By the time I finished reading the post, I found myself disagreeing with the writer.  Because while I agree with the initial statement and the point of the post – which is getting our special needs kids out there into society – I realized that the writer came at it from a very one-sided position.

Her post was all about letting your different kid be normal, do normal things, not be held back by disabilities, and very pro-inclusion, whether that’s the school or social setting. Which again, as a theory, I do agree with it.  I mean, we’re notorious for not letting Maura’s disabilities hold us back from life.  She is dragged along everywhere just as much as our older three so-called normal kids.

My problems started when the writer – who I actually wondered at one point if she had any exposure to special needs kids – basically stated that parents avoided normal settings for their special kiddo because it was the more comfortable option…

…and I quote – “In an effort to make life as comfortable as possible, some parents will seek out special schools, groups, or activities catered to their children, so that they will only have to deal with children who share their disability.”

I call bullshit on this.

That’s right, I said bullshit.

The writer does have a disability herself, and alluded that her child also has a disability, which really makes me wonder how she can make a statement like that.  Maybe she’s really out of touch.  Maybe I’m the one who’s out of touch.  But I know for damn sure I didn’t choose a special school for Maura out of comfort.  I chose it  because they were the most able to deal with her wide range of disabilities.  I chose it because it was the best choice for my daughter, not for any narrow-minded feelings I might have.

Granted, I’ve experienced both a mainstream situation and a special school.  In the U.S., where we lived, there were no special schools for my daughter.  I only had one choice – mainstream at the local public school that wasn’t prepared to take on a child with moderate disabilities and had to do a classroom/bathroom modification, hire a teacher and aide, and out staff through medical training.  I worried that as she grew, she would get more and more distanced from where her NT (neuro-typical) peers were at, that she would become even more isolated than she already was.  Yet, there were no other options for her.  Mainstreamed with modifications was our only option.  An “option” that  doesn’t work for every child with a disability. (And yes, I’m putting quotes around “option” because by definition, an option is being able to choose, which requires more than one thing to choose from.)

When we got to Ireland, we found out that we got to make a choice between mainstreaming or a special school. We made what we considered the right choice for our daughter and have not regretted it.  While the special school does do academics, it isn’t the main focus, like at her old school.  No, the main focus is to get these kids as independent as possible.  They have cooking classes, go on outings to the store to learn how to use money, go to the library to learn how to check out books and videos, learn how to ride a bus, put on their clothes, how to use the toilet.  Things my daughter needs to learn.  Things they didn’t have time to cover at her mainstream school because they had to meet academic standards.

Here’s the ironic thing – while the writer of the article scoffs special schools, she then writes - “…children with disabilities need to be exposed to the same life experiences any other kid has. They need to be exposed to a variety of people and situations.”

Maura has been able to gain more life experiences through her special school than being mainstreamed because of the focus on life skills.  In a regular school, she wasn’t getting the same experience as the other kids because her special needs still had to be met.  She was pulled out of the regular classroom about two and a half hours out of the day at least for therapies and specialized education and diaper changes and medicine dosing.  Being in the same school building did not equate to the same school experience. At her special school, she has the same experiences as her peers, and actually more experiences than her sister does (Miriam is quite jealous of the cooking classes and swimming every Monday.)

But really, I think the writer of the article is missing a point – just like  none of my “normal” kids are alike and have the same needs, kids with disabilities don’t have the same needs.

It’s one thing to have a child with mild Asperger’s – which qualifies you for an IEP and extra help at school – versus having mental and physical disabilities plus medical needs, or in IEP terms – multiple impairments.  A child with mild Asperger’s can be held to the same standards as his NT peers, can be expected to get to class on time, should be able to choose his experiences just like his classmates.  I know this because my one son has mild Asperger’s.  It causes some quirks and bumps in the road, but  we don’t treat him as a person with a disability- we treat him as our very capable son with the amazing brain.  That said, when he needed extra help, we made sure he got it.  It wasn’t coddling, it wasn’t being over-protective, it was doing what was right for him in that situation.  Which gave him the skills he needed to be able to do those things independently later on.

On the flip-side, we have Maura.  Who is amazing in her own way.  But she needs lots of help.  She is not a typical kid.  She will never have typical experiences, because she doesn’t have typical reactions.  For instance, she loves movies.  When they make her happy, she squeals loudly with joy.  When there’s a sad scene, she will be overly-empathetic and burst into loud tears.

While we include her in everything possible, the plain fact is, she is different.  And her differences do factor into what experiences she can manage.  As she ages, she falls behind more and more on the developmental charts, which means putting her in with NT kids isn’t the best option for her.  Sometimes, she needs that “special group” the writer of the article scoffs at – because that’s the experience she will get the most out of, and have the most fun with.  Because a specialized group is the right choice for her.  Not the coddling one.

Really though, there are so many articles and advice columns about what to do with a child with special needs.  And the pressure that if you don’t do the right thing, you’ve failed as a parent and have failed your child.  I wonder how many parents have read this article and are now doubting their choices?  I wonder why, even as parents of kids with special needs, we feel the need to say “You should do it THIS way!”

My advice to parents – do what think is right for your child.  Trust your gut, and let them surprise you.  I don’t know your child well enough to make emphatic statements about what should and shouldn’t be done with them.  Choose the school setting that will most benefit your child and meet the most needs. If your special kidlet is great at sports, then put them on that soccer team.  If they like music, expose them to more of it.  At the playground, let them try things…even if it means you hovering around them in mid-heart attack (okay, I’ll admit, that one is tough for me.  Anxiety, a tall play structure, and a child with balance issues is an interesting combination. The compromise is I go out of view and have someone else play spotter.)

At the same time, don’t set your child up to fail – whether that means having too much help or not enough help.  Sink or swim doesn’t work with every child.  Sometimes, it backfires and the child drowns in their failure, doing more harm to their self-worth than if they’d had help floating.

Really, we all need to realize that the World of Disabilities is a large one, with many variables.  Tough love doesn’t apply to many cases.  Nor does one-sided advice.  Do what’s best for your child – that’s all any parent can do.

The bank card did not arrive.  But I did get results.

The results were in the form of a phone call, from a representative of said bank.  Said bank that monitors Twitter for mentions of themselves.  My note to them caught their eye, and I guess because of my name being part of my web address, they were able to deduce who I was, and called me up.

Once again reminding me how scary social media can be at times.

Anyhoo, the nice lady asked about my complaint, and I went through the saga of trying to get on the account and having to wait, and all of that, and how I’ve yet to receive a bank card.

She then explained to me that I didn’t have a bank card because…wait for it…the box next to “Yes, I want a bank debit card” was not checked off.

Say what?

So…to get this straight…despite me asking if I’d filled out everything correctly on the forms back in November and handing them in, and being told I did, and despite going into the branch in January and asking how long it would take to get the bank card and being told a week or so, and despite going in two and a half weeks ago, explaining I hadn’t gotten my card, and the teller looking it up and telling me it’d been issued and should arrive at my house within a week…no card had actually been issued.  Ever.

That thunking noise?  That’s my head hitting a wall.

The polite woman on the phone then suggested that maybe I should have come into the branch to talk to someone.

more thunking noises.  I then explained that I had gone into the branch, in person, and had talked to a live human being.  Twice.  Josh was with me the one time, I have a witness to that. And was told that my card had been ordered and was being sent just two weeks ago.

I got an “oh..” sort of response to that.  I think she finally saw why I was feeling a bit frustrated.

So now, a card is being issued.  And will arrive in 3-4 days at the branch.  So I can go into the branch, in person, to pick it up.  You know, to speed up the process.  Or for them to get a good look at the annoying American woman who’s causing all sorts of problems.

And that is the update.  So, if you want to get a company’s notice, just put it on Twitter and they will find you.  Which actually, saved me from having to drag my sick sorry carcass into the local branch.  So in a way, while a bit creepy they were able to track me down in about 16 hours, I can now spend the time I would have spent at the bank to lay on the couch and die a little until kids get home from school.

You know – 3 months after I applied to get on the bank account my husband opened with you?

Three months ago, I finally got the right paperwork together to get on the account (after going in the first time with the waste disposal bill, which on your website was considered proof of address but in person at your bank did not qualify, which meant waiting a few more weeks to get officially on a different bill, and going in a second time only to realize I’d left my passport at home and therefore had no valid-to-you proof of identification.  Side Note – Irish Government – why issue us a card with name and address and all on it, and then state it can’t be used as an ID?)

Three months ago, I was told it would take a couple weeks to be fully on the account, card in hand.

Three. Months.  Ago.

November.

So in January, when I hadn’t heard a darn thing from you, I called the local branch.  Only to get routed to the main call line, only to be told they couldn’t help me, I had to talk to the local branch, so they took my information and said I’d hear back from them.  A week later, I tried again, got the same run around, and yet again, heard back from no one.  So after a few days, we went to the branch itself.

In person, the teller called over someone else, who said “One moment”, went into The Back, came back out and said “You should be on the account in a couple days, and have your card within the week.”

Turns out, my paperwork was held up because someone forgot to sign something somewhere.  As neither Josh nor I were asked to sign anything that day, I’m assuming this wasn’t our oversight.

That week, we received a new credit book (which is good for like paying rent, but as that’s directly withdrawn, it’s pointless), with both our names on it.  Proof that I was at least on the account.

A week later, no card.

A week later, still no card.  Another trip to the branch so I could at least pull cash happened, and I was told that my card should arrive by the end of the week.

That was on a Saturday.  Over two weeks ago.

Guess what has yet to appear at my house?

All I want is my debit card. I did everything I was asked to do.  I’ve been beyond patient.  I just want my debit card, so I can do wild and crazy things like pay bills and buy groceries.  It would make our lives much easier if we didn’t have to play “Who has the debit card?”.

And yes, tomorrow, if this crappy cold hasn’t done me in, I will be making yet another trek down to the local branch where I expect to hear “It should be there within the week.”  If I should happen to say “I don’t believe you, you damned dirty liars.”, please, understand where I’m coming from.

THREE MONTHS.

grr.

I first noticed them because of their band name – I saw a sign outside the Ark in Ann Arbor, MI for the band.  Their name caught my eye, so I looked them up.  You can hear their new album right there on their website, just click on the link above.  This song is the first one off their live album, Northampton, which is the first album I bought (listen to it here.)  Highly recommend it, as does Maura, who likes their sound as well.

And that’s all my post-holiday brain can come up with.  Yes, there will be a holiday re-cap.  Just not this morning.  Instead, listen to the good music.  Music is good.

I miss those days.

This is my kitchen…

my kitchen

See there…to the left…that little white machine?  That my friends is my washer AND my dryer.  It fits about half of what my Maytag could fit.  It takes almost two hours to wash one load.  To use it as a dryer, I have found that the best way to get things dry is to take out half the load, put that half in a basket, then set the dryer setting for an hour for what’s left in there, wait the hour, take out the mostly dry clothes, put in other half, set for another hour…

Needless to say, spending four hours on one load of laundry just doesn’t cut it.  So I only use the dryer setting when absolutely necessary.

Instead, I use the drying racks or wash line outside.  As it’s not ideal weather for the line outside, I’ve gone with drying racks.  And as I have a cubic crapload of laundry to get dry today, I’ve taken over every available surface.

I have laundry here..

kitchen door

…here…

drying rack in bathroom, plus pants slung over shower door rail

…here…

little drying rack that you can hang off your radiator - perfect for socks!

…here…

living room door

…here…

dining chairs and radiator

…here…

Maura decided her duck needed a bath, so he's drying on the front hall radiator too

…and on the five foot seven inch drying rack in the upstairs bathroom…and shower door…

lots of clothes drying!

Hey, you can see one of our electric showers there…ooo…ahh…(It’s the box on the wall in the shower area…note that’s a sheet drying over the shower door…and the shower door doesn’t extend past half the bathtub length…that’s just how it’s done here.)

We won’t discuss what’s drying over the radiators in various bedrooms.  That would be unmentionable.

The nice thing is – with this much laundry hanging around, on the radiators, you don’t need any cotton/linen fresh candle or spray.  I’ve got it happening naturally!

I would still kill for an extra-large capacity washer/dryer set.

oh, if only it was a sunny day....

I’m talking a different kind of mouthyness.

Parental types – remember how when your child was an infant/toddler and they put eeeeeeverything into their mouth?  How great you were with that hook finger in fishing out items from the back of the cheek?  How you had to be careful with what you gave your infant/toddler because they might decide it’s edible?

Now imagine that phase lasting for years.

Welcome to my world.

Maura is a sensory seeker – a term I was blissfully unaware of 8 years ago (though in retrospect, I was living with it in Sean, the toddler who licked everything but the cat – and only because I stopped him as he tried to lick the cat.)  Most people who know of sensory issues, as they’re called, know of the kids who hate tags on clothes, or sticky things, who’ll scream if they get wet or the collar is funny on their shirt.

A sensory seeker is the opposite – they seek out sensory things.  Take Maura into a fabric store and she’ll go down the aisle, both arms stretched out, feeling all the fabric.  She especially likes the fleece section.  When we go to the beach, she plunks down instantly to run her fingers through the sand.  I had a box of buttons that she was enamored with. And yes, she also has been known to lick things too.

Just now, I had to ask Maura to please spit out the pieces of the Sorry game she got out.  She spat it out…then popped it right back in her mouth.  I then insisted she spit it all out…and four pieces came out of her mouth.  Yesterday she was sucking on Monopoly houses (she’s figured out where the board games are hidden.)  The day before that, Josh shouted for me. I ran into the living room to find him wiping Maura’s blue mouth out as he asked “Are ink pens non-toxic?”  (Turns out that yes, they are.)  She’d been sucking on the end of the pen.

Needless to say, bead art doesn’t happen much in this household.

As much as sensory seeking can be annoying, I will say this – given the choice between being a seeker versus being an avoider – I’ll take seeking any day.  Sure, it can be annoying, or scary, or informative (if you suck on blue tissue paper, your mouth turns blue) – but at least I can get her dressed easily, and she enjoys lots of different foods.

Yep, that’s my convoluted pep talk to self in situations like this – I find a weird positive, “well, it could be worse!” spin.  Of course, she’ll be the girl who’ll want to ride all the scary rollercoasters…and since Josh gets nauseated just looking at one, guess which lucky parent will have to join her on said roller coaster?  The one who’ll be reviewing her opinion on sensory seeking versus avoiding.

That was 11 weeks ago, according to my pin.  Oops.

Today, Maura wanted a clementine.  I peeled it, and as I was peeling the “easy peel” fruit, I thought “you know, I have nothing better to do…and I did say I’d try a pin a week…”

So I felt around the bag of clementines and found a squishy one, which means it would be easy to peel, and pulled out a knife to try this.

I have to say – it went surprisingly easy.  Within minutes, I had a clementine candle.  One tip – make sure your “wick” is centered over the star opening or else it’ll start burning the peel.

pulling out the individual portions (which were consumed by Sean)

tried making a star - I'm not sure what shape I ended up with

filled it a bit with olive oil...

...and after a couple tries...a flame!

with the cover on...

another angle - you can see the amount of olive oil I used

still lit!

you can see where the cover was getting too much heat and burning...

Once done, I brought it in to show off to the kids…only to be met with “Huh?  What is that?  Oh…can I eat the insides?”

Kids are no fun.  But the clementine candle is fun!  And still burning strong beside me.  I may have a party trick at last!

People – including us – want to know what causes Maura’s issues – her delays and seizures and other things.  The answer has always been “I don’t know.”

When Maura was three,  Josh finally asked a doctor point blank “Do you think she has something?”  The doctor answered “Oh yes!  I know she has something.  But what that something is, you may never know.”

See, my daughter’s condition isn’t really that sexy to medical researchers.  She’s pretty healthy, she has no regression, she makes progress – even if it’s slower than a snail on a dry day – and there aren’t 5000 Maura’s running around the metropolitan area.  So it’s just not worth it to those medical researchers to investigate why my daughter is the way she is.

That is the harsh reality we deal with constantly.  Another doctor did reassure us that after a while, and after lots of testing, not having a diagnosis is actually a good thing – because it means we’ve ruled out a lot of the more scary, devastating diagnoses.  Which is true.  But it doesn’t make you feel less stupid answering “I don’t know.” to people’s questions.

When your child doesn’t have a “proper” diagnosis, the world becomes…well…more interesting.  You live your life viewing things differently.  People love to send me the “Welcome to Holland”  story – which can be wonderful and inspiring…except we never made it to Holland.  We’re stranded at the airport, still waiting for our destination.  I would kill to get to freaking Holland at this point.

Also, when your child doesn’t have an overall diagnosis, people become very…opinionated and  experts on diagnosing others.  There are those who ask you if you’ve checked out this or that rare syndrome – usually it’s something I have already researched.  If it’s done in a nice “hey, I want to help you out!” sort of way, I never mind.  Heck, I find myself in that position sometimes of saying “Have you checked this out.”

But other times, it’s “Well, are you SURE it’s not X?”  Yes…

“Positive?”  Pretty darn.

“Are you just AFRAID of an X diagnoses and are in denial?”

No.  Seriously.  I’ve been asked this.  It’s usually one particular diagnosis which is very much in the news these days.  When my husband was once confronted by this, and explained patiently that no, she didn’t have X, we tested for it, the tests came back normal, the person said “Well, how well do you trust your doctor?”

Um…more than you, complete stranger who’s never met our daughter.  (Which is not what he said, he was nicer about it.)

People who go down this route, grilling us over what they thing our daughter has,  don’t understand a very basic principal  - if you spend literally years looking for a diagnosis, you have read a lot of scary shit out there and you pray that’s not what your child has.  Meanwhile, stuff that makes the average parent quiver in fear?  That stuff is completely doable in your book.  Especially if it comes with treatment plans and other parents going through the same thing.  When Maura was first diagnosed with epilepsy, I went into overdrive and got all sorts of informative and proactive – because it was the first thing we could really do something about, inform people about, that people could go “Oh!  I’m familiar with that!”  The school was impressed with all the information and guides I handed them – I was just happy to be able to do something.

Imagine your child having a problem and having no idea how to fix it.  That is our reality.  We know she has “something”.  We know that “something” includes delays and seizures.  We don’t know how long she’ll keep progressing, or if she’ll develop other health problems.  There’s nothing telling us “Kids with X usually potty train by age 10″ or “Children with X will never learn to do this.”  There’s no statistics, no support groups, no funding.  Heck, at one point, the state of Michigan didn’t consider Maura disabled.  Why?  Because she didn’t have a “qualifying diagnosis”.

So when people insist we must be in denial because we won’t look into what they think Maura has, it doesn’t show our reluctance, it shows their ignorance.  Because if they lived a year or two in our shoes, going along the best we can without a road map of our child’s future, they would never ever ever dare to say the word “denial” in our presence.

There is also another group that says “Well, why don’t you just get X diagnosis, then you can qualify for lots of stuff!”  My answer is – because it wouldn’t be true.  Why diagnose her with X if she actually has YZ?  Not to mention, some insurance companies, if you’re diagnosed with one thing, say “Okay, you’re done, no more searching!”  Why pigeon hole ourselves like that?

I will say, being on this side of things, I get to view things from another perspective.  Maura not having a diagnosis means that I see similarities between her and lots of other kids with different diagnoses.  In a way, my view is broader than others.  I don’t have a cause to support, so instead, I support all the causes.  I don’t see what makes my child different than yours – I see what makes your child similar to mine.  I don’t just want children with X-Thing to get therapies or insurance coverage.  I believe that any child who needs it should get those therapies.  I see how things that work with one group of kids can work for other kids with similar traits, even if they don’t have the “qualifying diagnosis” (a term I tend to twitch at.)  I tend to surprise other moms by knowing the syndrome or issue their child has.  I remember a friend, when we were still getting to know each other, saying how her daughter had selective mutism.  Instead of the blank stare and “Huh?” she was used to getting from other parents, I said “Oh yeah!  I’ve read about that!”  It’s almost like a party trick.  Not one I ever expected to have, mind you.  But that’s just how it is.

Just over a year ago, our last big thing before moving to Ireland was a trip to the Cleveland Clinic to see a specialist, in hopes that maybe this doctor could look at Maura and go “Oh!  I know!”  Within ten minutes of meeting with the doctor, I knew our journey was in vain.  I decided then that if none of the tests came back with answers, I was going to give up and start telling people Maura had Sherlock Syndrome – as in “it’s a mystery to us” and a play on our last name – and call it a night on trying to find out what her “something” was.  But then when we met with the neurologist here in Dublin for the first time, I could tell he was intrigued by her, and then he asked if he could take pictures of her to show his friend the geneticist.

And once again, I found myself getting hopeful.  And maybe…just maybe…if we do figure out what Maura has, or what’s causing Maura’s issues…and it doesn’t have a name…we could still call it Sherlock Syndrome.  I think I’ve earned the right to name it after all these years.

“…when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth…”  - Sherlock Holmes, “The Sign of Four” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Note – there is an organization out there, SWAN – Syndrome Without A Name – started in the U.K. with a branch in the U.S.    According to SWAN – “Although estimates vary enormously the most commonly quoted figure suggests that between 30% – 40%of special needs children do not have a specific diagnosis.”   

And you wonder why I hear circus music in the background of my life…

It’s been a year since we made this crazy move, and I feel like we’re still adjusting to things and learning the ropes.  But I also have learned a lot.  Like patience, and taking things in stride, and learning how to build a peat fire (which is currently burning in my fireplace because it’s cold outside!)

For instance – I still don’t get the grading system here.  It can go by just one test, or it can be a combination of tests and assignments.  Sean’s getting a 52% in English – yet his teacher glowed about him, how well he’s doing, how he’s improved since the Christmas exam and how she expects him to be in all honors classes – including English.  Turns out the high grade in the class is a 77%.  The low grade?  35%.  So Sean’s actually right there safely in the middle.

And as we were still trying to wrap our brains around this, another parent at the teacher conferences stated how he feels that if all the students are getting 90+ percentiles on their tests, that the teacher isn’t doing a good job challenging them, and the work is too easy.

So we’ve told the boys to find out what the other grades are in their classes – because if they get a 70%, and the highest is 77%?  Then we’ll say “Wow, great job!” instead of “Oh, you are so grounded from video games, etc.”

In the realm of patience, I am beginning to lose that and possibly all hope in ever getting a bank card.  It’s a bit hard to believe I’ve gone a year without my own bank card.  That has been made easier by the fact that there is no Target for me to use one at three days a week minimum.  But it’s getting really inconvenient.

See, we started out at one bank, which wouldn’t allow me on my husband’s account without proof of residence – like my name on a bill.  You know, to make sure I wasn’t his young, hot mistress or something like that. But then Josh decided “Well, we were considering switching banks anyway…”  So he switched, got the account open, I brought in a bill that had my name on it – only to find out that the waste collection bill?  Didn’t count.  Despite what their website said.

sigh.

So I eventually got on the cable/internet account, but then had to wait on that bill.  Eventually, I got around to dropping it all off.  That was November.  I was told 3-5 days, but give it up to two weeks.  Fine.  I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Then I called.  I was told they’d call me back.  So I waited.  Then called again.  Was told again that they’d call back.  So waited.  Finally I went into the bank, explained the situation.  The man went into The Back, came back out and said “Two days.”  Huh?

Turns out someone forgot to sign something on the form – obviously not Josh or me, as we weren’t asked to sign anything.  So it was another “Two days….but if you haven’t heard anything in a week, come back.”

Two weeks later?  I’m on the account, I’ve got a “credit book” which is some sort of convoluted check book that makes no sense to my American eyes…and still no bleeping bank card.

On the flipside – we’ve had nothing but good luck with the health care field.  We’ve gotten appointments quickly, no real wait times except the EEG (which was just a standard check and not an emergency), the doctors have all been great, the pharmacists in this country are fabulous, the dental group we see has made Miriam like dentists again, so really?  I can deal with the backwards banking system as long as my kids are kept healthy.

Yes there are things I miss – I miss wide American roads and parking spaces.  I miss our big washer and dryer.  And yes, every so often, I wish I could go to Target, get a big red cart, and fill that sucker up without a second thought to “Do we need this?” and “Do we have anyplace to put this?”  But I still get a kick out of kids in school uniforms, and looking out at the Dublin mountains, and am still contemplating getting a Vespa.  With a side car.  How fun would the girls and I have in that?

I still don’t know how long we’ll be here.  Sometimes, I can’t imagine leaving.  Other times, I’m homesick enough that I’d deal with the snow and cold to be able to sit in the coffee shop with my friends again.  Two weeks ago, we still didn’t have a secondary school lined up for Miriam for fall of 2013 and my plan was “Well, I guess we can always go home before then.”  This week?  Mim was accepted to a secondary school, so we don’t have to worry about that anymore.  Which probably guarantees we’ll move back to the U.S. the summer of 2013.

This past year, we’ve spent so much time settling in, learning the ropes, learning how to live in Ireland.  This year though, we’re planning on doing more traveling.  Get off this island and see more of what’s out there.  Which should be interesting.  Maybe we’ll go to Spain and test Sean’s knowledge (he’s actually the top student in his class – Josh peeked at the other grades.)

And maybe, I’ll finally stumble into Bono.  Because I refuse to leave Ireland without my own personal Bono story.

Flashback - kids at airport - February 2011

And I decided to challenge myself.

One pin per week.  I must incorporate one pin per week into my life*.  Whether it’s trying a recipe, tackling a craft, doing an exercise or using an organizational tip, I will start using Pinterest usefully.  And then I shall blog about it here.  Because, well, I have nothing better to do.  Okay, I do, but who likes housework anyway?

And in the real world, the puppy is going mad for an old soccer sock.  Hmm…I wonder if there’s something you can do with 13 old maroon soccer socks?

*I reserve the right to skip any craft that might cost me oodles of money to do, and a knitting project may take longer than a week, as I am a slow knitter.