. Florida Marlins, World Series...not only were the Florida Marlins a wild card team, they were a five year old franchise. The Indians were the heavy favorites to win. Game 7. Bottom of the 9th, Indians up 2-1. Closer Jose Mesa comes in to bring Cleveland it's first World Series championship since 1948. BLOWN SAVE. Extra Innings...Bottom 11. Craig Counsell hits a ball between first and second...THE ERROR. Instead of a routine out, the ball goes off Tony Fernandez's glove. Edgar Renteria hits a ball, it bounces off of Charlie Nagy's glove into the outfield, Counsell runs home, Indians lose...
Yet through ALL OF THIS, the Cleveland fan doesn't stray. THIS IS KEY. The Cleveland Fan DOESN'T STRAY. We stay through all of it, and we love them. We absolutely friggin love them. We inevitably know what's going to happen to us, should a small amount of success flop our way, but we HOPE that just once, JUST ONCE, a ball bounces OUR way and WE will be victorious. We wear hideous colors, orange and brown, wine and gold, orange and blue, (can't go wrong with the red, white, and blue of the Indians, though) and we wear them PROUDLY, no matter WHAT. We join in on the jokes, though from some sources (ESPN) we don't appreciate them. You can't knock it til you tried it. It's a religion. Northeast Ohio: the birthplace of football. We are a proud people. You look at us, at our city, you call it garbage, it's people "depressed," both economically and emotionally. Do you say that about Detroit fans, whose plight is similar to that of Clevalanders economically? No, they've had the Pistons (championships) and the Tigers (World Series appearance out of nowhere) lately, so you don't knock them. You knock Clevelanders.
Sure, you may pick on Cubs fans, but the city of Chicago has had success from ALL of their other teams. No sir, only the Cleveland fan has lived a lifetime and never seen a championship come to their city. It's fun to kick them while they're down. Cleveland: the Lovable Loser. The "Mistake by the Lake."
Enter Lebron James....
Lebron, the self-appointed "King." The Ohio born son, that never showed any love for his state. The band-wagoner "The Yankees," "The Cowboys." His disdain for all things Cleveland never deterred us. We defended him. "Of course he would like the Cowboys, the Browns weren't even around when he was growing up." (Though I never got the Yankees thing, the Indians were WAY better at the time...) We bought into his hype, hype he himself generated with the money-hungry slobs at Nike. We were all witnesses. In countless games, he would pass at the wrong moment. ESPN would question his desire for championships, saying he passed off instead of taking the shot because he couldn't handle the pressure. We said "why wouldn't he pass? He was triple teamed, the guy was WIDE OPEN! It's not Lebron's fault the other guys can't handle it in the clutch." We waited for YEARS for him to make his decision. As the time grew closer, the writing was on the wall. Celebrities were coming to Cleveland to watch games. He was gone. No one comes to Cleveland for fun, right Joakim Noah?
Then the Boston series happened. The Lebron praise was drifting away. We all saw it, we knew he quit. We voiced it, we were pissed off. But through it all, again, WE HELD OUT HOPE. Lebron calls a one hour tv special on ESPN to announce his decision. Surely he won't embarrass us on national television, not our native son. He parades kids from the Cleveland Boys & Girls Club out on stage with him. He announces he's leaving....
Did you hear the heartbroken children sigh? No? You couldn't hear it through the screaming at your television?
To all those who judge the Cleveland fan, I offer this: it's not that he left. Athletes come and go, and no one understands that better than Cleveland fan (let me give you some names: Ray Fosse, Manny Ramirez, Joe Carter, Cliff Lee, CC Sabathia, Vinny Testaverde). No it's not that he left. It's not about mindless idol worship of someone that doesn't deserve it. Lebron doesn't pay my bills, Josh Cribbs doesn't pay my bills. Athletes aren't heroes. Let me tell you what this is about. This is about the WAY he did it.
Cleveland Fan is loyal. Cleveland Fan loves you no matter what, for all your faults. (How else do you explain attendance at Browns games in negative temperatures?) You wanna leave? No problem, son, there's the door. But you give me the respect and dignity I deserve when you do it. You do not go run and hide in another state, have an hour long special where you talk IN THE THIRD PERSON, you do not have "your people" contact the Cavs. BE A MAN. You've showed that you're NOT a champion, because champions don't need other superstars. The Lakers were not great because of the stars, the Lakers were great because of each other. Michael Jordan MADE Scottie Pippen better (remember, too, Scottie Pippen cried like a baby and sat on the bench because he wasn't getting the last shot). Larry Bird MADE the guys around him better. Tim Duncan MADE the guys around him better. You, young man, are a whiny little child that didn't get your way. Perhaps what we were all Witnesses to was your inability to live up to the hype. You will never be Kobe Bryant. You will never be Michael Jordan. You are nothing but an accessory on Dwayne Wade's team.
In closing, Cleveland Fan, I offer this: when the Miami sHeat comes to town next season. Go. All of you. Pack em in. Wear the wine and gold proudly. Say nothing. No cheers. No boos. Absolute silence. He doesn't deserve your boos. Save your boos for the likes of Joakim Noah, who bashed the city...and Lebron said nothing in our defense. Burn his stuff. It was your money that paid for it. You've already pissed it away. Burn it. It's just stuff, you don't actually need it anyway.
Cleveland fans have taken a beating in the media, at least in my opinion for their reactions to "The Circus" Thursday night, so I feel the need to justify mine and my fellow Clevelanders reactions. (This will be painful, my friends, but bear with me.)
My earliest memory in sports is not the Ohio State football game I went to when I was 3 or even the game in 1985 when the Buckeyes shocked #1 Iowa. No, my first sports memory is the 1986 Cleveland Browns (I'm sorry, loyal friends, it stands to be mentioned...)
So there I was, January 11, 1987, 8 years old, with my milkbone "pin," painted orange, brown, and white, adorned by cute ribbons (no doubt made by some church lady somewhere), watching the Browns. They take the lead 20-13, kick off with a bizarre kickoff that sails behind the Broncos, and they are pinned down on their 2 yard line, with only 5:32 left in the game. SUPER BOWL! SUPER BOWL! Chants all over Municipal (RIP) Stadium. The fans believe it. Bernie Bernie, OHHHHH YEAH!!! Super Bowl....wait, what? THE DRIVE... If reading it isn't enough to make you want to kick yourself in the face...watch this.Incidentally, the Cleveland Indians in 1986 had a record of 84-78, which was, sadly, it's best since the 1968 season. 1987 they would go 61-101, finishing dead last, and inspiring the movie "Major League."
But I digress...January 17, 1988, Mile High Stadium in ...
Denver, Colorado. The Broncos were up 21-3 at the half, absolutely killing my beloved Brownies. In the second half, though, Bernie Kosar (who STILL holds an NFL record for most completed passes without an interception, btw) led the team to 4 touchdowns and halfway through the 4th quarter it was 31-31. John Elway then led the Broncos to a score, making it 38-31 Denver with 4 minutes left. The Browns then drive down to the Broncos 8-yard line with 1:12 left in the game. Byner goes left, he's in the end zone, the ball is not... May 7, 1989, Richfield Coliseum, Richfield, Ohio...the
Cleveland Cavs are playing in the 1st round of the NBA Playoffs against Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls. The Cavs are up with 3 seconds left and the Bulls call timeout. There I was, 10 years old, sitting on the edge of an old white leather chair in the living room. Michael Jordan was going down!! Everyone could feel it. (He wasn't quite Michael yet, remember) The Bulls inbound the ball...you gotta be effin kidding me.Go back in time to 1973.
Art Modell leases Municipal Stadium to the city for $1/year, then refuses revenue sharing with the Indians. In 1994, the Indians convince the city to build the Gateway Project, with Jacobs, I mean, Progressive Field, and Gund, I mean, Quicken Loans Arena. Art Modell refuses to take part, believing that the Browns will still make more money. He was wrong, dead wrong. November 6, 1995, the Browns were 3-4, Art Modell announced he was up and moving the team to Baltimore the following season. Fans were outraged, sporting "Muck Fodell" shirts, holding protests, even a protest in Pittsburgh, the ONLY time the two sides were united, though that protest was hardly mentioned, and filed countless lawsuits against Modell. The NFL, Cleveland, and Modell came to an agreement in 1996, in which the Browns Franchise would be "deactivated," retaining all of it's colors, history, accolades, while Modell would be given an expansion team in Baltimore, but retain all the players and contracts of the current Browns. The Browns would be inactive for three years, while they built a new stadium.
The Browns returned in 1999. They've had only 2 winning seasons since their return. The Ravens have, however, been to the playoffs six times, and won Super Bowl XXXV, January 28, 2001. Art Modell is no longer the majority owner of the team, going bankrupt and selling 49% in 2000, and more of the team in 2004. He is still the most hated man in Cleveland, going all the way back to 1963 with the firing of Paul Brown.1995: Cleveland Indians vs. Atlanta Braves, World Series.....Atlanta 4-2.
1997: Cleveland Indians vs. Florida Marlins, World Series...not only were the Florida Marlins a wild card team, they were a five year old franchise. The Indians were the heavy favorites to win. Game 7. Bottom of the 9th, Indians up 2-1. Closer Jose Mesa comes in to bring Cleveland it's first World Series championship since 1948. BLOWN SAVE. Extra Innings...Bottom 11. Craig Counsell hits a ball between first and second...THE ERROR. Instead of a routine out, the ball goes off Tony Fernandez's glove. Edgar Renteria hits a ball, it bounces off of Charlie Nagy's glove into the outfield, Counsell runs home, Indians lose...
Yet through ALL OF THIS, the Cleveland fan doesn't stray. THIS IS KEY. The Cleveland Fan DOESN'T STRAY. We stay through all of it, and we love them. We absolutely friggin love them. We inevitably know what's going to happen to us, should a small amount of success flop our way, but we HOPE that just once, JUST ONCE, a ball bounces OUR way and WE will be victorious. We wear hideous colors, orange and brown, wine and gold, orange and blue, (can't go wrong with the red, white, and blue of the Indians, though) and we wear them PROUDLY, no matter WHAT. We join in on the jokes, though from some sources (ESPN) we don't appreciate them. You can't knock it til you tried it. It's a religion. Northeast Ohio: the birthplace of football. We are a proud people. You look at us, at our city, you call it garbage, it's people "depressed," both economically and emotionally. Do you say that about Detroit fans, whose plight is similar to that of Clevalanders economically? No, they've had the Pistons (championships) and the Tigers (World Series appearance out of nowhere) lately, so you don't knock them. You knock Clevelanders.
Sure, you may pick on Cubs fans, but the city of Chicago has had success from ALL of their other teams. No sir, only the Cleveland fan has lived a lifetime and never seen a championship come to their city. It's fun to kick them while they're down. Cleveland: the Lovable Loser. The "Mistake by the Lake."
Enter Lebron James....
Lebron, the self-appointed "King." The Ohio born son, that never showed any love for his state. The band-wagoner "The Yankees," "The Cowboys." His disdain for all things Cleveland never deterred us. We defended him. "Of course he would like the Cowboys, the Browns weren't even around when he was growing up." (Though I never got the Yankees thing, the Indians were WAY better at the time...) We bought into his hype, hype he himself generated with the money-hungry slobs at Nike. We were all witnesses. In countless games, he would pass at the wrong moment. ESPN would question his desire for championships, saying he passed off instead of taking the shot because he couldn't handle the pressure. We said "why wouldn't he pass? He was triple teamed, the guy was WIDE OPEN! It's not Lebron's fault the other guys can't handle it in the clutch." We waited for YEARS for him to make his decision. As the time grew closer, the writing was on the wall. Celebrities were coming to Cleveland to watch games. He was gone. No one comes to Cleveland for fun, right Joakim Noah? Then the Boston series happened. The Lebron praise was drifting away. We all saw it, we knew he quit. We voiced it, we were pissed off. But through it all, again, WE HELD OUT HOPE. Lebron calls a one hour tv special on ESPN to announce his decision. Surely he won't embarrass us on national television, not our native son. He parades kids from the Cleveland Boys & Girls Club out on stage with him. He announces he's leaving....
Did you hear the heartbroken children sigh? No? You couldn't hear it through the screaming at your television?
To all those who judge the Cleveland fan, I offer this: it's not that he left. Athletes come and go, and no one understands that better than Cleveland fan (let me give you some names: Ray Fosse, Manny Ramirez, Joe Carter, Cliff Lee, CC Sabathia, Vinny Testaverde). No it's not that he left. It's not about mindless idol worship of someone that doesn't deserve it. Lebron doesn't pay my bills, Josh Cribbs doesn't pay my bills. Athletes aren't heroes. Let me tell you what this is about. This is about the WAY he did it.
Cleveland Fan is loyal. Cleveland Fan loves you no matter what, for all your faults. (How else do you explain attendance at Browns games in negative temperatures?) You wanna leave? No problem, son, there's the door. But you give me the respect and dignity I deserve when you do it. You do not go run and hide in another state, have an hour long special where you talk IN THE THIRD PERSON, you do not have "your people" contact the Cavs. BE A MAN. You've showed that you're NOT a champion, because champions don't need other superstars. The Lakers were not great because of the stars, the Lakers were great because of each other. Michael Jordan MADE Scottie Pippen better (remember, too, Scottie Pippen cried like a baby and sat on the bench because he wasn't getting the last shot). Larry Bird MADE the guys around him better. Tim Duncan MADE the guys around him better. You, young man, are a whiny little child that didn't get your way. Perhaps what we were all Witnesses to was your inability to live up to the hype. You will never be Kobe Bryant. You will never be Michael Jordan. You are nothing but an accessory on Dwayne Wade's team.
In closing, Cleveland Fan, I offer this: when the Miami sHeat comes to town next season. Go. All of you. Pack em in. Wear the wine and gold proudly. Say nothing. No cheers. No boos. Absolute silence. He doesn't deserve your boos. Save your boos for the likes of Joakim Noah, who bashed the city...and Lebron said nothing in our defense. Burn his stuff. It was your money that paid for it. You've already pissed it away. Burn it. It's just stuff, you don't actually need it anyway.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
You Know You're Old When...
So for the 1st time in ages, my family actually spent a holiday together: Fourth of July. We headed up to Massillon to welcome home the Singaporeans (no, not actual citizens of Singapore, my cousin & her family have lived in Singapore for the last 2 years and they are now back in the states), and had a lovely time together. Save for one thing: sleeping arrangements.
Night 1: Princess, Daddy, & I slept in Auntie M(not Wizard of Oz)'s attic....on air mattresses. I personally HATE air mattresses, and Princess had never had the pleasure. See, when we travel, I prefer to let Princess get the queen of all sleeping arrangements, since she is no longer pack-and-play-sized. For example, last summer, she slept in luxury in a queen-sized bed by herself in a hotel, while Neena and I shared a horrid hide-a-bed with an equally horrid bar RIGHT IN OUR BACKS. But I digress....Princess had to sleep in an air mattress. She was fairly tired, so I figured she would go right to sleep. Instead, she flopped like a fish on a dock, trying to get free of a fishhook, for about 15 minutes, before finally falling asleep. I had made the bed as absolutely firm as I could get it to go, hoping that maybe she would just be so tired she would pass out and not move the rest of the night, sleeping maybe until at least 8....
So we go to bed, all I hear all night long is her tossing and turning and flopping around. 6:45 guess who's up for the day?? (Here's a hint: it wasn't me...) So the day progresses and Princess takes a nap. Since Daddy had to leave so that he could go to work on Monday, we would be relocating for sleep night 2. We would be hitting up our normal room, with Princess sleeping on the futon. Of course, halfway through the day, I realize that with my "nieces" staying there, I would have to sleep on the floor, since they would have the air mattresses in the attic. Since my back was already slightly tweaked from night 1 on the air mattress, I wasn't all that excited about sleeping on the floor.
In the interest of having a pleasant 4th, and staying to actually see the fireworks my cousin bought, I worked to get Princess a nap. It was a successful attempt, with both of us sleeping on the futon, together, in relative harmony. At this point, I decide that we could sleep in the same bed that night also, since she slept so well and in the correct position, so soundly that I had to shout her name to wake her up. So we go over to my cousin's for the festivities.
Princess spent time swimming and playing on the swing set, etc, and after her hating every second of the fireworks, we head back to Auntie M's. Bath, blah blah blah, she wants to go to bed.
Night 2: One of two things happen at bed time: (1) she falls asleep while we read/sing or (2) she tells me to go and works it out all by herself. When we're not at home, she usually makes me stay with her until she falls asleep, which is fine, but this night, she decided she wanted me to go. I told her to get some good sleep and make sure she saved room for me to sleep in the bed with her, knowing full well that wouldn't happen, but she can be moved.
About an hour later, I head in to go to bed. True to form, smack dab in the middle of the futon. So I try to move her, she bounces back just like a spring. Try again, same result. Super...so I try to get in bed and hope she just moves with the force of my body. Nope...just pushed back against me. So couple the "comfort" of a futon and the "comfort" of a bed-hogging, tossing-and-turning four year old and I got no sleep AND slept with 90% of my body hanging off the futon. By noon, I could barely bend at the waist. So since none of the children were in any apparent pain from all of our sleeping arrangements, I've officially concluded I am, in fact, old....and I'm going on a hunt for a chiropractor.
Night 1: Princess, Daddy, & I slept in Auntie M(not Wizard of Oz)'s attic....on air mattresses. I personally HATE air mattresses, and Princess had never had the pleasure. See, when we travel, I prefer to let Princess get the queen of all sleeping arrangements, since she is no longer pack-and-play-sized. For example, last summer, she slept in luxury in a queen-sized bed by herself in a hotel, while Neena and I shared a horrid hide-a-bed with an equally horrid bar RIGHT IN OUR BACKS. But I digress....Princess had to sleep in an air mattress. She was fairly tired, so I figured she would go right to sleep. Instead, she flopped like a fish on a dock, trying to get free of a fishhook, for about 15 minutes, before finally falling asleep. I had made the bed as absolutely firm as I could get it to go, hoping that maybe she would just be so tired she would pass out and not move the rest of the night, sleeping maybe until at least 8....
So we go to bed, all I hear all night long is her tossing and turning and flopping around. 6:45 guess who's up for the day?? (Here's a hint: it wasn't me...) So the day progresses and Princess takes a nap. Since Daddy had to leave so that he could go to work on Monday, we would be relocating for sleep night 2. We would be hitting up our normal room, with Princess sleeping on the futon. Of course, halfway through the day, I realize that with my "nieces" staying there, I would have to sleep on the floor, since they would have the air mattresses in the attic. Since my back was already slightly tweaked from night 1 on the air mattress, I wasn't all that excited about sleeping on the floor.
In the interest of having a pleasant 4th, and staying to actually see the fireworks my cousin bought, I worked to get Princess a nap. It was a successful attempt, with both of us sleeping on the futon, together, in relative harmony. At this point, I decide that we could sleep in the same bed that night also, since she slept so well and in the correct position, so soundly that I had to shout her name to wake her up. So we go over to my cousin's for the festivities.
Princess spent time swimming and playing on the swing set, etc, and after her hating every second of the fireworks, we head back to Auntie M's. Bath, blah blah blah, she wants to go to bed.
Night 2: One of two things happen at bed time: (1) she falls asleep while we read/sing or (2) she tells me to go and works it out all by herself. When we're not at home, she usually makes me stay with her until she falls asleep, which is fine, but this night, she decided she wanted me to go. I told her to get some good sleep and make sure she saved room for me to sleep in the bed with her, knowing full well that wouldn't happen, but she can be moved.
About an hour later, I head in to go to bed. True to form, smack dab in the middle of the futon. So I try to move her, she bounces back just like a spring. Try again, same result. Super...so I try to get in bed and hope she just moves with the force of my body. Nope...just pushed back against me. So couple the "comfort" of a futon and the "comfort" of a bed-hogging, tossing-and-turning four year old and I got no sleep AND slept with 90% of my body hanging off the futon. By noon, I could barely bend at the waist. So since none of the children were in any apparent pain from all of our sleeping arrangements, I've officially concluded I am, in fact, old....and I'm going on a hunt for a chiropractor.
Friday, July 2, 2010
It's the American Way...
So here it is, Fourth of July weekend. The weekend we assert our Independence, the very essence of what makes our country great. We throw parties, drink beer, set off fireworks, rubbing it in. Nevermind the fact that the very country we sought Independence from, Britain, is one of our closest allies today. That's neither here nor there, they've simply come to their senses and realized, "damn, we screwed up..."
And what's so damn great about being Independent? Well for starters, I can write this and (to my knowledge) the government won't censor me or have me arrested. What is so brilliant about this country? Why don't you ask those people that come here, risking life and limb, every day to "chase the American dream." Clearly somebody wants to be here....
So go out, buy some sparklers, light your grill, and stick your nose in the air, with that "nah nah nah nah nah" attitude, because we are free and independent, and no one else has what we have...
And what's so damn great about being Independent? Well for starters, I can write this and (to my knowledge) the government won't censor me or have me arrested. What is so brilliant about this country? Why don't you ask those people that come here, risking life and limb, every day to "chase the American dream." Clearly somebody wants to be here....
So go out, buy some sparklers, light your grill, and stick your nose in the air, with that "nah nah nah nah nah" attitude, because we are free and independent, and no one else has what we have...
Thursday, July 1, 2010
I'm Not "That Girl" Anymore...
I know people don't believe it, but I'm not that bitch anymore. Sure, I can still pour it on when necessary, but I prefer to be totally stress-free (on the outside) and not let things bother me anymore. I think back to how I used to be: pissed off, frustrated, constantly bringing up whatever nonsense was plaguing me just to talk about it incessantly. I wouldn't have been friends with me, either.
I don't know when it happened, per se, but something just changed. Perhaps now, though, my carefree ways have made it seem as though I'm constantly nonchalant; that I don't care about anything. In reality, this is somewhat true, but really, it's that I've figured out that the petty poppycock that people dwell on day after day after day just doesn't matter. In reality, things worth getting worked up over are personal in nature, so they're less apt to bring it up in casual conversation, especially not around the water cooler or, though some people are nuts enough to actually do it, social networking sites.
So now, instead of dwelling on something negative to elicit pity from people, somehow making myself think people admire me for dealing with all this "stuff," I just roll with the punches, trying to make myself happy; because really, life isn't all that bad. I have a good life, a beautiful child that makes me laugh all day long, and a good group of pals. That's really what it's all about, right? I invite you all to "not sweat the small stuff" and embrace life everyday. Live it to it's fullest. The best lesson I learned in high school, unfortunately, is that life is too short...you never know when it's going to end.
I don't know when it happened, per se, but something just changed. Perhaps now, though, my carefree ways have made it seem as though I'm constantly nonchalant; that I don't care about anything. In reality, this is somewhat true, but really, it's that I've figured out that the petty poppycock that people dwell on day after day after day just doesn't matter. In reality, things worth getting worked up over are personal in nature, so they're less apt to bring it up in casual conversation, especially not around the water cooler or, though some people are nuts enough to actually do it, social networking sites.
So now, instead of dwelling on something negative to elicit pity from people, somehow making myself think people admire me for dealing with all this "stuff," I just roll with the punches, trying to make myself happy; because really, life isn't all that bad. I have a good life, a beautiful child that makes me laugh all day long, and a good group of pals. That's really what it's all about, right? I invite you all to "not sweat the small stuff" and embrace life everyday. Live it to it's fullest. The best lesson I learned in high school, unfortunately, is that life is too short...you never know when it's going to end.
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