HERD...

Who's afraid of the big bad cookie.....

2012-01-28T07:00:00.163-05:00

~"Any mother could perform the jobs of several air traffic controllers with ease." ~Lisa Alther

I was considering returning to the work force last September when the herd started back in school. The problem was that I didn't know what I wanted to do. You see, I haven't been gainfully employed in over thirteen years. And even then-the work that I had was "interesting". In other words-not your typical kind of job.(unless you count dressing as a giant costumed character-or posing for artists as typical) Back then, my father liked to say to me (a lot) "Kid" (he called me kid because me being the youngest of six-he often forgot my name...although, he sometimes also called me "Pinky", which was the name of one of our cats that he didn't forget...hhmmmm...)..Anyway, he'd look at me and say-"Kid-you just don't have any skills." Now in my humble opinion-this simply was not true! I had/have skills-wonderful skills-mad skills! It's just that..well, they just aren't the kind of skills that are appreciated by most employers. Truth is-I am not very good at regular jobs. I am awful at answering phones, math, sitting still, computers-and forget any type of office machine! I once had a job that required me to make photocopies. For some reason-I could never get the machine to work correctly. I can't tell you(or maybe I'm just embarrassed to) how many nights that I snuck out of work (didn't want to get fired) with hundreds of sheets of misprinted papers stuffed in my back pockets. So many that I literally looked like a Kardashian-at least from behind..

No, give me an irregular job any day-and I will floor you with my skills. Sadly, irregular jobs seem to be few and far between. Unless of course you count motherhood. Which truly is an odd job-only you don't get paid. Oh I know..there are many who would say "But you are paid in love!!" First of all...yuck, and second- Yup-I am..absolutely..sometimes even over paid..but you know, it would be nice to maybe occasionally get some cash or even a gift card for a job well done. Not that I'm complaining-really, I'm not. I guess I'm just tired of" bringing home the bacon"-literally.

Back in September, I thought that I would have lots of free time. The herd are all (finally) full time students-I should have hours and hours of "spare" time. Right?..*sigh* wrong. They are getting older now-and it is time to start gently ~~pushing~~ nudging them into the world. This year, three of them are involved in extracurricular activities. The girls are in scouts, Sam is playing on the basketball team...and Oscar? Well, I haven't quite found a fit for him YET. Although, I did try to start a social group for parents of special needs kids. Something where we could get our kids together and do things. But the story behind that not happening is post for another day.

These extra activities haven't really been too stressful. It has just been a matter of getting the right kids to the right places at the right time. They mostly like ~~being forced out of~~ leaving the house-or rather the computer and t.v...and it has been fun for them-me too. (at least after the initial game of" where are your shoes?!" or jackets, gloves, socks, shorts...and one time-clothes) But, things have taken a dark turn-and it has come in the form of cookies. Yes, it is THAT time of year-the time when you are approached by young girls looking hopeful while clutching crumpled order forms to their chests-followed closely by steely eyed parents just daring you to say "no thanks." Yup-it's Girls scout cookie time-and I am in so much trouble.

Both of my girls are selling cookies. Both of my girls need to sell one hundred boxes in order to earn a badge. Both of girls are thrilled at the idea of selling cookies-it is the actual doing that stumps them. Even though we have been given valuable tips on how to sell them...You know, the usual- "Stay safe" "don't go into houses" or my personal favorite "have your parents sell them at work!" (Kind of hard when you are a stay at home mother. I mean I'm sure I could interest my dogs in them-but they don't have any money...that I know of.) All of these "tips" and "advice" really translate to "Get your parents to come with you/or/do all the work."... in the case of my girls-"Get your mother to sell them." *sigh* Have I mentioned that I am also horrible at sales?

Me "Hey-how are you?"

Other Parent-"Great. How are the kids?"

Me-"They are really doing well this year. The girls are in scouts."

Other parent-"That's great! How do they like it."

Me-"So far so good. You know they are selling cookies."

Other parent-(looking everywhere but at me) Oh....yeah..um..well..."

I know that this is when I should go in for the hard sell..that this is the time to remind them that I have bought every cookie, nut, magazine that their child has ever sold. That the money from these sales really does go to good causes..that I am desperate....but instead..

Me-"Hey it was good seeing you.."

I'll say it again- I stink at sales. I am not comfortable asking people to buy things-even if it is for a good cause. It just makes me anxious-as does observing people looking away quickly when they see me coming. Which leaves me wondering how are my girls (who am I kidding-how am I) going to ~~get rid of~~ sell seven hundred dollars worth of cookies? I have really been working on this-and have finally come to this conclusion. Like it or not-Omar is going to be selling a lot of cookies at work tomorrow. Now THAT is what I call "problem solving." No skills-indeed! Seems that motherhood has made me a whiz at delegating. I just have to figure out how to make this work on a resume...

Visions from egg nog dance through my head...

2011-12-24T11:00:00.000-05:00

~"In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukka' and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy Hanukka!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!'~Dave Barry

Last Christmas, as lay sprawled among the wreckage of wrapping paper and boxes I thought to myself -"Next year will be so much easier"... All of the kids will be in school full time..I will be able to leisurely shop, wrap and bake while fully(and fashionably) dressed with combed hair in a sparkly clean house... I will send Christmas cards and packages- EARLY!..In the evenings, I will greet my husband at the door with a cocktail and a "Darling-how was your day?" and as I sashayed into the kitchen to check on the roast.. my angelic children (washed and in clean pajamas) would gleefully announce(for some reason in British accents) "Oh Mummy..Father's come home!" Later on, after the children were tucked into their beds...we would sit in front of the fire sipping eggnog...just enjoying each others company.

I have absolutely no idea where this fantasy came from. I blame the egg nog. I mean, I don't even have a fireplace! I certainly don't know how to sashay..and at the end of the day-I'm just happy that Omar is home and I have another adult to talk to. I have been alone-with children..for hours-..so if anyone is going to get a cocktail it will be me. Especially after getting the kids (well, really just the girls) to put on their pajamas-something which can take mediation skills and intense negotiation. (Although, it is very good training if I should ever find myself in a hostage crisis) So, when the kids finally do get to bed-we both kind of collapse on the couch together..

No, holidays at my house are chaotic events. ALWAYS. That is just the nature of things. Although, I did start the month off with a clean house. There is something to be said for that. I don't know "what" exactly ...but something. Unfortunately, by the third of the month, it was a mess...and has remained that way ever since. I have tried to keep up...you know-moving piles of things from one place to another...but the next day more stuff seems to magically appear to take its place..until I find myself cramming things in drawers and closets..that I swear I am going to clean out "once the holiday is over". But I never do. No-I just keep cramming more stuff in them. Some of my cabinets are packed so precariously (I wouldn't be surprised if there were a fifth child stuffed somewhere in there)-that I have developed actual techniques of how to open and get them to shut again-without (hardly) anything falling on my head. But I digress...

The month of December started with a clean house...but then Zoe got sick...and then Lily...and then Oscar..and Sam..and Oscar again.( Thankfully, they are all hale and hearty now-just in time for school break.) Having sick kids at home meant I could not Christmas shop very easily. Oh-I got it done..but it was very rushed. Thankfully, I had their Christmas lists to guide me. Lists that they start writing in June.(Only because there are times when I need a moment to think-and this can occupy them for a whole five minutes). The girls wanted every Littlest Pet Shop...Oscar-every Angry Bird..and Sam...well, his list was 32 very detailed items long...which, he informed me was only half of what he wanted. Don't get me wrong-my kids aren't demanding..nor are they spoiled. This is the one time of year that we go all out with gifts. They do appreciate it...although they think that Santa is their benefactor (except for Sam) . Which can make for some interesting conversations.."Mama, I'm asking for a new Nintendo 3D for Christmas." "Well..remember, you don't get everything on your list...and those are kind of expensive." "Well..I think I'm going to get one." "I wouldn't count on it..they are expensive." "So. It is from Santa..he just has to make one..it doesn't cost anything." *sigh* Kind of hard to argue a fantasy that you have thoroughly encouraged. "Well..we will just have to wait and see.."

Besides shopping, we have had many extracurricular activities. I have had meetings and appointments and my girls have had scouting. This year, both of them decided to join Girl Scouts. This month, besides their regular girl scout meetings...there was the Christmas party( and the singing to the seniors. Maybe it is just me...alright, I KNOW it is just me-but, when I think about being elderly..the last thing I would want is 20 or more young girls singing loudly at me. VERY loudly about red nosed reindeer..and Santa..or the weather. To me, it feels almost like..well, punishment. As if we are saying "we had no place else to sing and you can't run away- ha ha!" I must say, the people did seem to enjoy it...although, I suspect many of them took out their hearing aids beforehand.

We also did quite a lot of baking. I thought it would be a good way to teach measurements and how to follow a recipe. I wound up doing the majority of it as my kids ran screeching through the house pumped full of sugar.( Sometimes I think that they would make a wonderful alternative fuel source. Feed them lots of sugar and then put them on a treadmill-which would be connected to a generator. Voila! The worlds energy problems would be solved.) They did enjoy decorating the cookies-between bouts of sugar induced hysteria. I was left with all the broken ones. I think I did a nice job.

So here it is..Christmas Eve. The tree is up, the presents are wrapped..the house is a mess (I'll clean it after the holidays) and my children are ~~insane~~ excited. It certainly didn't happen the way I fantasized it last year. But that's o.k. because there is always next year-and besides, I have plenty of egg nog.

To everyone-no matter what you may celebrate-I wish you all happiness and peace. "May the road rise to meet you-and may the wind always be at your back." (from The Irish Prayer)

Thankful...for the predictable..and the not so...

2011-12-03T07:00:00.107-05:00

~" You say, 'If I had a little more, I should be very satisfied.' You make a mistake. If you are not content with what you have, you would not be satisfied if it were doubled."~

Charles Haddon Spurgeon

Sometimes it's hard to be thankful...well, not so much hard.(to me)-as it is to forget to be. I know that in my life, I can get so caught up in the "what's next"..that I forget to look at the "what's now". There are days..weeks..when all my time is spent planning for the next IEP, the next hurdle to get over ...the next "thing" that needs to be done..that I rarely take the time to stop and see where I am standing. That is why I like Thanksgiving. Spending a whole day with (most of ) the people who are important to me. It is also the only day of the year that we eat as a family. What with food issues and Omar's work hours..we rarely sit down together-much less share a meal.

With the herd-I'm a short order cook. Texture, taste, smell...all those things effect how the herd eats. Sam likes some chicken, burgers, mac and cheese and pizza...Oscar likes pizza..pizza bagels..tomato soup..and pizza...Lily-my adventurous girl..will try anything (even the heart and liver Omar cooks from the turkey on Thanksgiving...ick!!!!!!) and Zoe..she likes Pizza and chocolate-not in that order. They do get fruit and vegetables(well, carrots) and plenty of yogurt. They are all growing and healthy-so I'm not going to complain. Why mess with something if I don't need to? That doesn't mean I don't...suggest that they might like to try something different..
"Hey Oscar...on Thanksgiving...do you think that you might like to try some turkey and potato's?"
"O.K. sure"
"Great...what about you Sam?"
"Of course I will."
"Wonderful...Lil.I KNOW you'll enjoy our feast..."
"I can't wait!"
"What about you Zo?"
"No. I don't like it."
"Well alright then...everyone except Zoe is going to try Thanksgiving dinner this year-I'll make sure there is pizza for you Zo.."
"Pizza!...I want pizza."
"But Oscar-you said you would try turkey this year..."
"O.k."
So..I left it at that...even though I knew that it was more than likely that three of them would wind up opting for pizza..which really is fine by me. You see, I HAVE to ask if they will try turkey-it's kind of like a holiday tradition in our house- just like the "annual making of difficult costumes" has become for Halloween ...or the "I'm going to call Santa if you don't stop doing that" threat at Christmas. It is just how we do things. Although sometimes I wonder if I'll be asking the same question when I'm eighty....I'm hoping that by then they are cooking for me. Or at least ordering out for pizza..I definitely hope I won't be using the Santa threat...

On Thanksgiving, we all sat down at the table-that held a beautiful meal cooked by Omar...plus the obligatory pizza. Sam did manage to take a few microscopic bites "It is really good-but I'm more of a pizza kind of guy" Oscar and Zoe didn't even try to pretend..and Lily had a bit of everything. As I do every year-I went around the table asking everyone what they were thankful for...and as they do every year..I was told.."I am thankful for you and Papa...pizza....toys...Christmas coming..Mario..-predictable but nice. Later on, Sam came to me and asked "What are you thankful for Mama?"..now, you have to understand..at this point it had been a long couple of days. The holiday had started with Oscar coming home sobbing(carrying a crushed box) on Tuesday because he had dropped the pie he had made us- on the bus...so of course I grabbed a fork and started to eat his smashed pie telling him it was perfect and delicious while ignoring the boot print on it and smiling as I convinced myself that the crunchy parts were just bits of under cooked apple...and then the next day it snowed and school was cancelled....it was gloomy and cold out...and the herd had been stuck inside..and they(the girls) had a bit of "cabin fever"... I had just broken up the zillionth fight between my ~~banshee's~~ ~~screaming mimi's~~ daughters.....*sigh* of course it had to do with "littlest Pet Shop" toys...so maybe that's why I answered the way that I did........"What am I thankful for?.." "yeah"..."Well, I'm thankful for our family..and coffee..and......that there aren't any werewolves living by us." (Really-I am..with all this "Twilight" movie obsessiveness going on-you'd think that werewolves would be great-hello? They are predators! They EAT PEOPLE!-so I am glad that they aren't around..besides I already have three dogs..and could you just imagine how much a werewolf sheds?) I really have no idea of WHY I said that..it...but the minute it came out of my mouth-I regretted it. I was(selfishly) afraid it would lead to a discussion about Big Foot...something that Sam is very interested in discussing...in great DETAIL...with charts, graphs, eye witness testimony and video clips...along with the "Loch Ness Monster" and the "Chupacabra"...But-he didn't take the bait. Instead, he looked at me and said "We have a weird family"..."Ummm..I guess?..does that upset you?" "No-I like it." "Me too bud..it certainly keeps life interesting huh?" "yeah..it really does"

Just like my girls, I have a hard time sitting still..Most days, I feel like a racehorse being released at the sound of the alarm in the morning. Truth be told-I like it that way. Which makes days like Thanksgiving a little more special for me. That does not mean however, that I wasn't thankful to see them get on the bus Monday morning..I was(after being stuck inside for five days)..truly thankful (especially my girls!) almost as thankful as I am about the werewolves...

This post brought to you by the letter "P"

2011-11-19T07:00:00.163-05:00

~"Paradise is exactly like where you are right now... only much, much better~" Laurie Anderson

P is for plumbing- A year ago I wrote this post...it was all about renovating our house..and about getting a second bathroom. Actually, I have written about getting a second bathroom many times over the years...you might even say that I Perseverated on the Project. Well, I am Pleased to Proclaim that this week I have become the Proud Possessor of a second bathroom-a Porcelain Paradise! Although, I have to say that even though we now have two-my children always seem to know when I am in one of them. It is as if my crossing the threshold turns on some sort of homing device..
"Mama?"....
"I'm in the bathroom.."
"Mama?"
I'm in the bathroom."
"MMAAAAAAAMAAAA???!!!"
"I AM IN THE BATHROOM!" knock knock knock..."Mama? Mama are you in there?"
".....YES."
"But the door is locked!"
"I'll be out in a minute."
"Mama?"
"I. SAID. I'LL. BE. OUT. IN A. MINUTE"
"What are you doing?"
"What do you THINK I am doing????"
"I don't know...what?"
"I'M PEEING!"
"Oh..."
As I forcefully swing open the door..."O.k...what is it that you need so badly????."
"Oh...I was just seeing where you were."

I know that this bathroom phenomena is not unique to my family. In fact, I am sure parents have dealt with this situation since the...way back to the cave man days "Mama?"... "I'm in the bushes..." Maybe even to the beginning of time.."Eve? where are you?" "I'm behind the tree..." "What are you doing?"..."What do you think I'm doing?" "Can I come back there?" "Go eat an apple..I'll be out in a minute.."

P is for podiatrist. *sigh* Yes, I have a podiatrist. Due to a series of unfortunate events-or my lust for a potato chip...I have wound up under the care of a foot doctor. He has advised me of all the different ~~torture~~ treatment options he has for my foot...and I..very graciously listen as my eyes glaze over..while I slowly but figuratively put my fingers in my ears and say "lalalalalalalalalalala". I believe that he thinks I am a crack head..or mentally unstable....or weird. I on the other-hand, believe that he has poor taste in footwear. (This is an actual picture from his office-don't they just scream "old and complacent"????)

Not that he has suggested I choose anything from his cabinet of undesirable shoes....yet. Although, I probably wouldn't hear him if he did. Sometimes having to take four kids to any kind of appointment has its advantages. But only sometimes...

P is for Puzzle and Perplex and Promise. This week, Lily had a brownie meeting. (A younger version of a girl scout) They are learning Christmas Carols-to sing at the senior center next month. Now, Eight year old girls are lively and energetic...or at least they are supposed to be..So, you can imagine my dismay when I walked in and they were singing these songs as if they were funeral dirges. I mean come on now! Are the seniors at the center already dead? Do they want to sing them to their eternal slumber? So....I did what any carol loving woman would do. I hi-jacked their rehearsal. Me and another mother decided to show these girls what singing was about! So what if it involved interesting dance moves. We showed them the way it should be done!...much to my Lily's absolute humiliation...heehee "You are the MOST embarrassing mother in the WORLD!!!" "Well...not really...there was another mother singing with me." "I can't believe that you did that to me!!" "Oh come on Lil...the other girls had fun." "Not me!" (this from a girl who has absolutely no problem singing at the top of her lungs with me in the car..or at home...or the supermarket..)*sigh*.."Alright..I will never sing like that again." "Promise?" ..."I promise"...She is at that age(between 8 and 30) where she is becoming so very self conscious and self aware-an age where ones mother is someone that should only be seen and never heard... I totally get her embarrassment (and will respect her wishes) Although, I'm still going to sing in the car . I just hope that she still sings with me.

And finally, P is for patience and persistence ....it is for being pissed off(my dryer broke) and pleasantly surprised. It is for pacing, pondering and porcelain...and as pleasing as much of it has been-I am ready for this P filled week to be over. I am going to go and enjoy my lovely new shower...perhaps I'll even sing. I hope that Lily hears me. That would be Perfect.

They shoot (My Little) Ponies-don't they?

2011-11-12T07:00:00.072-05:00

~"All of us have moments in out lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with a white carpet is one of them"~Erma Bombeck

My daughters have been tap dancing on my last nerve. When they aren't at each others throats...they turn their attention to me .Let me tell you- it is a sad day when a mother has to hide in the garage-just to get away from her daughters. "Mama!...Mama?....Mamaaaaaaaa!!!! Zoe's copying me!' "Well you're being mean to me!" "I am not".."Yes you are!..Wheres Mama? I'm telling on you!"..."NOOOO!!!!" "Mama!...MAMA!!!!!!???..." "I'm in the garage." "Where are you? I can't hear you!!" "I'm in the garage." After a good ten minutes of not coming for me (which I don't understand- but don't question!...I mean they KNOW where I am...sort of)...they give up..and I have gotten some much cleaning done. Hey-it works for me!

There used to be a time when all of there problems were solved with a hug and perhaps a "My Little pony" video. But those days are long over. Oh, they still like hugs...it's the ponies that have gone by the wayside. Sigh...no longer can they be appeased by Pinky Pies adventures..or the hi-jinx and hilarity of Tula Rula. No longer do we hear the ummmm...dulcimer tones of the ponies singing their theme song. Nope. The real world and all its drama.(well as much drama as a six and eight year old can conjure...believe me-it is a lot) has crept up on my girlies-and they aren't quite sure what to do about it....neither am I...well, except for hiding in the garage.

This year Zoe is in school full time. Although she does love going, at the same time,she is quite anxious about all of it. Social situations...reading..and the dreaded scissors. "Zoe...stop hitting Lily!"..."Well she has all the markers and won't give them to me!" "She doesn't have all the markers.." "Yes she does!" "No, you decided that you didn't like your markers and threw them all over the floor before we got in the car." crying now..."Fine! Now no one likes me!" "What? This has nothing to do with liking you..?????" "Yes it does...now you don't like me!" No Zo...I don't like your behavior right now...but I love you with all my heart."..."Fine! Then I'll never be famous!"..."What???" still crying.. "I'm not famous!" ..'...Well...umm...what?..What does being famous have to do throwing your markers on the floor?" "It's a secret."..."I'm really confused...you threw your markers...hit Lily..and you're crying because you aren't famous?" "Well..WELL...famous artists know how to use scissors!!!" Are you as confused as I am? This is NOT typical behavior for my girl...But as they say "Life imitates art"..sigh.but in our house..Zoe imitates Lily...

My Lily has undergone a major transformation this past Summer.and it would appear (from what I have heard from other parents) that she is not the only one. EVERYTHING is a battle...a struggle...a fight. From the time she gets up in the morning-till the time that she goes to bed. I really think that it would be worth the Discovery channels time to film a documentary on this phenomenon. You know, there is a very good reason why eight year old girls don't have children-simply because they would eat their young. My girl has gone from joyful to incredibly anxious in just a few short weeks. All of a sudden her friends have become enemies...and social status is everything. The world as she knew it is upside down and she doesn't quite know how to handle things. Besides pick on me. I'm doing my best to teach her how to ~~survive~~ adjust...and for the most part she listens. It really is a terrible time for her-and I worry that I'm not as helpful as I could be. It is just so ~~hard~~ ~~difficult~~ hard when your girl is hugging you one minute and yelling at you the next. I am so not looking forward to adolescence..

For the most part, my girls do get along. Seeking each other out to play..sing really loud...run around like wild women. Their bond is magical. They will spend hours together thinking up adventures for their latest obsession. "Littlest Pet Shops" Have you seen them? Small, plastic-large headed oddities( in the shape of various animals) with enormous eyes. My girls think that they are cute..I think that they are trying to kill me. Really I do! I keep finding them in strange places...the top of the stairs...the bottom of the tub....my instep at three o'clock in the morning. I can't tell you how many times I have tripped over, knocked in to, or sat on top of one of those enormous headed bits of seething evil. Far too many to count! Sure, I could blame my girls..could say that they just hadn't cleaned up after themselves..But-they insist it isn't them. So, the only conclusion I can come to is that "Littlest Pet Shops" want me gone...You don't believe me do you? You think that I am exaggerating... Well, this morning, I walked out my bedroom to find this outside of my door. All of

them just sitting there...watching...waiting and watching. I fear my days are numbered. Please let me know if you have any words of wisdom or advice. If you want me- I'll be in the garage.

Tumultuous times and other tails....

2011-11-05T07:04:00.266-04:00

~“There's a hell of a distance between wise-cracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wise-cracking is simply calisthenics with words.” ~

― Dorothy Parker

When last I left you- I was stuck on the couch watching countless hours of mindless television (As a rule, I generally don't watch much t.v.-I thought that it was because I am way too hyper to sit still- but after having watched seemingly endless cycles "America's Next Top Model" I changed my mind... ) in a huge and heavy cast..In other words...life was just no fun..neither for me or the herd. Since then I have gotten rid of the cast (for now)...all of the herd are in school full time..Sammy..I mean, Sam has become a teenager..And we recently celebrated our eighteenth anniversary. Oh..we also have mice.

School started off like it does every year. Everyone excited about seeing their friends..wearing new shoes...using new lunch boxes. But, after the first week (which was only three days long) Sam asked if he could be home schooled next year, the girls hated their new shoes (shoes that they had spent the entire summer begging for..really expensive shoes that light up when they move causing the parent who ties them (me) to have blinding headaches-or burnt retina's..really-they ought to have seizure warnings on these shoes) and Oscar..well Oscar-was Oscar..recess is still his favorite part of the day. This year, the school district changed its entire format..from the way that they teach to how they test. These changes primarily effect Sam more than the others...and Sam just ADORES change-not. He is a teenager now-or as he likes to say "A young man"..and times are not the easiest for him. My ~~boy~~ young man works so very hard-so I'm hoping that things calm down for him a bit. Because home schooling is so not an option! I mean I JUST got them ALL in school full time! I would make a terrible teacher..we'd probably wind up watching "America's Next Top Model" all day.. It would be a terrible thing.

The beginning of the school year also brought about the dreaded IEP meetings(cue screams) For the most part, they went o.k. We got the services that we needed-the kids are set for the year. There were however, a few glitches...minor snags...things that you might say.. royally pissed me off. Oscar needs occupational therapy. It isn't something that we ask for because we are bored..or have nothing better to do. In other words, we don't gleefully rub our hands together chortling "Hee hee! Lets think of ways to make the school pay for things that we don't need!" No, we request these services because our son requires help with his fine motor skills. Crazy-I know! Which leads me to a topic I think needs addressing. "Things that special services coordinators should NEVER upon pain of torture, NEVER EVER say to a parent of a special needs kid." 1)" Maybe it isn't O.T. that he needs...maybe it is his stimming that needs to be addressed" 2) "Sure it is nice that his friends accept his stimming now-but it won't be so cute when he is an adult" 3) If he were in a Autism School they wouldn't let him get away with stimming." I stated quite firmly (but *sigh* not as coherently) to the special needs coordinator "Firstly, he isn't in an autism school-he is here. Stimming isn't your problem to worry about. He works exceedingly hard at controlling it in class-he does a great job. Furthermore, He is MY son-It is MY job to help/decide what is best for him in the world." Just as a heads up to any coordinator reading this-if a child's entire team (teacher, aid, O.T., speech therapist and service coordinator) says that said child NEEDS a specific service.-it might be worth your while to actually listen-(especially if you have never met said child) instead of trying to think of ~~excuses~~ ideas in order to save the district money. It doesn't make you look very good...and well...you know...appearance is everything. *sigh*

So it has been a tumultuous beginning of the school year..Although it hasn't been all bad. Sam-my wonderfu~~l boy~~ young man, has turned thirteen! I still can not believe I have a living breathing teenager. Why If he were a houseplant-he'd have been long gone by now. I mean, no matter how well I take care of my plants-they all eventually wither and die. Thankfully, I am so much better at child rearing than gardening. The same goes for marriage. Omar and I celebrated our eighteenth anniversary last month. (Same day as Sam's birthday). After eighteen years, four kids, three dogs, three cats and numerous "fixer uppers"...we still really like each other.(Love is a given-I'm madly in love with my husband..and he with me) We certainly have had many an adventure- although we've had more good times than bad.. it only keeps getting better and better...well, with the exception of the mice. Which brings me to the tail end of this tale of tumultuous tails...

We seem to have acquired some mice. Now, we live in an older house (132 years old)..and older homes, much like older people can have "issues". One of our homes issues is that every fall, all the neighborhood mice, looking for a winter home-think our house is the place to be. I disagree. Strongly. In fact, I disagree so much that in a preemptive strike/forewarned is forearmed sort of way (remember-experience is a mother) I set out six glue traps...kind of like little unwelcome mats for our mousy friends. Well...yesterday morning...much to my horror..I found one little mouse stuck on a trap...and yet the persistent little guy(I think it was a guy-definitely not looking) insisted on dragging his mousy self across the floor in an attempt to escape. All while he was still attached (quite firmly) to the trap. EEK! He was so intent on making his escape-that my presence didn't appear to bother him at all. He just looked at me(with disdain) as he dragged his little mousy self across the floor. He even posed for this picture. See the attitude? The contempt? The utter disregard for my mental well being? I immediately did what any other savvy and sharp minded person would do. I went upstairs and woke Omar up. Who promptly rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. But I was insistent! "You must get rid of the mouse" I proclaimed. "I'lldoitlater.." he mumbled..."I can't relax while he drags himself across the floor!" I yelled.."I'll take care of it when I get up..." he sighed.."It's freakin me out!" I cried..I began to jump on the bed.. fiercely and with great emotion.."I'll do it now" he said resignedly..As he got out of bed and down the stairs..

Moments later, he "disposed" of our little friend.(you can see why we have such a great marriage. Teamwork!) The problem is..well, remember I set out six traps? One was "disposed" of..that should have left us with five. Much to my dismay...I can only find four. Which means that there is a mousy somewhere roaming my house attached to a glue trap! ICK!!!!! We have looked EVERYWHERE...well..Omar has looked everywhere..I assisted..giving him suggestions of where to look...from another room. Ah teamwork. It is the basis of a happy marriage.

So, another school year has begun. Halloween has come and gone...and soon it will be Thanksgiving. For as tumultuous as times have been lately-I really can't complain. I have got great kids and a fabulous husband. All together- a wonderful family. Mice not included.

When you give a mother a potato chip....

2011-08-15T17:29:00.011-04:00

It has been a very busy summer for us here. Between family trips, summer rec and swimming-there hasn't been a whole lot of time for writing. I do have quite a number of half finished posts in my drafts file-I just haven't had much time or patience to finish them. You'd think that because of recent events-(ESPECIALLY because of recent events) I'd have written post after post. Because I have had nothing but time on my hands...You see, for the past three weeks, I have been stuck at home-actually more like stuck on the couch..STUCK ON THE COUCH and at the total MERCY of my four children.

Oh, it started innocently enough. There was a request for snacks. Now, having grown up in a house where the word "snack" was..well almost considered a sin (my mother did not believe in eating between meals.) If you insisted that you were hungry, her stock answer was to "have an apple"..an apple. O.k. fine-apples are good..but come on! When you are outside with your friends and they are all eating a variety of salty or sweet treats...you kind of feel deprived..sitting there with your slightly bruised apple..It led to an adolescence..a CHUBBY adolescence of indulging in candy and snack cakes. So, I decided to do things differently with my kids. A couple of them are very picky eaters. We are talking a menu of about five things So, if any of them request a new kind of snack or junk food. I let them try it. Funny thing is-because I am open to having junk in the house...they choose yogurt or granola bars as equally as they choose chips or candy. Except maybe for Oscar-who would live on "Flavor blasted Gold Fish" if I let him. But that's another story.

Anyway, there I was in the kitchen getting my girls their requested potato chips..when I noticed the front of one of the kitchen drawers was very loose. sigh..Alright..I didn't just notice it...it has been loose for months..and I had been meaning to do something about it...eventually..I happened to notice it was "more" loose than it had been. "Lil..don't touch that..it looks really loose".."It's o.k. Mama..I'm just fixing it.." "No honey, I think we need Papa to take care of it when he gets home" I also happened to notice that the potato chips looked really good...extra crispy and a little burnt around the edges..so as I was stuffing a handful into my mouth Lily said.. "No..really Mama..I can fix it.." at that moment BAM! the drawer front came down like guillotine on my naked foot. I fell to the floor...bits of chips and expletives spewing simultaneously from my mouth. A potato laden stream of curses that would make anyone blush...if they understood what I was screaming. Scaring the crap out of my daughters...especially Lily who felt horrible about it. So of course my first (coherent) thought was to try and comfort her.."It's o.k. honey...sometimes people yell scary things when they hurt themselves...I'm sorry I scared you..it was an accident..I should have fixed it months ago..it isn't your fault.." I even tried to "walk it off"...big mistake. Because here I am three weeks later stuck on the couch looking like an extra from "Star Wars"

Oh it hasn't been all bad...my kids have all been extra "helpful"..it's just that they tend to get easily distracted..Like when vacuuming-it is amazing how clean a 12 inch space can get when you don't actually move the vacuum from the place it is standing....Or folding laundry-"Oscar, why is the laundry in a twisted pile on the table?" "You told me to put it there.".."O.k...but do you think you could fold it?" "Sure Mama.." and off he went..away from the pile of laundry .. Thankfully, Omar has been able to take a few days off here and there-so things have been getting done. Although he thinks it is absolutely hysterical to leave advertisements for elderly exercises and scooters where I can find them..sigh...in the basket of my kneeling walker.
I have to say that although it has been hard-the herd has done pretty well. Sure, they still ask me for everything that they need (even with Omar sitting right next to me) but they have also been forced into doing some new things. I can't really complain that there is peanut butter all over the kitchen-because Oscar decided to try and make his own lunch...or that there are crumbs everywhere-because they have all learned to get their own snacks..or laundry piled on the table-because they all now know how to run a load-AND put it in the dryer. Sometimes I take on too much. Not because I don't think my kids can do anything...sigh..but because I like to do things my way. I just didn't realize how much that could hold them back-stop them from trying.

I have an appointment with the doctor next week. Hopefully I will be done with this cast. As Sammy so aptly put "I'm getting kind of tired of your broken foot" sigh... Necessity is a mother...on so many levels....just don't feed her potato chips.

So many kids...so little time...

2011-07-15T17:52:00.000-04:00

It has been quite the busy summer so far...I only have four kids-but right now it feels like forty..So, to all my blogging and reading friends-I am not ignoring you!! I swear! I'm hoping to have a few minutes to write later this weekend...AND some time to visit all the blogs that I enjoy so much.. I hope you are all having wonderful July's. I look forward to catching up with all of you.

Recalculating...

2011-07-02T07:00:00.159-04:00

~"Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need to know of hell"~Emily Dickinson

When I was a little girl, my parents had one of those large cabinet stereos. The kind that stood on four legs-with a turn table on one side and a place to store your albums on the other. On the bottom right hand side of it was a little red indicator light. I used to lie on the floor and try and stare into the light-because I thought that there were tiny people behind it, making the music and I wanted to see them. I don't know where I got this idea-but, I always did have an overactive imagination..At least that's what my imaginary friend Gengi told me at the time..

Of course I don't believe that anymore! I mean, I have an MP3 player and there is no way that many people could fit inside of it. BUT... I am starting to wonder about our GPS system. I bought it two years ago as a Christmas present for Omar. He does a bit of traveling for his work...AND because no matter what..whenever we go someplace new with the herd-we ALWAYS get lost. ALWAYS. So I thought it would be a good idea to have one. I named ours "Sheila"..she has an Australian accent (which for some reason amuses me) Sheila for the most part has become a wonderful addition to our family. Very rarely has she ever made a mistake i.e. directing us to drive into a field..or down a dead end street. She usually gets us to where we are going in good time...Until last week. I'm not quite sure what has happened-but..*sigh* Sheila seems to have lost her mind.

We were on a mini family vacation-a weekend getaway. A friend was celebrating a birthday and invited us to his party. It was a pretty straight forward trip-about a eighty miles or so straight down the coast. We knew how to get there-it was when we got into town that we needed directions. I plugged in the address of the hotel and hit "go". THAT is when things got crazy.."In zero point three miles, turn right on Bow street." We got to Bow St. and made a right. "RECALCULATING"...Recalculating? Hadn't we turned where she told us to?.."In point one miles make a right on Maine st"..So-we made a right.."In point three miles make a right on Ocean st." so we turned right on Ocean...""In zero point three miles make a right on Bow St."..What...didn't we just do that? I wasn't about to argue with Sheila.....so we made a right on Bow St. "RECALCULATING" ..Huh? "In point one miles make a right on Main St." But we just did that! Again...not wanting to argue with Sheila..we turned where she told us..three more times. Until finally I had had enough. You have to understand-I am not a violent woman by nature..but it was pouring rain and pitch black outside. I had been in a car with four hungry tired children for over two hours. I was a tad bit on edge..so, when Sheila RECALCULATED and told us to make a right on Bow street again...I lost my temper...I smacked ~~her~~ the GPS-yelling.."Whose RECALCULATING now Bi**H??" and shut her down(none too gently ) Oh how powerful I felt! But then..(because we were hopelessly lost-and the herd was stunned by my outburst) *sigh* I rebooted her..put the address in again..and arrived at the hotel five minutes later. It wasn't anywhere near on or around Bow St...or Main..or Ocean..

At the end of the weekend, when it was time to go home..we thought that we wouldn't need the GPS -as we now knew (really well) the way out of town. The only problem was that I NEEDED coffee-badly. So we plugged her in and programmed her to take us to the nearest coffee place. She led us the correct way out of town..so far so good..she informed us that a coffee place was less than a mile away..great..right? Except that Sheila, instead of leading us to the coffee shop-directed us into the parking lot of an orthodontist ...and then to a flea market...and a furniture store... I don't understand it.. could my GPS be holding a grudge? RECALCULATING our relationship? Kind of makes me rethink the possibility of tiny singers in stereos...kind of...

This past week seems to be all about recalculating. Our cat Joe has disappeared..vanished...poof..he's just...gone. I find myself at a loss as to what to tell the herd. . They have of course noticed his absence-Zoe especially..and I don't know what to tell them. There was no sickness..no signs..no body..he just up and vanished. What do you say to that?. A year and a half ago, when both my father and my sister died-it was simpler .. Sickness, age..those things are easier to explain. Death was not unexpected. I could prepare them, talk to them. Joe's disappearance has thrown us all..I hate to admit it..perhaps because I am not ready to accept it myself-but, I told them that he probably decided to take a trip, or have an adventure...I don't have it in me to tell them that he is probably dead..because they will want a reason..an explanation..and I don't have one. It has been a week now..and I keep expecting him to come in the window..or find to him on the stairs waiting for me to walk by so that he can stick his paw through the railing and grab me..I miss my sweet boy.

So, it looks as if I, like Sheila am going to have to recalculate. Figure out what to tell the herd...find a way to explain the unexplainable....and definitely look into getting a new GPS.

Firsts. lasts....everything...

2011-06-21T20:30:00.001-04:00

~"How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart."~William Butler Yeats

The lovely and wonderful Looking For Blue Sky has tagged me in a meme about "firsts". I think it is nice when a blogger friend wants to know more about you. After reading her "firsts" I have no doubt in my mind that I would certainly enjoy chatting with her over coffee..or wine.

It's funny, but at this time in my life-I am more apt to remember my kids "firsts" more than my own. I do remember some...you know, the basic "firsts" everyone has. But there are others...frightening ones, that are branded on my brain.. Doesn't it seem the most memorable "firsts" appear to be the kind where you think to yourself "Well, I'm never going to do THAT again"...First times can be life changing..lovely to look back on...or in the case of some of mine...scary...

Like the first time I saw my Grandmother naked...it was a total accident. I happened to see her as she was getting out of the shower. I was seven and she was about eight hundred or so. I'm still not quite sure what it was that I saw-but it looked like she was wearing FOUR wrinkly... pendulous ..masses of flesh.. slowly swaying with each ponderous step she took. She was a heavy set woman. That experience marked me..Perhaps it is the reason why I have always been adamant about exercising my arms AND wearing a supportive bra....Or the first time I had to make the sacrament of "confession" at church. I was in fourth grade..and really DID NOT want to do this...Yes, penance was an issue. As was the fact that I was not as innocent as people thought. So in order to get out of this...I did what any sensible child afraid of hell (and priests and nuns) would do...I pretended I was sick and stayed home from school. I was pretty proud of my quick thinking- I thought that I was in the clear...until the next week when those of us who were absent-had to make it up. GASP! I remember dragging my feet as I made my way in to the confessional booth. I knelt down and said "Forgive me Father for I have sinned...this is my first confession"....and then proceeded to lie my way through it. I made stuff up. There was no way that I was going to confess to a priest that I had" stolen a" Playboy" magazine and set my brother up by leaving it in plain view for my mother to find in his bathroom"...or that" I had carved the same brothers name into our dining table"..or" eaten all the chocolates he had to sell for a fundraiser." (My brother was a great source of torment for me-and although I may have only been nine..I was very good at subtle revenge) I'd probably still be doing "Hail Mary's".

Thankfully, those firsts were also lasts...I don't have too many of them...I think. Not all of them were scary- I do have firsts that I can look fondly on...or at least not cringe too much at..

I remember my first real kiss..his name was John..we were twelve..and the only reason my mother let me go out for pizza with him was because he said that he wanted to become a priest. I think he told many mothers this..because, he kissed a lot of girls. I remember my first record album-Aerosmith, "Toys in the Attic" My brother Ned gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday..(Being the youngest of six kids, I inherited lots of albums from my siblings..but this was the first one that was mine). My first job was at Roy Rogers family restaurant. I had to wear a very short frilly skirt, an off the shoulder blouse and a cowboy hat. Times have indeed changed. The first time I got "tipsy" was with my best friend Ursula..we drank "Southern Comfort" simply because Janis Joplin had . To this day, I can not stand the smell of it. The first time I met Omar..it was love..well really..lust at first site..I don't know what it was, but I KNEW that I had to have that man- and as we have been together almost twenty years..I would say that it worked out pretty well..The ~~lust~~ love has grown even stronger .

So there you have it...some firsts that were lasts..some firsts that I can recall fondly..and some firsts that have lasted. Now it is my turn to tag some others...I choose-
Jazzygal
Jen
Holly
I know that all three will make me laugh...and with four kids home with me and Summer rec not starting till next week...I NEED to laugh!

I seem to have misplaced my halo...

2011-06-18T07:00:00.225-04:00

~"L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle."~ Dante

It has been only three and a half days since Tuesday- the official start of Summer vacation...which makes it seventy three days until the beginning of school next fall. Not that I'm counting or anything. I do look forward to having the herd to myself..to lazier days..to not having to rush around so much. But on the other hand...

"Mama? We're bored...Mama?.Mama? Can I have a snack?..Mama can I have turn on the computer? Mama? Mama? Mama! we are out of toilet paper!..Ummm Mama? I clogged the toilet...Mama why do you have those lines on your forehead? Mama? MAAMAA? Why aren't you saying anything? Mama?"

That was Wednesday.

I'm guessing that a lot of parents are going through a similar time right now. The change from a solid school routine to open ended days can be rough on the best of us. It is one off those curve-balls that parenting throws you. Sometimes I wish there were a manual..a kind of "Care and feeding of (insert your child's name)" book that was handed out at birth. It would make things so much easier..because, for the most part I feel like parenting is a lot like driving without brakes. Most of the time it is great fun...but at other times? Just when you think that you have it under control..you hit a curved section and then sometimes hang on for dear life. Sometimes parenting feels like an extreme sport.

Last week, I was part of an online discussion where someone posted-

"I could not be a parent to a special needs child. Kudos to everyone who is a better person than I am"

A better person? I immediately had this bizarre image of myself wearing flowing white robes with a halo and beams of golden light shining down on my serene face..as heavenly music played...I responded with....

"parenting a child with special need does not make anyone a better person. I don't think that I have ever heard anyone say "I hope that I have a special needs child"..When you choose to become a parent-that is where your choice ends. I do understand someone saying "could never"...but you would be amazed at how things change once you hold your child in your arms..my kids are my greatest joy-and privilege. My life is better for knowing them..but I'm not a better person for raising them. I'm just doing my job."

I really do understand her saying that -and I do try not to let statements like that piss me off..because...well, I don't think that anyone really knows what parenting is until they become a parent themselves. I'm sure if you had asked me thirteen years ago if I'd be willing to pull poopie socks out of a clogged toilet...remove paint from a dog..or even hold on to my son for hours while he screamed himself hoarse. I'd have said "NO!...MY kids would NEVER do that!!!" But, they have...and so I did. Is it because they have "special needs"... Or.. Is it because I'm just a better person? -Neither. I just did it because I'm a parent-they are my kids...and I love them. It's as simple as that. Holy crap-I'd move the earth if that's what they needed.

*sigh* I wish that I had just walked away from that conversation... Because this woman, in so many words told me that she was "different" she had "goals"..that when she had a child it would be normal- someone who went away to college when they were eighteen..giving her her life back.....that she would NEVER raise nor love a "special needs" child..no, she would rather abort it or give it away at birth.. She ended her rant with "welcome to humanity". Humanity?! Is that what that was? How does one respond to that ..besides saying "please don't ever procreate." I chose to keep quiet..and just walked away. It is amazing what people think is appropriate to say on a site that is for autistic people and their families...

I am certainly no expert at parenting..there are ~~some~~ many days where I haven't the slightest idea of what I'm doing..really- I just wing it. My kids keep me on my toes...even surprise me now and again-and most of the time they are nice surprises. There are also days when I want to throw in the towel..run away from home...join a cloister..(although I really don't think the life of a nun is for me..I wouldn't look good in the outfit ) So even if I wanted to see myself as a "better person" for raising them..the white robes would never work...they'd be filthy in about three minutes and the herd would steal the halo and..* sigh* probably try and flush it. Although I for one am not going to try and fish it out.

Only seventy three more days....

Summer-don't like it hot...

2011-06-04T07:00:00.067-04:00

~"It's my rule never to lose me temper till it would be detrimental to keep it."~ Sean O'Casey

These past few weeks have been chock full of end of the year events. There have been concerts and conferences, recitals and well.. just too many things to mention. Sometimes I catch myself just wishing that next week were over....that Summer would officially start. I have a bad case of "The grass is always greener"...sometimes I need to just appreciate the" here and now" instead of wishing for the" up and coming". It never fails, every Fall I find myself longing for Spring...every Summer wishing for Winter and vice versa. Why can't I just be satisfied? I mean, here I am WISHING for Summer...and then I remember last Summer's heat wave. I took the picture on the left. As you can see, my local weather station made a little error...at the time, I was not amused. I was way too miserable.

  It was so very hot outside. The kind of heat that makes things that on most days are only mildly annoying-seem exceptionally annoying. Everything just sticks to you-your clothes, dog hair... , children-your dogs.. My kids were hot as well..I know this because they told me every thirty seconds or so.."Mama..I'm hot"
"Yeah, it's pretty hot outside"..
"but I'm hot.."
"Yes, I know you are hot.."
"I'm hot too".."Me too".."Mama we're hot.."
"..SIGH.."I know you are all hot..I am hot..why don't you go sit quietly in the playroom and let the fan cool you off."
"but it is blowing in hot air.."
SIGH.."If you sit really still and don't make a sound you will cool off"
"It's not working.."
"Thats because you keep running in to tell me how hot you are!!!"
"But it's not working!"
"Well maybe if you put on a pair of shorts and took off your pants socks and shoes you would feel better?"
  "But I don't want my feet to get cold."
"Oscar it is 95 degrees in the house..your feet won't get cold!"
"But they might!"
AARRGGHH...last Summer (and all the Summer's before it), My Oscar had problems accepting summer wear. He would tug on the top of his short sleeved shirt-trying to pull them down to his wrist. But hey, at least I got him to wear them-even if it was grudgingly..This is nothing like it was with Sammy-who used to mourn his snow pants in April. So I really couldn't complain. none of them have a problem with bathing suits..for that I can be happy.

I am so thankful for our pool. It has been a life saver of sorts-it both tires and cools them off-especially my sock clad boys..and it keeps them happy... for about three and a half minutes..until....
"Mama! Lily says my zhu zhu pet is a boy but I say it's a girl!"
  "Lil..Zoe can call her zhu zhu pet a girl if she wants to."
  "But it's name is Mr. Squiggles!"
"I don't care! she's a girl!"
"No" Mister" means boy!"
"But it's a girl!! I don't want a boy!"
"Zoe! it's a boy!" (Zoe sobbing now) "Mama! Lily won't let my zhu zhu pet be a girl!"...and so it went..for the entire two hour swim.. through getting dressed...having a snack.. and dinner....Oh I tried to be diplomatic ("girls please try to get along)"..tried to redirect the conversation ("hey-who wants to discuss folding laundry?")...tried to distract them ("I have candy!")..but when the shouting became more than this innocent..and very hot mother could bear-I lost it...went off the deep end... I yelled... "DOES. IT. HAVE. A. PENIS????" shocking my children into stunned silence.(which was kind of nice) Until an indignant Oscar looked at me in horror and said "That is not polite Mama!"
(I was hyperventilating) " No..It is a FINE word to use in a discussion..DO ZHU ZHU PETS HAVE GENITALS??? NO THEY DO NOT! THEREFORE ZOE'S ZHU ZHU PET CAN BE A GIRL!"  (pant- pant)
"Actually Mama, they don't have either..they are only toys...uhhh Mama?...Why is your face so red?"
"Because I am HOT!!!"
"Well why don't you go sit in the playroom and let the fan cool you off?"

So, maybe wishing for Summer to come is just a passing phase? I certainly am not wishing for another heat wave like last seasons. Although I am thrilled to say that Oscar is very happy wearing his short sleeved shirts-and my girls no longer care about Zhu Zhu pets. No, this year "Littlest Pet Shop" toys are the object of their affecions...but not to worry-they don't have genitals either.

Dogs don't read and bears don't use toilet paper..

2011-05-28T07:00:00.199-04:00

~"Don't look at me in that tone of voice"~ Dorothy Parker

This morning as I was filling the bin with dog food-I happened to notice something written on the side of the food bag. "Better Tasting than ever!" and I thought to myself.."How do they know that?" I mean really, According to who??? Do they have dog taste tests? Do they have special dogs that come in and rate the food? Do they fill out questionnaire's? Check little boxes..? I mean hell..my dogs eat anything..food, garbage...poop-they do not discriminate. So why was this written on the bag? My dogs don't read...nor do they shop...They certainly don't have money-or even thumbs! I know why I buy it..twenty dollars for fifty pounds of dog food is a good deal- especially when you have three dogs to feed. But come on now! Trying to sway me by saying that it tastes even better? I'm certainly not going to taste it. And again-my dogs eat poop-by choice.

Advertising-commercials..slogans and jingles..they are all things I try and teach my kids about. I think it is one of the first steps towards giving them critical thinking skills. I can't tell you how many times they have yelled for me to come and see something that is being advertised on the t.v....something they just know is great..
"Mama..mama..MAMA!!!!!!!"
"What! What is it?!"
"You have to see this(insert name of piece of crap here)! I want it!"
"It does look fun....for about thirty seconds..you'll get bored with it pretty quick."
"No! No I won't! Look at the kids playing with it-THEY'RE HAVING FUN!"
"Oh but honey..they are paid a lot of money to look as if they are having fun..they are acting."
*sigh* and on it will go..until one day..say a birthday or Christmas..I will get them this (insert name of piece of crap) thing. and usually..it winds up either being broken in hours...or cast aside because it really doesn't do much and they find it boring.

They are learning..slowly but surely..I'm finding them arguing the same points to each other - when one of them is excited about something that they see advertised. It also helps that I will bring them to the store to actually ~~try out~~ LOOK at the item that they are so desperate for. As I said, it is slow going. There is one item however, that we can't seem to get over wanting..or rather- Oscar can't seem to get over wanting. "Charmin Ultra toilet paper" Yes, my boy is fascinated by it-always has been. I think it is the cartoon bears in the commercials What is it with those bears anyway? They can read a newspaper, use toilet paper..yet they still s**t in the woods? And then there is the mother bears obsession with "pieces" of toilet paper sticking to their furry behinds! Well what does she expect!! They're bears using toilet paper! Am I supposed to be able to relate to this? Am I supposed to nod my head in agreement thinking "Yes, I too worry about pieces being left .....behind."?. Maybe if my kids had fur...but I digress. As I mentioned, Oscar has had this fascination for years. Every now and then he'll request it. Being a "Scott brand tissue" kind of family..I've always said "No." But today...today I thought I would surprise him. I guess I was feeling kind of reckless (as only a stay at home mom of four kids can) I was at the store and we needed toilet paper..so I figured-"Why not?". As I went to reach for the Charmin Ultra, I noticed it had a slogan on the package.."Use less so you can go more!" Excuse me? What does that mean??!! Are they somehow implying that people walk around "holding it in" because they are worried about the cost? Maybe it's me..perhaps I just have a" devil may care" attitude...because I have never once worried about the cost of a square of toilet paper nor have I giggled with reckless abandon as I wantonly pulled square after square off the roll. It's toilet paper for goodness sake!.. Holy crap! (and I mean that on so many levels) Needless to say, I put it back on the shelf and bought our usual brand..because "A thousand sheets last longer." Now THAT'S a slogan that makes sense.

So this evening, as I fed the dogs their "Better tasting then ever!!" food. I watched them-to see if their was a reaction...Would they notice a difference? Perhaps look upon me with gratitude- as if saying "thank you for this even better tasting kibble made from animal byproducts." They sucked it down in about six seconds-as they usually do. None of them said anything about the taste. Perhaps after they digest it..you know,after it has aged a bit. I'll let you know after their walk.

Blogger why do you forsake me!!

2011-05-27T19:13:00.001-04:00

I'm hoping that this posts...to all my bloggy friends...to all the people I regularly comment at...Blogger won't let me!!!!! I visited-I swear that I did..but, blogger will not work for chrome ofr internet explorer. I will keep checking...but am not gonna post till I know that it is working...I'm afraid of losing my posts...perhaps it is time for wordpress? sigh...I hope you are all doing well...and I WILL be stopping by soon...

*UPDATE*

Well I must have scared blogger with my threat of leaving...cause it is back! Damn! I am powerful!!

The sound of one boy eeeing...

2011-05-21T07:00:00.116-04:00

~"Worry...worry worry worry worry... worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone"~ Ray Lamontagne

My kids are all pretty close in age(roughly 2 years between each of them)-so when one of them has a friend over, they all consider them their friend as well. With the exception of Sam-who, is starting to separate from the pack. He will be thirteen this year..and considers himself quite ~~above it all~~ mature. A couple of weeks ago, one of the neighborhood kids was over at our house talking to Sam. This boy is one of a pair of brothers who come over to play from time to time. (This particular boy is Sam's age his brother is closer to Lily's age-7) All of the kids usually ride their bikes up and down the driveway..or play tag and sometimes just run around in circles screaming...regular kid stuff. I hardly ever have to intervene..It is only when someone is being purposely left out..or teased to the point of frustration that I'll step in and ~~kick some butt~~ set them straight.

Now having known my children all of their lives, I'm pretty used to them. So Oscar's stimming and eeeeing are a regular part of our lives. The same goes for Sam's very sensitive nature, Lily's tenacity and Zoe's tendency to go mute in stressful situations. I don't really think about these things (unless they are being discussed-i.e. IEP meetings, school , therapy etc.) because they are just a part of what makes my kids...well, my kids. So, I was pretty surprised when one of those boys said to Sam.."Hey...does Oscar have autism?" "Yes, yes he does"..."Oh." "So do I." "You do?.."Yes, yes I do." "But you don't look like it." "Well...I draw a lot." "Oh..(and after a moment)...so, when I get home I'm gonna call my girlfriend....do you have a girlfriend?" "Yes.." (12 years old and already posturing!) and that was the end of it. If only it were that simple for the rest of the world.

We had Oscar's annual IEP meeting last week. Next year is his last year of elementary school so we have spent some time talking about preparing for middle school. One thing was said (that keeps reverberating in my brain) that in a way bothers me - "We have to let the teachers know that Oscar is not like Sam."..*sigh* Logically, I know what was meant by that. My boy struggles with pragmatic language . He has extreme stress and anxiety-which comes out in the form of stimming and laughing. Logically, I get it-I do....sort of. But on the other hand...on the other hand It feels like a dismissal....as if they were really saying "You had better warn them not to expect too much." It left me feeling kind of empty...and a little sad. . Yes, Oscar does face more challenges than his brother or sisters. He does not always have an easy time of it. The boy frets and is anxious..he WORRIES.....And yet, at the same time he has such humor..and a certain confidence in himself that none of my other kids have. "Mama?" "Yeah bud?" "Do you want to know my favorite body part?" "Your favorite body part?" "Yeah...it's my nipples! hahahahaha...I'm gonna make mine shine!" and as he grabs his chest and growls.."shiny shiny nipples..hahahahahaha! Do I make you laugh Mama?" "You do" "Because I'm funny!" "You are." "hahahahaha and I have shiny nipples!" "well o.k.!." Of course he's not like Sam. He's like himself and that's alright.

About a week after Sam had that talk with his friend, both he and his brother came over-and everyone went out to play. Everyone. There was no treating anyone differently..no excluding..or weirdness. It was as it always had been..a bunch of kids playing and yelling..and occasionally one eeeing.

Haunted by hummus and other tales of woe....

2011-05-14T07:00:00.128-04:00

I wasn't going to blog today. I wasn't. I had one of those weeks-and, I would much rather forget it than immortalize it here. It wasn't that it was bad..it was just..confusing. Up was down, down was sideways..it seemed that no matter what I tried to do-it couldn't get done..

MONDAY

On Monday, I stumbled downstairs, only to be assaulted by the overwhelming scent of...no, to call it a scent is too weak..mild. My nostrils were assaulted by what I can only describe as one of the most disgusting, horrid, stomach turning...retch inducing smells. One of my dogs had gotten into the bin of dog food. Thus eating twice his body weight in kibble. The after effects were ASTOUNDING! Mind boggling even. THE sheer amount of poop(that he so lovingly left on the floor) was awe inspiring. We are talking record books. If people in climbing gear had shown up at my door "because it was there" I would not have been surprised. It was THAT tremendous. I actually considered renting a back hoe. But I thought it wouldn't be wise to operate heavy machinery before coffee. So I settled for a hefty bag. 10 gallon to be precise. The rest of the day was spent airing the house and clearing my head from the poop induced haze. I also put a lock on the food bin.

TUESDAY

There is nothing quite as stimulating as getting a call from your kids school asking you where you are.. Yup-Tuesday morning, as I was sitting down with a coffee, cooling off from my workout, I received just such a call. Where was I? Why, at home. Our IEP meeting was set for eleven the next morning-right? WRONG. It had already started and I was ten minutes late....which turned into twenty minutes by the time I had arrived. All flustered and out of breath. Only to be met by nine people sitting in a half circle waiting for me to arrive. Either they didn't notice-or they were too polite to mention My ~~un brushed~~ windswept hair-and the fact that I was wearing Omar's thick wool hunting socks with my clogs. (that I had spent a panicked few minutes looking for-as the girls had stuffed them into the couch) But I was dressed. The meeting went well-we got everything we needed. But, my week went down hill from there...

WEDNESDAY

On Wednesday morning, Sammy reminded me of the "International fair" at his school that evening. All the kids had a country that they had to learn about. Sammy's was ancient Egypt.
"Mama..don't forget the international fair is tonight."
"I won't forget buddy"
"It starts at six"
"We'll be there"
"I forgot! I have to have food."
"Food?"
"Yes, I promised that I would bring something."
"Oh..like brownies?"
"No...Food from ancient Egyptian times."
"So your telling me NOW that in a few hours you need to bring in a dish that was eaten in ancient Egypt?"
"Ooops...sorry."
Oh all was not lost. He had recipes! Recipes for things like "Leaven" where you use barley and warm water and let it sit for a few days...and "Ful Medames" which required the soaking of beans for twelve hours. So, as soon as they left on the bus, I rushed to the supermarket secretly hoping that there was an "ancient Egyptian" food aisle I had somehow overlooked. There wasn't-so I settled for *hummus(ick) and pita. I figured there wouldn't be any ancient Egyptians there to complain. I was right. There weren't.

Thursday

Thursday morning I had yet another IEP meeting. This one I was on time for-and I wore the appropriate socks. Things were looking up. Until I remembered that Lily's school concert was that day. An afternoon spent listening to the not so dulcimer tones of first through third graders. Let the headache begin! I know, I know...so many parents are thrilled to see their children perform. They look forward to concerts and other school sponsored events. Sadly, I must have been absent on the day that this quality was handed out-or I just got an extra dose of sarcasm. Either way, I loathe these things. There are just so many songs about "back packs" and "flags"that I can handle before I am ready to either run screaming or...run screaming. I don't know what it is. There is a new music teacher this year-and although she has brought them forward musically (meaning songs from the 40's as opposed to the last music teachers penchant for songs from the year 10) The concerts remain relatively lifeless. Maybe because there isn't a real sound system and the microphones are positioned in such a way to catch every sound BUT the singers? All I can say is that I was happy when the third graders got up to perform-because it meant I had done my duty and could sneak out the back.

When we got home, Omar said "When the kids get in, I'll take them to the park for a little bit so you can have some alone time." I have a wonderful husband. The day was looking up. I actually had some time to myself,,I was feeling peaceful, calm...almost recovered...until they came back. Lily was in a MOOD. Nothing pleased her-especially me. It all came to a head when she insisted (after having just finished an ice cream cone) on having....hummus. That freaking hummus again! I said "Lil, you just had an ice cream, we are going to have dinner in a little bit...now is not the time for hummus.".."I WANT hummus!" she insisted. *sigh* "No Lil, now is not the time for it. I will give you some with dinner if you like." "I want it NOW!" She then proceeded to throw a fit like the likes of which I have never seen before-and I have seen some pretty amazing freak outs. She went from innocent seven to snarky fifteen and back again. There was foot stamping and crying..attitude and back talk. This went on long into the night...even after she went to bed. Even after I went to bed. It was a very long night

FRIDAY

Friday morning came way to quickly for me. For Lily as well. She just couldn't wake up..telling me "I'm sick-can I stay home?" I knew that she was exhausted - I let her. Of course the minute the bus pulled away-she was wide awake and ready for entertainment. I was not feeling very "entertaining". So I settled her with some coloring books and decided to visit with my blogger friends. GASP! Blogger was down! I could not comment! I could not blog! I was pissed. Working myself up into my own little fit. I thought "Fine-be down! Don't let me comment! If that's the way you want it-then I won't blog-see how that makes you feel!!" (yes *sigh* I yelled at blogger) I think it must have heard me-because in the middle of my little tantrum, it returned to its normal self. (sometimes I need to think that I have such power) Blogger is back-so I'm hoping that things are finally looking up. Tomorrow, I plan on sleeping in and then leisurely catching up on my blog reading-commenting. I think I'll throw the hummus out as well.

*There was a summer in college when me and my house-mates were flat broke. The only thing we had to eat was chick peas. (I can not for the life of me recall why we had so many chick peas) so, we made a huge vat of hummus. For eight very long weeks we lived on that Hummus. Morning noon and night.We had so much hummus that I swore I would never eat it again. In fact, I struggled just buying it for Sam's school fair. I loathe hummus.

They may say Motha-but I say Mother...

2011-05-07T07:00:00.098-04:00

~"Mothers are all slightly insane.”~ J.D. Salinger

It's Friday! As usual on Friday the herd comes home hyper and ready for the weekend. All of them ~~screaming~~ talking at once trying to get my attention...All of them hastily trying to hide the mother's day presents they had made me at school. It was also progress report day for Sammy. Sixth grade has been huge for him. Up until this year, school had always been a struggle. I don't know what happened-where this leap has come from..but my boy is excelling. He has made the honor role twice this year..and, because of his "academic achievements", he has been invited by one of our senators to serve as an honorary page (in the state senate) for a day. I am in awe of him.

I can't help but think back on the early years with my boy. It took us what seemed like an eternity to get a diagnosis for him. I had suspected that he was "different" when he was just sixth months old. His focus on certain things, his lack of response(sometimes) when I called his name..or even banged pots behind his back. His ability to stay awake for ~~decades~~ seemingly days at a time..his night terrors and(what seemed like unprovoked) screaming fits. At first I was told it was just "colic" and then.."Your're just a new mom-you're imagining things"...and then gradually, he stopped talking. THAT is when the doctor started paying attention. He was tested and prodded -evaluated and observed. When we finally got a diagnosis-I was...relieved. Finally we had some sort of answer-we could take action-figure things out. You would think that finally we would all be on the same page. Nope.

My relief it seems was cause for concern. It would appear that it was seen as some form of denial. I know-right? I mean, I had been the one who( all along ) had been saying "Somethings not right here!" And now, I was being told things like "He doesn't always respond when his name is called" "He hyper focuses on objects to the exclusion of everything else around him." Ummmm...Hadn't I already said that-like fifty gazillion times? But no-now it was "SERIOUS" and I had to face "REALITY"..there were some things my son "may NEVER do" and then they would give me THAT look. You know the one...The kind that is just full of ~~superior knowledge~~ pity.

I have to admit-at the time, I was so worn out(-frazzled..a dried husk) that I didn't know enough to fight back(yet).I took them at their word. We had a new baby (Oscar) who didn't sleep, a three year old that didn't sleep..we didn't sleep..I didn't know which end was up. It wasn't until his first speech evaluation that I rapidly fell back down to earth. As an ironic aside-When the speech therapist came to our house to evaluate Sammy ..she looked at Oscar in his little swing and declared "Now THAT is what a normal child acts like!" Funny huh?...maybe not so much. She then proceeded to tell us(after spending five minutes with him-by the way, it was her last day working for this particular agency) that he was basically incapable...didn't know anything..that her coming had been a waste of time.That I needed to FACE REALITY. As she was leaving,
she said "just look at his ears-they are too low on his head..that tells me a lot!" sigh.. To this day-I still don't know what she meant by that. I did ask his doctor if his ears were low...he just looked at me oddly..and said.."What?" I said.."nothing!".. and left it at that.

I did face reality that day. I knew all along that my son had issues-knew that we all had our work cut out for us. I also knew that unless I stood up for him(and myself)-insisted on getting the services he needed in place, no one else would. I learned to look at my son. Really look. He was telling us so much. Only it just wasn't in words. I learned how to listen. I also learned how to file a complaint.

All of this seems like a life time ago-when in reality it was only nine and a half years. There has been so much growth, so much change. Funny how you don't always seem to notice these things until something big happens.. like the honor roll or student council...and even a first date.We are just too busy living/enjoying the day to day to always see it. Although we do try our best to encourage them all-every day. They are great kids-and I like to tell them that. The really nice thing is that they are starting to encourage each other..although sibling rivalry and competing for my attention does happen....

Today, Oscar must have overheard me talking to Sammy about his report card..telling him that he had a real talent for science and math..because a few minutes later he came to me and said "Mama? Do you want to know what I'm really good at?" silly me...he had brought some great math work home and I thought he was going to mention it..so I said "Absolutely..tell me" and he said "You really want to know I am talented in?" (Oh why didn't I notice the grin on his face) "Yes Oscar tell me!"(sometimes I am just too innocent) "I'm really good at POOPING!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" *sigh*

Whether you are a "Motha" or a "Mother"...or like me-a bit of both..I wish you all a lovely Mothers day weekend. I shall be enjoying it with the herd-who, by the way, ALL have lovely ears.

Stumbling past...

2011-04-30T07:00:00.075-04:00

~"“Experience is the name every one gives to their mistakes."~ Oscar Wilde

Have you ever heard the saying "kids keep you young"? I swear the people who say it either never had kids or are suffering some form of dementia. There is no doubt about it-kids age you. Mind you, it isn't all bad. In some ways the aging includes wisdom-knowledge..a different perspective on the world. On the other hand though, they can just plain wear you out...until you are nothing more than a dried out husk. I think the trick is in finding your balance-your joy. Especially during the difficult times..say when your three year old son is having a freakout on line at the supermarket-and your eighteen month old daughter (seeing your distraction) unclips herself from her seat and decides to take a ride down the check outs conveyor belt. Now you have a choice. You can either grab your son and yell to your daughter (and vice versa) OR you can redirect your boy and watch your daughter enjoy the ride. Me? I'm all for enjoying the ride. .

This week,I will be celebrating my forty seventh year. Holy crap forty seven!! How did that happen? I've been happily skipping along-enjoying the roller coaster that life is-and BAM! All of a sudden I'm thinking about my mortality. I think kids do that. I mean, I never really thought about "THE END" until I had kids. My life-being alive..never seemed more important than when they entered the picture. I very much remember the day Sammy was born..holding my little chubby headed baby boy..and thinking "I need to be around for at least twenty one more years." I'm guessing that this is a natural reaction to new parenthood. Especially because they are so small and vulnerable. It isn't till later when they start asserting their independence...say, in the form of running down the street wearing only socks that you wonder-"WILL I make it twenty one years-or will I collapse from sheer exhaustion before then?"

Yes, parenting has aged me. But it has also expanded me-brought me places I never imagined standing. Like the middle of a Walmart on a busy Sunday afternoon because it is Spring and I think it is necessary that we have the appropriate bubbles and sidewalk chalk to play with. Or the back of a classroom on a Wednesday morning watching your son give a report to his class. Places I thought I would never want to be..(well I still don't want to be at Walmart) and yet there I am..content (again, not at Walmart-but definitely buying bubbles). Almost forty seven and excited over side walk chalk. Who knew?

I can't tell you where it is I expected to be at forty seven years of age-if you had asked me twenty years ago, it certainly wouldn't have been here. Yet, I am oddly giddy about where I am. Sure, I could complain..rail against the gods..gnash my teeth and bemoan the consequences of my life. I could sit and whine..cry about autism..bitch and moan and protest at the unjustness that I see in the world..at the behaviors of my children, of all the work ahead and behind. I could...but it wouldn't be honest. It wouldn't. I'm not saying that I don't have days where I want to quit. Oh there have been plenty of times when I have called Omar at work and given my "two week" notice. I am a mother after all..we are allowed to complain from time to time. Just not ALL the time. I think that for every one complaint there ought to be twice as many compliments. Just sayin...

It's hard to look back on, but when I was in my teens and early twenties, I didn't think I would even make it to thirty. I didn't even care. I lived hard..and I must admit..there were moments when I had a hell of a lot of fun. But the fun never really outweighed the consequences..it was tumultuous...crazy..and sometimes very dark. Looking back sometimes makes me cringe. *sigh* But sometimes...sometimes your past has a way of creeping up on you in the middle of the night, knocking you down..shaking you up..making you question your present. Especially when your present is so damn incredible. Sometimes when I am in the grip of the past, I find myself wondering just what it is that I have done to deserve this life of mine...and I mean that in the best way. Oh, I worry- about being worthy, competent...Of living up to the privilege of raising these four incredible children-who love me thoroughly and completely- leaving me breathless.... And then, the toilet overflows..or the dogs throw up..and the kids need to be fed..and the laundry done..it is then that I find my balance and remember to breathe(or call Omar)..Remember that the past is what makes the now so much more..

Saying that my kids" keep me young" just doesn't sound right-to me. They definitely keep me present..and joyful-overwhelmed and scattered. They sure do make the ride far more interesting than I ever could. But young? No. I am going to be forty seven..and although mentally I could pass for twelve(possibly even maturity wise)...my body..*sigh* can not. Maybe I'll think differently when I'm in my eighties...when dementia sets in...perhaps I'll start wearing a bikini then..or ride a motorcycle(but not at the same time.....not that I want you to visualize an eighty year old in a bikini on a fast motorcycle with the wind blowing through her hanging arm wrinkles)-they will all be way over twenty one. But till then..I'll just count my years along with my blessings...and hope that I get some good presents.

It's blog gems time again..

2011-04-25T09:18:00.001-04:00

This time the focus is on funny stories. So, I chose this post.-because really, what could be funnier than than a couple of kids and an Old Navy mannequin? If you would like to participate in this fun blog gem hop, go on over and post your link here!!

The ego has landed...

2011-04-23T07:00:00.030-04:00

~"Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward."~

Kurt Vonnegut

It has been eighteen days since our last major snowfall. The daffodils are sprouting,..the driveway has cracked from the frost heaves..and the yard is a muddy mess. It's official -Spring has finally come to New England. Along with it-Spring Break. My goodness! Time does indeed fly-It feels like we just had Winter break. But that was ~~only~~ seven weeks ago..of course none of those weeks were full weeks seeing as we had snow days..or kids home sick..or teacher workshops and half days. I don't believe I have had a full "kid free" week since before Christmas. Not that I'm counting. But if I were counting-which I am not, I think that I have had at least one herdling home with me at least one day a week...( sometimes all of them) since..November. But again, I am not counting.

  This past week has been an adventurous one. My kids are at an age where they are very self ~~destructive~~ entertaining. This week, my girls have discovered the art of painting. It started with rocks and ended..well, it hasn't ended yet. But I have learned that Windex does indeed remove paint from cars..and rugs...and even hair.. They have moved on to painting modeling clay..Have you ever tried to remove hunks of dried clay from a vacuum cleaner hose? No, really-that wasn't a rhetorical question...I need to know how to do this.Your input would be greatly appreciated.. The boys have had their pursuits as well. Which they have been kind enough to share.(a lot) If there is anyone interested in learning the the entire history of "Metroids" along with video accompaniment-just ask-I'd be more than happy to accommodate you..I believe that after this week, I could qualify as an expert on the topic. You may also be interested in learning why it is Oscar likes the character of Mario so much...
"Mama! Do you know why I like Mario"
"No Oscar, why do you like Mario?"
"Mario has a big nose!"
"That's nice"
"He has a big nose FULL of snot Mama!"
"Great."
"Say it Mama"
"Say what?"
"Say he has a big nose full of snot!"
"Oscar."
"Say it Mama! please!"
"sigh...hehasabignosefullofsnot."
"NO! SAY- HE HAS A BIG NOSE FULL OF SNOT!"
"He has a big nose full of snot!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"O.K. enough Oscar.."
"Do you like Mario?"
"I don't really think about him"
"But he has a big nose"
"I am well aware"
"What is well aware?"
"It means that I know that he has a big nose"
"Full of snot! hahahahahahahahahahaha!"

  I don't want you to think that the whole week was all paint and clay-aliens and snot. No, there were adult things as well. Last week I was contacted to participate in a conference call with Holly Robinson Peete- (This took place last Friday.) called "A conversation with Holly about autism awareness month". I have to say at first-it was a rather wonderful ego boost. It is nice to be recognized for the work you are doing in the autism community. I was feeling all kinds of good about myself-truth be told. I thought "Wow-I will actually have a chance to participate in something-have my voice really be heard." So, as directed, I sent in some questions and eagerly dialed into the conference call. Holly was nice and personable. She told us a little bit of her own story-and why she was involved in advocacy and The HollyRod foundation. Then she started answering questions. *sigh* and that is where she started losing me. Really-a question about HOW she finds her balance-family career and autism..come on!!! Aren't we ALL in the same position?. Holy crap-I'm on this phone conference during spring break with four kids surrounding me!! I'm supposed to be interested in how she balances her life?? This isn't advocacy nor awareness..it was pandering to a celebrity. There were more "balance" questions..and sibling questions..I even got one of mine answered. The problem is-these were all answered from her personal point of view. Which in many places is different from mine. That's fine. Different opinions, different ideas-they make up our whole community. I didn't however have a chance to say that. Because this wasn't really a conversation-it was a lecture...and sadly at the end-a sales pitch. Yup-an online shopping "community" sponsored this call. They are selling a bracelet and passing the proceeds on to the HollyRod foundation. I'm not interested in a bracelet! I'm interested in changing the world. The sad thing is that Holly seemed like a very nice person. I would have really enjoyed having the opportunity to discuss advocacy and awareness with her. I could have even told her about Metroids! My ego is not quite the size that would allow me to call this" her loss"-but it is just big enough to have been bruised by this. You win some you lose some.

  There are just two more days until the end of Spring break..two days between me and some decent quiet time. That is as long as it doesn't snow and the kids stay healthy. I will keep everything that I have two of crossed-which is very hard to do. But still- not as hard as cleaning dried clay out of a vacuum cleaner hose...

Shopping the hurdles....

2011-04-16T07:00:00.089-04:00

~"This is as true in everyday life as it is in battle: we are given one life and the decision is ours whether to wait for circumstances to make up our mind, or whether to act, and in acting, to live."~ anonymous

I think that every parent has been there..You are out shopping with your kids and one of them utters THOSE words(if your lucky). There could be as many as six, could be as few as three. But they say them and immediately you become a parent of action.. Did you ever see a gazelle gently grazing-and all of a sudden they sense a lion? There head goes up, their body stiffens, they are on high alert. The only thing they seem to be thinking is how to get from point A to point B in the quickest way possible.That is how it was on Tuesday, when in the middle of shopping, Lily looked at me and said "Mama, I think I'm going to throw up." Being on the opposite end of the store from the bathroom, I had to act quickly! The only real obstacles were the packs of roaming senior citizens (many riding carts) cluttering up the aisles. How was I going to get through with two kids and a full cart? I don't know how we did it. The memory is a blur..but somehow I managed to get us to the bathroom with the agility of a highly trained athlete-without knocking over a cart or breaking anyones hip. The seniors are slow, but for the most part they are an understanding and gentle group.

  It has been quite a while since I had to navigate a store like that-years actually. But there was a time when I could have done it blindfolded. When I knew every escape route that there was, every quiet corner, every bathroom. Some of my children have sensory issues. When they were younger, and we were in a place with too much light, or noise or crowds-there were times that they completely lost it-broke down, fell apart. There was nothing to do but try and help them-either by getting them out of the area-or sitting down and waiting it out. We dealt with it as a family. It wasn't strange or odd-it just was. We would get through it and we moved on.  I know-it sounds easy, but in hind site-it wasn't. There were many things that we had to do as a family-as parents, that were incredibly difficult.

There was a time when one of my children was violent. A time when at any moment-like a hair pin trigger, they could become so enraged that the only thing they could do was self injure or lash out at me. There was a time when I thought I had to live that way. That somehow, because I was the mother it was my responsibility to bear. Because somehow this was my fault. That I was missing something, not doing enough..I LOVED them..I just had to love them more. Even if it meant I was beaten up, bitten, bruised and bloodied.

   I was wrong. Absolutely without a doubt-wrong. Allowing this behavior to continue was NOT loving my child. Allowing this behavior was telling them that it was acceptable. That they somehow did not have to follow the same rules as everyone else. That they were incapable. Allowing this behavior separated them from the rest of the family. Realizing all of this-it was harder than hard. Because it meant that I had to face a hard reality. My child had been communicating with me-they were screaming for help..and I was too worried about being a "good parent" to listen.

  What followed were some of our darkest days-because we had to make decisions-decisions that sounded horrible. Would they need to leave home for a while? Everyone knows that considering placement out of the home makes you a bad parent-right? Everyone knows that every facility is a snake pit..a place for undesirables..right? Oh and don't even think of using medication! We over medicate our kids! It would be me just trying to "cure" them..make them compliant..suck their soul away..GOOD parents don't think of these things!....Oh, I heard it all-and believe me, I thought it as well. I also know that if I had chosen to listen to those words-allowed them to keep me from changing things, I'd have people commending me. Telling me how brave I was because "good parents" don't make those decisions. But, none of those people were my child-none of those people could look at them after one of their freakouts and SEE that my child didn't want to feel this way- see how the fallout shattered them. Recognize that they were looking to me for help...sigh... It is to me, my greatest failure as a parent to have not acknowledged it sooner. But it is also my greatest joy to recognize that even though it took me a while, I did..

  It has been a few years since those dark days. So much has changed since then, so much progress has been made. Yes, I may actually be getting the hang of this child rearing business. Good thing that there isn't an expiration date to parenting. Because I am sure that I have plenty more to learn-and that there is plenty more for my children to teach me and vice versa. They continue to thrive, they continue to grow-we are blessed.

So, after successfully navigating the flocks of senior citizens crowding the aisles, and making it to the bathroom- we found ourselves once again thwarted by...*sigh.*..more seniors with uuhh..gastrointestinal issues. It was definitely NOT the place to be with a nauseous child and her now nauseous sister..nor an equally nauseous mother..as I looked at my daughters through watering eyes..we came to an unspoken consensus....without uttering a word between us, we turned around and ran out the door. The reason for going there forgotten-the relief at getting out..priceless...

Dog wrestling....a very long post..

2011-04-09T07:00:00.103-04:00

~"The unexamined life is not worth living"~ Socrates

  This morning, as I was being dragged down the street by my three dogs, I thought to myself-"Crap, I'm glad it is Friday" .,And as I twisted on the asphalt trying to control my three ~~demons beasts~~ animals (who had escaped our yard) my blue and white striped pajama pants easing their way down my legs as I desperately held on to bits of dog in an attempt to stop them from pouncing on a neighbor and his puppy..I also thought.".there has got to be an easier way" , How did I wind up with three dogs?"...and" please please please let me be wearing underwear without huge holes in it."

  It has been a crazy week of great highs and utterly extreme lows. There was a bullying incident (This time with Sammy-and while it is not the first for him this year-I can absolutely guarantee it will be the last) Nothing screams "ONLY? 72 hours till Friday" like a group of concerned parents telling me of an incident that happened involving my son at school. Yup-there is nothing like having to email and call my sons support people at night to find out what happened. Guess what! They didn't know about it either! I'm still waiting for the principal to call me-to let me know how this was all resolved-you know to assure me that my son would indeed be safe both in and out of the classroom.   Sam and I have spoken at length, I just think that it would be ~~responsible~~   awful nice if the principal discussed it with me as well. *sigh* Why am I reminded of the Jimmy Buffet song "If the phone doesn't ring, it's me"? hmmmm.... In the meantime, I ~~screamed~~ called a team meeting for Tuesday-It should prove interesting.

  Not all of the week was bad. Oscar, had his biography fair and oral presentation at school. I have to say that I was plenty nervous for him. This is a very big project..HUGE..GINORMOUS...The kids pick a person in history they are interested in and write a report on them. They also make up a journal, birth certificates, posters, costumes and give an oral report. Unfortunately," Mario" is not an actual living person, nor is" Little Bill", or either" Phineas and Ferb. "  We had to pick a real person-and who better for Oscar than "Mel Blanc".

  It isn't easy to get Oscar to focus. He has so many other things he would rather be doing-namely anything other than school work. Thankfully, we have a very dedicated team of people working with him, who ~~insisted~~
assisted him with his project. When I walked into his classroom(to watch his report) on Tuesday morning, I really didn't know what to expect. I think in all honesty-I wondered if he could do this..Yeah..I was anxious. Here is my boy-one of the biggest joys in my life about to stand up in front of his class and give a report. There is a part of me that just wants to protect him..envelop him. I think every parent feels this way from time to time. He is so innocent and joyful-and I was afraid that.. if he couldn't do this-he would..I don't know....be hurt..feel as if he failed? So many conflicting thoughts.especially after last weeks incident..so I busied myself with the camera..until it was his turn.

  He was...wonderful..he went to the front of the room..he was so focused..as he stood there waiting for his cue to begin. He read his information from his index cards..and when he was finished took questions from his classmates. It went off without a hitch. I didn't realize until later when we watched the video quite how wonderful it was. Everyone of course commended him for a job well done. It was watching Oscar watch himself that was magnificent. It was almost as if he had a self revelation. He saw what he did-really saw it and was...kind of in awe. Which makes me wonder if he is not as confident as we have all thought him to be. He watched himself and he glowed...shined. Held himself in a way I had never seen before. My boy-saw himself and knew KNEW he was everything we told him he was..smart..wonderful..a person in his own right..He beamed.

  I wish that I could say that the rest of the week went as smoothly..No, I didn't get any phone calls.. It was family reading night that did us in. Our school does this every year. It is a fun evening where families get together to listen to stories- there are door prizes, food...and free books. Oscar likes picture books..especially if their are animals involved. So there we were looking through the offerings..when the person manning the table decided that we were somehow lost..and kept insisting on directing us to the table with books for older kids. At first I just smiled and tried to ignore her...but she wouldn't stop...even after I gave her the "mother" look and firmly stated we were fine where we were...(I did so want to tell her to shut up)-. She was just so cheerfully insistent. I was so uncheerfully pissed-that I didn't see Oscar walk away and grab a random book from the older kids selection. I didn't realize how upset he was..until I saw him standing with Omar. Trying so very hard not to cry..to hold himself together Where was my boy from the night before? Had he been done in by the very irritating book lady? Oh how I wanted to throw things at her..

   After my early morning dog wrestling peep show (I wonder if there is a career in that?) , I could not wait for this day to be over. The only thing standing between me and two days off (if you can call being alone with four kids "off") was the biography fair at school. Oscar and his classmates, would have their own space to display their work and answer questions from parents and students. Oscar once again was magnificent-he held it together for the entire day. Answering questions, standing at his station..even when I went and whispered "lets go to hairy world!" in his ear. Although he did inform me that the biography fair was no place for jokes. It was a mostly shining week for him. Not so much for Sam....I can't speak for the dogs...or my neighbor. But Oscar did inform me this evening that he was "amazing". I tend to agree..

caught unaware with my ribbons down..

2011-04-02T07:00:00.118-04:00

  It is that time of year again..you know..where we are supposed to be "aware" or "More Aware"..or perhaps "spread awareness"...Time to tweet and blog and join face book events..and generally talk to the same people you do all throughout the year. Yes-Autism awareness month is once again upon us..It is time to take off the brown ribbon of colo-rectal awareness month(March) and don the blue or the puzzle piece one for autism (move over colons! Autism is in town)..or the green one for IBS awareness (that's too is in April..along with Alcohol awareness(red ribbon), and sexual assault and prevention awareness(teal ribbon) and a myriad of things we ought to be aware of-each with coinciding ribbons) . What to wear what to wear..

  I know without a doubt that when I walk into my children's school next week-there will be many puzzle piece ribbons..Well meaning individuals who are saying Look!"I am aware- I have a ribbon! I know someone with autism!"(Hey-just because I know people with colons-you won't catch me wearing a brown ribbon! The same goes for autism) .... I got a call from the school yesterday. It seems that Oscar was being teased. About what? I don't know. The only reason we do know about this is because one of his friends brought this to the attention of a teacher. It was suggested that another child or children may have been making fun of Oscar's stimming. For reasons beyond ridiculous-I am not allowed to know who this child/children was/were or what exactly it is that he/she/they/they did. Only that he/she was/were firmly dealt with. No, I was told that it would be up to Oscar-(who may or may not be aware of what it is that happened) to tell me. That's right-put it on my son who has struggles with pragmatic language. I stated that Oscar-was well aware of everything that goes on in his day-but, it might take him as much as a month to process it-and let me know. I then asked whether or not the other child/children knew that Oscar was on the spectrum. I was told "no."..I asked what the kids at school were taught about autism..I was told "I don't know".. So where does that leave my boy? Is he becoming the elephant in the room? Oh sure, he might stim and giggle inappropriately, flap and "eee"-but we can't tell anyone why..can't explain any of it..no, somehow that would violate his privacy No, we'll just let him be who he is and not explain anything when somebody notices. Are you freaking kidding me? We can't explain that there might be a reason behind the things that he does-we'll just let other kids think he's weird. So, while we are being internationally "aware"-we are locally not going to acknowledge..and instead rely on assumption-and maybe a ribbon. We'll just "assume" the other kids will figure it out? As my fourth grade teacher -Sister Catherine Marita always said "Assuming makes an ass of you!" she also said "Your cruising for a bruising"-but that's a post for another day..

  I am sure that many will say "But this is why we have an awareness month!!" "This is why it is so important!!"..Sure, we can talk and tweet and blog about acceptance or a cure (depending on where you stand) we can say that more research needs to be done, more supports given, accommodations offered..We can argue and sign petitions or not-yell about experience or inexperience and point of view and privilege...we can take a month and wear a ribbon....until next month when the topic changes (along with the ribbon). I don't negate the need for any of these things. I'm just saying that one month and a ribbon do not convey what my kids live every day. It doesn't even come close.

  Oscar came home from school yesterday in a messy mood. He told me that his day had been "all mixed up" (*sigh* part of this is my fault-I mixed up lunch boxes-and one does NOT interfere with Oscar's snacks!!) and that he was bullied at recess. Someone wanted his attention and he didn't want to give it. Now, I have no idea if this is the "incident" that I was called about. (believe me, I WILL find out) But I will say this-the boy he spoke about has issues of his own. Reasons for behaving the way in which he does. It does not excuse his behavior-it does however, help to explain it. Which goes a long way towards understanding.

  Three of my four kids are on very different places of the spectrum-with Oscar being the most affected (for lack of a better word) Oscar knows that he is different-he is aware.. He knows that most people don't "stim" like him..or flap or say "eeee". He knows-As do the people in his life. They also know that he is caring, and kind and very very funny. What some people need to understand-is why he does some of the things he does.There is a big difference between awareness and being aware. My kids don't need a ribbon or a puzzle piece or a color-they don't need a month...they need twelve..and they need it forever.

  So today, I wore my pajamas( all day)-as it was a snow day and the kids were home from school. (yup-just when we thought spring had sprung-mother nature played a nasty April fools joke..I'm so not laughing) Tomorrow-I will wear whatever is clean. Because awareness isn't a color-or a month. It is every day.

This week on Plague House...

2011-03-26T07:00:00.082-04:00

~"The Guide is definitive. Reality is frequently inaccurate."~ Douglas Adams

I don't know if any of you recall a television series on PBS called "Frontier House". It was an educational reality show on what life was like on the frontier of the U.S. in 1883. This was not the only show in this series. There was also "Manor House" and "1900 House"..I loved these shows. They took modern day families and let them live the experience of those times- filming it for my viewing pleasure. This is reality television that I can understand. Because, I just don't get what the fascination is with shows like "Jersey Shore" and "The Kardashian's". Really, what is there to learn -aside from "How to look your best while slamming down shots and picking up strangers"? Maybe it's "How to make millions of dollars by doing and wearing almost absolutely nothing?" Either one-I don't have the time or interest.

  Sammy once told me that he would love to be the star of a reality series...until I explained (and demonstrated) what living with a camera in your face would be like. "Besides", I told him "What would be so interesting about us that would make people want to watch? Me doing laundry? You getting on the bus? I could just see the cliffhanger-Mama serves a different brand of frozen pizza! How will the herd react?!!" Unless there is a new television network called "Tedious" I don't see us being offered a show any time soon. But...say they did?...if a network came to me and said "We would like to give you ten million dollars to film a week of your life-any week you choose"..I might consider it. For educational purposes of course. I'd also have chosen this week-and called it "Plague House" Because nothing screams good television like four sick kids...Yes, this week, all of my children came down with the flu..falling over consecutively..like so many vomit filled dominoes. It started a week ago Thursday with Oscar moved to Sammy, on to Lily and at last seems to be finishing up today with Zoe....sigh..even the dogs were involved.

  Oh the possibilities are endless..I can just hear the intro .."Today on Plague House..watch as Kathleen repeatedly cleans her now "colorful" carpet after one of her dogs eats crayons!! "...or "Today on Plague House..Kathleen learns that the phrase "Mama I made it to the bathroom!" does not necessarily mean that the toilet seat was up." I can imagine the audience either sympathizing with or loathing me when Oscar falls asleep in the middle of the busy cafeteria at lunch because I sent him back to school before he was ready.. I see them riveted to their seats watching as Omar rushes Lily to the pediatrician..and my conflict in wondering if I should pick up the phone when the nurse calls leaving an admonishing message on the answering machine- because we are late for this appointment that they squeezed into their already over filled schedule just for us... The passion...the drama...the three kids simultaneously throwing up with and one bathroom! With the exception of scantily clad women-(unless you count me-wearing fleece sleep pants and one of Omar's tee shirts-I bet you somewhere someone finds that sexy) we had the makings of a hit reality television series.

  Fortunately, the herd is recovering. What an awful week it was. I don't think that there is anything as horrible as the helpless feeling you have, when you know that there is nothing you can do for your sick kids but comfort them. That this is just one of those things that needs to be gotten through. Thank goodness for Advil, and ice, and a washing machine. For showers, and vapor rub..apple juice and television. Chez herd may not be a hit television series..but that is just fine with me, because I have had all the drama I could ever want in this past week-and all without watching one episode of "The Jersey Shore".

*To all my blogging friends-I'm sorry that I have not kept up with my usual Friday blog reading! Hoping to be back on track next week. :)

Me meme

2011-03-24T19:55:00.010-04:00

I have been tagged by the lovely Looking for Blue Sky to participate in this " me meme". Although it isn't really about me-but rather, how my kids perceive me-through drawing. With the exception of Oscar-the herd loves to draw. Page after page of drawings. The girls are most interested in drawing ponies..colorful ponies, winged ponies, ponies playing games, ponies eating ice cream..ponies at school, ponies at play..happy ponies, sad ponies..angry ponies, ponies on the wrong side of the law..ponies gone wild. Ponies all day all the time. Sammy on the other hand draws action heroes..thousands of them. Really-the boy goes through paper. Reams of paper..so much paper...tree's fear him. He also INSISTS on saving every single one of those papers. This is a picture of roughly six weeks worth of drawings. I worry about fire safety...and winding up on an episode of "Hoarders"

I am excited to participate in this meme-because, for all the drawing three of them do-They have never drawn a picture of me. So here are the rules..

Ask your child to draw a picture of you. It doesn’t matter how old they are…
Post the picture on your blog.
Call it the ‘This is Me Meme’.
Pop over to here and add to the linky.
Then tag some others

So, I asked the herd to draw just me-and here is what they came up with. It was kind of interesting to see their perspective. I did not know my head was so big! Oh, and just for your information-I do not wear dresses with hearts or bows in my hair-nor is my body triangle shaped. I also do NOT suffer from jaundice. Out of all of them- I think Oscar caught the essence of me....

This is Zoe's...

This is Lily's

This is Oscar's..he remembered my glasses..

This is Sammy's..

Of course, I love every single one of them-they are all so different. I couldn't tell you which is the most accurate-because it is my kids perception. So, in order to bring in even more perspective, I have added a picture of what I usually look like-you be the judge.

This is how I usually look. Drinking coffee, doing laundry, in the kitchen, and always wearing cool shoes.

Now for my tags. I chose the following bloggers because I have read so much about their kids-I want to see what their kids say about them-with drawings.

Kim

Laura

bbsmum

Big Daddy Autism

So go forth my fellow bloggers-tag you're it!

Strangers wearing name tags...

2011-03-19T07:00:00.114-04:00

"Sometimes you're the windshield; sometimes you're the bug.

- Mark Knopfler."

  I worked at Walmart once. Well, worked is kind of pushing it a little. It is more like I spent three hours preparing to work for Walmart. Three hours watching "informational" training videos. I have to say, they spend an inordinate amount of time teaching people how to use box cutters. I learned many things. For instance, NEVER ever carry one around by its blade-or never put one in your pocket with the blade extended. Useful information if you should ever have the need to use a box cutter. Fortunately, I have never found myself in that position. But If I ever should-I will be prepared. Thanks Walmart!

  It was a rough time financially for us. Omar was working forty miles away, we had a new baby Oscar and were first time home owners. In other words we were flat broke. I had to get a job. So it was Walmart or bust. A jobs a job. You do what you have to. Right? So I dove into the finer points of box cutter techniques with a positive attitude. Until I was handed my "official" Walmart name tag. I'm sure most of you have seen them-a large rectangle..embossed with the Walmart logo (of course in red white and blue) and "Kathleen" boldly stamped across the front. I have to be honest here- I am so not a fan of the name tag. Any name tag .I believe that they give people ideas..a sense of camaraderie that is not earned. I can't tell you how many people have thought it o.k. to shorten my name to "Kathy".( I KNOW..What? I am so not a "Kathy"!) I think that if you need to know my name-ask me...maybe I'll tell you. (although...I have been known to give different names from time to time-depending on my mood. There was a muffin store I once worked in where many of the customers thought my name was "Sharon"). But I digress...So, I was handed my official name tag-and as I was about to pin it on to my official blue Walmart vest...I noticed that there was a ribbon hanging off of it..and on the ribbon in bold print were the words "LEARNING TO SERVE". gasp! I remember thinking " Is this what I have been reduced to?? A label that people would shorten at will and a ribbon implying that I didn't know what I was doing? Me!? ( I mean- Hey-I passed my "box cutter"quizzes with flying colors!) It's Walmart for goodness sake! sigh... I didn't have a choice. If I wanted to be paid-I had to wear it. We needed the money-I had no choice.

  Oh-but luck was on my side! That very same day, Omar was transferred to a restaurant four miles from our house-and not only that-his monthly bonus would now exceed what I would have made at Walmart in three months alone! The relief was palpable. We would be financially stable...AND I didn't have to wear the name tag!! Oh happy day!

  Since that unfortunate Walmart episode-my dislike for name tags has turned to loathing. If only it were the same way for my kids. They love them-especially Oscar. My boy has never met a name tag he hasn't been compelled to read-out loud. Most people are o.k. with this. Oscar is charming and friendly..and so darn enthusiastic-that, most name tag wearing people take it with a grain of salt. They smile, they say "hi"..and that's the end of it. It has worked out fine-until we met the infamous "Jim P."

    We were at the market, standing in line at the deli counter. It was a busy Saturday, and I was only there (with the herd) out of dire necessity. The line for the deli was long-and it appeared as if it were short staffed. Only two clerks for about thirty people. One of them was Jim P. We know that-(in fact EVERYONE knew that) because besides it being written on his name tag- Oscar made a point of announcing it. "Hey-Look! Theres Jim P.!" (as if he were a long lost friend) "Hi Jim P.!!" ...Jim P. ignored him...so he said it louder.."Hey Jim P.-Hi!"    Now, I try to think the best of people-especially when they aren't being very nice. They could be sick, or having family problems.... People have bad days-I get that. And, because you never really know whats going on- I try not to assume. Normally, I would have intervened..distracted Oscar, explained that Jim P. was busy and did not have time to say hello. But Jim P. made a big mistake. You see, when Oscar said hello for the second time-Jim P. looked at the other customers and rolled his eyes-as if he were disgusted. That did not fly right with this mother. Not one bit. My kids are taught to respect people, to acknowledge them-and to respond when they are being acknowledged. In other words-they have been taught manners. I understand that Oscars exuberance can be a little daunting. But, he's a kid-and it was obvious that all he wanted to do was say hello..*sigh* I figured that it was time to school Jim P. in manners. So, for the next ten minutes, Oscar insisted on trying to get Jim P.'s attention . "Hey Jim P.-I'm Oscar" or ""Hey Jim P. are you cutting turkey?" and "Look, Jim P. is washing his hands." I think that Jim P. worked very hard and fast in that ten minutes-if only to get us out of there. As he was handing me my package I made a point of praising Oscar for his manners pointing out how nice it is to take the time acknowledge people. All the while, I was looking at Jim P.

  Since that day-I have explained to my kids my problem with name tags. That even though someone is wearing one-it is nice to wait until they give you their name. We have never run into that situation again. Funny, we have also not run into Jim P. either. I don't think he works there anymore. There is a part of me that hopes he's at Walmart.

Air your archives-Blog gems #11

2011-03-13T18:52:00.001-04:00

Jen, has started another blog gems hop-yes, it is air your archives time again! This week, the prompt is-creative...so I thought I would share a little of my herds creativity...and the anxiety it has caused me...

Bleacher wail..

March in New England brings melting snow, the desperate hope of spring and the youth basketball season to our little town. Every Saturday, parents of eight to twelve year olds gather in the school gymnasium to watch their children compete. This is my son Sammy's second year playing on a team. The games are short enough for him to keep focus (about twenty five minutes) and he enjoys being with the other kids. Every Saturday morning, I (frantically) gather up the herd(getting four kids dressed and a travel mug of coffee out the door can take intense negotiation), and we make our way over to watch Sammy play in that weeks game.

My other three kids love going to Saturday basketball. For one reason-and one reason alone. The bleachers. You know, those gigantic wooden structures, that unfold from the walls of the gymnasium, creating instant seating for a hundred or so people. Those massive wooden things with hinges that shake and bounce as your kids run up and down them...I hate them. The person who invented these anxiety causing monstrosities, was definitely not a parent. What parent in their right mind would design something that rises fifty feet in the air with seating resembling an enormous staircase, WITH NO RAILINGS?! It is a straight drop down-and if you are a child between the ages of 2 and 10-where do you want to sit? At the edge of course!!(If I had my way they would have seat belts and shoulder harnesses-and be made out of foam) What is the FIRST thing that any kid wants to do when they see them?... Run to the top.... And then back down..and back up.. fifty thousand times. My kids can be particularly creative. Simply running up and down is boring to them. Oh no, they need to be creative-to challenge the laws of gravity, to laugh in the face of danger...to age their already aged mother. They will run up sideways and come down backwards, they will go up sitting and come down sliding. They will hop and twirl and play balance beam. They will come down backwards hopping on one foot with their eyes closed, while reciting the alphabet.They will do all this without regard to life, limb, or their mothers mental health. There is so much tension in the gym on Saturday mornings, most of it caused by my children.

I try to keep track of the game. I am there to support my son. It is just so difficult to both watch a game and keep your children from killing themselves. On the court, the boys, all attired in baggy shorts, run back and forth-all elbows and knees. On the bleachers..the other three also hop back and forth-with their eyes closed-at the very top-trying to touch the ceiling. Sammy gets the ball and immediately passes it to another player. This is a big improvement from last year. Back then, if he got the ball, he would giggle uncontrollably. Or, if he saw a friend on the opposing team, he would just drop the ball so he could give him a hug. This year, he is much more focused. He passes the ball with intent...he picks a player to guard, and jumps up and down in front of him frantically waving his arms. Someone shouts "way to go Sammy!".. My boy is appreciated .( There are definite attributes to living in a small town.) I on the other hand am twisting and turning, trying to watch the game AND catch any of my kids should they take a nose dive. I am NOT poetry in motion. I look like an ad for incontinence. One eye on the game, cheering loudly- and the other tracking the movement of three very creative gymnasts-whisper yelling "Get back HERE!!"....Oh how I fantasize about covering them all in pillows-or at least duct taping them next to me...When, finally, the buzzer goes off. The game is over. There is no winner, they don't keep score. But I....I feel like a champion. All of my children are walking out of the gym...ALIVE-uninjured..in one piece!! We have survived yet another Saturday basketball game. *sigh* Only seven more days until the next game. I wonder if it is wrong to pray for a snowstorm...or a bleacher malfunction...or for Omar to have off so he can take them...

Enough..

2011-03-12T07:00:00.149-05:00

~"We grow neither better nor worse as we get old, but more like ourselves.":~ May Lamberton

   I was cooking dinner ..well, putting a frozen pizza into the oven the other night when Oscar walked in and said to me (in a very bad Italian accent) "I don'ta eat mushrooms...mushrooms gonna give me the poo poo's"..Which of course made me burst out laughing. "What?" "Mushrooms! They give me the poo poo's!" "Oscar.....You've never eaten mushrooms in your life! What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about the mushrooms and the poo-poo's.HAHAHAHAHA!!!!" and off he went..Leaving me a bit confused until I found him on YouTube..watching a Mario episode..."Mario Farts". *sigh*.....Mushroom mystery solved.

   He's at that age..where everything toilet related is a riot..which is a change from the stage when everything "nipple" related just cracked him up. I find this this is so much more preferable to the time when he wouldn't even use the toilet-so I'm not going to complain ..too much. Because I know, that just like "Farmers Nipples" this too shall pass. It's funny-I don't always notice when my kids go through changes..do some growing-until they take a "next" step. Then all of a sudden I think "Holy crap! when did that happen?"

   I really haven't spoken much about the early years with my kids. Sometimes I wonder if I am doing them a disservice. I like writing about our lives now-but I need to remember what our lives were like back then-especially when I worry about what the future holds. They have come so far and worked so hard. Sometimes I kind of forget that.. Sometimes it is good to to revisit the past..shake up the dust..visit the ghosts...take stock.

  Oscar was my toughest baby...my most challenging toddler..and now...now, he is my most joyful boy. When did that happen? More importantly-how?! I look back to the time when  he never slept,( well hardly ever if you want to count two hour naps between thirty six hours of awake time) when he didn't speak..when all it seemed he could do was scream..When I say scream-it feels like an understatement. He would scream until he passed out from exhaustion..and then wake up and start all over again. Sometimes banging his head..smashing his face into the glass windows..throwing pictures or any other thing hanging up or on display in our house...or taking it out on me. Did I mention he screamed? As for autism... we didn't have a diagnosis until he was four and a half. I know it sounds crazy-but there you go. We were told it was a phase..maybe ADHD..that he would outgrow it...He just needed more attention. The professionals we took him to weren't concerned because "he made eye contact".... So, for a long time-I thought I was just awful at parenting. That we were concentrating too much on Sam and not enough on Oscar. So, diagnosis(-when we finally got one) was to us- a godsend. Yes, we suspected-we had been working with Sam..But Oscar was so different than his brother...he was more present-certainly more demanding..definitely louder. I remember feeling as though I didn't know how to listen.

  Sammy tells me that he stopped talking and responding (when he was little) because the world was too busy, and that words sounded jumbled and didn't make sense. He says that he felt better when he was in his head. Oscar does not have the words to tell me why things were so hard for him-yet. I hope that one day he does. Right now when I ask him "Oscar.. do you remember why you used to scream so much?" He'll tell me "I used to scream." "Yes, but do you know why?" "No, why?" "I don't know, I was hoping you could tell me." "Tell me what?" ....I stop myself before it turns into an Abbot and Costello parody of "who's on first?"..he just isn't ready for this conversation-yet. That's o.k.-we have plenty of others-they are just poop related.

  I think that the hardest part of being a parent(to any child) is the worry. I know that I can wind myself up into a gigantic stress ball just thinking about the "what ifs" and "whens"..I have to remind myself to look back sometimes...to dredge up the ghosts-if only to recognize how far we have all come from those dark days. The past is important to remember when the present time doesn't seem to be enough. And right now..my kids..all of them, are more than enough-even better.

    Right now, I am listening to Oscar squealing at the computer and yelling( again with the bad Italian accent) "Don't put a the farts in the fire!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" *sigh* He can still be so very loud....but at least in this moment, it is joyful. I'll have to work with him on the accent though...

Midweek meme...

2011-03-09T17:18:00.000-05:00

The lovely Laura has tagged me in a sort of "what do you have by your bed to read" meme. The rules are that you have to take a picture of the books....explain a little about them...and then tag a few bloggers..
So first up...the picture.

This is my bedside table...at least how I would like it to look.In other words..This is my bedside table if it were a work of fiction. Notice the GINORMOUS American eagle vase in the background. This was my Christmas present from Oscar(he found it at a thrift sale..). He knows that I like eagles..and he told me that this...reminded him of me? I'm still thinking on that. Do you see my little book light? That is for when I read at night. I really do wish it looked like this. but instead it looks like this....

Do you notice the abundance of "My Little Pony" books? Yup-I believe that we have all the latest pony literature- unabridged (for all you purists) There is also a "Stuart Little" book..and a "Gregor" book from the series by Suzanne Collins. I did not put them there. Really. My books are on the top of the pony pile-they are a few of the many books I am currently reading. "To Kill A Mockingbird" by Harper Lee(on the top of the pile) is one I just reread for the third time. It is so beautifully written-it is one of my all time favorites. I am also reading "A Long Ride for a Slice of Pie" By Tim Mulliner..it is true story about riding a bike from London to New Zealand for some Kiwi pie..And "The Will of the Empress" by Tamora Pierce-one of my favorite YA authors. She writes wonderfully strong girl characters. Again, the pony books are not mine. I will admit to reading the Gregor book-but only because Sam asked me to. I actually kind of have to-as he will come to me and start a discussion about it-not really noticing if I know what he is talking about or not. So, I read it in order to keep an edge. Again, I do NOT read the pony books.

So now I get to tag some bloggers to see what they are reading. I also wonder if any of them have a glorious American Eagle vase like I do...or" My Little pony Books"..(which I don't read.) I think that you can learn much about a person by what they read. (or don't read i.e. pony books) So, I look forward to seeing what these fellow bloggers read...Tag you're it!

Four Sea Stars

Don't panic

Welcome to the roller-coaster ride

In other words...

2011-03-05T07:00:00.018-05:00

~"It's a sin to kill a mockingbird"~Harper Lee

  "HALT! Mama HALT!" Oscar yelled...I was on the telephone and happened to use the words "My god!" which was a total "no no" to my boy. No..he has not suddenly become religious..or even spiritual. It is just that we have been discussing language lately-words, meanings..what is proper and much more importantly-what is not. My kids have taken it very seriously-so seriously that they have become some sort of "morality" police force..at school, with each other..and sigh...especially with me.

Now, I have been known on occasion to utter certain words-or phrases if you will. The kind of things that pop out of ones mouth when one happens to step bare foot on a Lego for instance or slam their head on an open cabinet door. Colorful words that usually start with an F or an S..sometimes whole strings of such words. I admit it-there are times they just flow forth with incredible grace and ease. I can be quite poetic. Fortunately, the kids have never really noticed-or so I thought..until now. I blame the computer among other things.

  Oscar, is incredible on the computer. If he is interested in something-it takes him less than thirty seconds to find it..and it is usually on YouTube. You can imagine my dismay when he turned to me one night and said "Mama..what's a boner?" To which I responded "I haven't the slightest idea! Go ask your Papa." (heehee) Oh, I knew my days were numbered and that it was time to talk to them .

  Some of my kids have fought hard for their words..so we have always tried to be encouraging-no matter what they said. The only real word rules we have had in place were that they were never to call someone stupid or an idiot..nor were they to exclaim "Oh my god". The first two...well, because I think that those are awful things to call anyone..and the latter because some people might be offended by it. I never thought to discuss any others with them-it just didn't seem necessary. Until now.*sigh* I don't know what has happened, but they all have begun to notice my use of certain words-collectively. So, I figured it was time to sit down and talk about it. Especially as they are asking what those words mean.

S-"Mama...what does the "F" word mean"
Me-"ummm..to have sex."
S-"Well..why would someone yell that at someone. It doesn't make sense"
Me-"You're right-it doesn't..I really have no idea why..it is just one of those words that kind of work in certain situations.."
L-"What does the "S" word mean?"
Me-"poop"
L"Then why don't you just say poop?"
Me-"..uumm..well..I guess the "S" word just works better sometimes...uumm..it's stronger"
L-"Well can I say it?"
Me-"No"
L-"Why not?"
Me-"I guess there are just certain words that don't sound nice coming from a kids mouth."
S-"Like stupid or idiot"
O-"Mama! Sammy said a bad word!"
Me-"No..look..there is no such thing as a "BAD" word...words aren't bad..the intention behind them is what matters. A word can't be bad...but how you use it can be..not nice."
L-"Well YOU use those words"
Me-"Yup...sometimes.."
L-"Well if they aren't bad then why can't we?"
Me-"Because I'm a grown woman"
L-"So when I'm a grown woman I can use them?"
Me-"When you are grown up AND you can give me fifty different words that mean the same exact thing..we'll talk about it."
L-"Fifty words?'......" (I can almost hear her thinking)
Me-"Yup-fifty."
L-"..o.k..."

  I thought we had settled it. that they understood where I was coming from. Until Oscar came running yelling "HALT!"( "HALT"???-don't know where that came from..maybe the computer?) at me when I said "My god"...*sigh* it took the better part of the evening to explain that the word "god" was NOT bad...but that I had indeed made a mistake in my use of it...But then again..Lily, loudly exclaimed "Holy SHRIMP" in the store the other day..and even louder explained "I say shrimp but MAMA uses the OTHER word".(.parent teacher conferences should be interesting next week. .)

  It seems that I am going to have to watch what I say from now on...It is either that or not slam my knee into table corners, step on Thomas toys in bare feet,,or stub my toe on furniture. I do know one thing for sure. I am hiding the dictionary from Lily...Holy shrimp-indeed.

Can..Will...Does..

2011-02-28T09:36:00.000-05:00

It is blog gems time again! This week the meme is happy thoughts. Click on the gem to the right of the page, and join in the hop. This is a post from a year ago..

"Veni, Vidi, Vici"

Julius Caesar

I didn't know just how determined he was. I should have suspected something seeing as how he was fully dressed when I came downstairs this morning. Sammy is a slow starter in the morning-a really slow starter. Frozen molasses runs faster than he does. So I should have noticed that he was up, dressed and ready to go...or at least commented on it. But, I had things to do. Sammy had a basketball game, and getting everyone dressed, fed, and out the door takes monumental effort-and at least two cups of coffee. Sometimes more..o.k. actually most times more.

Sammy plays on one of his school basketball teams. It is actually a nice set up. There are about six co-ed teams of third through fifth graders. The focus is primarily on teaching the game rather than on competition. They practice once a week and every Saturday there is a game. Today was the last game of the season. So I was pretty happy...alright, I admit it..I was thrilled. Monday through Friday I rush every morning to get them out the door and onto the bus. Do they have hats, jackets, snow pants, lunch, backpacks, clean faces... sigh..it's always rush rush rush...So the idea of getting back one of the mornings where I don't have to do anything.. well...it's thrilling.

This is Sammy's third year of playing for a team. Sadly, it will probably be his last. Next year, in sixth grade they hold try-outs...and I don't think he'll make a team. He has some large motor skills issues. Although he is a speed demon on his bicycle..running and dribbling a ball is very challenging to him. He doesn't life his feet off the ground when he runs..add a basketball and the results are..well, he struggles. Don't get me wrong-he has improved immensely since third grade. The first year he played, if he saw one of is friends on the opposing team, he would stop to hug them. The second year, anytime he got the ball, he would break down laughing in the middle of the court. This year though... this year he was different. He was focused. He concentrated on defending his basket, and in passing the ball. In fact the minute he got the ball, he would pass it- immediately. My Sammy is tough, but he isn't aggressive. For him, I think it was more about just playing and being part of a team, rather than scoring. Until today that is.

Today he was driven..like a dog with a bone. Come hell or high water, he was going to score. And nothing was going to get in his way. First quarter-Sammy gets the ball..there is no room to move..he is so focused, so set on shooting..he bounces the ball with both hands and walks three feet to the basket..and shoots! and misses..He looks at me-I give him a thumbs up. Second quarter, he gets the ball..he shoots! he misses..it rebounds off the backboard, he grabs the ball he shoots! he misses..He looks at me, I give him a thumbs up. Third quarter..he's fouled, goes to the line..he shoots! he misses...he gets fouled again he shoots! he misses..he gets passed the ball..he shoots! he misses..he gets passed the ball again..he shoots! he misses..My boy must have attempted to score at least twenty times..and every time, he looks at me, and every time I give him a thumbs up...by now everyone has noticed..and is rooting for him...his team mates..the opposite team..the audience..everyone wants him to score. His determination is contagious..The tension was palpable..(I was a wreck) I don't think that there was a person there that wasn't captivated. They can see how badly he wants this. How hard he is trying.. it is no longer about watching the game....or about disability...or the fact that my boy is autistic..it is about Sammy. It is about my boy wanting to make a basket. In the fourth quarter, with thirty seconds left in the game...his team mate gets the ball..he could have scored easily..gotten the glory..instead.. he passes it to Sammy..I hear him say in a matter of fact way.."You CAN do this Sammy"...as if it is no big deal...as if it is just a common every day thing..as if he expects no less. Sammy takes the ball..and shoots..in what felt like slow motion .. it goes up..up..and then ...Swish...nothing but net. Everyone cheers in excitement...and relief! My boy looks at me..he is shining.. I give him a thumbs up-(even though I wanted to rush down and grab him and hug him.-but a mother doesn't do that to an eleven year old boy, especially in public) he runs to finish the game with the rest of his team.

The cynical and jaded part of me could say "oh, how nice..yet another "autistic kid makes a basket..the crowd erupts" story. But that wasn't it at all. Sammy has been at this school since he was seven years old. He is an accepted part of his class. Those kids didn't pass him the ball because of his disabilities..but because he was part of the team. Sigh... Sometimes, I need to remove my sarcastic self from the picture. Because sometimes a game is just a game..and a kid is just a kid. Today my kid was determined. He came, he saw, he conquered because he can..he will and he does. How's that for awareness?

misplaced....

2011-02-26T07:00:00.040-05:00

   We all lose things, our keys..shoes..bills..important pieces of paper that you put some place but just can't remember where. (once during our sleep deprived era ('98-'05) I swore I lost my car keys-while driving.) These things happen. You find them after a frustrating search (involving much swearing) and then you vow you will never let it happen again. Sigh...but it does. I know this because it happens to me all of the time. Unfortunately, one of those times involved my son. No, I didn't misplace him-I just thought that I knew where he was.

   It was almost ten years ago. We were living in a house on the woods with a fenced in yard. Sammy was outside playing with Charlie our dog.. I was standing on the deck holding a fussy baby Oscar..watching. Sam and Charlie ran behind the wood shed and disappeared. Remember-the yard was totally fenced..I had no cause to be alarmed..no reason to think that anything "wrong" was going on. Until I happened to notice that they weren't coming back out..and being the type of parent who gets suspicious when any of my kids are THAT quiet.. I went to investigate...and found to my extreme horror that my son and my dog had dug a hole under the fence(ala "Shawshank Redemption") and decided to go exploring...in the woods...during hunting season. I immediately started calling "Sam..Charlie!!"..and I'm sure you can imagine my frustration when only Charlie came running. Yup-my dog came back...and being that he is a yellow lab and not a collie named Lassie..he was of no help. There were no useful barks to let me know that Timmy/Sammy was stuck in a well, trapped under a log or held captive by rogue hunters. Nope-he just wanted to play and seemed quite pleased with himself that he had come when called.

  I was definitely not the poster girl for "Guns and Ammo" magazine as I raced through the woods, holding a screaming baby in one arm, a cell phone to my ear..simultaneously screaming "SAM!!!!!!" and yelling at the 911 dispatcher that my son had disappeared. Although I am sure I got the attention of every hunter as I scared off every woodland creature for miles around.. THANKFULLY- twenty very long ~~years~~ minutes later..a neighbor brought an un-phased Sam back to me (he had wandered 1/4/ mile up the road)...followed by a police officer who in no uncertain terms let me know what he thought of my parenting-or lack thereof. He didn't think much of it. At all. I felt like the WORST parent in the world. The worst. How could I have misplaced my son? I mean he disappeared while I was watching him! Oh-I beat myself up for a good long time over this..and it took me quite a while to get over it. If you can call becoming "UBER VIGILANT MOTHER" getting over it..

   Yes, I am always on guard..hyper aware now.  If we are out-I am constantly counting heads-checking to see where they are. Making OCD work for me. Now that Sam is older-I find it very difficult to let him go off on his own when we are out. Oh, I let him..I HAVE to..but that doesn't mean that I don't secretly check up on him when he is off on his own in the book store. I just don't let him know. I have taught them what to do if they get lost-(stand still and yell for me), taught them to use the telephone, told them who to go to if they can't find me. I am trying to teach them to be as self sufficient as possible-because, I can't let my anxiety get in their way. So, I thought I had it under control-covered every angle..until last Friday...

   Imagine my dismay as the bus pulled up.and in the thirty seconds it took to stop, open the door....and as the herd tumbles out..all yelling for my attention..it LEAVES....and I quickly notice I only have three children.. I should have four..Where is my fourth??!! " WHERE IS MY ZOE??!!" I shouted as I started to run down the street trying to stop the bus (Ala Sally Field in "Not Without My Daughter" minus the burkha). But it was too fast. I frantically grabbed the phone to call the school....and in the fifteen rings it took for them to answer..I thought.."what if she's lost?..or followed the wrong legs and got off at the wrong stop?..what if she never got on?..what if she is wandering around the school crying for me?.." It also didn't help that her brothers and sister couldn't remember seeing her-and were walking around the house yelling "Zoe where are you?!"...in tears.. So when the school did finally answer..All I could choke out was "Zoe didn't get off the bus!"..Luckily, I am in a very small school-so they knew who I was..and which bus Zoe didn't get off of. They radioed the driver who said.."She's on the bus with me...she couldn't find her hat...I am going to drop her off on my way back down the road.."   So I waited outside-FUMING...And as the bus pulled up, and my little girl fell into my arms..I could only just GLARE as the driver said "I was bringing her back!.." As if I shouldn't have been alarmed..as if I was somehow psychic and knew she was safe on the bus...He was very lucky that there were three kids anxiously watching from the door..cheering their sisters return. Lucky that my anxiety had left me speechless. But for the next week-I did not wave hello to him as was my usual routine-Yeah...I told him.

  So now we have a new routine in place. They are all to look for each other BEFORE getting off of the bus. If they forget their hat or gloves-they are to leave them. They will be there the next day. If they aren't, they are replaceable. They have enough on their plate as it is-they don't need to be worrying over every little thing. Besides, that's my job. I am very good at it.

Another blog gems post..

2011-02-14T08:59:00.000-05:00

Jen over at" Autism The king and Eye" has started another blog gems blog hop. Click on the link to the right to take you there..This week the theme is "Love"..and as I love my kids..here is a story about one...

stim cycle

~"I've never let school interfere with my education"~ Mark Twain

The school called. Oscars' stimming is becoming a problem, a distraction...he can't focus, he is disrupting the class. He is laughing at inappropriate times. Oh..is that all? Phew! I was afraid that they were going to tell me that he quit, did not want to be there, had given up. sigh.. I see so much of myself in Oscar...the humor-the irreverence... and although I appreciate all of it- I don't want him to follow in my footsteps-academically. You see, When I was in school, I quit, gave up ,and most certainly did not want to be there. That's right, at the tender age of six, I tried to be a first grade drop out.

After a blissful year of kindergarten where I played, danced and explored-first grade came as rather a shock . I just did not understand the orderliness of it all. Sitting still, keeping a neat desk, having to pay attention...SITTING STILL!! Where was the music? Where were the finger paints? Why was this woman dressed like a penguin?!!

  I was in the first grade at Blessed Sacrament School, and I was miserable. Sister Margaret Mary, my teacher was a sweet little nun, yet she ruled with an iron crucifix. There would be order, there would be neatness! Day dreaming was not allowed. We were there to learn in a quiet and orderly fashion. Heaven help the child who resisted. It was her way or the "hellway". Did I mention that I was miserable? I was the ultimate day dreamer, the fidgety girl whose desk was always a mess, the questioner of all things questionable. I did not like being the focus of attention, but my behavior sadly, caused me to be the focus of hers. It all came to a head very early in the year.

  It was the end of a beautiful fall day, and we were packing up to go home. In my joyful exuberance, I started whistling. An apparent major transgression in the classroom. (actually, it was more of a high pitched shrill sound as I was missing quite a few teeth) Sister Margaret Mary was horrified . "I DEMAND to know-who is Whistling?"she bellowed. Sensing harsh punishment, and being the youngest of six kids, I knew to keep my mouth shut. The accusations flew! I too even looked around shaking my head in apparent disgust. What better way to hide my "sin" then to join everyone on this witch...or should I say "whistle" hunt?" "He did it Sister!".."She did it Sister!" It would seem as though everyone was accused. Everyone... but me. (heehee) Nobody confessed to this heinous crime, this unrestrained whistling..so Sister Margaret Mary declared that if the guilty party did not CONFESS, they would "BURN in the FIRES of HELL for all ETERNITY because of their DECEPTION!" I was only six years old, and if I didn't confess I was going to hell? I had to save myself, so I did the only logical thing that I could think of. I Kept my mouth shut, went home and promptly declared myself an atheist. I also quit school. Not exactly the wisest of declarations to make in a house headed by DEVOUT Catholics-they simply could not accept my rebellion. Especially as I could not give an explanation-I was not taking the fall for whistling. And I was not it seemed, going to be able to drop out.

  I was thinking back on this time while I waited for Oscar to come home. We had to discuss his situation-but at the same time, I had to understand his reasoning..was he unhappy? Was he feeling restricted? Did he too, wonder where the finger paints went?

"Oscar, the school called. They said that you are shaking and eeeing and laughing a whole lot. Whats going on?"

"I'm shaking."

"Yes, I know. But you seem to be doing it more than usual. Is there a reason?"

"Shaking feels good"

"I agree, it does feel good...but, you are doing it a lot. Is something bothering you?"

"I'm shaking and shaking..eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!"

"I need you to focus here buddy...WHY are you shaking so much at school?"

"I shake because of tricky work."

"The work is hard?"

"Yes! Can you be done now?"

"For now, but we have to figure out how to make the work not so tricky, o.k.?...O.K.?...Oscar?"

"Yes!! Can I have a snack now?"

"Wait-one more question...You haven't by any chance been whistling have you?"

"Whistle? I don't know how...Why whistle Mama?"

"Never mind...go get your snack"

Oscar, unlike his mother-loves being at school. He likes the routine-he likes his friends..it's the work that he doesn't really care for. I'm not quite sure how to fix that. But, like everything else, we'll just have to take it a step at a time. Help him to focus-without losing his humor. Maybe I should teach him how to whistle?

Later that night, as I was going upstairs to say goodnight , Oscar started yelling "help! help!". I ran into his room to see what was wrong. He had taken his arm out of his pajama sleeve, and replaced it with a tiny stuffed animals arm . It was a little creepy looking and yet so very funny. So very Oscar. Wonderful and stimulating. How I love that boy.

Do dogs have autism?

2011-02-12T10:31:00.036-05:00

~"Whatever they grow up to be, they are still our children, and the one most important of all things we can give to them is unconditional love. Not a love that depends on anything at all except that they are our children.:~ Rosaleen Dickson

  "Mama? Do dogs have autism?" .."I really don't know...but that's a very good question Lil.." It really was a good question from my seven year old. Lily is an interesting girl. Head strong.. independent. So full of joy and energy..over full even so that at times it can turn on her..making her restless and obstinate. She knows what she wants and isn't afraid to ~~demand~~ tell you-forcefully at times..Out of all my kids, she is the most like me in temperament..sigh. Which sometimes makes her my most difficult... Have you ever tried to butt heads with yourself? I must say, she has taught me a lot about patience. The girl has moxie. I adore her.

  We were new to all things autism when Lily was an infant. I used to worry that I wouldn't ever be able to give her enough..time, energy, attention. That somehow, because her brothers needs seemed so enormous(at the time)-hers were going to be put on the back burner-lessened somehow. It took me about five minutes to get over that. Lily never SAW autism. Instead, she saw her brothers-her competition. To her-they were all on equal ground-if she wanted attention-she learned how to get it. I don't mean that in a negative way. It's more like she sees herself as any sibling does. The parents are fair game-and if you want something from them you jockey for position to get it. May I say-she does a very good job.

  So although I wasn't surprised by her question-it was the reasoning behind it that made me think. "Autism" is a word that we use at home. Our boys are of an age where THEY notice that they are different. So we have been very open with our kids-how could we not? Lily, however, sees this as her brothers and sister having something she doesn't. "Sam has autism?" "yup"..."Oscar has autism?" .."yup"..."Zoe has autism?" "yup..."So they all have autism and I don't." "yup.".."Well that's not fair! What do I get??!!" .."A big hug and kiss from me?" "MAAAMA!"

  We have always talked to the kids about how people are different-and that some people by their behavior or words or lack of words might appear more different than others. But no matter what the differences, everyone was deserving of dignity and respect. Everyone. We didn't use the word "autism" until we saw it on on the television show- "Arthur". ( You know the show-where the lead character(Arthur) is an aardvark who has a dog as a pet and a friend(Binky) at school who is a dog...and a friend(Francine) who is a monkey who has a pet cat-but also has a friend(Jenna) who is a cat?..It makes my head spin) It wasn't as if I was ashamed of the word. It just needed to be put it in a way they could all understand. Sigh...sometimes, I guess it doesn't take a village...sometimes it takes an aardvark...even if he does have a pet dog.

  All of my kids require some sort of accommodations. All of them...and yes, some more than others.(we are a great example of what a spectrum is) That's just the way it is. It doesn't make anyone less for needing them or more for not. I could not imagine placing such a heavy load on my kids. Weighing one against the other..as if their worth were measured by needs or lack thereof. They are children first-my children, and they are equal.

  So, do dogs have autism? I couldn't tell you. What I said to Lily was "Would it matter if they did?" she thought about it for half a second.."I guess not." The conversation was left at that. Because, she was already off and running on to the next thing that caught her interest. Because autism doesn't really matter to her. She looks at our family and see's just that-her family. Where she knows she is loved and cherished for being who she is. A sister and a daughter who sometimes thinks she is queen...sigh.. She gets the last part from me.

Laundry lists and losing innocence...

2011-02-05T07:00:00.260-05:00

~"You can do anything you want to do. This is your world"~ Bob Ross

It's hard to believe that just a few short weeks ago I was lamenting the fact that my kids were back in school. I was sad because we had had such a lovely Christmas break. I even thought that I was going to miss having them around... that I might even be lonely..Oh, how young I was...and naive! I had forgotten about winter-until it hit-HARD.   There has not been a full week of school since it resumed in January..either because of snow days, holidays or sick kids. So I look back at my misbegotten youth of three weeks ago and wonder "WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?" Oh.. I suppose that I could blame my innocence on the abundance of holiday cheer (candy) frolicking gleefully through my system .. or maybe it was the eggnog?..Perhaps the combination of both? But whatever the reason-I was NOT in my right mind when I wrote that. Really.

  It feels as though the past few weeks have been spent doing nothing but laundry, filling snack requests, taking care(cleaning up after) of sick kids and watching the weather channel. There are just so many goldfish/popcorn/pretzel requests one can fill...so many toilet mishaps one can clean before one loses their mind. I know that I can't be the only stay at home ~~prisoner~~ parent who feels this way. I was talking to another mom the other day on one of my rare solitary ~~escapes~~ trips out . After exchanging a few pleasantries the conversation turned to what life in the ~~BIG~~ house has been like lately...and from there...well...

Me-"It has gotten to a point that the minute I'm done doing something-like the laundry..another load magically appears."
Them-"Oh I know what you mean..I feel like all I do is laundry"
Me-"Yeah! I think I'm doing something like four loads a day...how do my kids generate so much of it?..I don't know where it comes from!"
Them-"Well..I'm doing at LEAST FIVE loads a day..you know..with my two kids AND my in-laws.
Me-"umm..yeah..I'm glad I have one of those high efficiency machines so I can stuff it full.."
Them-" Don't complain..my washer is so old I have to kick it to make it work."
Me-"complain?...alright...?"
Them-Whenever I hear someone complain about doing laundry I feel like screaming at them "At least your washer works!!"..We can't afford a new washer..I don't even have a spin cycle..I have to wring it out by hand! Do you have ANY idea of how much work that is?"
Me-"beats going to the river and pounding it on rocks.."
Them-"What?!.."
Me-"BEATS GOING TO THE RIVER AND POUNDING IT ON ROCKS..hahahahahaha.."
Them-"Oh you just don't know..." and on and on it went.. Sigh...I guess they won..I was outdone by a broken down washer..Crazy thing is-I didn't even know it was a contest.

Did you ever notice that? You make a statement about being tired or overwhelmed and more often than not-the person you say it to is COMPELLED to let you know that their tiredness trumps yours. I mean, there I was...discussing something as..mundane as laundry(yes I need a hobby)-and it got turned into a "who has it worse" event. Whats the point? It wasn't as though I was trying to steal her laundry thunder-I swear! She could be queen of the Maytag or hussy of the hand wash for all it mattered to me. It is just laundry! sigh.. I was just happy to be out of the house.

  The only time that I find this oneupmanship game really annoying is when I see it in the parenting community..My goodness, the things that are said!..The "How dare they! They have no right to complain!!" and "Their child does this and MY child will NEVER be able to do that" statements..It kind of freaks me out. Look, I get being overwhelmed..tired..at wits end. I am a parent-it goes with the territory. I believe most parents (if not all) are pretty experienced in these things..perhaps even overqualified- in all three. I know that I am. But complaining because your three year old will NEVER be president or a basketball player? I mean..they are THREE! Unless you are counting in dog years..doesn't that seem a little bit...extreme?.

Maybe it upsets me because I see how hard my own kids have worked. Hind site IS always 20/20.. Oh sure, there are days when Sam finds it necessary to tell me about every Pokemon character in great detail (I think that there are millions of the little..uhh creatures) Or Oscar asks me to say "Big Belly" over and over followed by uncontrolled laughter when I do..when the girls play the theme song to "My little pony"over and over until I feel like ripping my teeth out (Why I equate "My Little Pony" to dentistry I do not know). But we muddle through..we get by..and more often than not-we laugh. Because, there was a time I'd have done anything to hear them speak...to express themselves in a way where they were understood by everyone. Now that they do-I can not complain...vent perhaps..but never complain.

  So here we are at the beginning of another weekend. It is going to snow and be very cold. Which in turn means that we will be stuck inside...all day. Four children and one mother-stuck inside the house. I for one, am very much looking forward to Monday. I guess I've lost my innocence If there is anyone who wishes to "one up" me on this weekend-please, be my guest.

"Crazy comes to Maine" a blog gems post..

2011-01-30T14:44:00.000-05:00

Jen over at "Autism The King and Eye" has started another blog gems hop.

Go on over and add your gem..

Crazy comes to Maine

" A girls best friend is her mutter" Dorothy Parker

It has now rained here every day for the past two weeks. The kids have been out of school for one of them. There seems (according to the weather report) to be no end to this soggy mess. Summer recreation does not start for another week. I have been stuck inside the house with four very active children, three dogs, a cat, and a flooded basement.

Oh sure, I could send them out to play in the rain...in fact, that IS what I wrote about last week. However, now that they have the appropriate outerwear...foot wear..cover the entire body so that "not one iota of anything gets wet wear"...they don't WANT to go outside. Oh no...they want to be inside with me....next to me..following me..I have not had a single moment to myself. You might even say that I'm a little tense.

I love my children. I really do. They are interesting, funny, loving individuals. It is just that being with them twenty four seven for a full week in a leaky house full of shedding dogs can get a little tiring...grating...o.k. I'm overwhelmed! I admit it.

Sometimes, I wish that I could be like those other mothers...You know the kind. They do crafts...they bake and do projects. They are constantly looking for ideas to fill every waking moment with their children. But, sigh.. I am so NOT that kind of mom. I'm the learn to entertain yourself, go play outside it is a beautiful day kind. The go read a book, draw, ride your bikes, play on the computer, play with your enormous amount of toys....(and when exasperated)...help with the laundry...vacuum the living room..clean the bathroom sort of gal. Usually, they are more than happy to listen to my suggestions...especially when I threaten housework for their lack of anything better to do. Not so this week.

No, this was the week of fighting..days where the background noise was not of laughter and joy, but rather of "she stole my train, my car...my underwear." "He called me a baby"..."Sammy said Barbie doesn't have a vagina!-that's not polite!""I don't want to go to bed-I just got up!" This was the week when hell came to visit Maine. And oh what a week it was.

What started as a joyful occasion, (the end of the school year) quickly turned into a time of restlessness and distraction. My kids are used to having their time structured-now all of a sudden, they had time on their hands. My herd turned into a pack, and when they weren't fighting among themselves...they turned on me- An innocent mother! I did everything that I could to stop the madness. I gave them new markers, paper, play-dough...I bought Cocoa Puffs! Nothing seemed to work. Nothing that is -until I separated them. I put them each alone in a room-with toys of their choosing. I told them that they were NOT to talk to each other. That until they could learn to get along together, play together...and treat me like a human being, who by the way, works very hard for them.. they needed to be on their own....I fussed and complained, muttered and sighed. I had had enough! I was a tired woman on the edge of reason, and I think it scared them. Off they went-meekly, to the rooms I had sent them to.

It was the quietest 17 minutes of the week.

But it worked. It worked. Those few short minutes of quiet..of being alone helped them to center themselves....to calm down-to relax. To realize that it was much more fun to play together than to fight. Besides, by that time they were all hungry and needed some snacks. I told them that I was happy that they were all getting along-that all their fighting just plain wore me out. That if I were going to do the best that I could to take care of them-they needed to help out. That being part of a family was work-good work, but work nonetheless..on and on I went...will I never learn?

I was tucking Sammy into bed later that night when he said "Mama?...I think that you need to retire." "One day bud...Papa and I would like to travel and go places".."I think you should go to a retirement community".."What?!...no, bud...I don't look good in leisure wear..""No, I think you should be in a home".."A nursing home??" "Yes".."You want to put me in a nursing home?" .."Yes".."You don't want to take care of me in my old age???" "No Mama, it is just too much work."...sigh. I think that I need a vacation...my kids need a break. I must erase the idea of a nursing home...blue hair just doesn't suit me. Although retirement does sound pretty good.

Nothing says "Kathleen" like balloons and kittens...

2011-01-27T12:36:00.002-05:00

Wow..what an unexpected delight! bbsmum over at Mum Accepting Autism has bestowed this rather whimsical award on me-and she didn't even know that "Unicorn" was one of my middle names! Thank you so much . In order to accept this award I have to do the following..

"1. You must proudly display the absolutely disgusting graphic that I have created for these purposes. It's so bad that not only did I use COMIC SANS, but there's even a little jumping, celebrating kitten down there at the bottom. It's horrifying! But its presence in your award celebration is crucial to the memetastic process we're creating here.

2. You must list 5 things about yourself, and 4 of them must be bold-faced lies. Just make stuff up, we'll never know; one of them has to be true, though. Of course, nobody will ever know the difference, so we're just on the honor system here. I trust you.

3. You must pass this award on to 5 bloggers that you either like or don't like or don't really have much of an opinion about. I don't care who you pick, and nobody needs to know why. I mean, you can give a reason if you want, but I don't really care.

4. If you fail to follow any of the above rules, I will harass you incessantly until you either block me on Twitter or ban my IP address from visiting your blog. I don't know if you can actually do that last thing, but I will become so annoying to you that you will actually go out and hire an IT professional to train you on how to ban IP addresses just so that I'll leave you alone. I'm serious. I'm going to do these things. "

Now, I copied and pasted this from her blog. I'm not sure if she would really "Harass me incessantly for failing to follow the rules"-However, because (according to her) she can do an uncannily accurate Sylvester Stallone impression I'm afraid not to comply! ( Think Rambo)

1) On the third Thursday of every month I perform a puppet show that teaches the importance of dental hygiene for the inmates at the state penitentiary. I have made so many new friends. They have taught me so much. I like to think that in my own small way that I have helped them too. Having strong teeth and healthy gums is important on the outside. I mean really-what is one of the first things you notice about a person? Their teeth! During a hold up or a bank robbery..I would think you would like to look your best-especially if you are caught by hidden camera! One can never be too prepared-that's what I say!

2) I am proficient at Irish step dancing. I really had no choice in the matter.Starting in the third grade, our gym options were either dance class or cleaning the rectory. I chose dance. Both Sisters Catherine Marita and Helen Eugene were harsh and demanding task masters. To this day I can still see them- habits flying (they were against Vatican 2) holding up their skirts and eighty pound rosary beads while their feet beat out a rapid staccato to "Job of the Journeywork" on the gym floor-while at the same time yelling at us to "pull your skirts over your knees"! It is an image I would like to forget.

3) I collect toilet paper cozies.( most people have them for tea pots-but I don't drink tea. )You know those crocheted little "hats" that go over the spare roll of toilet paper in your guest bath? (That is if you had a separate guest bath) I keep it in our one bathroom. sigh. In general it keeps the kids from throwing it in the sink-although, they have all from time to time taken them out to play with. I have them for all of the holidays. A jack 'o lantern for Halloween, A Santa face for Christmas..Although in my house, the odder the better. Right now I have one of Barrack Obama in honor of presidents day. You can buy them at craft fairs-especially the ones at senior centers.

4) I was fired from a job because of "microphone abuse". It was back when I was going to college. I needed a summer job to help pay for my "extracurricular" activities..oh..and rent. I found gainful employment working at a fast food restaurant. I was the only woman working that was under the age of sixty five. I was also the only woman without a visible mustache. The other ladies were very cliquish -(must have been a mustache thing) and totally ignored me. Now, my job required that I take the customers orders and announce them over a microphone to the ladies in the kitchen... the ladies WHO IGNORED me in the kitchen. I don't like being ignored. So, I used what I had available-(my microphone) to make sure that they paid attention. I sang the orders..I sang for burgers and curly fries I sang about extra pickles and holding the mustard..and when there were no orders-I sang about hair nets and loneliness and perhaps...even mustaches..Oh how we laughed! ...as the manager escorted me out of the restaurant. It was an interesting three days.

5) When I was seven years old-I bent over and "mooned"(sort of-I was wearing underwear) many of the tri-state( New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut) area's Pre-schoolers. On live television. There was a children's show called "Romper Room". My neighbor( a boy named Walter) was a cast member. From time to time, cast members were allowed to bring guests to watch the show. If the guests were children, they were invited to participate in some of the segments. I played "Bend and Stretch"..Miss Louise (the television "teacher") had everyone stand in a circle while she sang "Bend and stretch reach for the stars...etc.) while the children acted it out by bending and stretching...Being slightly precocious-I bent and stretched with great vigor! I was on television! I was a star! Unfortunately, my back was to the camera...and I was wearing a dress..did I mention that this was LIVE television? I do believe that my mother sweat publicly for the first time ever in her life that day.

So there you have it. One is an absolute truth, one is mostly truth and the other three are bald faced lies. I know, I bent the rules just a little bit. But I'm testing bbsmum ..I want to see if she'll come over and go all "Rambo" on me for it. Now for my ~~victims~~ choices of who should receive this prestigious award in all it's sparkley glory....

Kim-over at "Countering"

D.S. Walker-over at "dswalkerauthor"

Laura-at "Life in the house that Asperger built"

Papa Bear-at "Goldilocks and the three bears"

Scott-at "On the spectrum"

Afterwards, link your post to the MEMEtastic bloghop!

I picked these blogs because I like them!! I think they will all in their own way have fun with this..and I look forward to reading them..

I can name that dinner in five notes!

2011-01-22T07:00:00.109-05:00

~"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. "~ Dr. Seuss

"Mama!..Mama!! Come quick Oscar's bleeding!" I can tell you quite truthfully, that NOTHING wakes a parent up quicker than words like those-not even coffee. I flew out of bed-FLEW- to find Oscar standing in the hallway- holding a wet and bloody towel under his arm..which made his side all wet and bloody...and far worse looking than it really was. This was not the first time this has happened. Oscar has a skin tag type of thing up on his side-that he just needs to pick at. . (we are waiting on a dermatologist appt.) We have told him (in no uncertain terms) to "LEAVE IT ALONE!!!"..we have even kept it covered with a band-aid to take away the urge..So as I flew out of my bed Saturday morning-bleary eyed pumped full of non caffeinated terror to find that he had just picked at it-I was..well, I wasn't nice. "I told you to leave it alone!! Why are you picking at that AGAIN??!!" And between the "We told you not too's" and "Why did you's" I noticed my two boys were just standing there..staring at me..in their pajama's and it was still kind of dark out.."but mama...I didn't..I was still in bed.." "Yeah Mama! Oscar was hurt and he woke me up and I got you..wasn't I supposed to do that?" Sigh..Did you ever have one of those moments when you want to..kick yourself? Sink into the floor? When you wish you could press the rewind button and start all over again? I do... frequently. Oh, it is one thing when you are talking to another adult-you can try and explain yourself and either it is fixed or it isn't. Oh well..I am learning to let those things go...But with your kids? That's a whole other story..

  So when the realization hit that Oscar somehow did this in his sleep..and as he stood there with pools of water welling in his enormous green eyes..I pulled him in close..hugging him and apologizing "Oh Oscar..buddy..I am so very sorry for yelling..I made a mistake..I wasn't thinking..I just woke up and I was half asleep and scared..can you forgive me?" He hugged me back..and said "You made a mistake."...We cleaned him up..and went on with the day..A very long day. A day in which he reminded me of our early morning mishap at least twenty or so times. "Mama..you made a mistake".to which I answered "Yes, I really did and I am so sorry" each and every one of those times. Repetition sometimes keeps me humble.

  Repetitive questions are a way of life at our house.. I think it is the kids way of sorting things out ..of making sure that they see things as they really are. Granted-it can be a tad bit hard on the person being questioned...perhaps even difficult. Being asked "what's for dinner?" forty or fifty times in the course of an afternoon- could cause a little anxiety for the innocent mother...having four children do it consecutively might make said mother dream of running away to join the circus . ( Unfortunately my fear of clowns keeps me from pursuing the circus life)...So,in dealing with what could be stressful. I have had to learn to be a bit .. creative. I sing songs. Not just any songs mind you. I take whatever tune that happens to be going through my head and change the lyrics to whatever happens to be for dinner(usually pizza-but that's another post). Show tunes seem to work best. "The oven is alive with the sound of pizza" and Climb every pizza" from "The Sound of Music"..are regular family favorites..and who could forget "Pizza..I just made a dinner named pizza.." from "West side Story"..? Oh the possibilities are endless. The thing is-it works. The kids laugh-and I am amused instead of overwhelmed... Because the last thing I want to do is get overwhelmed by something that they need to do..something that makes their world a little less confusing. They certainly don't need that.

  So even though I wanted to kick myself for what happened with Oscar..I have gotten over it....sort of. (Sigh...there are times as a parent when you need to learn to forgive yourself..AND give your children the opportunity to forgive you as well.) Most importantly, Oscar has gotten over it-which is an incredible accomplishment. Things haven't always come easy for my boy. Out of all my kids it would seem that he has had the most difficulties..has had to work more..try harder. I look back to just six short years ago when he was first diagnosed...when all we were told was "We don't know" and "maybe-maybe not"..and I look at all he has done since then. My lovely boy has worked so very hard. .Yet,.he has more humor and laughter than anyone I know. He has such joy and I find myself breathless in the remarkable and loving person that he is.

My Oscar will be ten years old this week. Ten years...two hands..a full decade. How did that happen? When did that happen?    I can't even imagine what the next ten years will bring..how far he will go..how much he will accomplish. I simply can't. Because if I have learned anything in the last ten years it is that I no longer need to bother with guessing games. Because when I look at my beautiful son- I see only possibility. Happy Birthday my wonderful boy...and yes, we will be having pizza for dinner.

Who is changing who

2011-01-16T20:10:00.001-05:00

This is part of Jen's of "Autism the king and Eye" Blog gems go on over and join in!

~"It is not until you become a mother that your judgement slowly turns to compassion and understanding"~ Erma Bombeck

I think that once a person becomes a parent, they start aging in dog years. For every one year of having a child-the parent ages seven. That would make me roughly 114 years old. Unless of course you age seven years per child-in which case I would be 219. By all rights, I should be collecting social security...or at least living in Florida.

  No doubt about it, having kids changes your life. In an instant. I remember bringing our first baby home from the hospital. We carried him in, placed his seat on the floor and just looked at him. Now what? I had absolutely no clue whatsoever as to what to do with him. You would think that he would have come with some sort of owners manual. There I was with this 8lb. 6oz. ball of need, and I was overwhelmed. I had never really had to take care of anyone other than myself, and I wasn't always very good at that. My inexperience made me feel as though I was somehow a fraud. I kept waiting for a representative to show up from the hospital saying "We made a mistake-we'll be taking him back now" I was an irresponsible, self centered and flighty kind of girl. How could anyone possibly entrust me with the care of a baby? How could I possibly do this? What was I thinking? What was the hospital thinking letting me leave with him?

  I remembered a story that my sister had told me about when she had brought her first child home. She too was overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation. She had been up all night with her crying baby. She was tired and at her wits end, thinking, "when is this going to end?" At that moment, she realized that it wasn't. That she needed to accept that this was how things were going to be-that this was what her life was about now. That things would change, he would grow up, it would get easier. She needed to accept and move on. She told me that once she had come to this realization-things got better

That is the single most best advice that I was ever given as a mother.

That first year was quite a learning experience for me. I think that I had the cleanest most fed, washed and changed baby on the planet. I sterilized his bottles, his pacifiers, his clothes. If it fell on the floor, it was washed or discarded. If he drooled on his shirt-he was changed immediately. My poor boy had so many baths, we dried his skin out. I was uber-mom, and I was going to do everything right.

Imagine my dismay, when my curly headed chubby boy of baby goodness started to retreat into his own world. His words, his eye contact,...slowly diminished before my eyes. What had I done wrong? What was I doing wrong? Was it the tuna I had eaten during my seventh month of pregnancy? Had some errant germ broken through my barrier of sterilization? I panicked. I was so afraid that this was somehow my fault..that perhaps my greatest fear was reality-I shouldn't have had a child, I was obviously not good enough to be a mother. Oh it was quite the pity party, I should have had it catered...perhaps even hired a band.

  It took us two years to get a firm diagnosis for our son. During that time, I forgot about being the "perfect" mother, I stopped stressing out about clean laundry and sterile bottles. The only thing I cared about was my son-HIM. Not his clothes or his bottles or even his lack of eye contact and language- Him. It was during that time that my sisters advice came back to me. I needed to accept that this was who my son was. That this diagnosis, though helpful in explaining some things, didn't alter anything. I was still his mom-and he, still my son. Nothing in the world can ever change that. Not even dirty dishes. For that I am thankful. We accepted and we moved on.

I think that, 3 more kids and 10 years later, I finally may be getting the hang of this mothering thing. My house certainly needs cleaning, there is laundry to do, and my 3 year old is chewing on something that I hope is edible. I think that at age 219 (in dog years) I may finally be growing up.

Potty training re-visited

2011-01-10T11:07:00.000-05:00

~"The biggest thing I remember is that there was just no transition. You hit the ground diapering"~ Paul Reiser

  I have been reading many blogs lately where the topic is "potty training". To this day, I still look at it as one of the biggest challenges I have ever faced as a parent. Not wanting to ever take any accomplishments for granted-I sometimes look back over my early posts to see how far we have all come. So, not wanting to look a gift potty in the mouth-I thought I would repost this..We have now been diaper free for four years, six months and twenty four days....not that I keep track or anything. So here is a celebratory repost.

  If karma is a boomerang and reincarnation is fact...Then I must have done something awful to a toilet in a past life.

  It never fails...the moment we get into a store one of my herd always has to use the bathroom. Usually on a day when it is 9 degrees outside, so that my kids are undoubtedly bundled up in enough outerwear to provide warmth to a small village. So into the restroom we go-all of us. Because the minute one has to go, they all have to. By the time everyone has finished, washed up and re-dressed, it is spring. They no longer need their outerwear, and I am stuck carrying it around the store.

  I really can't complain. There was a time when I thought none of them would ever be potty trained. I had visions of myself following them to college or down the aisle carrying wipes and pull ups.

  All of my children struggled with potty training. One of my boys however, had the hardest time. He was not fully potty trained until he was five and a half. It was at first a battle of epic proportions. I very much wanted him to do something that he had absolutely no interest in doing. To this day I still don't know whether it was a sensory issue, a control issue or a little of both for him. Regardless, he just did not get the point of pooping in the potty.

  At first we tried everything and anything we could think of. Rewards, threats, books, candy, vacations, cash (I was desperate)...It got to a point that I would have done ANYTHING to get him to use the potty. Nothing worked. In fact, the more persistent I became-the more resistant he was. It became the single most important accomplishment to me-and that was the problem. I made this issue all about myself, totally disregarding my sons needs or wants. I needed to look at this from my sons point of view. Everything I had been doing, the bribes, the threats, etc. had only created anxiety for both of us. I needed to step back, to reevaluate, to come up with a new strategy. This was not about me, but rather, about him. How could I help him to understand that using the potty was an important accomplishment. That staying in diapers would only hinder him...especially when he started going on job interviews...

  The sensation of sitting in a dirty diaper did not bother my son. I had to find a way to connect that sensation with something that would bother him. Something that would make the connection in his brain that said "being poopy is bothersome". As he is pretty regular, this step was not hard. I would simply make sure that he was engaged in a favorite activity when the time came. If it was a movie, I would turn it off , or I would remove the favorite toy he was playing with, all the while calmly saying he could have it back after he was changed. This was not always easy-tantrums did ensue. I did not give in. Instead, I would calmly suggest that using the potty would not take him away from his favorite things for so long . After a week or two of this, he was more compliant. The next step I took was having him change himself. This step is NOT for the weak of heart, as poop can be rather appealing in look and texture to some people .(as a side note and point of interest, poop can remove paint. It should also never, ever be in the vicinity of ceiling fans or any other type of fan. period...especially when the fan is on.) I LEARNED to always make sure he changed himself in the bathroom-dumping said poop into the potty. (another point of interest-once a child learns to flush-hide all small objects. On the positive side-my husband and myself have mastered home plumbing projects.) Gradually, over about eight months time, my boy made the connection that pooping in a diaper and changing himself took far too much time away from his favorite activities. On June 16th, 2006 at approximately 2:48 p.m. he used the potty successfully-and continues to do so.

  So now when I find myself with a herd of kids in the supermarket bathroom, I find it hard to justify complaining too much. Although, if they could all just "go" before leaving the house...alas, I am not a miracle worker.

Forward and back...and forward..

2011-01-08T11:20:00.000-05:00

~"You move totally away from reality when you believe that there is a legitimate reason to suffer."~

Byron Katie

Wow It's quiet and I don't know what to do with it...so quiet it is almost loud..deafening. The herd is off again ..back to school and routine..life as we have known it this past week and a half is over and I find myself sitting here..not quite fitting in my skin..I don't know what to do with this feeling. It was a two pot of coffee morning..I haven't had to wake up at any scheduled time..free to get up at my own pace..free to stay in my pajamas all day..free to take each moment as each moment..and now..now we are back on a timetable..where my hellos and goodbyes are scheduled..where packing backpacks and doing homework take precedence over random hugs and kisses. I am not sure that I like it.

   Christmas went off without a hitch. Well...with the exception of the fifty million piece toy kitchen we forgot to put together until eleven p.m. Christmas eve...otherwise-it was perfect.The morning was pandemonium...but in a good way. Wrapping paper and boxes everywhere. Each of the kids has their own unique method of unwrapping. Sammy is a slow- one present at a time kind of boy, thoroughly looking over each gift before proceeding. Oscar tears everything open at once-quickly taking it all in-he'll look things over in greater detail later. I could almost hear him mentally comparing what he got to what he asked for (This was the first year he actually had a list-with more than one item-and none of them were Thomas toys! Oh how I loathe that cheeky tank engine!). Lily and Zoe are like a couple of chickens..pecking and clucking over (sigh...and comparing) their gifts. From time to time one of them would shriek "MAMA!! PAPA!!! LOOK WHAT I GOT!!!" It was heaven.

   The entire vacation was lovely. I really wasn't sure what to expect. We made no plans-instead taking each day as it came..figuring out what to do a moment at a time instead having a planned itinerary. Imagine that..a family that thrives on set schedules- just taking each day as it came...and enjoying it! Even Oscar, the boy who lives for his routine!( although he did announce that he was ready to go back to school on Christmas afternoon). He too found his rhythm-(I think that having a toy garbage truck that farts to play with helped).. It was lovely just being together-away from everything..our own little oasis. I was surprised at how sad I was when it ended. It wasn't too long ago when I would have been thrilled that they were back in school..excited for the predictability and routines-ecstatic even. Looking back over the past, holidays were once so...hard . Even as few as five years ago...when Omar and myself were just coming off of too many years of sleep deprivation..when we had three kids in diapers..and any change or disruption of routine could cause freak outs of epic proportions.. Funny thing is-we were so busy being in the moment that we didn't really recognize it . Don't get me wrong! I remember days when I thought I was going to break-shatter..that I had nothing left to give...Times where I wanted to quit...when I would call Omar at work and give him my two week notice... I guess what I'm trying to say is that even though times were hard, we didn't dwell on them-instead, we muddled through...and although we have made lots of mistakes-our kids have blossomed. Back then, I refused to look anywhere but forward-and it is only now that I fully allow myself a glance back from time to time. If only to take measure of how far we have all come.

  This past week, I got into a wee bit of a discussion with someone about my writing style-more specifically why I write the way I do. They felt that my kids couldn't possibly understand humor seeing as that they are autistic..and that using humor both in the raising and in the writing of (our adventures) somehow lessened them. SIGH...I understand that raising kids is hard. Any kids. I understand that there are times when you need to vent..scream..write about frustration. This is true for any parent of ANY child. ALL parents are tragic heroes from time to time(especially when potty training or teaching sex ed.)-it is the nature of the job. Parenting is hard. Disabilities are hard. I get that-really. But my kids aren't disabilities-they just happen to have them. Big difference. So when I write about the funny things that someone has said or done-it is with the utmost respect. I choose to look at life as an adventure and no matter what my kids capabilities I teach them to as well.

   One day, they will all read this blog (Sammy does now from time to time) and I want them to see it is a testimony to how wonderful I think they all are-to how blessed I think my life is..and... well.. because I was always too lazy to keep a "baby book". If I don't celebrate how wonderful and unique my kids are-how can I expect the world to? We really aren't that different from any other family.  Yes, we have our unique struggles and different ways of doing things. But like everyone else we put our pants on one leg at a time...well at least those of us who wear clothes...

  A week has passed since I started this post. A week full of routines and schedules..I looked back and reread that first paragraph and laugh at my innocence. It is nine in the morning and already I have stopped about thirty arguments, filled fifty or so snack requests, found lost socks and shoes, fixed the computer and answered the age old question of "what's for dinner?" at least twenty times. We had a lovely break-but it is back to business as usual. SIGH... I find myself looking forward to next years holiday break...and most definitely to school on Monday. I find myself looking forward. Always forward.

In pursuit of the perfect Christmas...belly? A look back at Christmas 2007....

2010-12-25T07:00:00.016-05:00

~"Do not, on a rainy day, ask your child what he feels like doing, because I assure you that what he feels like doing, you won't feel like watching."~ Fran Lebowitz

Of all my childhood recollections, the most vivid revolve around Christmas. The tree, the toys, Santa...all of them conjure up wonderful memories of my earlier days. For a kid, it can be the most exciting, suspenseful time of year. For a parent, it can be the most powerful. Powerful, because of one simple phrase..."Do I need to call Santa?"

  Nothing works better at eliciting good behavior than the threat of calling Santa. "If you don't put down that ornament, I'm calling Santa" "Your not going to bed?!...lets hear what Santa has to say about that." Sometimes I go as far as picking up the phone and dialing. The slightest infraction, the tiniest misstep all I have to do is mention his name in order to get the desired response. "NO! don't call him!"..."I'll go to bed"..."I won't draw on the dog!"..."I'll get out of the washing machine!".... Oh how I love that man! I admit, I have gotten heady with the power of it all. Power, however, like most good things can be abused. Use it too much or wield it too carelessly and the threat starts to wear off, the message loses its luster.

  I learned this lesson while picking out last years Christmas tree. Excited about getting our tree, we piled into the mini van, all of us in high spirits. We were a happy family in search of the perfect tree. The gentleman selling the Christmas trees was a portly fellow. That in itself is nothing my children would comment on. It was however, the fact that his underwear happened to be sticking out of his ill fitting sweat pants that got all of our attention-particularly Oscar's. Once Oscar sees something-something that catches his eye....he MUST..MUST comment on it. He is like a dog with a bone-he CAN NOT let go. Knowing this, I tried to gather him to my side before he could say anything....but..sigh... it was too late. Very softly, in a low monotone voice, Oscar started saying "unnnndddeeerrrwwwweeeaaarrr"(repeatedly) This of course started my other kids laughing..I gave them "The look" (every parent knows this look) and in my sternest mother voice said "Should I call Santa?" and quickly ushered them back into the van. I thought it had worked, that I had averted disaster...but I was wrong. We still needed to tie the tree to the top of the van, and who was going to help us to do that? You guessed it-the chubby tree salesman in the ill fitting sweat pants. Now in order to tie the tree to the top of the van we had to leave both side doors open-and sitting on one of those open sides was Oscar. There I was, on full red alert mother mode -trying to catch Oscars eye, ready to invoke the name of Santa, but he was distracted. You see, as the salesman stepped up to reach the roof, his body leaned in the van door-and looming through the door , hanging out of his shirt, was the salesman's belly... it was big , it was hairy and it was an inch away from Oscars nose. As I looked on in horror(sweat was forming on my upper lip), I started to say(desperately) "Oscar, think of Santa", but it was once again too late. He glanced at me, and with a gleam in his eye...he said in a very low voice, "Beeellllllllyyyyy" as he ever so slowly extended his finger... Sammy and Lily were besides themselves ..and I was torn between screaming in laughter and acting the mature adult. It was as if the entire world had stopped moving-with the exception of Oscars finger..which was creeping closer and closer(as if in slow motion) to the salesman's stomach...and as the tip of his finger began to brush the dangling hair-the salesman jumped down and away.. the tree was tied on..the crisis averted..I was exhausted. Oscar just smiled.

  In my relief , after my heart rate returned to normal, I realised that the pull of underwear-the lure of a big belly, these things were even more powerful than the repeated threats to call Santa. That as my kids become more aware of the world around them, and less immersed in the world of our home, my days of Santa threats were numbered.

  I wonder if my kids will look back fondly on these Christmas memories-the way I look back on mine. Will they even remember all of these adventures? I was thinking about this when we went on our Christmas tree quest. This year, getting the tree was uneventful, although when we suggested going back to the same tree lot as last year, Oscar grinned and said "unnnderrrwearrr."

No more tartan knickers!

2010-12-21T15:15:00.094-05:00

~"I pity the fool"~ Mr. T .

I was reading a post the other day where a mother stated "I don't believe people when they say they don't want sympathy for their child's disability. Check the thesaurus, sympathy isn't a bad thing." No, sympathy properly expressed isn't a bad thing. In this case however, defining sympathy with synonyms is. Sympathy simply put is "pity". I can say with absolute certainty that I do not want pity because of my children's disabilities. That's just well...icky. I mean really-pity? How absolutely insulting. Not just to me-but to my kids. If you want to pity me-do it for something worthwhile like a dental appointment or having to go to one of the kids school concerts. I'll gladly accept it then.

Speaking of which, This week I went to Oscars Christmas concert. Unlike the last concert, I was not armed with a designated driver and Valium. I didn't even have Zoe as a distraction. I was all by myself. A woman-alone. The only positive I could think of (besides Oscar performing) was that there was a new music teacher. Yes, the woman who had brought us the "Greatest unknown hits of 17...(yes, the year 17) has retired!! Not that I mean any disrespect. She was a lovely person who I learned much from-and it wasn't just patience! I mean who could forget the woman who brought us the same exact Christmas show for the past five years? I certainly didn't know that carols could also be dirges! I'll always look back fondly on Sammy's recorder angst  and who could forget "The gingerbread slave" ? Good times...good times. She was a lovely lovely woman...I do believe that she truly cared about teaching music. I just think she got tired of it a few years before actually retiring from it. I wish her well.

  This concert was different. I knew it from the moment I got there. I immediately went to find Oscar to let him know I had arrived-and he was acting odd. He was so tense. Usually the boy hops when he sees me..or at least smiles. He just sat there very stiffly-barely turning his head to acknowledge me. I thought "O.K.-he's almost ten now..maybe he's too cool for his mom"-at least in front of his friends. so I went and took my usual place-at the back of the room...in the doorway..in case I have to leave quickly..because you never know when an emergency can ~~conveniently~~ pop up.

  The concert started in the usual way-sort of. First up were the instrumentalists-kids who had only been playing a few months-but were ready to perform. There were only two numbers-and it was sweet. Yes, one girl did go off key with her saxophone quite a bit..but she was happy and proud of herself. Maybe because she didn't have to sit through a long speech about something old and musty beforehand or play in the dark as had been the tradition. I thought it was wonderful. Next to perform were the fourth graders-Oscar's group. I have to say-I was prepared to plaster on a smile while I chanted a mantra (in my head) of "please be fast please be fast" as I let my eyes unfocus and glaze over. But it wasn't necessary! Nope-the music teacher got up, gave a quick explanation of what they were singing ...GASP! Kwanzaa and Hanukkah as well as Christmas songs! They were actually singing songs less than 100 years old! From other cultures??!! Be still my heart! What about the usual * "Mold in the corn crib and Jesus wept"? or* "Tartan knickers Kumbaya"? No, these songs were perky and jazzy-so the kids were as well. Even Oscar-who I could hear singing loudly-slightly raspy and off key.( Although he was still looking a bit stiff-even when they sang "Santa wants a brand new bag"..I put it off as him having too much sensory overload-and he was trying to keep it together. Regardless, it was pure joy to watch.) Then they got to the last song "Everlasting Fruitcake"..a funny tune about a fruitcake that a family keeps giving away-but keeps getting back. At the very end of the song-a doorbell rings..and my boy(MY BOY) steps down off of the riser and pretends to open the door. He is handed a fruitcake..he looks up-and at the top of his lungs announces "OH NO NOT AGAIN??!! WAAAAAAA!!" He brought the house down. And amidst the applause and the high fives he was getting from his friends-he searched me out..and grinning from up on the stage..mouthed "mama.. did you see me?" My heart just... overflowing..I mouthed back "Yes I did!"..he gave me another smile..a hop..and followed his class off of the stage..

  I had no idea Oscar was doing this..no idea that he had a line in the show. He had kept it from me as a surprise. And surprised I was..and thrilled and overjoyed and so many other emotions I can't even list them. Although I can say with total conviction-not one of them was sympathy-for either myself or my boy. He amazed me that day...and continues to do so everyday. He works hard because he WANTS to..because he CARES. Because he is who he is-I pity anyone who thinks less of him for that.

  In some ways I am going to miss the old music teacher. She gave me such good material. But I have to say, I really like the new one.

*-I took the liberty of making up those song titles..but trust me-they weren't too far off from what had really been sung in the past few years.

I've been called many things but never this...

2010-12-16T20:49:00.000-05:00

Papa Bear has graciously awarded me with this "Stylish blogger award"..and I am flattered. Now I know that some people make light of all the blogger awards that are around the blogosphere. But not me! Hey, I spend most of my time in the company of four kids, three dogs and a cat..so things like this award really make my day. So thank you Papa Bear! I hope this sends some traffic your way.

Now in order to accept the award, I'm supposed to tell you seven things about myself and then nominate three more blogs for the award. I decided to share the more quirky things about myself...so here goes..

1) I believe that in no uncertain terms-Lima beans ought to be outlawed. I think that they are one of if not THE most wretched tasting vegetable on the face of the earth. When my mother would try and serve them for dinner, we would all devise ways to get rid of them. Even my dog loathed them. If you gave them to him he would just let them fall out of his mouth. I used to stuff them in my pocket.

2) I am not very good at crafts or craft types of projects. My lack of skills and or interest in this type of thing caused me to be dropped from my Brownie troop when I was six. I didn't mind.

3) I can at times be a "literal thinker" much to my embarrassment. When I was in high school, the topic of "euthanasia" came up. I could not understand the debate or the discussion. I thought "why are all these people making such a big deal about kids in China?" Thankfully, I kept my thoughts to myself..

4) When I was little, I had an imaginary friend. Her name was "Gengi".(pronounced Jen-Gee) I don't remember when I stopped playing with her. But, it just so happens that there is a perfume by the same name.

Which makes me wonder if my imaginary friend has been more monetarily successful than I have been. I wonder if she's on Face Book?

5) I don't know why I started this-but I created an imaginary brother and sister for the kids. Their names are "Cecil" and "Cheesy". It amuses me to no end to tell Sammy or Lily "It's time for dinner..could you go upstairs and let Cecil know?" Sometimes they play along..(the real kids) sometimes they get annoyed. I have a good time.

6) I Love watching "The Weather Channel"..(with the exception of "Wake up with Al" because he annoys the crap out of me) I watch it so much that I sent them an email asking that when they were forecasting the weather for my part of the country.."Could the forecaster please step two inches to the right as they were consistently standing in front of my part of the state." It seems to have worked-most of the time anyway...

7) I bought a "Dyson vacuum two years ago. Not because I thought it was a great product-No, I like how Mr. Dyson( in the commercials) pronounces the letter "S" as in "suction"..strange but true...I do need to get out more..

So there you have it-seven odd little things about me. Now on to the fun part. Three blogs that I find "Stylish"...There are so many..so I'm going to pick two new(to me) ones and a favorite.

1) Flowers are joy Because who can resist pictures of lovely flowers-especially in the winter?

2)Kitaiska Sandwich I have only recently started reading her. I have not had the time I wanted to go over as much as I would like to-but I think she's interesting, writes well-and is a champion speller.

3)DSWalkerauthor Again, another blogger new to me. She has interesting posts that invite conversation.

A couple of kids..a spectrum..and some Krabs...

2010-12-11T07:00:00.089-05:00

~"Too many people grow up. That's the real trouble with the world, too many people grow up. They forget. They don't remember what it's like to be twelve years old. They patronize, they treat children as inferiors. well I won't do that."~ Walt Disney

It isn't easy being different. It is especially hard when you are twelve. This year is a big one for Sammy. He is in a different school, he has different things expected of him. He is straddling that fine line between boy and young man. Forming his own opinions through his own experiences instead of relying solely on mine. For the first time he has been separated from the herd and it hasn't been easy. Autism plays a part in this-although certainly not all of it. Hormones are rearing their ugly little heads as well..The combination of the two can be daunting... challenging..and just plain exhausting. Sammy is coming into his own and he has a lot of questions..a multitude..tons..a veritable cornucopia.

  Sammy knows that he is on the spectrum. It has always been our thought that autism or any other disability is nothing to be ashamed of. Our son is not "less than" because of autism. None of our kids are. That is how we raise them. The problem is that now that Sammy is coming into his own, he is starting to see his siblings with different eyes and it is hard on him. Especially when looking at Oscar.

  My boys are a pretty good example of how differently autism can manifest itself. They are so very opposite from each other. Kind of like "The Odd Couple"...Sammy would be Felix and Oscar..well, Oscar. Sammy is all things proper and dignified and Oscar.. is not. I can't tell you how many times Sammy has walked around various public places, his arms stretched wide (much like a policeman guarding a crime scene) yelling "Nothing to see here folks!" while Oscar either lay on the floor screaming... walked around on all fours wearing a collar pretending to be Scooby- Doo..or molested a mannequin professing his undying love for her. He is the Yin to Oscar's Yang. I find it amusing...Sammy? He really struggles with it-especially now that he is more aware of how the world works.(just as a side-note..Sammy has done this to all of us at various times...to his sisters..even his Papa and myself-but hey, when Barry White plays over the speakers of the supermarket a couple HAS to dance-it's the law!)

  It hasn't been an easy year for Oscar either. He has been sliding academically-and we are working to find other options. Unfortunately, Oscar would prefer not to work at all. He would much rather spend his time on the computer finding various videos to entertain him. Yes, my son won't read a chapter book-but he can bookmark "Cats farting" "Wile E coyote gets the roadrunner"," Arthur poops" and "punching Barney" on YouTube with little or no effort. Being nine years old, he finds great joy in bodily functions. His is a world of butts, farts and poop. It isn't uncommon to hear Oscar repeating verbatim various videos he's seen. "Mr. Krabs! You're naked" "Aye my boy you're right I am naked!" "Mr. Krabs you're going to pee!" "Aye my boy I am going to pee!ssssssssssssssssssssss" Mr. Krabs you're going to poop!" "Aye my boy you're right I am going to poop!ppfffplooopppp" (Of course this is done with the appropriate Sponge-bob and Mr. Krabs accents) The problem is that Oscar doesn't really have conversations at home...he gets off the bus from school and basically spews everything he has kept inside for the day.(we've made it a rule that fart, poop and butt jokes are to remain at home) This bothers Sammy because he wants so much for Oscar to play with him..and Oscar isn't interested. ( Don't get me wrong-they have their moments...times when they are totally connected with each other..where they act out movie scenes or play with toys up in their room..but these moments are far and few between.) Oscar has held it together and worked so hard to behave at school that when he gets home...he immediately goes on line or starts telling his various poop "Jokes".."Mama..I have a new joke for you!" "What is it bud?" "Owen did you poop??!!..HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" That's Oscar humor in a nutshell. sigh...Sammy just doesn't get it...

  The other night Sammy came to me and asked "Why doesn't Oscar talk to me?...He's always just saying poop jokes or making fart sounds....He would rather play on the computer than be with me.".."Oh Sammy...Oscar loves you..you have to try and remember that some things are harder for Oscar than they are for you.." "Why?."Do you remember when he didn't talk at all..?" "No.".."Do you remember when all he could do was scream?".."No"..."O.K...do you remember when YOU stopped talking?" "Yes..it was hard to hear all the sounds and I didn't always know what you were saying?"  "Well...you know how that sometimes still happens with you?" "Yes.." "Well..you need to remember that Oscar really hasn't been talking for very long..he is still figuring it all out...just know he's working really hard to do so-just like you do..give him time..he will get where he's going in his own way.."  "I still think he likes his YouTube videos more than he likes us!" "Oh buddy..that isn't true..it really isn't..he loves us all very much"..At this point Oscar over hearing us joined in.."Sammy I don't like videos more than you." "Then why won't you play with me or when you watch t.v. with me you always want to watch baby shows! Why don't you watch big kid shows like I do?"  "Do you know why I like baby shows?" "No Oscar why?" "Because they have no worries" and with that he left the room..."No worries"..sigh... I guess it isn't easy being nine either...

   Sometimes I feel as if I am walking on a tight rope..one wrong step and it's over. Sometimes I find myself worrying right along with Sammy..Will Oscar be o.k.? Am I missing something..should I be doing more to help him..will he ever WANT to do school work..am I asking too much? Oh..the crazy worry! I'll be sitting with Oscar trying to discuss the book he is reading at school and I'll say "Oscar..what do all the characters have in common?"..and he'll look at me and say "Well...they all have arms" or "They don't have horns" and just when I reach that level of thinking "he can't do this" he'll look at me and say "Mama..I did a search for two wheeled electric scooters..let me show you..it is what I want for Christmas" (at 800 bucks-fat chance of that happening!) so I kick myself for worrying..because I know he'll get where he's supposed to-in his own way and in his own time..and I know this is true because in the back of my head I'll hear Mr. Krabs saying "Aye you're right my girl he will!"or will it be Oscar? either way-I'm not worried.

The power of Santa compels you...

2010-12-04T07:00:00.025-05:00

~"Raising kids is part joy and part guerrilla warfare"~

Ed Asner

I seem to have lost my moxie in the past week. I just don't feel like doing anything. This isn't a bad thing per say...perhaps a bit frustrating as I do want to get some things done. I just don't seem to have the energy to do them. My get up and go seems to have got up and went. Nothings wrong. I'm healthy, happy..everything here is pretty good. Maybe it is just the change of seasons..or too much Thanksgiving turkey. Either way..I'd like to get it back..Christmas is coming-and with four kids, I need all the help I can get.

  The holiday season is an interesting time at our house. The kids being kids work themselves up into a frenzy of excitement starting at Halloween. It is kind of like a horse race..the bell rings and we are off-usually with me in the lead.. This year though, I feel like I am still at the gate. I think in part this has to do with all the changes going on. My herd is growing up.. and I feel like I'm staying still. Yes, I know this is what they are supposed to do..and for the most part I find joy in it-I do..but at the same time, I don't like it..not a bit. sigh...I guess I'm feeling a little left out.

  This is the first year that Sammy knows...really KNOWS that there isn't a Santa. He has suspected for quite some time..but he wasn't ready to accept it. Until now. Which has led to some interesting conversations. "Mama..you SAID there was a Santa." "I know I did..but Santa is just one of those things parents do to make the holidays more fun." "But YOU SAID there was one." "Well...there is kind of..think about it..what IS Santa? What does he represent? He's fun and magical!! All parents want to be fun and magical Sam!!..Besides, one person couldn't possibly deliver toys and gifts to EVERY house." "But YOU SAID HE WAS REAL." "Well...I think he's real in a way..he is the reason for Christmas!" "But YOU SAID people celebrate Christmas because of Jesus." "No..I said many people..not all people...Christmas is a time of joy and fun..and magic...so can you understand why we have Santa...at least a little?" "But YOU SAID...." "ALRIGHT! YES I said there was a Santa! I am Santa! Thats right..one night a year I turn into a fat man with a beard and deliver toys all around the world..that's why I'm so tired on Christmas!..the secret is out!! Now you know!! HO HO HO!!" ..."MAMA..sigh..well, what about Jesus?".at that time Lily chimed in with "Jesus? who is Jesus?" "You know, Christmas is his birthday?..you have to go to church if you want to learn more about him.."Oh..well I always wanted to try sushi" "Uhh..Lil? They don't serve sushi in church...?" "Oh..o.k."....sigh...I know-lots of people are honest with their kids from the start. They didn't want to raise them with the idea of a magical guy sneaking into their homes one night a year delivering presents. I get that-I do...and I respect their decision. But I like the idea of Santa..the magic, the mystery...the power. Yes! The power. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas day, I can't think of a better threat than "If you don't stop drawing on the dog-I will call Santa." or "Girls! Get out of the washer!Santa is watching you." Oh I can hear the skeptics now "You can't expect to raise your child to be a critical thinker..or to trust you if you raise them on on myths..Don't you want them to behave themselves simply because it is the right thing to do?" Oh blah blah blah.. Talk to me when you are removing fifteen boxes worth of band-aids stuck to every possible surface of your house...or when your kids think that sliding down the staircase in a sleeping bag is good fun even if it does tear the banister down. Don't get me wrong, my kids are pretty well behaved for most of the year. It is the holiday season that turns them into hyperactive monkeys(with wings). Maybe I am just partial to fat, bearded men in red suits-or worse..maybe I simply relate to them...either way-Santa is a vital part of our holiday season..(and my sanity)

  I don't think it's Sam's new found Santa realization that's getting to me though. I think it is more that they are all growing away that has me feeling so introspective. Parenting is topsy turvy sometimes isn't it?. For years, I was the center of their universe..and now..slowly..in some ways, I'm becoming more of an observer than a participant. Stepping back and letting them figure things out on their own...watching how they look to each other for answers. A large part of me revels in this. There was a time..and still are times when I worry and fret about the future for my kids. I don't know what it holds for them..I don't know how far they will go. I have to remember though-to look at the here and now and to occasionally glance back to see how far forward we have come. From where I am standing right now, the future- although uncertain, looks pretty bright.

  Last week we were listening to Christmas carols as we were driving out and about. Now, there is nothing like a rousing rendition of "Rudolph the red nosed reindeer" to get the blood pumping. Especially when it is sung by "Mitch Miller and the Gang"  . My kids are fabulous in that they will sing with me-at the top of their lungs.(much to Omar's amused discomfort) ..So there we are singing along when Zoe starts kicking the back of Lily's seat. Lily in turn grabbed Zoe's foot and a screaming match ensued. "Girls!!" I yelled "Santa is watching!!" They immediately stopped. Sam just looked at me (rather accusingly I must say) Lily said "Sammy do you remember that Christmas eve we were looking out the window and we saw Rudolph's nose glow?" Sammy said "I remember..we were looking outside and we saw the reflection of his nose on the roof!! And then we heard a banging sound.." Sammy ~~glared~~ looked at me..and Lily said "Mama?...that was Santa right?"..."uuuhhhh...ask me later..I can't hear you the musics too loud."

Thanksgiving Re-run..

2010-11-24T18:13:00.001-05:00

last week marked my two year "blogoversary"..I can't believe that I have actually kept it up for that long..I have made so many friends and connections in this little community of ours and I am thankful. ..and as tomorrow is Thanksgiving here in the states..I thought I'd share one of my earlier posts..Happy Thanksgiving to everyone-no matter where you are..I am thankful for you..

That which does not kill me makes me thankful

~"You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough."~Mae West

" Girls! Leave the table cloth on the table...no it is NOT a cape!"

"put it on the table..THE TABLE not your HEAD!"

"It's for Thanksgiving....Why? because it makes the table pretty..."

"No it is not a sheet! It is a Table Cloth...FOR THE TABLE!"

"THAT'S IT! If you touch it again, you won't have cookies UNTIL YOU ARE 47! "

Thus begins our Thanksgiving celebration. Like most families, we gather around the table to feast on Turkey and all the sides. The only exception being that our holiday feast includes frozen pizza. Frozen pizza, because that is one of the five things that my boys will eat, and they had already met their quota of peanut butter and jelly for the week.

Thanksgiving is often a time for family traditions. One of my children's favorite traditions is arguing over where they will sit. Actually, they do this at most meals. It just seems more festive on Thanksgiving being that there is a table cloth involved. My tradition is to ask everyone what they hope the next year will bring, and what they are thankful for. The answers from my kids vary from "I hope the next year brings toys", "I am thankful for toys" to "why is this sheet on the table? " and "I am thankful for this sheet". I try and set a good example by saying that I am thankful for my family, for having this wonderful feast and that I hope that the next year is as wonderful as this one has been. I am also secretly thankful that the table cloth is still on the table.

This year we we did things differently. As per my oldest son Sammy's school assignment, we were to go around the table and give thanks for things we wouldn't normally be thankful about. For example, being thankful for a mortgage, because it meant we had a roof over our heads, or being thankful for homework because it meant that you were learning. Sammy turned to me and said "I'm thankful for you mama." and continued to eat his pizza. Now I could take that one of two ways...he either didn't understand the assignment or he equates me with the mortgage. My ego chose the former.

As I later pondered the idea of this assignment, I asked myself what am I truly thankful for? The obvious things of course, we have a house, a steady income, four unique children, three of which happen to have an asd. What would I normally not think to be thankful for? Should I be thankful for autism? It has shaped who we all are. How we behave, how we think. Wasn't it Nietzsche who said "That which does not kill you makes you stronger"?( Then again, Nietzsche wasn't a stay at home parent.) On one hand, how could I possibly be thankful for something that has at times caused my kids to have to work so hard, and on the other, that work has in part made them the incredible people that they are. From their struggle, we have all grown. I know that I am a better parent-a better person. I take little for granted, and I have much joy. For that, I give thanks.

That night, while I was tucking Sammy in, he once again said that he was thankful for me. I asked him why? He said "Mama, you help me to learn so I can grow up to be a good adult."and I thought, right back at you Sammy, right back at you. He did understand the assignment-it was me who got it wrong. Yet another thing to be thankful for.

And so another Thanksgiving has passed. There was a wonderful turkey, thought provoking conversation....and the table cloth stayed on the table. All in all, a great success- AND I still have a few weeks to figure out how to keep the GIRLS OFF OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE!

Not going to "Never" land..

2010-11-20T07:00:00.132-05:00

~"All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure."~ Mark Twain

  I should have known...or at least suspected. If ever I wake up in the morning and I don't want coffee, something is wrong. Very wrong indeed. The thing of it is...well, I didn't figure it out until I took the dogs for their walk. When I was standing in the middle of my yard..in view of the entire neighborhood, in my oldest robe and a pair of Omar's pajama bottoms..then it hit me.. all of a sudden-I knew. I had caught the dreaded stomach bug from the kids....oh and it wasn't pretty. There I was on hands and knees heaving the contents of my stomach for all the world looking like a lifetime alcoholic coming off of a bender..or a reality show star looking for publicity. It was that bad. The dogs just stared at me. I don't know what the neighbors thought-but they haven't dropped off any brochures for rehab, so I should be o.k.

  I was in a bind. Omar was gone for the next twelve hours, and I was on my own...alone with the herd. Now, anyone who has kids KNOWS what that means. Parents don't get sick. It is against the rules. I even think it's part of the Geneva convention-it just isn't allowed. Now I have been known from time to time for breaking rules...and they say that "necessity is the mother of invention" and it was necessary...I threw myself on my children's mercy. I was that sick-and there was no way I was going to be making snacks and lunch and more snacks and dinner. It just wasn't happening. "Mama! Your Sick? "Yes..I have to lie down.." "Mama's sick..her belly is going bleeech" "Is your belly sick Mama?"..".....yes.." "Mama,,are you going to get sick..are you going to throw up..Mama?..".."...I..havetoliedown...now.." "MAMA's BELLY IS GOING BLEEECH!!!"
"Oh No Mama's going to throw up!!" "Mama's belly is sick!" and on and on they went...I snuck upstairs sometime during this fascinating conversation and passed out. Oh, it isn't like I wasn't aware of them..they came upstairs every thirty two seconds or so to check on me..to make sure that I was o.k....to find out how long you put a "hot pocket" in the microwave.to see if they could have a snack..to ask me if I was still sick..sigh.. No,I didn't abandon them...It is more like I left them to their own devices. Which can be a dangerous thing. But in this case- It wasn't.

  The next morning..I was feeling half way to normal as I made my way downstairs. There, I was met with four happy kids and a kitchen that looked as if a tsunami had hit...there were dishes everywhere..wet towels and washcloths (Zoe had decided to clean every surface of the house-including windows and computer screens) buckets and papers...a mess of epic proportions...AND It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.
"Mama! you're better!" "We did your jobs for you Mama!" "I cleaned the table.." "I made lunch for everyone!" "I helped too!" They were euphoric. So proud of themselves. They had done it-gotten through a day without me. Made choices and decisions...they stood on their own...and while it might have made one of the biggest messes I have ever in my life cleaned up-it was also one of my greatest pleasures to clean it. My kids took care of themselves and of me..and no one was maimed in the process!. How cool is that?

  You know, I think back to the early days...especially with my boys. How far they have come. . I am so thankful for the people involved in the diagnosis. Particularly Oscar's. His early years were the toughest. We seemed to have more questions than answers...We didn't know if he would ever talk..or laugh..play..SLEEP! We didn't know. We were given a lot of "maybe's" and for that I am very thankful. Even though at the time it was frustrating-I wanted answers! But "maybe" is hopeful(even if I didn't think so at the time). I can't imagine being told "never"..what would that have done to us as parents? More importantly-what would that have done to Oscar? No, one of the most important lessons I have learned is to never say never. I don't know what the future holds for him..I try not to worry too much...sigh.. Worrying seems to be an essential part of parenting doesn't it?...My boy is only nine years old, and I see how very far he has come.. the past three years alone have been full of leaps and bounds..How could I possibly predict what he will or won't be able to do? He counts on me. If I don't believe in him-how can he believe in himself? Whatever happens-whatever the future holds..it won't be because we lived in "never" land. Although I will say That I never will ignore my body again if it tells me it doesn't want coffee...and at the same time, I'll make sure I am wearing more than my pajamas to walk the dogs when it does...

1001 Tips For The Parents Of Autistic Girls

2010-11-18T00:00:00.232-05:00

  I have been asked to give a book review as a part of the 1001 tips for the parents of autistic boys and girls blog tour. I chose to review "1001 Tips For The Parents of Autistic Girls" by Tony Lyons. The reason being that my youngest Zoe, had only been formally diagnosed a few months ago. Before that, most of my knowledge about autism came from my experience with boys. Zoe's diagnosis did not come as a surprise-we had suspected as much for a little over a year. Once we had had her screened, we knew it was just a matter of time. It was the time BEFORE her screening that surprised me. We knew she had some "issues"..but hey, in our family, who doesn't? We just hadn't put the pieces together as she had presented so much differently than her brothers. I felt a little foolish for not having seen the warning signs. There isn't a whole lot of research done on girls with autism, so I was happy to see a book written especially for them.

  In the introduction. Lyons expresses that there isn't much out there information wise for girls on the spectrum. He also states that this book is a compilation of information from many different sources. That some of the "tips" may appear to contradict themselves. That knowing your child is key in deciding which tips might work for you. He also recommends that you discuss ANY and ALL treatment with your child's physician. I think all of this is important to know BEFORE you dive into the book. Otherwise, you will wind up confused.

Some sections of the book are geared to older girls and circumstances that we are not yet dealing with. So I chose to focus on the areas that concern us now. Mainly diagnosis, education, and diet.

  I found "Diagnosis and Evaluation" (chapters 3 and 4) to be quite informative. Just speaking from my own experience-autism in girls can present very differently than it does in boys. Early intervention and parent persistence is stressed in this section. For diagnosis, there are great tips on what to to if you think there is a problem, where to go, questions to ask, and symptoms you should look for. I did not agree with everything. For instance

"PDD-NOS Does not meet sufficient criteria for diagnosis of autism or aspergers. Frequently children are initially diagnosed with PDD-NOS and then move to autism"

Two of my children have a diagnosis of PDD-NOS, it is accepted by the state and school district as being part of the autism spectrum. They receive services because of this. There has never been any indication that their diagnosis would change.We were told that with early intervention they could continue to develop and grow.
They have and do.

  I think that "Education-Planning A Siege" (chapters 5-10) was by far the most useful and informative chapters of the book. There are tips on how to approach a meeting, ideas on keeping log books and what to do if your child's needs are not being met. It also listed what your rights are as a parent-and your child's rights as a student. I think that these chapters would be useful to ANY parent of a child who requires any special services. In other words-these chapters are for helpful for anyone navigating the waters of special education. I would however add my own special tip

"When preparing for any educational meeting, it is wise not to experiment with your "personal touch" eyebrow shaper-as shaving off half of an eyebrow does not project the image of a capable parent." but that's just me...

  I was very disappointed in the way the book addresses "DIET" (chapter26) We have eating issues in our household. Texture, smell, color, all play a role in my children's eating habits. I would like information or tips on HOW to address these issues. Instead, it appears that this chapter is mostly based on the assumption that autistic people have problems with malabsorption, food allergies and celiac disease. This is absolutely untrue.
While autistic people can and do have food allergies-just like everyone else.it should NEVER be assumed that.they walk hand in hand. There were too many statements in this chapter and not enough tips. It is one thing to say "Remove such and such from their diet" or "It will take a few days for them to adjust" but to not explain HOW to do these things leaves a gaping hole. I would love suggestions on how to expand on my children's menu of five things without causing anxiety attacks. I'd like to make it easy for the kids as well..

  In reviewing this book, I skimmed a lot of chapters, and focused mainly on the things that are pertinent to us now. I found some very good information. I am sure that as my girl grows, I will be able to find some more useful tips to get us through things like puberty and high school. There is plenty of useful and good information to look for.

I have to say that I don't like the title of the book. When we were first going through diagnosis with my son nine years ago, I would have been happy for just ten good tips on what to do in certain situations. Tips to me are help, ideas, strategies for accomplishing something. This book in my opinion, offered more statements than tips. Yes, ideas are good-but you need follow through-HOW to implement the ideas would be a start. I thought the book lacked that.

Would I recommend this book? Yes-but only to a parent that is not new to diagnosis. For even though the author warns of contradictions in the introduction-it is hard to remember that when reading the tips. Some of the tips read as fact. If I didn't know what I do of autism,(and it is still very little after nine years) I might not use the book as recommended. Instead, I might accept everything as written and wind up very confused. For the rest of us, who have some experience with autism, I'd say it was worth reading. There is something in it for everyone. You just have to look.
  For anyone interested in the boys book-Jen of "Autism the King and Eye" wrote a thorough post on it here.

Ramblings of an overwhelmed mother who used to be a daughter....

2010-11-13T07:00:00.069-05:00

"...All Cats are grey in in the dark"~John Heywood's Book of Proverbs. (1546)

   You know I try and keep a positive attitude..try and find the good in every situation. We all have days when seemingly everything goes wrong..when no matter what you do-nothing goes according to plan .I have always thought that when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade..or as T and L say- you get yourself some tequila and salt and have yourself a party. So I try-really I do. But this past month or so..It just seems as though the weight of the world has been on my shoulders and no amount of tequila is going to help my spinning head.

  Anyone following me knows about my recent IEP woes..and my ongoing construction and my lack of a decent bathroom..Add to it-my car dying, my dogs getting fleas, Oscar discovering that bodily function jokes are a RIOT, and all the kids getting a stomach bug- culminating with my daughter throwing up on my head-yes, my head! Let me tell you, it isn't a fashion statement I would recommend...All I wanted to do was jump back and yell "ick!ick! ick!" but I couldn't..because I'm the mom. I wanted to make her feel better..and really... what's a little vomit between family?..It was certainly a bonding moment-and I'm not talking about me and my daughter. Sigh...sometimes it is hard to be the adult..sometimes I want to be a kid...sometimes I want MY mother...

  Last month marked the twenty third anniversary of my moms death. She has been gone for half of my life...and yet her influence remains. Sometimes I wonder what she would think of me now...of this life I have carved out for myself... She had a roaring sense of humor, but being a DEVOUT Irish Catholic, felt terribly guilty about it. What would she think of my kids yelling out various words at the top of their lungs..usually having to do with the more private of the body parts?..My mother didn't have body parts..well with the exception of a chin up and ankles down. Everything else was kept locked away somewhere...her closet I think. To her sex was for procreation NOT recreation.. She was an enigma.. an interesting mix of faith, intellect and humor..and I think she would have enjoyed what I have become. I know she would have laughed to see me this way-her independent and strong willed daughter being brought low by fleas and inadequate plumbing. I think that she would have laughed with the kids..and would have put my current woes in perspective. She would say "Stiff upper lip"... "Up Kerry!"..or some other odd thing, telling me to suck it up..move along..be strong.. My mom was not fond of big emotion. It's crazy, but there are times that I can still hear her voice in my head ... After all these years..she still guides me. Which makes me wonder what kind of impact do I have with my own kids...what will they remember? That's just plain scary..

  Will they look back and remember a woman who yelled too much, misplaced everything, and threatened them with showing up at school in her pajamas? A woman who overcompensated for her sheltered upbringing by being so explicit in teaching "the facts of life"( along with charts, diagrams and song)s that we all wanted to just sink into the floor? Will they still hear my voice? What will it say?. It certainly won't be "keep a stiff upper lip"..What is a stiff upper lip anyway? Has anyone ever tried to keep one? It is an odd thing to try to do..and still, I don't know how it helps...unless it is to take your mind off of things because you are concentrating on keeping your upper lip..well...stiff. But that is besides the point. My mother was so neat..and I'm just so messy.

   Last night, I was lying on my bed pondering the past few weeks... The car problem is fixed, the fleas are dead, the IEP's dealt with, construction almost complete and a bathroom is on the horizon. The herd is once again healthy! Things are looking up as they always do. Sometimes though, I need to just take a moment to let it all go. So there I was- relaxing...when I felt my cat on my legs. Now, this isn't unusual.. he likes to hang out with me-especially when the kids aren't around. The thing is..he was moving around too much....and after a long day of holding kids(or rather being hung on by kids)-I wanted a little of my own space. So I looked down-about to tell him to move off of me...when I realized...he was humping my leg. My cat was humping my leg...with reckless abandon!. EEK! In my shock (and horror) forgetting that my children were awake and could hear everything..I yelled "Holy crap the cat is humping my leg!!" sigh... My children being who they are...well, I know it is only a matter of time before they repeat that....probably at some inopportune moment..like anywhere other than home... I just hope it doesn't stick....that these aren't the words they remember me by..that it isn't one of the phrases they hear in their heads as adults....sigh...stiff upper lip...

A room with no view...

2010-11-06T07:00:00.016-04:00

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times......"

~Charles Dickens~

  It has been a rough couple of weeks here at Chez Herd. So many things happening all at once.... The good news is that we have made a huge dent in our (so far) five year house remodel. We have replaced all the interesting brown particle board paneling with fresh drywall in the entire upstairs AND plotted out the area for a new bathroom! Yes-it looks as if we are finally going to have a second bathroom put in. We have lived for so very long with only one. One bathroom for six people-a few of which think that clogging the toilet is "all in a days work".... One bathroom that is at least fifty miles from the bedrooms-or at least it feels that way at three in the morning.. when one of the herd needs to use it and is too afraid to make the treacherous journey alone. Oh.. there is NOTHING quite like being startled awake by a face hovering two inches from yours and the words "My belly doesn't feel good" to get your legs moving in the middle of the night! Sadly, because of the distance, I don't think that we have ever made it in time in all the years we have lived here...sigh...I'm thinking that it might be time to replace the carpet on the stairs.

  Our house was built before the popularity of indoor plumbing (or as I like to call it-The" Porcelain Age") So, I'm guessing that the original owners of my house, not used to the luxury of an indoor "privy" had no idea of where to put a bathroom in. So either they were just used to the inconvenience of "going" outdoors-or they were masochists-because they stuck it in the most inconvenient of places. The kitchen. Yes, If I chose to, I could cook dinner and greet guests at the door all from the comfort of my shower...and NOTHING screams ambiance more than a soaking wet naked child walking into the kitchen while you are cooking dinner..It can be quite the conversation starter.
" Why are you wet?"
"I'm not wet"
"You're soaking wet!!..and you're naked!! where are your clothes!!
"My clothes are wet."
"I kind of figured that..why are they wet?"
"I fell"
"What do you mean you fell??!!"
"I dropped my headband."
"What do you mean?"
"I dropped it in and I had to get it out"
" Where did you drop........oh."
  Although I don't expect conversations like the above to cease anytime soon...it will be nice to have them someplace other than in the kitchen. So you have to understand my unbridled joy over this upcoming addition to our home.(yes, I probably need to get out more)

  Surprisingly, the herd doesn't seem to be affected by all of this chaos. They have been pretty excited to come home every day and see what work has been done. There was a time not too long ago, when I couldn't even hang pictures on the wall without a total freak out(with torn pictures and shattered frames)-when any change to the home environment involved intense negotiation- so this is huge progress .HUGE. No, the only really big issue that we are having during all this construction..is the misplacing of things. Or rather, MY misplacing of things.

  We have two of the nicest gentlemen (friends of ours) doing the work..every day they have hung Sheetrock..mudded the walls and sanded off plaster. In fact, there is so much plaster dust that when you walk by, you wind up looking like an extra from the movie Scarface. The house is a total and absolute mess. So what do I do? I worry that these friends of ours will think I'm a total failure at cleaning...so every day, before they arrive, I scurry to hide the piles of dirty laundry and other crap from sight. Heaven forbid they think I keep an untidy house!  The problem is...well, I keep misplacing things...like ALL of Omar's socks..our teaspoons...and fourteen chocolate chip cookies. I know-it's weird...but there you have it. And no...the cookies weren't eaten...they were tucked away in a bag on the top of the fridge...the socks were in the laundry and the spoons in the drawer.Where they are..well, your guess is as good as mine..My hope is that there is a crazed person wandering my neighborhood..wearing thirty pairs of socks..playing the spoons and eating cookies. My fear is that I stuck them somewhere like in one of the workers toolboxes and my secret will be found out...and the workmen will think that I am a crappy housekeeper! Oh the shame! The shame!
sigh...I'm getting carried away...plaster dust can do that...

   I am cautiously optimistic that we may actually get a second bathroom in before Christmas-THIS year! We have been keeping very steady in this round of remodel..and I think we just might get it done...think...and hope. I'll let you know how it goes..And please, if you should see a strange person wandering around wearing thirty pairs of socks, playing the spoons and eating cookies...please send them my way. Winter is coming and Omar needs his socks.

Autistic people communicate

2010-11-01T09:24:00.005-04:00

   “To effectively communicate, we must realize that we are all different in the way we perceive the world and use this understanding as a guide to our communication with others.”
   ~Anthony Robbins~

   When my boys were younger, they were non verbal. They did not have words, and yet they communicated. They did not have the internet, and yet they communicated. My children did not have cell phones or touchpads or keyboards, and yet they communicated. They have ALWAYS communicated. I simply had to listen.

Today there is a call for a "communication shut down" in which people are staying off of the internet in order to raise awareness about autism-specifically non verbal autistic people. This is supposedly to teach non autistic people what it feels like to have no means of communication. I think that this is a mistake. I think that if you want to raise awareness about autism, you should listen to what autistic people are saying. Autistic people communicate. They always have. People just need to learn how to listen.

So today, instead of shutting down-I'm going to open up. Below is a list of autistic bloggers. I encourage everyone to go on over and read them..but more importantly, listen to what they are saying.
Autism Blogs Directory
Autistics speaking Day
http://www.extremeparenthood.com/2010/11/autism-shoutout-loud-and-proud.html

http://www.autismlearningfelt.com/2010/10/bloggers-unite-for-autism-day-post.html

The post I don't want to write.

2010-10-30T07:00:00.002-04:00

"It's the hurt I hide that fuels the fire inside me" ~Ray Lamontagne~

I don't want to write this post. I don't. I can think of a million things I would rather do than sit here tapping away on my keyboard. In fact, I would prefer chewing on tinfoil than writing this post. But I have to. I don't feel as if I have a choice. It is finally quiet now..the kids are in bed...another week has ended-and I am thankful. It had started out as a promising week. We had Zoe's IEP meeting on Monday.(if you are new here-two posts down will explain our difficulties) We wound up getting everything we wanted for my girl and then some. So I'm not complaining. In fact the week was pretty good until Wednesday, when everything came crashing down.

Oscar came home on Wednesday with three quizzes he had taken at school. They were all marked with a 100%. At first, I just glanced at them-and immediately praised my boy for his work. Then, I sat down to look at them....and my heart dropped. It wasn't his work. Not at all.

Oscar has a full time aid at school. She helps him with math, spelling, and supports him in the classroom. He has difficulty with fine motor skills. He can write-but it is very frustrating for him (he is a whiz on the keyboard though) so his aid acts as a scribe for written assignments. She is to copy down what Oscar says word for word. She is not to correct or amend it. It is his work in his words. Or at least it is supposed to be This is how we have always done it. Now, Oscar has difficulty with both pragmatic and expressive language-it makes his work very distinctive- sometimes downright unusual. The point is-it is recognizable as Oscar's work. The quizzes he brought home-were too well written-too well thought out to be his. Because- it appears that his aid took it upon herself to write what she thought were the appropriate answers. Not Oscars answers-HERS. In her words. Now I'm sure her parents will be thrilled that their child, a graduate student, was able to ace a fourth grade quiz..but Oscar's parents aren't. Did she think that I wouldn't notice? Apparently not.

The next morning, I called the school. I spoke to everyone that I could think of. I was appalled..how could this happen? Why wasn't anyone saying anything!! Little did I know that my world was going to be turned upside down. You see, it was implied that perhaps this has been going on for a long time. That Oscar in reality has not been doing any of his work. That in essence, the school has been babysitting my son for the past...what? six weeks? months? years? My heart fell-dropped-imploded. I swear my blood literally ran cold. I felt like the wind was knocked right out of me. That someone could actually say this-to imply that Oscar was NOT capable..and furthermore allude to the fact that I had no idea after all these years-years!..I broke...crumbled..shattered. Because..I let myself believe it. Because I was afraid that maybe I did only want to hear the good things..that I allowed myself to be fooled..because it was about me..and not my boy. Could this be true? Could I be that shallow..that needy? I was sick with the thought of it-and damn near hysterical. What kind of mother am I?

I did the only thing I could think of. I called more people..I set up an emergency IEP meeting (this Wednesday) and I questioned those who had worked with my boy in the past. The latter shames me. There are some people at that school who have given their very best to my Oscar-who are passionate about what they do-who care and want him to work to the best of his abilities. HIS ABILITIES. People who have willingly given me their time in order to help my kids. I questioned them. I can only say now that I wasn't thinking clearly or rationally. I was so hurt for my boy..so very hurt. How could anyone think that this incredible child-this boy-my son was living a lie. Do they not understand how very difficult it is for him? Yet, he perseveres. Every little change, every single sound..sight..smell..everything is a distraction..and yet he still tries...and tries. And he succeeds-in his own way-in his own time. He does not need someone else's words-he has his own..and although they may seem odd from time to time-they are his and he earned them.

I am so sorry that I allowed myself to fall into that trap . The trap of doubting myself-and far worse-doubting my boy. He deserves better than that. He also deserves people around him who are responsible. Had I not bothered to look at his quizzes...had I not bothered to call..I would not have known any of this. It makes me wonder, would anyone have called me? I'm not sure. I do know this-the people who speculated about Oscars ability and my naivety are cowards. They have no problem discussing it behind closed doors..I'm sure they even acted appalled and shocked...but did they say anything to me? When they saw me in the hallway at school..did they express concern? Did they ask to speak to me..call me..send smoke signals-no. That is unacceptable.

I do not know what the outcome of this meeting will be. I do know that excuses have already been made..floundering has commenced-and I am angry. My son deserves to be treated with both dignity and respect. I'll not have it any other way.

I so did not want to write this post..I have three others almost ready to go-but this one...sigh...this one just needed to be let out. I'll be back to my regular self next week. You can count on it. Just as you can count on all of these issues being dealt with at Wednesdays IEP meeting. No doubt about it. None.