I Am Not a Teflon Mom

Wednesday night I had a company dinner and so arrived home late. When I got home, my oldest boy was complaining of tummy problems and quickly dashed to the bathroom. When he came out, he was red faced and clammy with watery eyes.
In short,he looked really bad.
So we talk about how he feels and he tells me that his tummy really hurts.
And then he says "May I be excused?" and of course we say yes and he says "I have to go throw up."
Which he then does.
All night long.

It goes on until about 4am, and this is where I have to admit something.

OMG I lay there in terror, in between the vomit, hoping that he didn't sit up and puke all over me. Some moms get all barfed up and they must have Teflon skin - not me. I cannot STAND it. I mean - I'm THERE for him, wiping his mouth, giving him a drink to rinse and spit.....getting towels, giving hugs.
Oh GOD please don't puke on me.

He wanted to snuggle up and lay on me and that just kept me awake even more. I could hear every gurgle of his tummy, every moan in his sleep even better and I'm a ball of tension - don't barf on me please don't barf on me.

The next morning he bounces out of bed completely excited and off we went to school - he was feeling great and I chalked it up to something he ate. (Of course by then I'm not feeling go at all).

Of course the school called a few hours later. They had 150 kids have to go home due to vomiting and mine was one of them. The board of health showed up and they've closed the school because it's more than 10% of the school population.

All I know is - nobody barfed on me, and that is all good.

I leave you with a pic of the twins, on pajama day.

I Am Not a Teflon Mom

Wednesday night I had a company dinner and so arrived home late. When I got home, my oldest boy was complaining of tummy problems and quickly dashed to the bathroom. When he came out, he was red faced and clammy with watery eyes.
In short,he looked really bad.
So we talk about how he feels and he tells me that his tummy really hurts.
And then he says "May I be excused?" and of course we say yes and he says "I have to go throw up."
Which he then does.
All night long.

It goes on until about 4am, and this is where I have to admit something.

OMG I lay there in terror, in between the vomit, hoping that he didn't sit up and puke all over me. Some moms get all barfed up and they must have Teflon skin - not me. I cannot STAND it. I mean - I'm THERE for him, wiping his mouth, giving him a drink to rinse and spit.....getting towels, giving hugs.
Oh GOD please don't puke on me.

He wanted to snuggle up and lay on me and that just kept me awake even more. I could hear every gurgle of his tummy, every moan in his sleep even better and I'm a ball of tension - don't barf on me please don't barf on me.

The next morning he bounces out of bed completely excited and off we went to school - he was feeling great and I chalked it up to something he ate. (Of course by then I'm not feeling go at all).

Of course the school called a few hours later. They had 150 kids have to go home due to vomiting and mine was one of them. The board of health showed up and they've closed the school because it's more than 10% of the school population.

All I know is - nobody barfed on me, and that is all good.

I leave you with a pic of the twins, on pajama day.

I love u more today than yesterday

but not as much as tomorrow.

I love u more today than yesterday

but not as much as tomorrow.

Fall Comes to Georgia

It's official. Fall is here. We marked the occasion by heading to the mountains to the Mecca of pumpkin acqusition - BURTS FARM.

We had to start with that most joyous of all fall traditions - THE HAYRIDE. Why oh why is this so much fun? Is it because we don't have HAY and wagons in our daily lives (well, we nonfarmer types don't). I mean, it's messy, everyone's allergies go nuts, there's a bumpity ride. But still. It's absolutely joyous fun - especially for the munchkins - you can absolutely see the joy.

And well you know, then we had to get some pumpkins!

First up - the FAMILY pumpkin. We opted NOT to get some hundred pound monstrosity this year.

And then the boys each got to pick one out.
You can see Miles is being an awfully big boy getting his own.

The littlest one kicked this white one - so we decided THAT one was his.

And then Mommy picked out a blue one and Daddy picked out an old fashioned one.

So as you can imagine - we've got some pumpkin carving to do! It's going to be a busy night one night VERY soon I tell you what.

Fall Comes to Georgia

It's official. Fall is here. We marked the occasion by heading to the mountains to the Mecca of pumpkin acqusition - BURTS FARM.

We had to start with that most joyous of all fall traditions - THE HAYRIDE. Why oh why is this so much fun? Is it because we don't have HAY and wagons in our daily lives (well, we nonfarmer types don't). I mean, it's messy, everyone's allergies go nuts, there's a bumpity ride. But still. It's absolutely joyous fun - especially for the munchkins - you can absolutely see the joy.

And well you know, then we had to get some pumpkins!

First up - the FAMILY pumpkin. We opted NOT to get some hundred pound monstrosity this year.

And then the boys each got to pick one out.
You can see Miles is being an awfully big boy getting his own.

The littlest one kicked this white one - so we decided THAT one was his.

And then Mommy picked out a blue one and Daddy picked out an old fashioned one.

So as you can imagine - we've got some pumpkin carving to do! It's going to be a busy night one night VERY soon I tell you what.

The Boy Has Got To Go

My littlest boy has sensory issues, which are part and parcel with autism it seems. It's kind of hard to explain - but let me lay it out the way they did for me. You know how when you are sitting motionless and not moving - you can still FEEL yourself - right? Even motionless, you know you are there. Your nerve endings continue to transmit a message to your brain that says HERE ARE THE FEET, HERE ARE THE LEGS etc etc etc.
You know you are there.
His brain doesn't do that for him.
Thus - he SEEKS sensation.
It can take easy paths like spinning objects and wringing his hands.........
or like we're going through now........

holding onto his poop.

See, that pain - it's sensation. He desperately craves sensation that you and I take for granted.

We calculate it's been at least three days - and he hasn't gone. We've put prunes and dried apricots in him three days on a row (lots of them) at the doctors advice. We took him to a new doctor to HELP us with him because we're a little overwhelmed.

Because see, he's at the point now that while he's still the master of his domain - it's causing him terrible physical pain. So he screams. Blood curdling shrieks, to be exact. Last night it was all night, and my exhausted husband sat up with him, holding him until sleep took over and then carrying his giant 45 pound body up the stairs to bed.

The boy has to go poop.

This morning I tried making the sweetest, creamiest coffee in the world and then iced it. He spit it out. The other two kids gobbled it up. One was already a coffee addict so put the eyebrows down. My mother started drinking coffee when she was like 4. They're fine.

This lack of poop is creating havoc and chaos family wide. Everyone's nerves are shot from the screaming and crying. You can't reason with him. You can't even BRIBE him - he doesn't understand "Mommy will buy you a puppy if you will poop!"

This morning he ate three more prunes and some dried apricots in addition to his breakfast.

Somethings gotta give.

Or it'll be Infinite Ease with the One Handed Squeeze I tell you what.

The Boy Has Got To Go

My littlest boy has sensory issues, which are part and parcel with autism it seems. It's kind of hard to explain - but let me lay it out the way they did for me. You know how when you are sitting motionless and not moving - you can still FEEL yourself - right? Even motionless, you know you are there. Your nerve endings continue to transmit a message to your brain that says HERE ARE THE FEET, HERE ARE THE LEGS etc etc etc.
You know you are there.
His brain doesn't do that for him.
Thus - he SEEKS sensation.
It can take easy paths like spinning objects and wringing his hands.........
or like we're going through now........

holding onto his poop.

See, that pain - it's sensation. He desperately craves sensation that you and I take for granted.

We calculate it's been at least three days - and he hasn't gone. We've put prunes and dried apricots in him three days on a row (lots of them) at the doctors advice. We took him to a new doctor to HELP us with him because we're a little overwhelmed.

Because see, he's at the point now that while he's still the master of his domain - it's causing him terrible physical pain. So he screams. Blood curdling shrieks, to be exact. Last night it was all night, and my exhausted husband sat up with him, holding him until sleep took over and then carrying his giant 45 pound body up the stairs to bed.

The boy has to go poop.

This morning I tried making the sweetest, creamiest coffee in the world and then iced it. He spit it out. The other two kids gobbled it up. One was already a coffee addict so put the eyebrows down. My mother started drinking coffee when she was like 4. They're fine.

This lack of poop is creating havoc and chaos family wide. Everyone's nerves are shot from the screaming and crying. You can't reason with him. You can't even BRIBE him - he doesn't understand "Mommy will buy you a puppy if you will poop!"

This morning he ate three more prunes and some dried apricots in addition to his breakfast.

Somethings gotta give.

Or it'll be Infinite Ease with the One Handed Squeeze I tell you what.

Popcorn Up The Nose - Redux

My middle child has a new favorite hobby.

It's shoving popcorn kernels up his nose. Brilliant - eh?

Last week it was innocuous enough - annoying and weird but easily remedied and life moved on.

But yesterday.......YESTERDAY...I returned home from work and the boy had a popcorn kernel shoved up into his nostril.......oh not just into his nostril.

Back toward the SINUS - where you couldn't get it out.

Off we went to the ER.

Sigh. Damned ER - you know we waited for hours to get in.

On the lighter side, Miles made friends with a sweet elderly Chinese couple. I'm not sure that they understoond that he was austistic - but they thought he was hilarious and he danced and sang and counted for them. At one point he started dancing and clapping and they got up and danced with him (the man got out of his WHEELCHAIR to do so). It was rather touching and sweet to see them playing with him, clearly they had huge sweet hearts to be so engaging to such a little strange boy.

To just absolutely cap this tender moment, the boy walked over to the man's wheelchair and put a tight grip on it's arm.

And grunted.

And grunted.

And FARTED.

And grunted and squirmed.

Yes. He pooped his pants.

The old man thought it was HYSTERICAL and laughed so hard I thought he was going to die.

I on the other hand nearly crawled under my chair.......as not only the old couple were privvy to this display - EVERYONE watched it happen.

Because you know, WELCOME TO AUTISM.

Sigh.

The doctor and a nurse put the boy on a papoose board and using suction removed the offending popcorn kernel in about 2 seconds.

And we are on popcorn moratorium around here, I tell you what.......

Popcorn Up The Nose - Redux

My middle child has a new favorite hobby.

It's shoving popcorn kernels up his nose. Brilliant - eh?

Last week it was innocuous enough - annoying and weird but easily remedied and life moved on.

But yesterday.......YESTERDAY...I returned home from work and the boy had a popcorn kernel shoved up into his nostril.......oh not just into his nostril.

Back toward the SINUS - where you couldn't get it out.

Off we went to the ER.

Sigh. Damned ER - you know we waited for hours to get in.

On the lighter side, Miles made friends with a sweet elderly Chinese couple. I'm not sure that they understoond that he was austistic - but they thought he was hilarious and he danced and sang and counted for them. At one point he started dancing and clapping and they got up and danced with him (the man got out of his WHEELCHAIR to do so). It was rather touching and sweet to see them playing with him, clearly they had huge sweet hearts to be so engaging to such a little strange boy.

To just absolutely cap this tender moment, the boy walked over to the man's wheelchair and put a tight grip on it's arm.

And grunted.

And grunted.

And FARTED.

And grunted and squirmed.

Yes. He pooped his pants.

The old man thought it was HYSTERICAL and laughed so hard I thought he was going to die.

I on the other hand nearly crawled under my chair.......as not only the old couple were privvy to this display - EVERYONE watched it happen.

Because you know, WELCOME TO AUTISM.

Sigh.

The doctor and a nurse put the boy on a papoose board and using suction removed the offending popcorn kernel in about 2 seconds.

And we are on popcorn moratorium around here, I tell you what.......

Advanced Maternal Age Is A Valid Diagnosis

This is the mantra at the perinatologist, apparently. If we heard it once, we heard it 20 times during our visit for luchal translucency (down syndrome) screening. This is the drum they beat to make insurance companies pay for the myriad tests they're going to put us through.
Sarah and I sort of have a philosophy about being high risk, it goes like this. "SWEET! MORE PICTURES"! I realize that sounds a little snarky, but - in my case anyway - it's like being high risk without being high risk at all.
What is boils down to, is that they have diagnosed me as being OLD.

Seriously. Are you fecking kidding me?

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the red carpet treatment. I love knowing that my odds of having a Down Syndrome or Trisomy 18 baby are LOW LOW LOW after the testing was done, we have none of the genetic markers. Next we'll do neural tube defect testing so you know - MORE PICTURES! Plus I get to see the sex by then so that'll be fun.

I'm just not worried.

I saw that tiny human on the screen, with it's arms and legs stretching and rubbing it's head....and I can see that it's fine. Maybe it's because I didn't even start having kids until I was 34 that this just doesn't seem like such a huge deal to me. I was always "an older mother".

But I refuse to treat being pregnant like a disability. It's a gift, it's my hearts desire. And I will not see it otherwise, regardless of the testing and screenings that are required.

Advanced Maternal Age Is A Valid Diagnosis

This is the mantra at the perinatologist, apparently. If we heard it once, we heard it 20 times during our visit for luchal translucency (down syndrome) screening. This is the drum they beat to make insurance companies pay for the myriad tests they're going to put us through.
Sarah and I sort of have a philosophy about being high risk, it goes like this. "SWEET! MORE PICTURES"! I realize that sounds a little snarky, but - in my case anyway - it's like being high risk without being high risk at all.
What is boils down to, is that they have diagnosed me as being OLD.

Seriously. Are you fecking kidding me?

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the red carpet treatment. I love knowing that my odds of having a Down Syndrome or Trisomy 18 baby are LOW LOW LOW after the testing was done, we have none of the genetic markers. Next we'll do neural tube defect testing so you know - MORE PICTURES! Plus I get to see the sex by then so that'll be fun.

I'm just not worried.

I saw that tiny human on the screen, with it's arms and legs stretching and rubbing it's head....and I can see that it's fine. Maybe it's because I didn't even start having kids until I was 34 that this just doesn't seem like such a huge deal to me. I was always "an older mother".

But I refuse to treat being pregnant like a disability. It's a gift, it's my hearts desire. And I will not see it otherwise, regardless of the testing and screenings that are required.

Unrepentantly Spoiling Him

My oldest boy turned 7 at the end of September. For the past few years, due to a double downsizing and the economy, we haven't been able to give him a proper birthday party. A proper yuppie-white-suburban birthday party. For his first four years, his birthdays were oh, extreme to say the least. Disney World. Huge affairs at the Mouse House of Chuck. But the past three, well - Mommy and Daddy have been broke.
Not this year.

For his actual birthday, we just had the small family affair - like we've normally been having the past few years. He made his own cake as is his wont, and as you can see he even did his own decorating this year. That was possibly the CRUNCHIEST red velvet cake you ever had, due to the amazing quantity of sprinkles on top.

We got him his heart's desire, a NERF GUN which he has asked for literally for the past two years. It's hilarious and huge and despite my VERY anti-gun opinions, I'm afraid it tickles me a bit. I don't know why. Can you tell he liked it?

He took it outside and shot up the worlds largest mushroom that was growing in our front yard. THAT will teach you, damned fungi!
You might think that this was a pretty nice birthday - but we wanted to do something special - something different - because this little boy is different, IS special in ways I cannot adequately share in words.

So we rented a train car at the Southeastern Railway Museum north of Atlanta.

And we invited his friends and classmates to come and share in our joy - which they did with great enthusiasm.

Why? Why a second party, that is pretty lavish and full of excitement for a little boy who already had a pretty darned good birthday? Why SPOIL him?
Because ladies of the jury, this child is not spoiled in his life. His entire life revolves around accommodations for two demanding special needs brothers. "Change the channel, that show is upsetting your brother - I don't CARE change it now!" "Just give him the toy, you can play with it later!" "Put that away, don't play with it now, it's pieces are too small - Lil Birdman will eat the pieces!" "Pick up the pieces of that broken toy so no one eats it - quick get them!" "Watch your brothers Mommy and Daddy will be in the kitchen."

He's their keeper, their warden, their guardian angel. He gives up and gives up and gives up. He shares bites of food and treats when they have eaten all of theirs and want more. He is patient with them, especially when they are unreasonable to the point of insanity.

So we played games, and had a really expensive fancy birthday cake complete with a dinosaur that lept from the cake and roared (ok that was REALLY cool) and we got to tour ALL of the trains in the museum......

And to end our day, we got to ride on a real train - all of the kids piling into the gondola on top of the caboose, to ride up on top looking out the windows at the freezing rain that was falling outside.

This child is some days like a small saint to me, despite his flawed human self - who is in fact only seven. As I watched the other children at the party I really understood how different he is, and how different his life is. He doesn't have the LUXURY of selfishness or even the opportunity to be ME centered the way the other children do. It makes me sad - but in a lot of ways it makes me proud. I think in the long run it will make him a better person.



Thus - once in a while, this child gets his hearts desire. Because this is right and just.

Unrepentantly Spoiling Him

My oldest boy turned 7 at the end of September. For the past few years, due to a double downsizing and the economy, we haven't been able to give him a proper birthday party. A proper yuppie-white-suburban birthday party. For his first four years, his birthdays were oh, extreme to say the least. Disney World. Huge affairs at the Mouse House of Chuck. But the past three, well - Mommy and Daddy have been broke.
Not this year.

For his actual birthday, we just had the small family affair - like we've normally been having the past few years. He made his own cake as is his wont, and as you can see he even did his own decorating this year. That was possibly the CRUNCHIEST red velvet cake you ever had, due to the amazing quantity of sprinkles on top.

We got him his heart's desire, a NERF GUN which he has asked for literally for the past two years. It's hilarious and huge and despite my VERY anti-gun opinions, I'm afraid it tickles me a bit. I don't know why. Can you tell he liked it?

He took it outside and shot up the worlds largest mushroom that was growing in our front yard. THAT will teach you, damned fungi!
You might think that this was a pretty nice birthday - but we wanted to do something special - something different - because this little boy is different, IS special in ways I cannot adequately share in words.

So we rented a train car at the Southeastern Railway Museum north of Atlanta.

And we invited his friends and classmates to come and share in our joy - which they did with great enthusiasm.

Why? Why a second party, that is pretty lavish and full of excitement for a little boy who already had a pretty darned good birthday? Why SPOIL him?
Because ladies of the jury, this child is not spoiled in his life. His entire life revolves around accommodations for two demanding special needs brothers. "Change the channel, that show is upsetting your brother - I don't CARE change it now!" "Just give him the toy, you can play with it later!" "Put that away, don't play with it now, it's pieces are too small - Lil Birdman will eat the pieces!" "Pick up the pieces of that broken toy so no one eats it - quick get them!" "Watch your brothers Mommy and Daddy will be in the kitchen."

He's their keeper, their warden, their guardian angel. He gives up and gives up and gives up. He shares bites of food and treats when they have eaten all of theirs and want more. He is patient with them, especially when they are unreasonable to the point of insanity.

So we played games, and had a really expensive fancy birthday cake complete with a dinosaur that lept from the cake and roared (ok that was REALLY cool) and we got to tour ALL of the trains in the museum......

And to end our day, we got to ride on a real train - all of the kids piling into the gondola on top of the caboose, to ride up on top looking out the windows at the freezing rain that was falling outside.

This child is some days like a small saint to me, despite his flawed human self - who is in fact only seven. As I watched the other children at the party I really understood how different he is, and how different his life is. He doesn't have the LUXURY of selfishness or even the opportunity to be ME centered the way the other children do. It makes me sad - but in a lot of ways it makes me proud. I think in the long run it will make him a better person.



Thus - once in a while, this child gets his hearts desire. Because this is right and just.

Sunday morning

Orange bread surprise for my sleepy heads

Sunday morning

Orange bread surprise for my sleepy heads