Physical Therapy...Officially has started...

Well, today was Brayden's first physical therapy appt...We had been in for an evaluation/consult the week before...but now the FUN starts...he is suppose to have therapy for 1 hour per week...but he only wanted to cooperate for 30 minutes today...His therapist, Sandy sure worked him and he did SO GOOD! She started out therapy by stimulating and stretching his little muscles...HE loved this... She worked on sitting up by himself, strengthening his tummy muscles...he is such a good roller if he rolls to the left, he continues to roll ONLY to the LEFT though...so she helped show me how to help him learn to roll to the RIGHT. He loved using the BIG exercise ball. He did his baby crunches... We had lots of fun and she is so sweet with him...singing songs, explaining everything she is doing in soft tones...yet she kept his attention the full time. She was very impressed with him...she would go through the motions one time on practicing something and she wouldn't even have to que him the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th time...he automatically picked it up...I have a feeling once he is crawling/walking I am going to be in trouble.



Doing some crunches...




He loved doing this exercise...


Next week, we are going to try just 30 minutes because he was not having it after 30 minutes...overly stimulated, tired, etc...we'll see how he does and move it back up to an hour as soon as he is ready.

I stumbled across another post on a blog and THANKS Cathy for letting me share the following story...I thought it was such a sweet story and much needed to think about as we celebrate today and Christmas Day... Tis the REASON FOR THE SEASON....MERRY CHRISTMAS to you all and I will post after Christmas...




SIMPLE WHITE ENVELOPE
It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas --oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -- the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma -- the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else. Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike.The inspiration came in an unusual way.

Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys intheir spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling newwrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado,a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, 'I wish just one of them could have won,' he said. 'They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.' Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years.

For each Christmas, I followed the tradition --one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost itsallure.

The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us.May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always.