Wet Like Fish

I always think, wrongly, that giving the twins a shower instead of a bath will be easier. Time-wise, it IS easier. I can get them in and out of the shower in under ten minutes. But if you haven't ever put into a shower and TRIED to bathe a 12 year old who may or may not be having it, you'd realize quickly why this isn't always the best option.

It's my selfish side that wants them to shower. I don't want to risk the poop in the tub. I don't want to have to clean up the INCREDIBLE mess of water they make. I don't want to sit and WAIT for them to have enough time playing.

I'm a dick like that.

The trade off is the struggle. Sometimes they're super into it. They think it's fun, it's different. They don't mind getting under the shower head and they laugh a lot. Sometimes, not so much. Sometimes it is a FIGHT and if you've ever tried to FORCE someone under the shower head while not getting soap in their eyes you realize that the proposition of a shower is a dodgy one at best.

This morning, however, I embarked on SHOWERQUEST as I'm going to start calling it with what I'd call a medium level of success. There was a little grumbling about washing their hair but overall clean was accomplished in an efficient manner and we are all ready for out day should we end up going out for a adventure.

This brings me to the true down side of SHOWERING 12 year old boys. They're tall. They're VERY VERY TALL now. Whether they are happy or Defcon 1 about it, the gravity of the shower of water raining down doesn't change. Reach your arm up to rinse their hair under the shower and you've just created the autobahn for water to run the length of your arm, into your armpit, soaking into your bra and shirt. It's unavoidable.

It looks like this.

I know, I'm a major artist.

So I sit here, soaked and moist in unpleasant places content in the knowledge that my kids are clean and we're ready for today. I accomplished all of this early so that they had time for their hair to dry before we went out.

It occurs to me, though, now I could really use a shower...

Wet Like Fish

I always think, wrongly, that giving the twins a shower instead of a bath will be easier. Time-wise, it IS easier. I can get them in and out of the shower in under ten minutes. But if you haven't ever put into a shower and TRIED to bathe a 12 year old who may or may not be having it, you'd realize quickly why this isn't always the best option.

It's my selfish side that wants them to shower. I don't want to risk the poop in the tub. I don't want to have to clean up the INCREDIBLE mess of water they make. I don't want to sit and WAIT for them to have enough time playing.

I'm a dick like that.

The trade off is the struggle. Sometimes they're super into it. They think it's fun, it's different. They don't mind getting under the shower head and they laugh a lot. Sometimes, not so much. Sometimes it is a FIGHT and if you've ever tried to FORCE someone under the shower head while not getting soap in their eyes you realize that the proposition of a shower is a dodgy one at best.

This morning, however, I embarked on SHOWERQUEST as I'm going to start calling it with what I'd call a medium level of success. There was a little grumbling about washing their hair but overall clean was accomplished in an efficient manner and we are all ready for out day should we end up going out for a adventure.

This brings me to the true down side of SHOWERING 12 year old boys. They're tall. They're VERY VERY TALL now. Whether they are happy or Defcon 1 about it, the gravity of the shower of water raining down doesn't change. Reach your arm up to rinse their hair under the shower and you've just created the autobahn for water to run the length of your arm, into your armpit, soaking into your bra and shirt. It's unavoidable.

It looks like this.

I know, I'm a major artist.

So I sit here, soaked and moist in unpleasant places content in the knowledge that my kids are clean and we're ready for today. I accomplished all of this early so that they had time for their hair to dry before we went out.

It occurs to me, though, now I could really use a shower...

Hope Is The Thing

We went last night to the Relay for Life event at the Fairgrounds. It had been a few years since we went to this, but we had such a good time last time and we had nothing going on so we decided why not go check out the fun.

Our Relay for Life event is really amazing. It's the only one I've ever been to, and it's like this incredible festival on steroids. People are singing, and dancing, and celebrating. There are games and gifts and just this undefinable JOY in the air. You see hugs, you see tears, you see people walking around in silly costumes and just exuding their happiness and giving it out to others freely.

What I learned last night is this, while the mood at these events is probably all about the same, I'm not wrong in feeling WONDER at the size and scope of ours. Why? Because...

This thing is the largest in the world. That rather explains A LOT.

What makes it really wonderful is how all of the booths have activities, little games and things for the kids who are too small to understand the "bigger" meaning of the event, but these things still create a positive association for the event that I think is important.

We didn't scratch the surface on the activities that were available to do, for sure. But we are many and it's hard to wrangle us through stuff so I think we did ok.

There were clowns to meet and even Chopper was there, our old friend from the Braves games.

We had some BBQ and hot dogs under a tent with Chinese lanterns and enjoyed the warm southern evening as night fell. It was al fresco tent dining at it's finest.

Yes Charlie is in love with that Coke.

It's such a juxtaposition, to be surrounded by all the luminaries in memory of those who died from the various kinds of cancer but to feel so much happiness. Maybe that's really the point of Relay for Life. It's not just here to remind us to celebrate the lives of those who didn't make it or who are still struggling with cancer, it's also to remind us to celebrate ALL of our lives. Celebrate even on the days that seem crappy. Celebrate when things aren't going the way you want.

I heard someone say, recently, upon hearing that I had four children "Oh - you are so rich." Julia echoed it as we ate our dinner, "We're rich." She was saying this because we had both coke AND cookies with our dinner I think. 

The truth is, we are. We're SO rich. We're filthy rich. We will never have all the money or all the things or the best house or the best car.  But I don't really care about any of that. What I have is the most important stuff in the whole world. 

I woke up today feeling tired and achy and I'd like a nap, on the beach preferably. But since that isn't happening I should also note that I woke up happy, and in love with my family. Life is really good. I feel like I soaked up so much good energy at Relay For Life that I'm good for a long time.

Hope floats. Always.

Hope Is The Thing

We went last night to the Relay for Life event at the Fairgrounds. It had been a few years since we went to this, but we had such a good time last time and we had nothing going on so we decided why not go check out the fun.

Our Relay for Life event is really amazing. It's the only one I've ever been to, and it's like this incredible festival on steroids. People are singing, and dancing, and celebrating. There are games and gifts and just this undefinable JOY in the air. You see hugs, you see tears, you see people walking around in silly costumes and just exuding their happiness and giving it out to others freely.

What I learned last night is this, while the mood at these events is probably all about the same, I'm not wrong in feeling WONDER at the size and scope of ours. Why? Because...

This thing is the largest in the world. That rather explains A LOT.

What makes it really wonderful is how all of the booths have activities, little games and things for the kids who are too small to understand the "bigger" meaning of the event, but these things still create a positive association for the event that I think is important.

We didn't scratch the surface on the activities that were available to do, for sure. But we are many and it's hard to wrangle us through stuff so I think we did ok.

There were clowns to meet and even Chopper was there, our old friend from the Braves games.

We had some BBQ and hot dogs under a tent with Chinese lanterns and enjoyed the warm southern evening as night fell. It was al fresco tent dining at it's finest.

Yes Charlie is in love with that Coke.

It's such a juxtaposition, to be surrounded by all the luminaries in memory of those who died from the various kinds of cancer but to feel so much happiness. Maybe that's really the point of Relay for Life. It's not just here to remind us to celebrate the lives of those who didn't make it or who are still struggling with cancer, it's also to remind us to celebrate ALL of our lives. Celebrate even on the days that seem crappy. Celebrate when things aren't going the way you want.

I heard someone say, recently, upon hearing that I had four children "Oh - you are so rich." Julia echoed it as we ate our dinner, "We're rich." She was saying this because we had both coke AND cookies with our dinner I think. 

The truth is, we are. We're SO rich. We're filthy rich. We will never have all the money or all the things or the best house or the best car.  But I don't really care about any of that. What I have is the most important stuff in the whole world. 

I woke up today feeling tired and achy and I'd like a nap, on the beach preferably. But since that isn't happening I should also note that I woke up happy, and in love with my family. Life is really good. I feel like I soaked up so much good energy at Relay For Life that I'm good for a long time.

Hope floats. Always.

President Carter Wrote Back

If you read the other post, you know that this made us cry ...and why.

Thank you Jimmy Carter. You're an amazing human being.

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President Carter Wrote Back

If you read the other post, you know that this made us cry ...and why.

Thank you Jimmy Carter. You're an amazing human being.

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Look At Poor Barbie...

The girl was playing with her Barbies at the hearth yesterday, playing something with Hamm and her dollhouse and there seemed to be goings on having to do with sharing and having good manners and there was possibly a picnic happening.

I was sitting on the sofa, swirling in a cloud of sick and Contac watching Mickey Mouse clubhouse because the remote was so far away, when she came over to me with a concerned look and Barbie in her hand.

"Mommy, how can Barbie be happy?" she asked.

I was thinking of the tee shirt from the 90s "because the bitch has everything" as a valid response but refrained as she's only five. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look at poor Barbie, look at her tummy it can't ever be big. She can't ever have babies. How can she be happy without babies?" the look of concern continued.

Now I'm sick and on a slippery parenting slope. I want to say the right things here. As a post-feminist believer and a woman I want to convey that having babies isn't the only road to happiness, that having a family is a choice women can make willingly but that women can use birth control and never have babies and be very happy because it's their life and finding fulfillment isn't only met via reproducing.

I consider all of this and decide oh god that's a lot to lay down at a five year old so instead I say "Well, does Barbie WANT babies?"

She answers "Look all she has is a pig, who can be happy with that? Mommy her tummy will never be soft for cuddles, it's terrible."

I decide to gear up for a positive role model type of speech when she says "I know, Snow White can be her baby! PERFECT!" and runs off. She returns with Snow White and Aurora and says "TWINS!" and then proceeds to play.

Well I probably missed a moment but I guess in a way I'm flattered that she thinks that having a soft tummy and being a mommy equals happy. I guess it means I portray both of these things in a positive light.

I either missed a parenting moment there or made too much of a passing fancy, or somewhere in between. I'm sick it's not my fault.
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Look At Poor Barbie...

The girl was playing with her Barbies at the hearth yesterday, playing something with Hamm and her dollhouse and there seemed to be goings on having to do with sharing and having good manners and there was possibly a picnic happening.

I was sitting on the sofa, swirling in a cloud of sick and Contac watching Mickey Mouse clubhouse because the remote was so far away, when she came over to me with a concerned look and Barbie in her hand.

"Mommy, how can Barbie be happy?" she asked.

I was thinking of the tee shirt from the 90s "because the bitch has everything" as a valid response but refrained as she's only five. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look at poor Barbie, look at her tummy it can't ever be big. She can't ever have babies. How can she be happy without babies?" the look of concern continued.

Now I'm sick and on a slippery parenting slope. I want to say the right things here. As a post-feminist believer and a woman I want to convey that having babies isn't the only road to happiness, that having a family is a choice women can make willingly but that women can use birth control and never have babies and be very happy because it's their life and finding fulfillment isn't only met via reproducing.

I consider all of this and decide oh god that's a lot to lay down at a five year old so instead I say "Well, does Barbie WANT babies?"

She answers "Look all she has is a pig, who can be happy with that? Mommy her tummy will never be soft for cuddles, it's terrible."

I decide to gear up for a positive role model type of speech when she says "I know, Snow White can be her baby! PERFECT!" and runs off. She returns with Snow White and Aurora and says "TWINS!" and then proceeds to play.

Well I probably missed a moment but I guess in a way I'm flattered that she thinks that having a soft tummy and being a mommy equals happy. I guess it means I portray both of these things in a positive light.

I either missed a parenting moment there or made too much of a passing fancy, or somewhere in between. I'm sick it's not my fault.
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Nighttime Is NOT The Right Time

Sometimes I forget how chaotic nights can be for me. Friday night was one of those nights. It's been enough time that I hadn't had to deal with more than needing earplugs for a few hours, that I'd forgotten what a right crazy night around here was like.
It started with Miles, singing and carrying on loudly. I solved it with earplugs. But then there was Charlie, long after Miles had gone to sleep.
Charlie making noise so loud that I can't sleep, with earplugs in. Charlie coming into my room, to say HI. or I WANT WATER. (The water is right there, take it).
Then there was Julia. Tossing. Turning. Declaring a leg cramp. She had a leg cramp once or twice. Since then, it's a fashion. Then she takes her foot and digs it into my thigh. Repeatedly. Tosses.
Then Charlie.
Then she turns, repeats the foot dig.
I threaten, I say you'll have to go sleep in your own bed if you're going to keep this up.
Charlie is howling, and making bizarre noises, apparently because he can.
I keep drifting off, only to wake up, and realize that it's all still going on.
My wonderful husband comes in and says "What's the hub-bub Bub?" I tell him I'm so tense I can't stand it, my teeth hurt, I'm grinding them. What can I do they're driving me nuts?
He rubs my shoulders and neck and makes me feel melty and relaxed.

Right about the time he goes back out, it all starts up again. So I said FUCK IT and I got up.

Julia gets lip trembly and teary eyed and I told her to go to sleep and stomped off.

I park myself on the sofa and open up the Kindle app to continue reading THE HELP. After about a chapter the husband comes down and tells me Julia is scared and thinks I'm mad.

Well, I am mad.

But I'm not mad at her. I'm just mad because I'm not asleep and I'm damn tired. I want to be asleep. I turn a couple more pages and realize she's only 4 and I've left her alone in the darkish room and she's scared and god I'm a selfish jerk. So I put the tablet away and head up to her.

She's sound asleep. Everyone is. I pull her close and she snuggles into her sleeping spot, which is basically in my armpit. I watch her sleeping with the face of that baby they handed me all those years ago and remember what she said to me when she crawled into bed that same night, "Mommy, make room for your baby."

There's always room for my baby. All four of them.

I go to sleep feeling like an inpatient jerk. But, at least I went to sleep.

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Nighttime Is NOT The Right Time

Sometimes I forget how chaotic nights can be for me. Friday night was one of those nights. It's been enough time that I hadn't had to deal with more than needing earplugs for a few hours, that I'd forgotten what a right crazy night around here was like.
It started with Miles, singing and carrying on loudly. I solved it with earplugs. But then there was Charlie, long after Miles had gone to sleep.
Charlie making noise so loud that I can't sleep, with earplugs in. Charlie coming into my room, to say HI. or I WANT WATER. (The water is right there, take it).
Then there was Julia. Tossing. Turning. Declaring a leg cramp. She had a leg cramp once or twice. Since then, it's a fashion. Then she takes her foot and digs it into my thigh. Repeatedly. Tosses.
Then Charlie.
Then she turns, repeats the foot dig.
I threaten, I say you'll have to go sleep in your own bed if you're going to keep this up.
Charlie is howling, and making bizarre noises, apparently because he can.
I keep drifting off, only to wake up, and realize that it's all still going on.
My wonderful husband comes in and says "What's the hub-bub Bub?" I tell him I'm so tense I can't stand it, my teeth hurt, I'm grinding them. What can I do they're driving me nuts?
He rubs my shoulders and neck and makes me feel melty and relaxed.

Right about the time he goes back out, it all starts up again. So I said FUCK IT and I got up.

Julia gets lip trembly and teary eyed and I told her to go to sleep and stomped off.

I park myself on the sofa and open up the Kindle app to continue reading THE HELP. After about a chapter the husband comes down and tells me Julia is scared and thinks I'm mad.

Well, I am mad.

But I'm not mad at her. I'm just mad because I'm not asleep and I'm damn tired. I want to be asleep. I turn a couple more pages and realize she's only 4 and I've left her alone in the darkish room and she's scared and god I'm a selfish jerk. So I put the tablet away and head up to her.

She's sound asleep. Everyone is. I pull her close and she snuggles into her sleeping spot, which is basically in my armpit. I watch her sleeping with the face of that baby they handed me all those years ago and remember what she said to me when she crawled into bed that same night, "Mommy, make room for your baby."

There's always room for my baby. All four of them.

I go to sleep feeling like an inpatient jerk. But, at least I went to sleep.

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And So It Begins or Continues Or Whatever

Louis is 11. He is still the sweet, gentle loving child he has always been. However, over the past few weeks, something has been creeping around my sweet boy.

I believe it's the onset of the dreaded TEENAGE times.

My husband tells me I have said this 100 times but I AM GOING TO SAY IT ONE MORE. He flat out refused to play checkers with me. Because it was a "DORA" checkers board. I THOUGHT IT WAS A CUTE BOARD OMG WHO CARES WHAT THE CHARACTERS ARE?

HE does.

Nor would he play Old Maid. "I'm not playing with those baby games." He declared. He removed the box of Dora themed games from his closet, where they were stashed, declaring them not fit for his closet because, again, they are baby games.

His school just had a sock hop, and while we would normally have gone, at least one of us, he told us he didn't want us to come.

I AM GOING TO CHAPERONE EVERYTHING FROM NOW ON YOU CAN'T KEEP ME OUT YOUNG MAN.

He refused to wear a tee shirt with TMNT on it. It wasn't like a baby/little kid kind of shirt, it was kind of a cool vintage look - I thought it was ok. He rejected it out of hand.

He rolls his eyes, he sighs in exasperation at us. (ok I sigh, that's probably my fault). WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY CHILD????

Oh yeah I know, I know exactly what is going on.

It's puberty. It's the beginning of me not understanding him, at least in his mind. It's the end of him always being excited to spend time with us. I am regretting every minute I didn't give him right now at this minute because they're over. I messed up. Why am I sitting here I bet I could get him to do something with me right now if I played it right.

It's not all doom though. Well not yet.

Last night, when he went to bed, he slipped into bed beside me and said he needed Mommy Snuggles. Which he got and then some. There might have also been kisses and squeezes and whispers about how much I love him.

The part I've dreaded is upon me. I guess now we'll see what kind of young man we created. I think he's a good one. Time will tell.

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And So It Begins or Continues Or Whatever

Louis is 11. He is still the sweet, gentle loving child he has always been. However, over the past few weeks, something has been creeping around my sweet boy.

I believe it's the onset of the dreaded TEENAGE times.

My husband tells me I have said this 100 times but I AM GOING TO SAY IT ONE MORE. He flat out refused to play checkers with me. Because it was a "DORA" checkers board. I THOUGHT IT WAS A CUTE BOARD OMG WHO CARES WHAT THE CHARACTERS ARE?

HE does.

Nor would he play Old Maid. "I'm not playing with those baby games." He declared. He removed the box of Dora themed games from his closet, where they were stashed, declaring them not fit for his closet because, again, they are baby games.

His school just had a sock hop, and while we would normally have gone, at least one of us, he told us he didn't want us to come.

I AM GOING TO CHAPERONE EVERYTHING FROM NOW ON YOU CAN'T KEEP ME OUT YOUNG MAN.

He refused to wear a tee shirt with TMNT on it. It wasn't like a baby/little kid kind of shirt, it was kind of a cool vintage look - I thought it was ok. He rejected it out of hand.

He rolls his eyes, he sighs in exasperation at us. (ok I sigh, that's probably my fault). WHAT IS GOING ON WITH MY CHILD????

Oh yeah I know, I know exactly what is going on.

It's puberty. It's the beginning of me not understanding him, at least in his mind. It's the end of him always being excited to spend time with us. I am regretting every minute I didn't give him right now at this minute because they're over. I messed up. Why am I sitting here I bet I could get him to do something with me right now if I played it right.

It's not all doom though. Well not yet.

Last night, when he went to bed, he slipped into bed beside me and said he needed Mommy Snuggles. Which he got and then some. There might have also been kisses and squeezes and whispers about how much I love him.

The part I've dreaded is upon me. I guess now we'll see what kind of young man we created. I think he's a good one. Time will tell.

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On Duty

My husband and oldest son have disappeared into the north Georgia mountains. Not in a bad way. They are Boy Scout camping. It's been my son's dream for the past few years of scouts to make this trip, and every year something went wrong and it didn't work out. THIS year it happened.

As they were heading out the door, my husband said "OH NO THE ICE CREAM IS SOFT!!" and we had a mutual panic moment. He suggest I vacuum the intake and coils and whatever on the back to make sure the air flow was good and I smiled confidently and said SURE I WILL DO THAT.

Then he left and I panicked. The freezer just WASN'T cold enough. I cleared off the top, realized it was so dirty that I should probably be ashamed and pulled that sucker out. OH MY GOD HOW DOES SO MUCH DUST EXIST IN ONE PLACE? And how does dust GET to places? These are the questions I was asking as I put together the wand attachment and went to work.It wasn't that bad to do, other than the ick factor and after having cleaned the top (because seriously I am so lazy but I can't be so lazy I don't clean off the top no really I can't) I rearranged the cookbooks and odds & ends and put it all back.

The freezer was still too warm.

I went about my evening, worrying, playing with the kids - this involved loud guns that I hate but they like, and chasing. I checked on the fridge. It was -5 C. Or so it said. The ice wasn't melting - but I felt panicked. THAT SEEMED WRONG. I had a brilliant idea and got the meat thermometer and put it on the shelf inside.

An hour later it said 40 degrees. This would be the part where panic set in. I began running through the "what to do", buy a cooler, ice down everything...I wasn't sure. I texted my husband casually to see if he had signal. He didn't answer. MORE PANIC.

After dinner, the temperature had gone down 2 degrees. I resolved to STAY OUT of the freezer to see if there was improvement.

My kids went to bed, and with the evening in front of me, and dreading my morning, I went too.

At 7 am they all three bounced awake and I made the walk of doom down to the freezer. I expected a flood, or worse. I don't know WHAT would have been worse I just knew not to underestimate the horror show that was about to occur and I was alone and going to have to sort it out like an adult.

There was no flood. The thermometer said 30 degrees fahrenheit.

AT THAT POINT THERE WAS GREAT REJOICING.

It's not 9 am yet, and I've fed my kids and done my dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, PLUS run the vacuum.

This being the adult stuff is for the birds.
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On Duty

My husband and oldest son have disappeared into the north Georgia mountains. Not in a bad way. They are Boy Scout camping. It's been my son's dream for the past few years of scouts to make this trip, and every year something went wrong and it didn't work out. THIS year it happened.

As they were heading out the door, my husband said "OH NO THE ICE CREAM IS SOFT!!" and we had a mutual panic moment. He suggest I vacuum the intake and coils and whatever on the back to make sure the air flow was good and I smiled confidently and said SURE I WILL DO THAT.

Then he left and I panicked. The freezer just WASN'T cold enough. I cleared off the top, realized it was so dirty that I should probably be ashamed and pulled that sucker out. OH MY GOD HOW DOES SO MUCH DUST EXIST IN ONE PLACE? And how does dust GET to places? These are the questions I was asking as I put together the wand attachment and went to work.It wasn't that bad to do, other than the ick factor and after having cleaned the top (because seriously I am so lazy but I can't be so lazy I don't clean off the top no really I can't) I rearranged the cookbooks and odds & ends and put it all back.

The freezer was still too warm.

I went about my evening, worrying, playing with the kids - this involved loud guns that I hate but they like, and chasing. I checked on the fridge. It was -5 C. Or so it said. The ice wasn't melting - but I felt panicked. THAT SEEMED WRONG. I had a brilliant idea and got the meat thermometer and put it on the shelf inside.

An hour later it said 40 degrees. This would be the part where panic set in. I began running through the "what to do", buy a cooler, ice down everything...I wasn't sure. I texted my husband casually to see if he had signal. He didn't answer. MORE PANIC.

After dinner, the temperature had gone down 2 degrees. I resolved to STAY OUT of the freezer to see if there was improvement.

My kids went to bed, and with the evening in front of me, and dreading my morning, I went too.

At 7 am they all three bounced awake and I made the walk of doom down to the freezer. I expected a flood, or worse. I don't know WHAT would have been worse I just knew not to underestimate the horror show that was about to occur and I was alone and going to have to sort it out like an adult.

There was no flood. The thermometer said 30 degrees fahrenheit.

AT THAT POINT THERE WAS GREAT REJOICING.

It's not 9 am yet, and I've fed my kids and done my dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, PLUS run the vacuum.

This being the adult stuff is for the birds.
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There's Progress and There's Progress

One of the things that frustrates me sometimes is how autism forces EVERY bit of focus in the house into one child. There are four children who live here. They ALL deserve equal attention. But Autism doesn't see it that way, and when it will, it drives all of your energy and effort into controlling, redirecting and sorting out whatever chaos it's delivering you that day.

In the days that have passed, other things have happened in my life, but they're a blur. I worked. I did a lot of stuff there including completing a major project that went very well. It's fuzzy. I need a shower, but I'm stuck here in this chair enjoying a cup of sweet and creamy coffee (tan and sweet as my friend David says).

Why?

Because for whatever reason, we have relative peace.

There was some brotherly fighting at 8am but I'm not so sure that was "Miles behavior" related so much as twin brothers going at it. I got up however and we had breakfast with relatively little drama. Food was consumed. Coffee was shared.

I came upstairs and brought Miles. He's been listening to various songs on YOUTUBE for a while but has landed on TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME - his favorite, after some time. I'm impressed how long it took him to GET there. Usually it's his first choice.

That's what's happening right now. This is the fabled LIVE BLOGGING you've heard so much about. Pretty damned amazing isn't it?

What else is going to happen today? Will it stay calm?

I don't even know. I know this coffee is good and the shower is calling me. That's about it.

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There's Progress and There's Progress

One of the things that frustrates me sometimes is how autism forces EVERY bit of focus in the house into one child. There are four children who live here. They ALL deserve equal attention. But Autism doesn't see it that way, and when it will, it drives all of your energy and effort into controlling, redirecting and sorting out whatever chaos it's delivering you that day.

In the days that have passed, other things have happened in my life, but they're a blur. I worked. I did a lot of stuff there including completing a major project that went very well. It's fuzzy. I need a shower, but I'm stuck here in this chair enjoying a cup of sweet and creamy coffee (tan and sweet as my friend David says).

Why?

Because for whatever reason, we have relative peace.

There was some brotherly fighting at 8am but I'm not so sure that was "Miles behavior" related so much as twin brothers going at it. I got up however and we had breakfast with relatively little drama. Food was consumed. Coffee was shared.

I came upstairs and brought Miles. He's been listening to various songs on YOUTUBE for a while but has landed on TAKE ME OUT TO THE BALLGAME - his favorite, after some time. I'm impressed how long it took him to GET there. Usually it's his first choice.

That's what's happening right now. This is the fabled LIVE BLOGGING you've heard so much about. Pretty damned amazing isn't it?

What else is going to happen today? Will it stay calm?

I don't even know. I know this coffee is good and the shower is calling me. That's about it.

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It's Always Something or Something Else

Autism is wearing us out as a family. I know it's just a turn of the wheel and in a few days it'll be back to it's normal level off crazy stress vs. this ramped up version. But MAN, I have to admit I don't even know how we're supposed to deal with it sometimes.

This morning Miles was a sweet, delightful boy. He crawled out of bed and into my arms and there were kisses and hugs. He drank his milk, and there were more kisses and hugs. He played with his little Leap Frog dog thing and laughed and giggled when it said his name. We shared coffee and tickles.

When the bus came, I took a small cup of Coke out and said "No spitting. Say NO SPITTING." He repeated - NO SPIT. I said "You get COKE if you DO NOT SPIT! OK?" He said "No spit." again. I gave him a drink and we said it again and again and again. After a few drinks he wiped his mouth and said "bye please" indicating he wanted to go.

His bus driver said his spitting and screaming was intermittent on the ride in yesterday. I had a long talk with her, and thanked her because seriously, driving a kid who is screaming and spit has to suck.

My husband gets so upset and stressed out that he has an ulcer now. He loves Miles just as much as I do, that's his little sweet boy too. How can you look at this sweet boy and reconcile this little JERK who keeps attacking and hurting Charlie & others?

We talked last night about what do we do? Medicate? Get him a pet? Then I wonder what kind of pet? Would that matter? I'd get him a WHATEVER today if it would help? I am going to contact someone who specializes in behavior - these people don't take insurance however. Isn't that nice? I figure they don't take insurance because they don't have to, which really makes me NOT WANT to have anything to do with them.

I've looked at the MARCUS CENTER website repeatedly. I did register for information but, their website is so confusing and overwhelming. There needs to be a "I need help and don't know what to do" page. That's what I need.  Of course I remember what jerks they were to me on the phone when I was trying to get the twins tested for Autism. Really, all about the money is all they are, based on my experience. They wouldn't even TALK to us without 2k per kid up front. I find it hard to believe you are actually interested in helping ANYONE when you talk to a worried parent like that.

So, I'm having my second cup of coffee and considering getting up off my butt to go to work. I don't know what the weekend holds, I'm either dreading it or really looking forward to it. I'm not sure which it is.

A picture of PO the Panda from the Atlanta Zoo. Just because I can.


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It's Always Something or Something Else

Autism is wearing us out as a family. I know it's just a turn of the wheel and in a few days it'll be back to it's normal level off crazy stress vs. this ramped up version. But MAN, I have to admit I don't even know how we're supposed to deal with it sometimes.

This morning Miles was a sweet, delightful boy. He crawled out of bed and into my arms and there were kisses and hugs. He drank his milk, and there were more kisses and hugs. He played with his little Leap Frog dog thing and laughed and giggled when it said his name. We shared coffee and tickles.

When the bus came, I took a small cup of Coke out and said "No spitting. Say NO SPITTING." He repeated - NO SPIT. I said "You get COKE if you DO NOT SPIT! OK?" He said "No spit." again. I gave him a drink and we said it again and again and again. After a few drinks he wiped his mouth and said "bye please" indicating he wanted to go.

His bus driver said his spitting and screaming was intermittent on the ride in yesterday. I had a long talk with her, and thanked her because seriously, driving a kid who is screaming and spit has to suck.

My husband gets so upset and stressed out that he has an ulcer now. He loves Miles just as much as I do, that's his little sweet boy too. How can you look at this sweet boy and reconcile this little JERK who keeps attacking and hurting Charlie & others?

We talked last night about what do we do? Medicate? Get him a pet? Then I wonder what kind of pet? Would that matter? I'd get him a WHATEVER today if it would help? I am going to contact someone who specializes in behavior - these people don't take insurance however. Isn't that nice? I figure they don't take insurance because they don't have to, which really makes me NOT WANT to have anything to do with them.

I've looked at the MARCUS CENTER website repeatedly. I did register for information but, their website is so confusing and overwhelming. There needs to be a "I need help and don't know what to do" page. That's what I need.  Of course I remember what jerks they were to me on the phone when I was trying to get the twins tested for Autism. Really, all about the money is all they are, based on my experience. They wouldn't even TALK to us without 2k per kid up front. I find it hard to believe you are actually interested in helping ANYONE when you talk to a worried parent like that.

So, I'm having my second cup of coffee and considering getting up off my butt to go to work. I don't know what the weekend holds, I'm either dreading it or really looking forward to it. I'm not sure which it is.

A picture of PO the Panda from the Atlanta Zoo. Just because I can.


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Color me Delighted

My oldest child never fails to amaze and awe me. He's sweet. He's smart. He's gentle and patient. He's 1000 things any mother would want in a child. One thing that always surprises me is how much NOT like me he is. He's reserved, calm. Not rowdy. He isn't really even naughty and I've had a mouth like a sailor for years. 

But he's growing and maturing. He's five foot four at age 10. He gets humor that I feel is not only inappropriate - it's way above his head. But beyond that, his tastes and interests develop into his own little person in ways that fascinate me. 

I always knew I'd love him ridiculously beyond reason, since the first moment I laid eyes on his annoyed face. But this weekend, when he and I were up alone and I suggested a movie, he flipped to the On Demand and suggested "Life of Pi". He says "It looks so interesting, I am really curious how the story goes."

He's 10.  Did I mention he's 10? He had the entire uVerse on demand catalog at his fingertips - and this was his choice.

We watched the first half of it, pausing occasionally to explain and discuss the parts he was unsure of. Sometimes to rewatch things he thought were beautiful. I was captivated by him.

This morning in the car rider line he paused prattling on about Lego Chima (I dunno there are lions and crocodiles and they are at war with wolves or something and it's China but it's not China....it's a confusing show to me) and he turns up Landslide on the radio - listens for a moment and says "Oh, it's a cover."

I nearly fell out of the car.

It was a cover. It was the Smashing Pumpkins version. 

I said "You know Landslide?" He said "Well yeah. I just couldn't figure out what song it was, it sounded wrong. But that's a cool cover."

Then he grinned and hopped out of the car.

Look at that. We're not so different after all.

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Color me Delighted

My oldest child never fails to amaze and awe me. He's sweet. He's smart. He's gentle and patient. He's 1000 things any mother would want in a child. One thing that always surprises me is how much NOT like me he is. He's reserved, calm. Not rowdy. He isn't really even naughty and I've had a mouth like a sailor for years. 

But he's growing and maturing. He's five foot four at age 10. He gets humor that I feel is not only inappropriate - it's way above his head. But beyond that, his tastes and interests develop into his own little person in ways that fascinate me. 

I always knew I'd love him ridiculously beyond reason, since the first moment I laid eyes on his annoyed face. But this weekend, when he and I were up alone and I suggested a movie, he flipped to the On Demand and suggested "Life of Pi". He says "It looks so interesting, I am really curious how the story goes."

He's 10.  Did I mention he's 10? He had the entire uVerse on demand catalog at his fingertips - and this was his choice.

We watched the first half of it, pausing occasionally to explain and discuss the parts he was unsure of. Sometimes to rewatch things he thought were beautiful. I was captivated by him.

This morning in the car rider line he paused prattling on about Lego Chima (I dunno there are lions and crocodiles and they are at war with wolves or something and it's China but it's not China....it's a confusing show to me) and he turns up Landslide on the radio - listens for a moment and says "Oh, it's a cover."

I nearly fell out of the car.

It was a cover. It was the Smashing Pumpkins version. 

I said "You know Landslide?" He said "Well yeah. I just couldn't figure out what song it was, it sounded wrong. But that's a cool cover."

Then he grinned and hopped out of the car.

Look at that. We're not so different after all.

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