Tuesday, January 11, 2022

Dad.

Many of you know that writing is a form of therapy for me.  I've used it for years to convey the messages that I could not otherwise communicate well.  My writing has also landed me into hot water in the past, so I haven't posted my writing since 2018.  Even so, I never stopped writing.  

The days leading up to the passing of my Dad brought on a tidal wave of emotions.  Instead of hiding those emotions or burying them, I picked up my laptop and I let them flood onto the page.  After reading it over and over, I wanted Dad to know what I had written...and moreover, what I felt.  I read these words to him - in a private moment and in the present tense - while I was with him last week.  And while he wasn't able to respond beyond a squeezing of my hand, I know he loved hearing it.  Better yet, I know that he felt our love for him through my words.

So, in the off chance that this might help you grieve a loved one...or help you write a eulogy should you be given that awesome responsibility, I'm posting this today to honor my Dad.

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(I did add points of context as I also used this as the eulogy at my Dad's funeral)

Hello. My name is Dondi Schneider. I am the baby Bullard child … much to my siblings’ chagrin. I’m the youngest but also the bossiest …. Lisa is the sweet one, DJ is our mean girl queen, Tina is our wild child in this little Don Bullard Band…. And then there’s the boy.  Our teddy bear brother Randy who is smack in the middle of all these girls … the only son … he looks and acts like Dad and carries on the Bullard name…yes, yes, yes…we’ve heard all about it.

But - we all have traits from him, so if you’re ever missing him - just call one of us. Inappropriate laughter is one of those things. My siblings and I have been laughing together for two days — all with him, for him and around him. It runs in our family that we deal with grief with jokes. And vodka. But since we are here, we will just do jokes for now. Come see me at the bar later for vodka and better jokes.

Also - life hack, you can’t cry and drink something at the same time. I learned that a women’s conference years ago. Always have a bottle of water. Life and career changing.

You may be wondering why we are here so quickly after Dad passed on Tuesday evening.  It’s certainly not because we all want to get back to work or “normal life.”  There is no normal to go back to.  Life will never be the same.  It’s simply that the distance between here and gone is vast.  The gap is wider than you think it will be…so the quickest path forward seems like the least painful approach.  The thought of anticipating this extremely hard day for an extended period was simply not something we could bear.  While sad to be together under these circumstances, it is so nice to see so many familiar faces after such a long time.

I would first like to thank my stepmom, Sharron, without whom we would not have had my Dad these past 3-5 years. Thank you for taking care of him, for schlepping things around the US to support y’all’s love of travel and his love to see his kids, grandkids and great grands. I’m exceptionally thankful that you brought him to Pensacola Beach this past July for the Blue Angels. I know that wasn’t easy given his state of health at the time. My little family will cherish those memories forever.

If you all haven’t noticed, Sharron loved my Dad in a big, big way. Her love for him was larger than life — just like him. The same was true for his love of her.  She was a constant force of positivity and the belief that he could conquer anything.  Hebrew 11:1 says “Faith is what we hope for and assurance for what we do not see.”

A special shout out to Sharron’s son Corey and his wife Ashley who jumped in to help get Dad and Sharron’s home setup for hospice last week.

I would also like to recognize my sweetest, eldest, and calmest sister Lisa for being the other local constant in my Dad’s life and health journey. You have tirelessly kept your siblings up to date on nearly every breath and heartbeat of our dad for the past 5 years.  You are seriously the kindest, most reliable person I know.

Alright….I will assume that each of you knew my father or you wouldn’t be here today. I don’t think funeral crashing is a thing like wedding crashing but who knows these days.  If you didn’t know him… you’re about to get a little glimpse.

I feel lucky. Grateful really. We had the opportunity to say all the things, to reconcile the differences, to shower him with attention and love and peace and comfort quite literally until his last breath and heartbeat.  I heard that last tick for myself…because I’m bossy and nosey and a control freak…and I had the stethoscope.

Like all of us, my Dad wasn’t perfect. He was short tempered. And created 4 more children who also have short tempers. Lisa - you are still the sweetest and most tolerant. He had a big heart, so sometimes it appeared as though he’d let people take advantage of him. Don’t confuse kindness with weakness or ignorance. Dad was strong and smart … Street smart, business savvy, a strategic executor. As I often say, he was a grown ass man. He made his own choices - on who to love, how to show that love and where to lend a hand vs walk away. We’ll come back to choices….

How lucky are we? To have known him?

And to know him was to love him - well, mostly. Everyone in here either loved, laughed, drank or fought with Dad. Many of us did all four.

He had a heavy presence in every room he entered… he was 6’2” without the boots and black, felt cowboy hat. But he was never without those things. Add his big belt buckle, Burt Reynolds mustache and grin …. And that was my Dad. He was a big, handsome dude with a big presence, a big heart and probably a big gun, cause Dad was always packing.

How lucky are we? To have been loved by him?

My Dad was a straight-shootin’ cowboy. He threatened every boyfriend we ever had … am I right, girls? … including the one that became my husband and father of my children. I’m not sorry for it. He loved his girls — and his only boy, of course. He fiercely protected all of his kids — even the ones he picked up along the way. He fiercely protected all the people he loved - whether you knew it or not. He did so in his own way. He was really more of a lover than a fighter … and always a hard working provider for his family. He was away for long stretches during my childhood doing just that - providing. I didn’t understand it then but I get it now. Pre-pandemic, I traveled every week for my career. While not exactly the same, I played a similar role as him — a provider, a builder of life.  And, just like he was with me … I have been known to be softer on discipline than I should be.  I say “have been” because I don’t travel as much now, and I have my head on a swivel with my traveling circus over there.

But to be clear, as soft as he was on disciplining the girls (except Randy)… he would still fight YOU if necessary. I can’t let you leave here today thinking he wouldn’t hurt you if he needed to.

How lucky are we? To be a student of his?

He taught us tons of things over the years.

Like how to use almost every tool in his garage — even if that meant me knocking his thumb flat from practicing my hammer skills. Do y’all laugh when people get hurt? No? Is that just us? Cause we’ve spent years crying laughing at my dad when he would hit a finger with a hammer or stub a toe.

He taught us how to wrassle … (That’s WRESTLING if you’re anyone except my Dad.)  If you think Lisa can’t put you in a “holt” (read: hold) and pin you to the ground right now, you’re wrong.  She’s sweet, but she’s got wrassling skills.  You gotta keep your eye on Tina and Randy too, cause they’ll jump on you from the top rope…and you won’t even know it.  Some of our favorite memories were wrassling in the living room and screaming while he tickled us until we couldn’t breathe …. Right up until DJ stabbed him in the hand with the scissors to get out of a choke hold.

He taught me how to unscrew the regulator on my tiny little three-wheeler to make it go faster. His version of the story is that I figured it out because I’m so smart, but I simply watched him setting it up on the first day. I was only 6, but a hell raising, speed demon, mean-as-a-snake 6-year-old.  When I tell you that apple doesn’t fall far from that tree, I mean it.  He loved telling that story. Over and over. He would also tell people that I hated mud so much that when I got that three-wheeler stuck, I’d walk 2 miles back to the house, cry and whine to until he helped me.  And by help, I mean simply picking up that three-wheeler and putting it back on the road again.  That’s how small it was…or maybe that’s how big of a hero HE was.

He taught me how to fish, how to shoot a gun and how to manage an angry mama o’possum. He did not teach DJ how to fish because I have multiple scars on my body from her hooking ME instead of the fish, but I digress. I’ll also have better DJ stories at the bar later. There’s also a story in there about a 12-gauge shot gun nearly taking my shoulder off when I was 9, but I’m not allowed to tell that story without my mama here. That was one of those summers where all 5 kids were in Mississippi together and I remain surprised that we all survived those summers.

He taught me how to drive a stick shift … at the ripe age of 8. Yep. We had a red, Toyota truck that I think was missing actual body parts … and I drove it everywhere on our 100-acre property in Mississippi. Back to being surprised we survived — I cannot believe I didn’t run over a sibling or an animal.

Speaking of animals …

My dad told me only 1 lie that I know about. I mean besides the usual lies and bribes that come with general parenting. He lied to me about where the two cows went. At one point in my early childhood, two cows came to live in the pasture next to the house. We named those cows. Oscar and Jimmy Holsteen. Oscar for Dad’s dad – who I never knew because I’m the baby.  And younger.  … and Jimmy for my mom’s dad. Holsteen was the type of cow. I thought they were our pets. They were so fat. I put a rope around their necks and walked them daily. Dad would get so mad. “Stop walking the cows, Dondi, we want them to be fat,” he’d say. I petted them and brushed them and talked to them. Then one day they were gone. The freezer was full. And I became a vegetarian.

He taught us so much but most importantly, he taught us that “we all make choices” ….. And to be unapologetic about those choices. Those choices are what make us all unique … and sometimes that’s what makes us love or laugh or drink or fight. And, that is just life. Daddy did exactly what Daddy wanted to do. He was exactly where he wanted to be almost all the time. That’s what gives me comfort. He lived a good life. He was a good man, a good provider, a good father, a good brother, a good friend and a good husband. He was loved and he knew it. People clamored for his attention. He knew that too and loved it.

How lucky are we?

To have had the opportunity to be in his heavy, larger than life presence that could fill up a room?

How lucky are we to have known him, to have loved him, to have been loved by him, to have learned from him, to have laughed with him - or at him, to drink with him and even to have fought with him?

I was not the child that was at home the most.  I wasn’t the child that visited the most.  I wasn’t out running the streets and getting in trouble either though.  I was out building a life for my family.  I was providing – just like you taught me to do.  While I was (am) the baby, I wasn’t the child that was the closest to my Dad nor did I make all the choices that he wanted me to. But I loved my Dad. I will miss my Dad.  May his heavy, good hearted presence live through me all the rest of my days.

Thank you for being here today.  Please know how much it means to him.



Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Public Displays of Affection

Not long ago, I watched a video (by Kerwin Rae) about how public recognition is what many professional people rank has the #1 form of appreciation. In some age groups, it ranks above a monetary gesture.  At the time I was thinking that it only applied to the workplace. What I’ve learned is that isn’t true at all. It applies in all aspects of life. Work, romantic relationships, hobbies, friendships.

The other thing you should know - if you don’t already - is that I don’t like being the center of attention. It makes me uncomfortable. I’m most comfortable being in the background making YOU a star. As I think back on different parts of my life — that has reigned true so many times.  It’s the reason I never wanted to be a flyer in cheerleading (besides the fact that I wasn’t nearly small enough!), but I just wanted to help make someone else the center of attention. I wanted to be the base, the spotter, the foundation that made it all happen.

This past weekend was more than I could mentally process.  It actually started MONTHS ago, but it wasn't until I saw it unfold in front of me that the magnitude hit me...  The magnitude of love, friendship, loyalty and care. 

I've been marching through life, taking things in stride and not entirely appreciating a very important aspect of my life:  my friendships.  I've been taking all of that for granted.  Unbeknownst to me, I've been working on connections with various people in my life by just LIVING my life in the most helpful and best way possible (failing so many times, I assure you) ...helping through the good and the bad times....celebrating the successes and learning from the failures WITH YOU as my friends.  It finally dawned on me this weekend that ALL of that living matters to people.  It means something.  The moments matter.  People remember.  And what they remember is not what you said or did, but how you made them feel (thank you, Maya Angelou).  As it turns out, I've made an impact on a few people....and my advice to you is to do make the effort to do the same.  Go out of your way for the people you love because the ROI is beyond what you can imagine, refreshing, uplifting, fulfilling, invaluable.

I saw it first hand this weekend.  πŸ’—

When four of my best girlfriends kept hounding me ( πŸ˜ƒ ) about a 40th birthday party, I kept saying "no one wants to do this, y'all!  no one wants to come to this!  this will cost them money!  this is a burden!" -- and the last thing I want to be to anyone is a burden.  (nor a bottleneck nor a victim, but those are for different blog posts) 

They persisted...as so many females and best girlfriends do.

I caved and conveyed my dream weekend is a family friendly weekend (so that I can see my own babies and hubby) by a beach/pool with umbrella drinks and low key, no pressure comings and goings.

From there, the weekend plan literally took a life of its own.

I was blown away that people showed up.  And, they showed up with gifts, to boot (totally unnecessary but thoughtful!).

And, then, I was blown away at the level of detail -- the invitation, guest gift bags, monogrammed koozies, balloons, itineraries, a hashtag, trolley rides, poolside amenities, decorations, dinner (more on that in a few), brunch, cards, sentiments, worlds colliding in all the good ways....

Then. Then, there was dinner...at one of the best places on the beach....in a private room with more personal touches.  As I suspected, there was a bit of roasting on what it's like to be my friend (i.e., some initial intimidation πŸ˜‚, general pain in the ass tendencies, high expectations, a lot of tough love and forever loyalty)....but then things got personal.  My friends conveyed to me - in person - what my friendship and presence in their life has meant to them.  They used examples and referred to moments that I never knew stuck with them and talked about how me being "in their corner" changed parts of their lives.  The love and appreciation and care and emotion showed was something that I can't compare to any other experience in my life.  I had multiple come aparts over it all, but the feeling is entirely and forever mutual.

Run.  Don't walk.  Don't wait.  Tell the people that mean the world to you that they do, in fact, mean the world to you - because we aren't promised tomorrow.  We must say it now.  Trust me, you will refill someone's "worth cup" - indefinitely - and provide an uplift to their spirit that is unmatched with any other gesture of kindness or public recognition. 

My other advice is to let people take care of you and love you and shower you when it’s your time to be the center of attention. I fought it nearly until the moment the invites went out the door.  I couldn’t be more thankful that I was strong armed into my own birthday party.  I am the real definition of pain in the ass. 

We should all be so lucky and so blessed to have a group of friends that make you feel the way I felt this past weekend.  If you don't, you need new friends.

The words "thank you" are hardly enough to convey the magnitude of what I feel about the love shown to me this past weekend.  I can only pray that I have a chance repay the feeling TENFOLD.

Nearly Everyone!

WorkFam GirlSquad

Birthday Bridesmaids


My #RideOrDie since 1978.

πŸ”ΊπŸ”ΊπŸ”Ί

Friday, July 28, 2017

My Balance Beam

I recently read a book called For the Love by Jen Hatmaker.  And, by “read” – I mean, I listened to it while I ran.  I cannot recommend it enough.  I am 100% sure that it changed my outlook on a few aspects of my life.  It brought to my attention – glaringly so – that I don’t give enough grace out loud.  Because I have such high expectations of myself and everyone around me, it must seem like I never allow anyone (much less myself) a moment of human-ness.  And in a world with up-to-the-second facebooking, news cycling, chatter, tweeting, insta-storying and NOISE…couldn’t we all use a little human-ness…a little grace?  It also made me realize that – while I try to live a transparent social media life – I want to make sure we clear up a few things.

On Grace…
There’s a difference between “doing it all” and “getting it all done.”

There’s also this concept of “I’m ok with letting some things go.” J

I don't do it all.  I mean, I technically I didn’t even read this book. I listened to it while I was doing something else important to me.  

In her book, Jen talks about things that delicately balance on the “beam” of life and things that fall to the mat.

All of life doesn't make it on to my balance beam. 

I don't do laundry. 
I don't clean my house. 
I don't go to my sons' schools to volunteer every day / week / month. 
I don't cook. 
I am not the school mom that you’ll see in pick up line every day.  Some days I wish I were.  We call those days Mondays and Fridays.
I am not the school mom that you’ll see at any event scheduled on a Wednesday.  Come on, people.  I’m not asking for things to be scheduled around me – just like you aren’t asking me to attend Every. Single. Event.  Right?
I’m probably not going to go on a weekend girls trip.
I don’t join book clubs or junior league or other “optional” activities (maybe they just seem optional to me?).
I no longer scrapbook for lack of time and, quite frankly, other options to document my life and kids’ lives.

I have a convenience fee.  If I can make something easier for me, my family, etc. – I will likely pay to do so. If I can outsource, I will.  Example:  house cleaning  …. OFF THE BEAM!  (Unless Matt is with me, and then sometimes he won’t let me.  Example:  valet parking)

Sidebar:  It is NOT lost on me how blessed I am to be able to operate this way in terms of outsourcing, convenience fee concepts and how we spend time with our children.  My point is more about making sure what is important to YOU stays on the beam...and it's OK to let the rest fall to the mat.

Balancing my life:  My travel fills up my tank for my extroverted kids.  My 3 days/2 nights on the road is where I become a better mom. Other people do that through junior league or book clubs or girls weekends or whatever. I hear your whispers about “being away from my kids” – you are too, just in different ways – so, show me a little grace, please.

It is important to me to spend my nights home and my weekends with my kids… Disney, Busch Gardens, library visits, toddler sports, pool time, park time, breakfast at our favorite restaurant…all ON THE BEAM.  All of them.

 
Disney!

Florida State Football Game
All in on the Noles, y'all!

We are a Yankees family, but we love Raymond!
The boys LIVE for swimming!
The opinion of the toddler sports moms about my “bought” (vs homemade) snack is not important to me.  OFF THE BEAM, every time.

I parent.  Teachers teach.  It’s a delicate partnership (and we have been SO LUCKY in this space!), but I won’t be at school doing their jobs just like they aren’t home with us while I do mine. Teaching is OFF the beam for me.


Your beam looks different than my beam.  I’m SO thankful for that because you mommas that bring in homemade treats and spend time in the class room are my HEROES.  I don’t mean to come across as critical of you, I mean to come across as APPLAUDING you.  (What I don’t applaud is when I get the #SideEye for store bought snacks, though, so grace goes both ways – am I right? J)  In fact, that goes for people who cook, go on girls trips, join book clubs, participate in community groups – all my HEROES.  I’m thankful for what you bring to the world. 

My husband is a priority.  We are partnership of epic proportion.  We are equals in this marriage thing and we split tasks to make it all work.  Except the laundry.  He’s a laundry lunatic and I can’t keep up.  Matt is always ON THE BEAM.  Always.


Yes, he's grabbing my breast.  #ItsFine
My kids are a priority. 

 
 
   

My faith is a priority. (along with my family’s faith)

My career is a priority. 

My health is a priority. 

My family is a priority.

My friends, specifically my GIRLS, are a priority to me.  You know who you are.  I needn’t name names. 

My priorities get juggled daily, but they’re always ON THE BEAM in some way. Sometimes I juggle hourly because ALL OF THESE cannot be priority #1 all the time.

On humility…
Humility is absolutely necessary, however, in a world where we tear each other down more than we build each other up – we must be able to speak highly of ourselves, our skills, our trajectories in life and careers.  If we don’t – who will?

I’m good at a few things…

I’m a hard worker. If I committed to something, I will see it through to completion.

I can operate on 4-5 hours of sleep.

I get my second wind at 10:30pm and have been known to rearrange cabinets, pantries and drawers until 1am.  It calms my brain.

I’m a leader…of people, teams, projects, business transformations, initiatives.

I'm an organizer....of vacations, dinners, cabinets, closets.  

I’m a utility customer service expert.

I’m an SAP expert.

I’m a kick ass program manager and strategic planner.

I'm transparent. I don't play poker. The truth flies out of my mouth sometimes without filter. This is a blessing and a curse.  I’ve gotten better over the years.

Aligned with that transparency is integrity.  If I didn’t do it right or didn’t do something justice, you’ll hear it from me first.  The same goes for my team or my family.  If I give you my word, I will die trying to keep it.

I hold myself accountable for what is my responsibility, my teams’ responsibility or my family’s responsibility.  Need I remind you that I picked up toddler poop off the Atlanta airport floor because THAT WAS MY RESPONSIBILITY as Beau’s mother….?

I hold people accountable for their work, their commitments, their responsibilities.

I care about other people's careers...and if you ask for my help, you're going to get it.  If you want to succeed and do great things -- I want those things for you too!

I'm a fiercely loyal friend. I've lost two real friends in my life. One I got back. One may be gone forever. 


I don't go a mile wide and an inch deep on friendships. If I'm your friend, I'm your friend in ALL seasons - good or bad.....in times of celebration and despair. I'm here. 

Integrity, loyalty, accountability, responsibility and owning your strengths – ON THE BEAM!

This isn't all of them, but you get the idea about my #WorkFam.
I am funny and mostly I don't realize it. My friend Martin Palma tells me that all the time.  He may be mostly laughing AT me rather than WITH me, but I’ll take it.  Laughter will always be ON THE BEAM for me….it helps in all situations.

My children keep my humility in check by treating me like their butler, waitress, driver, personal assistant and maid.  Do not fret about my level of importance at home…I’m low on the totem pole

Women can do the hard things.  We can be anyone and do anything.  You don’t have to do ALL the hard things or be everything to everyone.  Breathe in this world of opportunity, go get what is important to you, ask for help when you need it, show the grace you expect for yourself to others and TELL THE WORLD all the things YOU’RE good at.

On self-awareness…
Having a healthy awareness of your strengths is great.  Having a healthy awareness of your weaknesses takes an extremely mature person open to ongoing personal and professional growth.  I have growth opportunities at work and in my personal life….in my marriage, in my family interactions, in my friend interactions.  ON THE BEAM, folks…I try to pay attention!

With that said, I'm not good at these things:

I don’t have empathy for all situations.

I am not good with messes, clutter and “excess.”  These things cause me IMMENSE mental stress.  Everything needs to have a place….and if we haven’t used it, worn it or discussed it in a year’s time – OFF THE BEAM.

I’m a fixer…and a problem solver – and that’s not a good thing all the time.  I always have to ask – “Am I in listening mode or fixing mode?”

I don’t embrace change well, but I expect my clients do. (ironic, isn’t it?)

I'm not good at the benefit of the doubt.  I'm terrible at it and need to be reminded of it. 

I have a short fuse. 

I have a zero-tolerance policy on laziness, incompetence, and lack of integrity. 

Listening to a chapter in Jen’s book (“Jen” – like we are girlfriends and on a first name basis now?) helped me learn that I “exercise compassion without enabling misconduct,” laziness or giving an "out" to hard work.  I have empathy for people who want to do the work to improve their situation, but need some help/advice/a boost to get where they are going. I can relate to that. I do and can enable success.  I do not believe in victims of circumstance. I do not relate to complaining without action.  I do not do hand-outs. Ever. You want something?  Work hard(er).  Per Jen Hatmaker – “Young MC said it best: "Don't just stand there, bust a move."”

I question every parenting decision we make. 



I'm claustrophobic.

I'm terrified of heights.

New places make me anxious because I don't want to miss the good stuff a new place has to offer.

I over plan.

I over pack for vacations (but never for the work week).

I over think family dynamics.

I'm incredibly more sensitive than you know or that I portray.  Many people think I don’t have feelings because of how “cut and dry” I can be at work.  There are times when that is true.  There are times when that is necessary.  There are plenty of times when that approach is not necessary and not used.  Don’t assume.  The tough exterior that I’ve built to protect myself has created a reputation that isn’t always warranted.  I am human.

My communication style can be perceived as harsh, mean or short-sighted.  Know that nearly every move I make is a calculated one.


I am not politically correct. 

I often use money to replace the time I can’t spend on something when TIME is what was really needed.  (See “sidebar” above)

I’m not worldly nor culturally savvy.  My real friends and colleagues know this about me and lend me grace and help me learn.

I’m not good at being bored. I shop on my Nordstrom app when I’m bored in airports.  This is bad.

I’m addicted to my phone…. news, shopping, social media, games, emails, texts.  #PutYourPhoneDown

I don't understand the concept of privilege and I'm not convinced it's the reason for all the problems in the world. I’m a work-in-progress on this topic.

I can be hard on the people I care about the most and the people I think have more potential than they are realizing. 

On common ground…
The good news is that we have a common ground.  We are all human first…. before we ever categorize ourselves with gender, race, ethnicity, religion, etc.  There’s nothing wrong with being confident in your skills – both personally and professionally.  In fact, I applaud it.  If you don’t know what you’re doing well – you likely don’t know about the areas available for improvement.  Self-reflection (like this blog, I guess) is a good way to find grace and humility. Assume positive intent – even when it feels unnatural.  Tell the truth. Be kind. Be human.  Be Brave.  Be YOU. It won't look like my day (or one of the 1 billion other days you see on Instagram) and that is OK.  

#BeTheChange
#GiveGrace
#BeKind
#BeBrave
We Love America.

Thursday, June 1, 2017

Work Backwards.

I always start with the worst-case scenario.  I develop a plan on how to manage through my worst case.  Right, wrong or indifferent -- I start there as a coping mechanism … because if I can figure out how to handle the worst case, then I can manage anything between here ----- and there.

For about an hour today, I thought my baby had leukemia.  That was my worst case.

Last night, Matt mentioned to me that Beau had a lot of bruises on him.  Like, more than normal for Beauzilla?  Yeah.  More than normal…and they were oddly placed.

When we got up this morning – more bruises…groin area, back of the arm, back, stomach, waist/side region.  ODD places.  I immediately didn’t feel right.  Beau was acting fine, but not looking the part so I banked on our parental intuition -- and called the pediatrician and got an appointment this morning. 

By the time we arrived at the pediatrician's office, more bruises had formed...

As soon as the doctor saw his markings, she went from her usual jovial kid doctor self …. To a very serious, stern and focused medical professional with very specific instructions:  “Go to the emergency room right now.  I’ve called ahead.  They are expecting you.  You need blood work as he appears to have some sort of platelet issue that can be anything from ITP to Leukemia. Now, because he has no other symptoms -- it’s probably ITP and treatable, but we must run tests to be sure.”

I only heard about 4 words of that entire statement…. 
emergency room right now” 

and 

leukemia

By the time I had my wits about me, Jack was already in tears…. “worried about Beau.”  So with that – I reminded myself that it does a baby good to know that others can soothe him and love him. It will always take a village to raise a child – better to start sooner rather than later.  I called my VERY sweet neighbor who took Jack off our hands…and they hand a grand little day together running some errands, having lunch and playing the pool.

Also?  I'm thinking to myself -- Reschedule the entire day.  Email all the people you were meeting with throughout the day.  Email your client.  Email everyone that you're kind of off the grid for a hot minute.  THANK GOD for the amazing people that I work with every day...Accenture and DTE, for giving me just a moment of space to deal with this thing that was invading my personal space.

When we arrived at the ER – they were expecting us…and had urgency that only increased my anxiety.  Another bruise had formed on Beau's face...and now one on his leg...it looked horrible and painful.  We got into a room and the dr. came in almost immediately…  She explained to us how the blood works.  We’ve got red blood cells and white blood cells.  And we have platelets that help us heal and clot the blood.  The white blood cells create antibodies to fight off viruses. 

They need to draw the blood to look at all three – red, white, platelets.  She said it again – “this can be anything from a thing called ITP …. To leukemia, but I need to see the blood to be sure.”

All I heard was leukemia.  So I started there…I hit the internet with research on types of illnesses, treatments, special centers …. Correlating them to current and future clients to make sure I could continue to work to support the treatments but be near to be with him.  I started to do the math…and figured out what we could cut back on to make ends meet.  I researched what my insurance would pay for…all of that while I waited for the nurse to come in to draw the blood.

Then – they DREW THE BLOOD and for the LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, I cried more than Beau did.  But he cried BIIIIIG alligator tears….and I tried to give him his binky…and he gave it back to me.  I almost took a hit off of it.

Then we waited.  They needed one hour.  And for one hour, I planned our life with leukemia treatments.  I found all the best centers, found nearby apartments to all of them, did research on doctors, found all the support groups, mapped flights into each area to correlate costs and budgets... And I know that must seem WILD to you, but that’s how I work.  I accept the worst case – and work backwards from there….because I need to be able to handle anything she says when she walks back through that door.

So we played and walked and blew up gloves into COW UTTERS…. And we found all the pictures of the cows on the ER floor….and we mooed…and we watched the ipad and the TV and mommy’s phone and sometimes we tried to work on mommy’s work computer because that looks like fun too.



We waited.

AN ETERNITY.

And finally – she came back.  It’s not leukemia.  

Sometimes, those antibodies that the white blood cells are producing to fight viruses are not so smart – and they attack the platelets.  A kid Beau’s size/age needs about 150000 …. He has 1000.  Just 1000. 

The antibodies will continue to attack the platelets while they are trying to fight off whatever virus is inside Beau right now.  This is ITP -- Idiopathic Thrombocytopenic Purpura  -- New antibodies are created each time the white blood cells detect a virus to go attack…the next round of antibodies may not attack the platelets.  It’s hard to tell.

We now need to hear from the hematologist.  This poor ER doctor has reached her limit on knowledge of blood disorders – and probably her tolerance of my questions and antics.

The hematologist came in…saw the look on my face and said “I’m going to say this three times so that you know that I’m serious – He does not have leukemia.  He does not have leukemia.  He does not have leukemia.”  The bruises aren't painful, but he's prone to bleeding now because he has no ability to clot...so any bad fall or head bump requires an ER visit.  Oh, Jesus take the wheel - for real?!

Ok, I think I’ve got it.  It’s not the worst case scenario…let’s start working backwards now…
Beau is going to be fine – but he’s going to bruise every time the wind blows until this set of antibodies run their course…and move on.  So, we’ll see the hematologist every work to do blood tests…until such time that things change…and then we will change courses, but for now – no treatment other than restricted activity.  No contact sports.  

Hold up – what?

He’s 2.  He already broke his leg TWICE… My whole house is a contact sport.

Lord help us.

Jack understands…he’s ready to take care of his brother.  “I’m his keeper.”  Yes, baby…yes you are … so when he jumps on you to wrestle, you have to resist that urge to Jimmy-Superfly-Snuka him…because he’ll bruise up like a peach and Child Protective Services will be BACK at this house (read here for that story). 

Ain’t nobody got time for that.


We got a doctor’s note.  Just in case.

It's fine.  He's Fine.  We are fine.

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Because Life Isn't Always Sunshine and Rainbows.

It’s been a while since I blogged.  Every time I want to blog about a series of funny events in our house…I am reminded about the last blog that I wrote, but didn’t post.

I pride myself in being an open book, so it felt odd to me to post about a series of funny events, when a really not-so-funny event happened to my family…and that was the last blog that I wrote, but didn’t post.

As you may or may not know, when we moved back to St. Pete from NJ, Jack started going to an in home daycare.

Well, in February 2016 – that in home daycare owner called Child Protective Services on Matt and I for child neglect.

Yes.  That’s right.  Child neglect.  These are the people who can remove your child from your home, folks.

This issue boils down to trust.  It takes a long time to earn it and only seconds to lose it.

With me, once it’s gone…it’s gone forever.

Or maybe this boils down to sanity..?  Maybe she’s just insane.  Maybe we are insane for staying as long as we did?  We talked about leaving this daycare 100s of times.  We looked and researched and begged for openings at other places...because while this place was the right place for many kids/families that we knew and loved, it wasn't the right place for us.  There were literally NO other openings in St. Pete. In the end, even if we didn't like the situation, we knew our kids were safe here...so we endured...until it completely fell apart on us in a BIG way.

Either way, I don’t think I’m above many things, but I am ABOVE child neglect and I won’t stand by and allow you to make that sort of allegation against Matt and I. 

Here’s how the story goes:

When Jack arrived at this particular in home daycare when he was 18 months old, I could tell that she didn’t care for Jack much.  Jack wasn’t “hers.”  She told me on more than one occasion that Jack was missing critical skills that “all” 18 month olds had – especially her kids – like holding a spoon or using crayons.

Using crayons?  Let’s come back to that.

I could tell that she treated Jack differently.  She was more excited to see the other kids when they arrived.  She was colder to Matt and I.  I’m not sure why – our money was just as good as everyone else’s. 

I chalked up the offense that I took to being a sensitive new parent.  Even if I had been a parent for 18 months, he was still my first ever 18 month old.

Then Jack turned two.  I think I’ve confessed to you already that this is when all hell broke loose for us.  The year between 2 and 3 was tough in ways I can’t describe.  We were dealing with a bonafide bi-polar terrorist in a toddler sized body.  We struggled with how to discipline him….re-directing, time outs, taking things away, popping him, etc.   Then he developed a hitting issue.  So, we backed off of any popping until he understood the difference between us popping him in the form of discipline and him smacking another kid in the face.  The difference is subtle, I know.

She struggled with Jack too in that year.  She told me he needed Ritalin because he was so energetic.  It was an issue a day for us … Every day when I’d pick up Jack.  He accidently slammed another little boy’s fingers in a chest.  She took care of the little boy (who wasn’t injured, but very rightfully upset).  She described this to me in such a way that you would think Jack was a complete monster child.  She didn’t even bother to console Jack who had no idea what occurred.  She told me that Jack had no empathy and that empathy wasn’t something you could teach… that you either had it or you didn’t.  This made her worry about Jack as a human being.  She even called him demonic.
Imagine how this made me feel about my sweet, cautious, loving Jack…

One day, when I arrived – Jack came running to me and yelling that she hit him.  She immediately confessed that she did pop him and it was out of anger because she couldn’t get his attention.  She apologized.  Jack was crying.  I was pissed off.  We left. 

Let’s come back to that.

She then told me that “everyone here talks about how you don’t discipline Jack.”  I thought “oh really?  I didn’t know my kid’s issues were everyone else’s concerns.”  I mean, Matt and I don’t discuss the children who are biting everyone….or the kid that pushes other kids.  We trusted that those parents were working with her on those specific issues.  It was none of our business. 
My mom and mother in law helped me to figure out that if Jack (my sweet busy body baby boy) had a task or something to do outside, that he was well behaved and slept better.  That’s just who he was (and still is).

I begged the day care owner to let him go outside during the day.  She would tell me that it was too hot or too cold or too windy or there were too many bugs or that the babies wouldn’t have anywhere to sit/lay. 

Let’s come back to that too.

She had me convinced that he was some sort of demon child….and that we were bad parents because 
Jack wouldn’t sit and do art/color with crayons.  (CRAYONS?)  She went so far as to say that Jack would hurt baby Beau when he arrived.  She told us that Jack had no regard for anyone else.

You think?  HE’S TWO.

Needless to say, this caused more than one bad interaction between me/her or Matt/her. 

Fast forward….Beau has arrived and is now in daycare with Jack. (January 2015 – August 2015)
She wouldn’t help us get Jack potty trained claiming that she didn’t have time/capacity to deal with what was needed.  We were trying to get him potty trained to go to preschool in August 2015.  I remember sending him in a pull up just to give him a way to get his pants down….and he’d come home in a diaper and embarrassed.  Again, I chalked this up to me being a new parent trying to (unsuccessfully) potty train my child while he was in daycare. 

Some days, I would arrive to pick them up….and she’d be nowhere to be found – but all the kids would be staring at me through the locked glass door…Jack in a diaper, again. 

Most days, there was an issue with Jack…but Beau…oh, Beau was her baby.  She loved him.  I couldn’t blame her.

Beau got bitten a lot by another little boy that was about a year older than him.  We didn’t think much of it because, well, all kids have something going on…this kid bites.  Our kids hit/push/wrestle.

It happened a lot, though. Let’s come back to that, too….I won’t leave you hanging….I promise.

A few days later, a friend’s older kids were at the daycare when Matt picked up Beau.  Matt spoke to them “heeeyyy, long time no see, what are you guys doing here?”

She jumped all over Matt that he couldn’t ask them any questions … and that she wasn’t watching them, but they were “just visiting.”  Matt joked with her that he wasn’t going to turn her in for her provide-to-child ratio being off.  She didn’t like that either and threatened to force us to find another daycare.

A couple of Fridays after that, as I’m getting Beau undressed for his bath….I notice a bite mark on his arm.  I noted to Matt that he needs to tell her when he drops off Beau on the following Monday.  Given that Beau now has three bite marks that have bruised over….I feel like a tiny bit more supervision is needed on the biter. 

So, Matt makes that request.  Her response:  “Well, the biter is probably just retaliating against Beau because Beau is a bully.”

Pardon me?

Did you say a 17 month old baby is a BULLY?  ….a bully to the 2.5 year old? 

Then she corrects herself and says that those aren’t bite marks and that they are bruises from rough play at home.

DUDE.  GET OUT OF TOWN!

So, Matt – who’s a better person than me – lets it go.

The following Wednesday rolls around….and she has a liability waiver that she wants Matt to sign.  It contains a hand written narrative about how Beau’s bruises weren’t from her care and that they were from “unsupervised rough play at home with his older brother.”

OK.  WAIT.  WHAT?!  Nope.  Not signing that.

Two hours later….Matt gets a knock at our door.  It’s the Pinellas County Sherrif’s Dept with Child Protective Services to investigate “Beau Schneider’s neglect.”

I happened to be on an airplane on the way home….and that turned out to be a good thing, because I may have let my crazy out for good.

The (very nice) investigator did her job… She interviewed Matt.  (Do you do drugs?  Were you neglected as a child? Do you hit your children? Etc.)

She interviewed Jack…and it fucking breaks my heart to tell you the kinds of questions that she asked him.  Who lives here with you?  Is Mommy gone sometimes? (“yeah, she flies the plane to Detroit sometimes”) Do mommy or daddy hit you? (“no”) Do mommy/daddy tell you that they love you? (“yes”)  Did you like going to daycare where Beau goes to daycare? (“no”) Do you play rough with Beau (“we wrestle”) Do you know how Beau got the bruises on him (“probably at daycare”)
She did a full body examination of Beau…after seeing his ONE bruise, her response was “that’s it?”

Keep in mind…this woman has seen the scum of the Earth…you know like people who put their cigarettes out on their kids or lock them in closets for days with no food.

But, she’s investigating us now.

Thanks to this daycare owner that simply didn’t like my husband and my oldest son and the fact that I traveled for my job.

The investigator does a walk thru of our home.  We explain why Jack has two twin beds in his room (“in case he wants to have a buddy stay over”).

So, Matt asks her…  “After seeing all of this and even watching the boys play/wrestle – what is your assessment??”

She shakes her head and looks at the ground.  She can’t comment because she hasn’t talked to me yet…  “the mom who travels.”

You can imagine my response when I get home shortly after she leaves. 

Complete HYSTERICS.

On the phone, the investigator tells me that everything is going to be ok…and that I should calm down.

CALM DOWN?  I get worked up over FAR LESS than this on a daily basis, lady….you have no idea who you are dealing with.  She couldn’t talk to me over the phone because she couldn’t verify my identity.

As it turns out, she was right, though.  I needed to calm down.

But I didn’t sleep.  Not one wink of sleep.  Got out of bed at 6 am….drug myself to the office, gave a presentation to a roomful of clients, managed to not let one tear fall down my cheek…and then I left the office and waited for her call.

She calls and I go to her office at 4:00 pm. 

When I get angry – I cry.  When I feel attacked, I get angry – I cry.  So, I was already about to cry.
The investigator asked me the same questions as Matt. 

She asked me to describe Jack and Beau in three words:

Jack:  Energetic, Inquisitive, Sensitive.
Beau:  Beauzilla, Independent, Tough.

She told me that I lit up when I talked about them.  She told me that she could tell that I loved and cared for them deeply and that I was appalled by this allegation.

I was.  APPALLED was the only word that I could find that was remotely strong enough to describe my emotion.

She told me that she felt the claim was a bit ridiculous after seeing our home, my husband in action at dinner time with the boys, the boys playing together…and now seeing me – a grown, professional, successful woman who volunteers at the YMCA, brings her kids to do community projects around Snell Isle and does chats on women’s professional growth on her own time to local businesses.  We are a family that goes to neighborhood watch meetings, we bike downtown, support our community, shop locally and attend “Mayor Chats” to make our city better…

And this is who we are investigating for child neglect?

She could not confirm who made the claim, but we both knew that I knew – without a doubt.

She asked me for 3 references that could verify my character and my parenting.

I opened my phone to the contacts….where there are 1500+ contacts.  I slid it across the table to her and asked her to scroll through the list and pick any name.  She laughed.  I didn’t.  I told her that she may pick a name of a person who doesn’t care for me as a person (ex friends, old clients, whatever) – but ALL of them will tell you that I’m a good parent and that I don’t neglect my kids.

I told her that if she wanted to know who we were to visit my facebook page, my Instagram account, my blog.

Her response:  “I did.”

She continued...“I know who you are, which is why I told you on the phone to calm down.  CPS doesn’t care that you travel.  Lots of people travel for their jobs.  All we care about is that while you are away, your kids are cared for.  We know that they are.”

She told me that the claim/allegation technically said that “because the mom travels, the boys are not supervised well by the dad…and the big brother hurts the baby.”

I told her that if she wanted to know who Jack really was to talk to his teacher at school.  His teacher will tell you that he’s helpful, thoughtful and well behaved.  He’s handsy…just like his 4 year old buddies, but he’s not malicious nor mean nor “demonic” as the daycare owner would suggest.

The investigator told me that she could see all she needed to know about Jack by watching him play and wrestle with Beau when she visited our home.  She said “I could tell that he was being gentle with Beau.  He was making sure that he wasn’t hurting Beau and that Beau wasn’t hurting himself.”
She then asked me to tell her about the daycare, in my own words/experiences.

I believe that the daycare owner loves the children she watches.  I believe that she loves some of them more than others because some kids are easier to care for….and some parents/kids dote on her.  We didn’t.  Jack didn’t.  Jack knew from the beginning that he was an outsider.  By the time Jack was three, he fully noticed.  “Shelly loves the other kids.  She likes Jack.”  He’s little, but that doesn’t mean he was unaware.  My belief is that if I paid you to watch my kids, then I don’t need to also kiss your ass every time I drop them off to get the best level of care.  It was exhausting.

So, folks, I told her about the daycare owner’s insinuations about Jack’s behavior (“demonic”), about not ever going outside unless it was perfect weather, about her popping Jack out of anger, about her and Matt’s communication issues, about the biting of Beau, about never documenting the bites, about the simple request for additional supervision of the biter, about how…..the owner followed the daycare licensing rules when they were convenient for her, but the SECOND that we stepped out of line and challenged the way she thought we should be disciplining our kids, she called CPS. 

She called CPS to cover her own ass.  We asked for more supervision and when we didn’t get it, she thought we were going to call the licensing board….so she beat us to the punch.

She called CPS because she doesn’t like Matt.  She doesn’t like how Matt takes care of the boys.  She doesn’t like that I travel.  She doesn’t like Jack’s energy and rough/tough play.  She doesn’t agree with our parenting.

The investigator said she’d be marking our case “no action” and closing it …. And that it would never come up in any background/financial/work history searches done on my name.    (I bet she didn’t think I’d tell you all about it anyway on this blog.)  She told me all about the law in FL that protects the people who report child neglect.  There's no repercussion...there's no penalty for false claims.  We just have to get over it.  We have to move on.  It has  taken me 7 months...and I'm neither over it nor have I moved on.  I've prayed for forgiveness in my heart, but I'm not there yet either.

The investigator told me that she’d be filing a complaint herself on the daycare.  Hitting a child is against the law for any licensed daycare provider in Florida.  She also must provide at least 15 minutes of outdoor time daily, weather permitting.  I’m sure there’s a loophole there, somewhere.
The investigator encouraged me to also file a complaint.

Let it be known that we NEVER intended to do anything that extreme.  In fact, all we ever discussed was switching daycares.  And, we would have done so if anything else had been available.  

It was THAT EASY, Shelly.  You could have just asked us to leave.  You didn’t have to put us through that.

But you did.  

You were so busy sweeping our front porch that you forgot to sweep your own.

Jack is still doing amazingly well at his school.  He misses his teacher from last year, but he comes home happy and engaged and full of new questions (and answers).  He's helpful to the teachers...a leader.

Beau is thriving in his new daycare.  His teachers love his energy and his squish.  He’s their Beauzilla too.  He counts to 5 and tells everyone his name: "I Beau!"

The boys still wrestle, play rough and have legs full of bruises.  They also take care of each other and love each other.


If you have to ask yourself if we neglect our children, please remove me from Facebook, Instagram and life.