Like a little kid at Christmas...

That's exactly how I feel right now. Giddy, unable to sleep, restless, but in a good way.

In just over 24 hours, we depart for the Friends for Life Conference in Orlando, Florida. We will be spending 7 days with over 3000 people from across the world who know what it means to deal with diabetes on a daily basis....with other parents who know what it's like to fret over BG numbers, puzzle over carb counts, and deal with needles, meters, and insulin day in and day out. We will be attending conference sessions taught by top medical researchers, diabetes experts, therapists, and others with extensive knowledge and experience. We will get to watch Richard O. play with many other children who are facing the same challenges as he is.

On top of this, we are also taking our first Disney vacation as a family. The conference is held at the Coronado Springs Resort, and we will be staying on-site. I have fond memories of my own family vacations to Disney, as well as numerous school trips there with my high school's music groups. It will be hot, it will be crowded, but I still think that we are in for a good time.

I can't wait to post about our experiences. Watch the blog for updates and pictures soon!

Recently heard around the Ballantyne home...

Richard O.: "Mommy, tell me a story about....farts!"

Me: "Farts?"

Richard O.: "Yeah, farts!"

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Hubby: (pointing to a picture of Michael Jackson on the cover of a magazine) "Richard, is that person a boy or a girl?"

Richard O: "Hmmmm....a.......girl!"

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Me: "Time for lunch, Richard! Let's go inside and have some yummy tomato soup, and canteloupe...."

Richard O.: ".....aaaaaand candy?"

Making the cut

At the end of May, a girlfriend of mine here in Ithaca casually sent me a link on Facebook and said, "I think you should do this." It was a link to Deseret Book's website, specifically a page that announced open call auditions for singing the national anthem at Dodger Stadium. As I looked at the requirements, something in me sparked and said, "Yes, you should do this!"

Somehow, with just 2 weeks before the deadline, I managed to get the application filled out (twice -- Richard O. destroyed the first application I printed), new headshots taken & printed, a recommendation written for me, and two songs recorded with borrowed equipment and burned onto a CD. And all of this transpired in the midst of acting as my son's full-time pancreas, repainting our basement apartment, planning our family's upcoming vacation, getting my hair cut, running about a thousand errands, and helping out a few friends. I dashed off to the post office on a Thursday, popped the package in the mail, and hoped it would arrive by the Monday deadline.

Driving home from the post office, I realized that I was proud of myself just for making the effort to put everything together and get it sent out. I haven't auditioned for anything since 2006, when I landed the role of Phoebe in Yeomen of the Guard (and I found out I was pregnant with Richard just weeks into that production). After all that has transpired in the past two and a half years, just putting myself out there felt like a major achievement. And in a way, it really is a major achievement -- it means I finally feel okay enough with all of Richard O's challenges to try and do something for myself.

Thus, when my name popped up on Deseret Book's website yesterday as one of 250 people to make the first round of cuts, it felt like a bonus. Don't get me wrong, I've been on pins and needles about the whole thing since that audition packet left my hands -- but after nearly three years of doing very little with my musical talents, it was a welcome recognition that I still have a gift; that it hasn't vanished while I have had to attend to other important concerns in my life.

If I've qualified for the semifinals, I'll get a letter in the mail sometime soon -- I'm guessing in the next week or so. Semifinalists have to travel to either Salt Lake City or Los Angeles to sing in front of a panel of judges in July. No details have been given about the dates or times of these in-person auditions thus far, and our July is especially busy this year -- we're going on our first big family vacation to Disney and the Children With Diabetes Friends for Life conference, and then several of Richard's siblings and their families will be visiting us in Ithaca later in the month. Even if I make it to the next round, I'm not sure if circumstances will permit me to go -- but I will worry about that if and when the letter comes. If it's meant to be, I'll find a way to get there.

Richard-isms

Confession: I have been a lazy, lazy blogger. However, I have been wonderfully busy and have been feeling great! More on what I've been up to in another post....

Richard O. has said so many funny things since my last post, and I've been kicking myself for weeks for not writing them down. So, here we go:

After Richard knocked over a framed picture of the Savior in our home: "Oh no! I breaked Jesus!"

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To my mother, after struggling over sharing his toys with a friend: "I'm having a hard day."

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After spotting some deer in the yard: "Hello, Mr. Deer! I want to ride on you!"

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In my husband's arms, pointing to my razor while I'm in the shower: "That's sharp. Don't touch."

Hubby: "Yes, that's Mommy's razor. She uses it to cut the hairs off of her legs."

Richard O.: "Oh, I think that's a good idea!"

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At Home Depot, walking by a big pallet of compost and cow manure: "Mommy, I smell cows! Where are they?"

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To me, while I was singing in the car: "Mommy! Stop singing! You're TOO LOUD!"

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To my mother, while shining a Mag-lite in her ear: "There you go. Your ear feels all better now. Have a nice day! I will."

Immediately afterward, answering his toy phone: "Doctor Richard."

The Ballad of Daddy Wormy and Other Tales from the Backyard...

Richard O. has been chock-full of quotable, laughable, lovable moments in the past week. I can hardly keep up with all of them. Here's a smattering:

The Ballad of Daddy Wormy

After 2 years of living in this house and being annoyed at the state of the lawn and landscaping, I've embarked on the first of a series of home improvement projects: repairing the lawn. We have a lot of moss in the lawn, as well as some nasty patches of thatch (where the grass has browned out and pulls up in matted clumps, almost like a rug). Thus, after having made the trip to Agway to talk to the nice people there and pick up necessary supplies, I got down to some serious digging in the yard last Saturday, and managed to tear up and replant the lawn in our side yard. Richard O., my faithful assistant, was out in the yard with me.

It was a damp, cool morning when we got underway, and as the ground was quite wet, I came across quite a few earthworms while digging. I pulled the first one out, and handed him to Richard O., who promptly named him Daddy Wormy and said to him, "Hi, Daddy Wormy! Let's go for a walk." He plopped Daddy Wormy into my green garden cart and took him on a scenic tour of the yard, pointing out the yellow dandelions, my car, and his slide as points of interest. Daddy Wormy even got to go down the slide a few times, as I recall.

After about 45 minutes, it was time to go inside for a blood sugar check and a snack. When I gently suggested that Daddy Wormy should stay outside to eat some dirt, the reply was: "No, Mama, Daddy Wormy wants to come inside and eat waffles." Ooooooookay.

Daddy Wormy had a place of honor on our dining room table -- he was curled up and writhing inside a small ceramic dish next to Richard O's plate while he hoovered down half of a Belgian Waffle, half a cup of canteloupe, and a few ounces of milk (working in the yard is hungry work for a two-year old, I guess!). Afterward, as I cleared the table, Richard O. announced that he was giving Daddy Wormy kisses (um, great?) and that they were going to build tall towers with Legos.

Tickled by the morning's events, I called my parents to tell them about the cuteness of their grandson. I was relating the incident in detail to their voice mail, when out of the corner of my eye I spotted Richard O. about to place a Lego on top of Daddy Wormy. According to my parents, the end of the message sounded something like this: "...and Richard told me that he wanted to play Legos with the worm -- isn't that cute? -- Richard, NO!!!! DON'T SQUISH HIM!!!!" Apparently the machine cut me off just as I finished screaming. Mom & Dad tell me it sounded hilarious.

Suffice to say, after being nearly crushed beneath a Duplo Lego, Daddy Wormy was not wriggling quite so vigorously anymore. Richard O. noted that Daddy Wormy was taking a nap, and all 3 of us went back outside.

Five minutes later, I hear, "Oh, hi, Baby Wormy!" and the cycle began anew....

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Geprise!

Mom came up to Ithaca to help out with Richard last week, and I got a chance to dash off to run some errands -- *gasp* -- all by myself, without a toddler in tow. I lingered in the library. I waded through Wegmans at a langorous, pre-child pace. And all this without having to do a BG check, or rummage through my purse for a Kleenex for a runny nose, or chase a certain little someone between the bookshelves, or keep little hands from grabbing toothpaste or chocolate chips or cheese off of the shelves in the store. Strangely delightful and satisfying.

Anyhow, upon returning home, I was pleased to notice some lovely new pansies and a small silvery green perennial planted in the (sadly naked-looking) flower beds next to the front door. I opened the door and immediately, Richard O. came running and yelled, "Geprise!" (Surprise!) then proceeded to tell me all about how he and Gamma (Grandma) dug in the dirt, and put the flowers in the hole, and watered the flowers, and how they would grow bigger, and bigger, and bigger...

I loved the flowers, but I loved his enthusiastic "Geprise!" even more. He really wanted to surprise his mommy with something pretty. Every time we go outside, he points proudly to the flowers and reminds me, "Richard planted the flowers." Thanks to Grandma for making it happen. What a lovely Mother's Day surprise.