Speaking of teammates, for this month’s Dad’s View, I want to unpack Emmitt Smith’s Hall of Fame speech and pull some things from it that we, as dads, can pull from it and apply to our lives as men and as fathers.

To start off, Emmitt recognized his “Lord and savior Jesus Christ for blessing me to play the sport I so dearly love for almost three decades.” We have all been blessed with unique abilities, distinctive dreams, and an identifiable purpose. As men, if we are able to identify our strengths, turn our dreams into goals, and work toward fulfilling the purpose we have in our lives, we will undoubtedly make a huge impact on our community, our friends, and our family. Emmitt told the story of how his high school coach would encourage his teammates to write down their dreams insisting, it’s only a dream until you write it down, and then it becomes a goal. We all have dreams for our lives and dreams for our families, write those dreams down and then work on accomplishing them – in doing so; you will find your purpose.

The Hall of Famer thanked many of the people that he worked for, worked with, and went to battle with every Sunday. One of the most unforgettable HOF speech moments of recent memory was when he addressed his former teammate, Daryl “Moose” Johnston. Moose played fullback for the Cowboys and cleared the path for Smith to become the all-time leading rusher in NFL history. With tears in his eyes, Emmitt told Johnston, “You mean the world to me not just because we shared the same backfield, but because you sacrificed so much for me.” If we surround ourselves with people that can build us up, encourage us, and is willing to sacrifice for us, our dreams will have a better chance of becoming a reality. On the flipside, we should strive to be men who deliberately search for ways to be a blessing to others – our kids, our friends, or anyone that may find themselves in a position of need.

Like Emmitt, I remember as a young six year old lying in the family room and watching the Cowboys – Tony D, Randy and Danny White, Drew Pearson, and others. Smith told his dad when he was six years old, “One day I am going to play professional football and I am going to play for the Dallas Cowboys.” His dad did not discount his son’s wild dream; he encouraged it and supported Smith through the realization of that dream. Let us take the elder Emmitt’s example and encourage our kids to dream big, and then do what we can to transform their dreams into goals and provide them opportunities to make them a reality.

A special thank you to Jonna Nixon of Red House Photography for taking this month’s Dads View family photo. Be sure to check out her website at www.redhousephotography.com

December 29, 2009
“Livi’s seizures have been worse over the past few days with new types showing up as well as all seizures being more intense and perhaps more often. We have hardly seen her awake not seizing in the past two days–perhaps an hour or two all together.”

Olivia has always done things on her terms. Brian, my husband, and I should have realized that early on considering the fact she refused to show up into the world on time. Throughout my pregnancy we had all the usual hopes and expectations for our baby girl that all parents have. Those were thrown out the window very quickly on her very first day here.

After being induced and a difficult labor, Olivia was born term at 6lbs 1oz. She had to be suctioned because she swallowed meconium and was given oxygen. After the first ten minutes, everything seemed to be in order. We were celebrating and relieved to finally have her with us. Then things changed pretty quickly.

After about 24 hours, the nurses noticed that she wasn’t keeping her own body temperature, so in the middle of the night our baby was taken to the NICU for observation. After a few more hours it became apparent that she was not going to eat; in fact, she was choking on everything they put into her tiny mouth. Her doctors decided to transfer her tiny body (a tiny body made to seem even more fragile when placed in one of those big incubator carts) for an MRI after just three days of life. They expected that she had undergone some trauma during the birth and the effects of it would dissipate in a few days and she would be “back to normal.”

This was definitely not what we had expected to be experiencing with our new baby girl. We knew the newborn phase was rough, but this was almost too much to bear. It was horrifying to not be able to hold our child, not to understand the problem, and not to know the answer to how to make it all better for her. Brian and I were scared and exhausted; unfortunately, this would prove only to be the beginning.

Olivia began to show signs that her problem with eating was not going to go away any time soon. In addition, there was nothing unusual on her MRI, leading doctors to more questions instead of answers. Blood was drawn, EEGs were conducted, spinal taps were ordered and probably many more things that I can no longer recall. None of them provided any answer to Olivia’s condition. Olivia slept almost all day of each passing day. She did not have the usual responses of a baby like crying or cooing. At the hospital, we were allowed to hold her as much as we wanted, which helped to calm our nerves; but, we knew our love and affection alone were not going to make our daughter better, and that broke our hearts.
After a few weeks, doctors talked to us about putting a feeding tube in so we would be able to take Olivia home sooner, which we loved; however, it would also require a major surgery. We were excited and scared going into it, so the nurses and doctors reassured us most kids rebounded very quickly and were off the ventilator before parents saw them in post-op. Therefore, we were sad when Olivia was still on the vent when we saw her. After two days, our sadness turned to frustration. Then it evolved. By day four all we could do was cry out to God for help. Then, in Olivia’s own fashion, one night we got a call from our nurse at 3am. Olivia had taken out her own breathing tube and was doing just fine. Elated, we began to make preparations to finally have her home after a month of visiting the hospital.

Learning the feeding pump and maintenance on the tube seemed overwhelming in the beginning; however, it quickly became second nature. Over the next few months, Olivia learned to roll over, smile, and play like any other baby. When she was four months old, we had a ten-day visit to the hospital because Olivia had gotten pneumonia. We were sent home with oxygen and more machines.

Three months later, on a routine visit, a cardiologist found that Olivia had two holes in her heart that would need to be surgically repaired within the next year. It was around this time that Olivia began sleeping more—about 18 hours a day. In addition, she was also stalling in her development; consequently, we were referred to a neurologist as well. Over the next month, Olivia started having seizures. The first time we saw them we didn’t know what they were. My husband was holding her when we were at a friend’s house for dinner and she just went limp — but for only a second, as if she had just fallen asleep. When we saw it the second time a few minutes later, we knew something was wrong. We knew we needed help, and fast, so back to the hospital we went — a place that had already begun to feel like a second home to us.

March 24, 2010

“When I was pregnant I had these visions of pushing a stroller, as a size 4, with my hair done, wearing heals with a cooing baby. Gone are those days. Today my dream is getting a shower in before noon, wearing matching socks, and a shirt that does not have medicine or vitamin stains on it. My house is littered with medicine syringes, oxygen tanks and a pediatric stander that looks like a torture device.

Over the past year I have quietly, but staunchly, held the view that having a special needs child does not make my life different than other mothers. Through books and conversations, that view has recently been shattered. I am in the midst of building a new and more accurate view and goal for my days. I read my first book about parenting a special needs child. I guess even the name “special needs” means different. I just didn’t want to admit so. All these parents say that they can’t keep their house clean either. The difference is that they admit it. Now I am ready to admit it too.

It was at this time that I began to look around and realized our house looked so different. Instead of being riddled with toys and books, it was oxygen tanks and machines that took it over. I didn’t do the same thing others moms did and Olivia wasn’t doing things other babies did. We began to slowly come to terms with our new life.

The next few months were the worst we could have imagined. The seizure medications seemed to take what was left of our daughter away from us. Even now I cannot help but cry when I think of the first Christmas pictures we had together — my child limp and motionless. It is a pain that still runs very deep. That Winter we were referred to palliative care because Olivia was declining rapidly in all aspects. We were afraid of losing her. And, with no answers and things looking so bad, it seemed inevitable. We had to postpone her heart surgery that had been scheduled because we were not sure she would make it through.

In February 2010, we found a new seizure medicine that seemed to help some. Olivia still slept seemingly all the time; however, her time awake was no longer dominated with seizure after seizure like before. Her activity level began to climb, but painfully and slowly. With Spring came hope, and with it three more hospital visits for upper respiratory infections.

Today, at only 16 months old, our daughter’s hospital admissions stand at 10. The last two of which were for her long awaited heart surgery, and then for pneumonia again.

August 15th, 2010

“We came home last Monday (from her heart surgery). This child in my house is new to us. Almost no seizures, sometimes one, at the most two a day. She is awake so much more throughout the day, has increased attention, better control and use of especially hands and arms… I don’t really feel like there is a way to explain how different Olivia is since the surgery. She is honestly herself finally come to life. I truly believe it is solely the work of God.”

Our life is still different from other families; our house is even more riddled with machines, but my daughter is still here and fighting with more energy and less seizures than ever before. We are very hopeful for her future and very thankful for the past, as horrible as it has been, because we would never be who we are without it.

To read this family’s amazing journey and keep up with the Keys visit http://catchingupwiththekeys.blogspot.com/

As mothers, we are conditioned to believe that we can do it all. Even more, we believe that it is our duty to do it all or there must be something terribly wrong with us. The dreaded feeling of guilt can creep up on us in almost any situation.

Moms feel guilt over the stains on their kids’ clothes, the fact that lunch was more convenient than nutritious, losing her cool when the stress of the day gets the best of her, when milestone wasn’t reached as early as expected, or when a child gets hurt because her back was turned for “just a split second.”

I spend my days battling with nearly every decision I make and feeling guilty about it. (Healthy, isn’t it?) Probably not.

Mommy Guilt 1: Work

Being both a Stay-at-Home Mommy and a Work-at-Home Mom sometimes leaves me feeling like I am the Little Engine that Could with a train schedule requiring me to climb not one but two hills — and both at the exact same time. I find myself rushing around the house, having broken conversations with my little girl in between phone calls and “urgent” emails. Without a 9 to 5 work schedule, I struggle with knowing how to turn off “work mode” and shift exclusively to “mommy mode.” Lately this has been weighing heavily on my conscience as I watch my little ones growing up so fast. I don’t want to miss a single story they have to share with me or a single game of Memory I am invited to play just because I have to meet a deadline that will mean very little to the greater scheme of our lives a year, or even a month, from now.

In my valiant attempt to relieve this nagging guilt and find a semi-perfect balance, I went in search of a “Mommy Only Zone,” a place where it was just about being a Mommy.

I attempted to make playtime at the park this “zone” but found myself constantly trying to squeeze in an “email check” in between the time she waved, “Mommy, I am going to go down the big slide,” to the time it took her to reach the ground. I even attempted to make shopping a “no work zone” but with the phone safely tucked into its nice, neat compartment on the stroller, it was just too easy to answer.

It was the great Oprah Winfrey who led me in the right direction with her latest campaign that turned the car into a “No Phone Zone.” No phone calls. No texts. No checking my E-mail at every stoplight.

I would make this my time with Ava (and eventually Holden when he is old enough to talk too). Time without any interruption. Time to talk about what Ava had done that day, what she wanted to be when she grew up, where she wanted to go for dinner that night. It was all Ava all the time as soon as we buckled into our “Mommy Zone.” That is until her own freewill altered my new found master plan.

“Mommy, will you hand me my headphones so can I watch a movie on the way to the mall?”

“But Ava, don’t you want to talk to Mommy? We can even play a rhyming game.”

“I really just want to watch Tinkerbell. You can call Nana if you get too bored though.”

My new “Mommy Only Zone,” after just a few short trips had turned into a “Quiet Zone” — something I soon realized I needed just as much.

There are many types of guilt trips and just as everything around us has evolved, so too has the form in which this nagging feeling takes over.

Mommy Guilt 2.0: When Technology creates a whole new category of guilt

What makes my guilt even prevalant is that I experience Mommy Guilt 2.0. With two children and added technology come new opportunities for “Mommy Guilt” to exist. There are many “guilts” that Moms that came before us never even had to consider.

Facebook. For instance, when I take a super cute picture that only depicts one of my two children, I feel a twinge of guilt setting it as my Facebook profile picture. If there is just no way around it, and I ‘just have to showcase it,’ I make sure that I replace it with a picture of my other beauty the next day. Facebook encompasses many different causes for guilt, one of which is the obscene amount of time I spend on it. Why do Facebook and email have to be so addictive?!?

My cell phone wallpaper. I am constantly snapping away photos with my phone, and it is often when my daughter is in preschool, meaning many of my pictures are of my little guy. When my cell phone wallpaper has just one of my smiling beauties on it, I feel guilt every time I answer the phone. (Did I mention how healthy this is?)

Mom guilt comes in many guises and I admit it often zaps away the precious energy that is already in short supply. In my best attempt to alleviate this, at the end of the day, I make sure to take the time to play through the events of the day and the amount of love I have for both of my children. Because, if I were to measure my “success” as a Mommy on a minute by minute basis I would go crazy. I have to accept that I have limits — all moms do. Motherhood is a journey and I don’t want to look back in 20 years and realize I wasted a lot of good times in self-loathing guilt.

By: Kim Enderle

While many children with Chloe’s degree of disability spend a large part of their school days in special classrooms, my husband and I didn’t believe that type of environment was right for Chloe. She is smart and sociable, and we wanted her to learn alongside her peers in a regular classroom. It was a good plan in theory, a great plan on paper, but now we would find out if we had made the right decision. We were nervous but hopeful.

Jon and I wheeled Chloe into her classroom, a colorful room with plenty of space for all the equipment Chloe would use during the day: a wheelchair, a standing frame, and an “activity chair” that would allow her to sit close to the ground for floor time. We met her teachers, the school nurse who would do Chloe’s tube feedings, and “Miss Inger,” the paraprofessional that would be helping Chloe throughout the day. Chloe smiled and waved at everyone, and Miss Inger moved into position behind Chloe’s chair as we headed down the hallway for a school assembly. As we walked, Chloe’s head slipped from her headrest, and Miss Inger reached out, gently moving it back into place. This simple, routine motion from Miss Inger made a huge, reassuring impact on me. Seeing this, I relaxed a little. Chloe was in good hands.

After a tour of the school, Jon and I reluctantly went home and spent the rest of the day sitting next to the phone. When the time came to pick her up, we burst into the school to find a somewhat tired, but very happy little girl.

“She had a great day,” said Miss Inger, which became a daily song to our ears. Chloe had lots of great days at school, and soon, dropping her off became a source of pleasure rather than anxiety. Chloe’s school day started with a chorus of “Hello, Chloe!” from the fifth grade crossing guards as I rolled her wheelchair over the curb cuts that the principal had installed for us. Getting into the cafeteria for the morning assembly was easy because the other children were eager to hold the doors for us. Miss Inger was always waiting for Chloe in the cafeteria, and as I left, Chloe was always smiling, looking forward to her day.

All of the adults at Asbell Elementary made sure that Chloe was cared for and was included. Before the school year began, the staff put a ramp on the playground and outfitted a bathroom to meet her needs. Her classroom teacher and aide helped Chloe take part in all the class activities; furthermore, the art and PE teachers found ways to include her in the class assignments and events. The music teacher ordered a special set of instruments that attached to her wheelchair, and when Chloe’s class went to the library, the librarian helped her find books. The physical and occupational therapists ordered special equipment like a standing frame and a tilted tray for her school work, and the speech therapist and resource teacher met with a representative from the company that makes Chloe’s communication device so that they could learn more about it.

Angie Schuldt, the school nurse, gave Chloe food and water through her feeding tube. Before long she and Miss Inger became experts at noticing when Chloe was anxious, sick, or upset. They kept in touch with me through phone calls, texts and emails, so I always knew what was going on.

The fact that everyone in her school went above and beyond was so inspiring and appreciated, but best of all, Chloe made lots of friends at school. All the children in her class learned how to communicate with her. They loved to gather around her wheelchair and ask her questions that she answered with hand movements. After school, we often walked home in a crowd of kids and once we make it home one little girl regularly knocks on our door to see if Chloe can play.

School has been a wonderful experience for Chloe, and having Chloe at Asbell has also been good for the school. Latayna Greene, the principal, said that “having Chloe be a part of our school has been a joy.” She takes pride in the “positive attitude and open hearts” that her staff has demonstrated, and in the fact that her school welcomes all its students, regardless of their background or abilities. “We are without a doubt rich in diversity,” she explained, “and that makes us the richest of all.”

Chloe’s teacher, Jill Jackson, explained that she has learned a lot from having Chloe in her class and she has enjoyed watching the other students as they learn from Chloe as well. “I truly feel blessed that I had Chloe in my classroom,” she said. “It has been an honor, a learning experience, and a joy.”

As Chloe gets older, new challenges will arise. The school work will get more difficult and social interactions will get more complex. Chloe will need a team of dedicated and caring professionals to help her keep up with the demands of public school. Luckily, that’s exactly what we have found at Asbell Elementary. Chloe has been blessed with a great school staff, great friends, and a great learning environment, all while being a blessing to others.

Even so, I’m eternally grateful and do not take the gift of childbirth lightly. On the other hand, the admittedly freakish miracle of being able to grow humans in ten months or less and years of painful visits from my proverbial Aunt Flo had doomed my relationship with my uterus to be rocky at best. So when my doctor told me that I needed a hysterectomy at the tender age of 41, she may as well have told me I’d be getting a full-time nanny. Of course at the time I hadn’t considered the prospect of major surgery, the possibility of having hormone replacement therapy at least nine years prior to menopause, or the fact that I’d have to go under general anesthesia to arrive at the other side of this whole mess. I was merely focused on the fact that all misadventures with my uterus were soon to be over and that I would be more than happy to part ways with the ol’ girl.

So I diligently finished up my lab tests and necessary blood work, scheduled my surgery, and what’s that? Oh yes, somehow figured out what to do with my kids for a whole month of their summer vacation. (As a side note, the extended members of our respective families are all veritable saints and in the event that we had a chance in hell of ever having anything of value in our will to bequeath, every one of them would be on the list of recipients.) But then I had to tell people. When my fellow hyster-sisters heard the news, they all said, “Oh, you’ll love it! You’ll feel like you’re 20 again!” And all I could think was, ”Shoot, I was really hoping that I’d feel more like I was 10 because that was before my excruciatingly painful monthly bill reared its ugly mug, but I’ll still take it.” What I hadn’t anticipated was getting the signature head tilt/half wince with an “Oooh, I’m so sorry,” from the people who had NOT had a hysterectomy- men included. It was only then that I realized the general populace associated my uterus with my womanhood. Of course, being the resident smart aleck I’d usually respond with a, “Oh don’t worry, it’s not as if I’ll never be able to wear a dress or shop again…” (insert awkward laughter). But then I’d think to myself, “Does it?” After that, every time I said “hysterectomy” I would reflexively whisper it like I was saying “sex” or “vagina.” I was a living paradox: ecstatic to be ridding my life of the horrible pain I’d been enduring for decades and at the same time feeling like I should be wearing a scarlet H.

Now it’s the day before my surgery and I’m freaking out about going under general anesthesia even though my doctor is a literal rock star in the field of laparoscopic hysterectomy, the kids are safely at my in-laws without a care in the world and a life without Eve’s Curse is one I’d like to lead. On this day, I feel compelled to put my legal affairs in order with a mad dash to the notary and have a teary eyed talk with my husband, insisting that he find love again and build a life for he and the kids without me if I didn’t make it. And while I’m certain I was sincere at the time, you can’t imagine my relief when I saw my surgeon walking toward me in the recovery room. There were only two things on my mind: 1. “I’m ALLLLIIIIVE!!!” and 2. Thank God some other broad won’t be raising my kids!”

Despite the fact that the OR nurse used me as a human voodoo doll during her utterly failed attempts to insert my IV during pre-op (I could only wonder why she hated me so much despite the fact that we’d only just met), and that I was forced to decline the handiwork of a handsome respiratory therapist who mistakenly had me queued up for a post-operative inhalation tube, I emerged from the experience generally without incident and best of all without pain. I even scored a bonus appendectomy as my free gift with purchase. More good news: I get to keep my ovaries which means I also get to keep my hormones, to which I’d suddenly become dreadfully attached when faced with the prospect of an involuntary break-up.

I’m not sure that I have more energy – i.e. feel like I’m 20–but maybe the gals who did feel like that afterward didn’t have kids under the age of seven. But what I know for sure? Laparoscopic hysterectomy must be the discovery of the century. My recovery was quick, I was in and out of the hospital in a day and a half and I have only four tiny scars exactly one centimeter in length to show for it. I have loads more storage where my tampons and those unwieldy pads with wings used to be and twelve weeks a year of my life back. I think I will use them to find a medically sound reason for a boob lift and tummy tuck. Stay tuned.

Meet Gaines Davis — my baby boy. He was born on March 29, 2010, a model of perfection. Then, during a routine visit to the pediatrician when Gaines was just over a month old, the doctor heard a murmur. While many little ones have harmless murmurs and all babies are born with holes in their heart, we were sent for an echo (an ultrasound of the heart) just to be safe.

My calm, confident spirit was soon given a run for its money when less than an hour after his echo we received a call from Arkansas Children’s Hospital informing us that we needed to get there as soon as possible — Gaines had a congenital heart defect. We were terrified. With our heads spinning, we packed up everything we could think to grab and headed to Little Rock.

Gaines had Incomplete Atrioventricular Canal Defect with Cleft Mitral Valve and Primum Atrial Spetal Decfect and Coarctation of the Aorta. A lot of big medical terms that basically meant he had two holes in his heart, only one valve instead of two and a narrowing of the aorta. His heart was having to work way too hard to pump the blood to his body. With the valves being so abnormal, the blood was actually going backwards.

He would require surgery, but the doctors figured Gaines could wait until he was around 6 months old. With a list of prescriptions we were sent home to wait. During a cat scan before his first surgery, they discovered that one of the holes had closed up, but the right side of his heart was growing larger then the left.

On June 9, 2010, Gaines underwent a surgery that lasted from 7:30 am to 4:30 pm. The doctors patched the hole with animal muscle, cut out the small part of the aorta and sewed it together. When they tried to repair the valve, they found that it was too abnormal and couldn’t fix it completely. While it still leaks moderately to severely, if you didn’t see his scar you would never know he had heart problems.

This year Gaines was selected to be an American Heart Walk Survivor Ambassador. Still just a baby, he has made it through so much, and as his Mommy I could not be more proud of him. The Heart Walk for the American Heart Association will take place September 18th at the Bob Henry Park in Siloam Springs. If you are interested in forming a team to walk or even just donating, go to the website www.heartwalk.kintera.org/siloamspringsar. Every little bit helps!!!

Tuesday: I was notified that my son was suspended from the bus for refusing to stay seated and his inability to keep his hands to himself.

Wednesday: My son’s teacher sent me an email. “At 11:46am Dylan had still not completed his morning work. He was in trouble for washing his hands in the toilet. He said he was going to pee in the sink but then said he was just joking about that. He also stuck 2 erasers up his nose. Luckily we got them out.”

Thursday: I received an email from my son’s teacher letting me know he was having a great day, participating in all the classroom activities and completed all his work on time.

Friday: My son did not write any words down on his paper during the spelling test for the third time this quarter and got a zero. His spelling grades now look like this; A, A, A, A, F, A, F, F.

Saturday: My son decided he wanted to walk to a friends house a half mile away, so he left our yard without permission carrying a shovel in one hand and a plant in the other while he walked shirtless down the road.

Sunday: During the children’s church lesson when discussing the idea of forgetting to do things like praying the minister asked if the kids ever forget to brush their teeth, my son raised his hand and said, “I don’t forget, I just lie.”

Parenting an ADHD (attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder) child is challenging — to put it mildly. It is estimated that 3-7% of school aged children have ADHD. Many of these children get labeled as problem children while they fall behind in school. Children with ADHD avoid class work, have problems staying on task, and frequently become rowdy. It takes an understanding, creative parent and teacher to stay on top of their behaviors so that their children don’t fall behind. One of the misconceptions for ADHD children are that they aren’t smart. In reality, many ADHD children will perform in the top of their class if they simply finish their work.

Many children with ADHD will need medication to function successfully in school. Parents are often judged for making a choice to medicate their child. In the same breath they are often ridiculed for their parenting skills when their children become unruly in public. Some of the greatest criticisms come from family members. Since family is the staple support team this often leaves parents to feel as though there is no one to turn to for emotional support.

I have the most amazing girlfriends, and they are an essential part of my life; however, without them ‘having been there, done that’ (in regards to having a child with ADHD) I still often find myself feeling alone. I often felt as though no one could understand what my husband and I were going through daily with our ADHD son. This inspired me to start a support group for parents going through similar situations. I wanted to create a space for women to get together once a month to share our struggles, share resources for professional help, and to receive and offer advice. We had our first meeting in March of this year and have met each month since to do just that. We want to spread the word to grow our support network and welcome anyone who feels they could benefit from attending. We would also love to hear from parents with older children who can share their successes as well.

The ADHD Support Group for parents raising an ADHD child meets the first Wednesday of each month in the meeting room at Panera Bread Co. in Bentonville, from 5:30 p.m. until 6:30 p.m.

For more information on the ADHD Support Group you may contact Linda Richards at
www.girlfriendsguidetoadhdchild.blogspot.com
or linda.s.richards@gmail.com.

Diagnosing Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD or ADD) should be done by a pediatrician, a child psychologist or child psychiatrist. To diagnose ADHD the doctor will take into consideration an assessment completed by the parents, an assessment completed by the child’s teacher, and observing the child’s behavior. The doctor may want to complete additional assessments to rule out other conditions as well.

Children with ADHD now qualify for special consideration in school under the Individuals with Disabilities in Education Act (IDEA) and Section 504 of the Federal Rehabilitation Act, two federal laws put in place to protect students with disabilities that affect their ability to learn. A student with ADHD will qualify for free special services under these laws. Once a diagnosis is made for ADHD the child qualifies for either an IEP (individualized educational plan) or Section 504 which covers students with ADHD without the component of special-ed services. You can discuss special considerations for your ADHD child with your child’s teacher.

Article by: Linda Richards

“You’ll change your tune,” a friend told me. “What if he misses the bus?” she questioned. I rolled my eyes.
Cut to Christmas and my son tearing open a phone while his little sister calculates the number of months she has to wait for hers under the “big-brother-broke-them-in” equation. I’m still not convinced he needs a phone, but he wanted one and it was Christmas. Maybe I’m just jealous. Having a personal phone—not to mention a modest texting allowance—in the 6th grade? We never had it so good.

Back in the olden days we didn’t even have cordless phones. They were all attached to a wall, either in your home or in public. You carried a quarter for a payphone and everyone could see you cry when your mom forgot to pick you up from soccer practice. When you got sick at school you had to use the office phone with its rotary dial and square buttons across the bottom. If you missed the bus you didn’t call anyone; you walked home. To have a private conversation you stretched the phone cord down that hall, pinching it in your bedroom door, then prayed your mom wouldn’t detach it from the wall while you were asking your BFF if she wanted to “go with” the new boy (who was named Curt or Tyler or Rob). Those deliriously fortunate enough to have a phone in their rooms knew their parents were listening in from the kitchen anyway.
….

To read the rest of this post go to www.afterthebubbly.com

Lela Davidson’s award winning essays appear in magazines throughout the country. She is the Editor of ParentingSquad.com and the parenting columnist on HubPages.com. Read more at AfterTheBubbly.com.

Chillax and Hang: Pesto CafEé
In addition to its relaxed, cozy, eclectic atmosphere and live music on weekends, this Fayetteville classic serves up awesome pasta. “Perfect for splitting Lady and the Tramp style,” says Ragan Hensley who has been going to Pesto Café since she and her husband were dating. Kristin Rathmell has a similar story. Pesto Café was one of the first places she and her husband dated as well. “The first time he took me there I was like, ‘are you crazy’? This place is a true hole in the wall,” she says. But now she calls this hot spot “truly a little gem.”

Escape with the Arts: Walton Arts Center
The Walton Arts Center can really make you feel like you’re on a date because every time you go it’s an event. Sometimes you just need that escape. Tina Winham loves it. “Fun people, fun shows, and a great atmosphere—a little Broadway in NWA.” Walton Arts Center does a fantastic job of bringing in acts that appeal to all different tastes. And to up the date night value you can spend a little time in the garden before or after the show.
Spark Some Conversation: Dickson Street Book Shop
Rhonda Franz and her husband Matt love to eat out, but they usually opt for something inexpensive so they can spend their money on books. “We almost always find some gems, whether for ourselves or as gifts for others,” Franz says. On the way home (about a 30 minute drive) they talk about the books they found. “It’s great conversation that has nothing to do with kids or household responsibilities. I think that’s the best part of the date night.”

Go Upscale: Theo’s
This upscale dinner spot comes complete with valet parking, which Josh Tritt says is handy when trying to romance his wife, Vanessa. “When your date has on six inch heels, walking up Dickson Street isn’t the most comfortable thing.” The food menu is amazing, and the bar serves specialty drinks. Tritt says these are great for setting the mood for the rest of the evening. “We all know that a lady feels sexier when she is drinking a nice martini in a classy place.” Other cool things about Theo’s include an open view to the kitchen and a relaxing patio. Check it out.

Lela Davidson’s award winning essays appear in magazines throughout the country. She is the Editor of ParentingSquad.com and the parenting columnist on HubPages.com. Read more at AfterTheBubbly.com.

Q: My “monthly” cycle is so inconsistent – ranging in length from 35 to 72 days. What is going on? It is driving me crazy!

The “normal” ovulatory cycle is 28 days long, beginning with the first day of your period and ending with the first day of your next period. Ovulation occurs in the middle, around day 14. After ovulation there is a rise in progesterone, and if implantation of a fertilized egg is not achieved, then the progesterone level falls dramatically. This is the trigger that sets off the start of the next period and ovulatory cycle. This 28 day cycle may vary a few days shorter or longer in some women.

The problems some women experience include commonly recurrent ovarian cysts or irregular periods. These arise from the delay or incomplete development of an egg for ovulation. This development depends on many things e.g. quality of the eggs and the delicate interaction of many hormones and chemical signals. There are male and female type hormones in all women. There are signals from the ovaries, the adrenal glands, adipose tissue (fat cells), the brain, and a few others. The metabolic rate is important also. I tell my patients to think about all these signals occurring inside a “Metabolic Black Box” with many things contributing and being affected at the same time: ovulation, thyroid function, her weight/diet/exercise regimen, her body’s ability to utilize glucose properly.

When these signals are bad, it results in a vicious cycle making all the others worse. The medical term for this is Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), manifesting as: ovarian cysts, irregular and/or very heavy periods, sometimes no periods at all, trouble getting pregnant, difficulty with losing weight, acne or male pattern hair growth due to higher levels of the male type hormones, and an increased risk for uterine cancer, etc.
To stop this vicious cycle, I encourage my patients to correct as many of the bad signals as we can: confirm normal thyroid function, prolactin and insulin levels, improve glucose metabolism and weight loss with a proper diet, exercise regimen and sometimes medication.
Eventually that cycle begins to turn the right way leading to ovulation, normal periods, fewer painful ovarian cysts, and getting pregnant if desired. There are many levels of severity of PCOS. Your doctor can help determine YOUR level and the best treatment options.

Q: I had a baby in March. What can I do to reduce the look of my stretch marks?

Stretch marks are a very common side effect of pregnancy. The severity depends mostly on genetics, but the amount of weight gain also contributes. Treatment is very difficult, but there are a few options. There are many creams and lotions on the market, but unfortunately most of them do not work. According to Dr. William Groff, a renowned dermatologist in San Diego, CA, some improvement can be achieved with Retin-A cream or TNS Recovery Complex by SkinMedica. The best results are obtained with laser therapy. A common approach is the VBEAM Perfecta laser, which helps decrease red, pink , or purple discoloration of stretch marks. The Fraxel Restore or Fraxel Repair lasers can be used to promote collagen remodeling and blending of the stretch mark with the surrounding skin. Most importantly, Dr Groff recommends starting treatment as early as possible because the younger the stretch marks are, the better they will respond to treatment.