Just RK

If  you’re in the Midwest, or the other areas that are getting ready for this big winter storm at our doorstep, you’ve probably prepared for being home tomorrow and Wednesday.  At least I hope so.  If you’re in the StL area or most of MO, you’re seeing the first round show up this morning. My light post in the front is already showing the freezing rain in action… 10:45am I’m going to try to remember to take some pics every hour or so to see how the icicles grow.  They already have since this picture was taken.  In fact…. hold one moment please… Here ya go. Up to the minute… 11:15am.  See how the little cute frozen drops are longer? This is a better angle with the tree behind.  So fun. (IF you get to be inside, thank goodness for that!) We get a little pause in the action this afternoon, then the big punch comes. More sleet followed right behind by a big load of snow. No better combination than that to bring our city to a ha...

Due to recent events that will not be explained further--and don’t worry, the details are boring and you’re not missing anything super dramatic—I’m going to repost a part of a post I did over a year ago about how we refer to Down syndrome in many different ways. This particular part isn’t about DS at all, but instead about our family names. In our family, names are a big deal. My husband’s name, though I generally refer to him as M in writing and sometimes in person, is Muncher. Yes, that’s his name. He’ll be happy to show you his driver’s license if you don’t believe him. I have two daughters, Nebraska Larae and Kinlee Carene. Not the most common names ever, we’re aware. Usually they are known as Braska and KiKi. In blog land, I’m known as RK, and many people in my face-to-face life call me that as well. My name is Randa (pronounced ran-duh, not ron-duh) Kay, usually used with a hyphen—Randa-Kay—because I’m not a fan of Randa by itself. (Long story, not one that the blog will be carr...

Today people dear to me lost people dear to them. And they have had more grief in their lives than anyone should have to experience. I hurt for them, and I pray for them. At the same time I pray for the parents of their friends who lost children today, families who did not expect today to be the end of their joy. But I'm sure that right now it feels like that is the case. I've not experienced this situation personally, not to this degree. But I've come to know grief through the eyes of a few close to me recently. Though dealing with it indirectly will never begin to compare to what a mother, son, father, daughter, sibling, or grandparent will feel. Yet I can feel the hurt of my friends, and I wish I could do something. Anything. Participate in their comfort. But right now, there's not much comfort where these families are. Another dear friend lost her father a few weeks ago, who I knew well and loved also. One very special man, who made everyone he met feel like the...

Do NOT miss this... thanks to Karol for sending this to me. M and I just sat on the couch and were in TEARS laughing the whole time!! Seriously...totally the endorphins you're gonna need today! (The funniest part for us?? This girl is just like Kinlee...she talks in that same even rhythm, goes from smiling to crying in seconds, and notices random elements around her. It cracked us up! Guess it's considered impressive for an almost 2-year-old, but maybe not for a teen? ha!)

K: Mom, I don’t have a button in my belly. RK: Well, you do have one button, you just don’t have two like Braska. K: I want to have two buttons. Where is my other button? --------- K: Mom, I need you to open the cab’net. It’s too hard for me. RK: I’ll help you in just a minute. K: I want you to help me now, please. I don’t want you in a minute. --------- K: Snoopy is a good dog. And Blue is a good puppy. RK: Yes, honey, they are. K: I love Snoopy, Mom. RK: That’s good, KiKi. Snoopy is pretty cool. K: Belle is a good dog, too, Mom. RK: Yes, KiKi, Belle is a good dog. K: I love Belle, Mom. She’s a good dog. -------- When singing any song in the car or around the house, if Braska starts to chime in too… K: Braska’s singing my song, Mom. I don’t want her to sing my song. RK: It’s not your song, Kinlee, we can all sing the song. Braska can sing and Mommy can sing and KiKi can sing. All together. K: We can sing all together. Everybody sing the song? RK: Yes, it’s everybody’s song. K: I don’t...

Yesterday Kinlee asked to go walk in the snow. Precisely like that.  “Mom, I want to walk in the snow.”  And I bundled her up and let her do just that.  There are many more pictures on Braska’s blog if you’re up for the pink snow bunny look. But it just dawned on me now that this was my first time to play in the snow with my daughter.  Not just this daughter.  Braska’s never cared anything about the snow, other than liking to watch it fall from inside.  So here’s a picture from my first parenting adventure in the snow.  It was short, but fun. Not too bad.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll get them both suited up and we’ll see what Braska thinks, too.

Playing with new ideas...hopefully it all comes together. Edited to add: More work to do, but I'm soooooo tired. Still bugs to work out, so bear with me. I know there are some issues with the header images loading properly.

A few things to note… I’m working on a blog re-do, to represent a different approach to things blog related as I move forward.  I hope to have it up this weekend. No promises. Braska’s finished day 2 of a 3-day wean (tube feeding transition tool…measuring ability, not actually weaning) I’m documenting that over at her blog if you’re interested. Tonight we had medical exams for new life insurance policies. I’m 5’2”.  Not 5’3”.  I’ve been fooling myself thinking I had an inch I don’t have.  But oh well, still just plain short. We’re in the middle of setting up a special needs trust and doing our wills.  Hence the aforementioned updated life insurance policies.  It’s important, but it’s a lot.  I don’t mind the “someday I’ll be dead” thing…I’m good with all that completely.  But all the arranging and considering what we want for the girls, especially Braska, when she’s a teen and beyond.   Writing the Letter o...