Using Her Words

Having two autistic children has cast my ideas of parenting and what is OK and what isn't, into a different light, to be sure.
The oldest child was born sweet and gentle, with a kind heart and soft disposition that doesn't involve a lot of tantrums or disagreements. He's always been that way. I used to joke that he was the trick baby, the baby that fooled you into thinking they were ALL that easy.
I never had to much have the YOU WILL OBEY ME I AM THE PARENT battles with him. He generally just did the right thing. Or, sulked about and did the right thing.
The girl however...the girl has her own mind.
Sometimes it's a safety issue, she wants to bunny hop down the stairs and will scream and cry when I say no to this. She wants to run away from me when it's not safe to do so. These are in fact punishable offenses round these parts because, like Disney, we're very SAFETY FIRST parents. So she has to learn that she MUST do what I ask sometimes simply because those things WILL IN FACT keep her alive.

But last night, there was a battle of the wills that reminded me JUST how much I treasure her words. It was time for jammies and we were once again putting on her giant BATMAN jammies - it's really one of her brother's jammie shirts that fits her like a nightgown. It was going to get down to the 30s last night, so I pulled on some pajama bottoms because you know, COLD NIGHT.

That was when she started sobbing, and clutching at the pants. And sobbing some more and declaring that she didn't want pants she didn't want pants she didn't want pants and as I tried to explain that she needed them she shouted and sobbed "I KNOW WHAT I WANT!!"

She is two. And she knows what she wants. It kind of gave me and the husband pause, and I took off her pants. She wiped her face and smiled.

It's easy to forget, for me, that she isn't a little child without words or much in the way of opinions. The twins don't much care, they'd wear banana peels most days if I put those on them. They might not like it but, generally they don't have strong opinions on things. They just sort of amble on, and choose different things to tantrum about.

But the girl, she knows what she wants. It makes me proud, it relieves me in ways I can't explain. She's going to probably get away with too much in childhood just because I'm thrilled she speaks.

I hope she never catches on to that.

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Using Her Words

Having two autistic children has cast my ideas of parenting and what is OK and what isn't, into a different light, to be sure.
The oldest child was born sweet and gentle, with a kind heart and soft disposition that doesn't involve a lot of tantrums or disagreements. He's always been that way. I used to joke that he was the trick baby, the baby that fooled you into thinking they were ALL that easy.
I never had to much have the YOU WILL OBEY ME I AM THE PARENT battles with him. He generally just did the right thing. Or, sulked about and did the right thing.
The girl however...the girl has her own mind.
Sometimes it's a safety issue, she wants to bunny hop down the stairs and will scream and cry when I say no to this. She wants to run away from me when it's not safe to do so. These are in fact punishable offenses round these parts because, like Disney, we're very SAFETY FIRST parents. So she has to learn that she MUST do what I ask sometimes simply because those things WILL IN FACT keep her alive.

But last night, there was a battle of the wills that reminded me JUST how much I treasure her words. It was time for jammies and we were once again putting on her giant BATMAN jammies - it's really one of her brother's jammie shirts that fits her like a nightgown. It was going to get down to the 30s last night, so I pulled on some pajama bottoms because you know, COLD NIGHT.

That was when she started sobbing, and clutching at the pants. And sobbing some more and declaring that she didn't want pants she didn't want pants she didn't want pants and as I tried to explain that she needed them she shouted and sobbed "I KNOW WHAT I WANT!!"

She is two. And she knows what she wants. It kind of gave me and the husband pause, and I took off her pants. She wiped her face and smiled.

It's easy to forget, for me, that she isn't a little child without words or much in the way of opinions. The twins don't much care, they'd wear banana peels most days if I put those on them. They might not like it but, generally they don't have strong opinions on things. They just sort of amble on, and choose different things to tantrum about.

But the girl, she knows what she wants. It makes me proud, it relieves me in ways I can't explain. She's going to probably get away with too much in childhood just because I'm thrilled she speaks.

I hope she never catches on to that.

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Sample Packets, I Hate Them

First of all, let me just start off by saying that FREE THINGS are festive. So I'm not actually at all bitching about someone giving me free things. But I have to say - PACKETS are always the lamest sort of free thing. Packets are like "We don't care enough to give you a proper free sample but here is a smidgen of something we dare you to complain about this free gift."

But TARGET, and everyone else (this is the Target beauty bag that just went out) - HERE is what is wrong with packets.

They suck.

They are hard to open. First of all, they end up in my bathroom. And if your packet is made of some super space age polymer it won't rip properly. I find that they are ALL made of super space age polymer. I don't keep scissors in my bathroom so then I'm stuck there making nicks in it with the toenail clippers. Like a crazy wanton desperate for better shampoo I cut away seeking to make a hole big enough FOR the product to come out.

This is if you remember to open it pre-shower.

But if you are sleepy for forgetful and roll into the shower with them WOE TO YOU.

First of all your hands will be pruny and wet and slippery, your nails will be soft. Your ability to rip open that space age polymer that holds the best shampoo ever will have been rendered to nil. You resort to your teeth.

And learn that space age polymer has some aluminum in it, or something that makes every bit of dental work in your head sing like a failed contestant on American Idol.

Wee bottles, Target and everyone else, enough to TRY your product, is where it's at. Because, I've found a lot of things I love and will buy from Birchbox - in pots and bottles of a size to use. The packets? Dry out, or I forget about them. Because I can't do the dance involved in getting them open.

I'm foolish enough to believe THIS is what they'll send.

Because THAT'S full size stuff. But for instance that sample of Pixi BB cream or whatever it is? What - am I supposed to try that on my forehead? Wear it around, see how it goes?

I got a small bottle of Aveeno scrub from you last time, fell in love with it - and will now buy it. When it ran out I HAD TO HAVE IT. You really didn't much inspire such excitement with any of the things you sent this time, which I'll use once and won't know how it really works because I'll forget. If they idea is to entice me to buy MORE, that's fail.

Anyway, that's a small rant. Thanks for the conditioner. I was out. THANK GOD I REMEMBERED TO OPEN IT BEFORE I GOT INTO THE SHOWER. Of course, I did use the toenail clippers.





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Sample Packets, I Hate Them

First of all, let me just start off by saying that FREE THINGS are festive. So I'm not actually at all bitching about someone giving me free things. But I have to say - PACKETS are always the lamest sort of free thing. Packets are like "We don't care enough to give you a proper free sample but here is a smidgen of something we dare you to complain about this free gift."

But TARGET, and everyone else (this is the Target beauty bag that just went out) - HERE is what is wrong with packets.

They suck.

They are hard to open. First of all, they end up in my bathroom. And if your packet is made of some super space age polymer it won't rip properly. I find that they are ALL made of super space age polymer. I don't keep scissors in my bathroom so then I'm stuck there making nicks in it with the toenail clippers. Like a crazy wanton desperate for better shampoo I cut away seeking to make a hole big enough FOR the product to come out.

This is if you remember to open it pre-shower.

But if you are sleepy for forgetful and roll into the shower with them WOE TO YOU.

First of all your hands will be pruny and wet and slippery, your nails will be soft. Your ability to rip open that space age polymer that holds the best shampoo ever will have been rendered to nil. You resort to your teeth.

And learn that space age polymer has some aluminum in it, or something that makes every bit of dental work in your head sing like a failed contestant on American Idol.

Wee bottles, Target and everyone else, enough to TRY your product, is where it's at. Because, I've found a lot of things I love and will buy from Birchbox - in pots and bottles of a size to use. The packets? Dry out, or I forget about them. Because I can't do the dance involved in getting them open.

I'm foolish enough to believe THIS is what they'll send.

Because THAT'S full size stuff. But for instance that sample of Pixi BB cream or whatever it is? What - am I supposed to try that on my forehead? Wear it around, see how it goes?

I got a small bottle of Aveeno scrub from you last time, fell in love with it - and will now buy it. When it ran out I HAD TO HAVE IT. You really didn't much inspire such excitement with any of the things you sent this time, which I'll use once and won't know how it really works because I'll forget. If they idea is to entice me to buy MORE, that's fail.

Anyway, that's a small rant. Thanks for the conditioner. I was out. THANK GOD I REMEMBERED TO OPEN IT BEFORE I GOT INTO THE SHOWER. Of course, I did use the toenail clippers.





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The Children You Didn't Choose

The other night I sat working at the computer when Julia wheeled her baby up into my leg. "Baby Monkey!" she declared.
I'm not sure King Kong would agree that he's anyone's Baby Monkey. But I am interested in the babies she chooses to play mommy to. She chooses teddy bears, and dolls, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and a pair of shoes, and obviously - King Kong.
Her concepts of parenthood are wide. It's smaller than you, you take care of it and love it.
That's it. She whispers "Don't worry I'm here" and I hear my own tone and inflection being mimicked.

When you grow up, it never occurs to you that your baby won't be that perfect bundle of pink, somewhat Winston Churchill looking awesomeness. Even if what they hand you is perfect, you don't know what bombs are laid, errors in DNA, mistakes in that old recombinant DNA that are going to make life different than anyone else you ever knew.

But the truth is, parenthood is that wide, as my two year old's vision of it. It's just that our vision narrows.

We read this book called "I Love You Stinkyface" and the child asks their mom "What if..." they were this monster or that monster, extolling the horrors of that creature. The mother smiles and talks about how she would take care of them, how if they were a gross alien, she'd pack their lunch with bugs and a note that said "I love you my greenie!"

Thats what motherhood is to me. I have four children. They might be King Kong, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and a pair of shoes. But they are mine.

And they need never to worry.

Because I'm here.
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The Children You Didn't Choose

The other night I sat working at the computer when Julia wheeled her baby up into my leg. "Baby Monkey!" she declared.
I'm not sure King Kong would agree that he's anyone's Baby Monkey. But I am interested in the babies she chooses to play mommy to. She chooses teddy bears, and dolls, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and a pair of shoes, and obviously - King Kong.
Her concepts of parenthood are wide. It's smaller than you, you take care of it and love it.
That's it. She whispers "Don't worry I'm here" and I hear my own tone and inflection being mimicked.

When you grow up, it never occurs to you that your baby won't be that perfect bundle of pink, somewhat Winston Churchill looking awesomeness. Even if what they hand you is perfect, you don't know what bombs are laid, errors in DNA, mistakes in that old recombinant DNA that are going to make life different than anyone else you ever knew.

But the truth is, parenthood is that wide, as my two year old's vision of it. It's just that our vision narrows.

We read this book called "I Love You Stinkyface" and the child asks their mom "What if..." they were this monster or that monster, extolling the horrors of that creature. The mother smiles and talks about how she would take care of them, how if they were a gross alien, she'd pack their lunch with bugs and a note that said "I love you my greenie!"

Thats what motherhood is to me. I have four children. They might be King Kong, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and a pair of shoes. But they are mine.

And they need never to worry.

Because I'm here.
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October Birchbox is Goopy

So this month for my Birchbox I had a choice, a GOOP Birchbox or a regular Birchbox.

I chose a GOOP Birchbox because, hey. Goop.

I don't actually know that GOOP is. I looked at their website and from what I can tell, without subscribing, you sign up and they tell you what is cool. I think this is awesome because, I have to accept that I'm 44 and I no longer know what is cool.

I'm okay with some 20 somethings telling me what's cool. I reserve the right to tell them to get off my damn lawn.

But as a mom of four, I gotta admit, I buy stuff for my self less than ever so it's festive to me that things come in a magic box once a month.

This month it's got two full size things - a LUNA bar which I'm guessing is some sort of granola bar, meal bar thing, and bottle of Essie nail polish (WIN) in a fall color that I do like a lot.

So basically right there, I got my ten bucks worth.

This is the card that comes with to tell you about the products you've gotten.The two wee bottles are sample sizes of various face skin stuff, lip enhancer (for DSL) and under eye cream (for us old chix) so, yay. Things in flat rip open packets I will forever forget so, it's some sort of sun screen I will never use.

Also, I signed up for Goop. Nice marketing Goop.

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October Birchbox is Goopy

So this month for my Birchbox I had a choice, a GOOP Birchbox or a regular Birchbox.

I chose a GOOP Birchbox because, hey. Goop.

I don't actually know that GOOP is. I looked at their website and from what I can tell, without subscribing, you sign up and they tell you what is cool. I think this is awesome because, I have to accept that I'm 44 and I no longer know what is cool.

I'm okay with some 20 somethings telling me what's cool. I reserve the right to tell them to get off my damn lawn.

But as a mom of four, I gotta admit, I buy stuff for my self less than ever so it's festive to me that things come in a magic box once a month.

This month it's got two full size things - a LUNA bar which I'm guessing is some sort of granola bar, meal bar thing, and bottle of Essie nail polish (WIN) in a fall color that I do like a lot.

So basically right there, I got my ten bucks worth.

This is the card that comes with to tell you about the products you've gotten.The two wee bottles are sample sizes of various face skin stuff, lip enhancer (for DSL) and under eye cream (for us old chix) so, yay. Things in flat rip open packets I will forever forget so, it's some sort of sun screen I will never use.

Also, I signed up for Goop. Nice marketing Goop.

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Do You Mind If You Are Cloned?

This popped into my head this morning while pouring some mocha peppermint creamer and I'm not sure why.

But, I don't mind if I'm cloned.

Not for cartoonish reasons, to help with my work so I can play hooky and get my nails done. Not so that I can actually get any sort of house work or yard work or parenting accomplished successfully. Not for any reason like that.

What I mean is, if someone took my DNA and created another human that is biologically me, I don't think I care.

My DNA is on file at Columbia University, as is my husband's. This is because we have severely autistic fraternal twins. Apparently them being fraternal and BOTH autistic is the ace card genetically - they shouldn't BOTH be autistic. There are a lot of studies now leaning toward it being genetic but no one really knows. But my DNA is on file because when we had Julia and had to do genetic screening - the coordinator nearly salivated to learn this was in our family, and asked permission to put us in a genetic study.

We said yes. If for no other reason then maybe they CAN figure out why this happens.

It was pointed out to me that "THEY CAN DO ANYTHING" with your DNA. That's true. They can. I gave it to them.

I'd prefer if they didn't grow humans to harvest organs from. Unless those organs were for me, maybe. I don't know. That seems ethically wrong too, so scratch that. So OK no growing clones of me for terrible medical experiments.

But, using my DNA to create another biological creature that's me? To seed planets? To repopulate the Earth after a holocaust? Just to see if you could?

I don't know. It's not me. I am more than my twisting double helix. Am I responsible for this clone if someone makes one? Do I have to raise it? That'd be weird. I mean I probably WOULD consider it like my baby if you handed it to me but it'd be odd just the same. I also think though, I might not feel any great need to have that clone in my life if it were raised elsewhere.

Cloning me so other people can have children? Like,  manufacturing babies? That could happen.

I don't know what I think about that. I guess I'm OK with it. I was a pretty good kid, I think they'd like me. I get sick a lot as a kid, someone should let them know I have a sinus cavity deformity. They will want to get that fixed.

I am not sure why this train of thought got stuck in my head this morning, perhaps it was the little autistic boy stealing my coffee that reminded me of the genetic counselor. That is probably how my mind wandered here.

There are a lot of bio-ethical issues with cloning humans and I guess that's why we don't do it.

But as for me?

Clone away.

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Do You Mind If You Are Cloned?

This popped into my head this morning while pouring some mocha peppermint creamer and I'm not sure why.

But, I don't mind if I'm cloned.

Not for cartoonish reasons, to help with my work so I can play hooky and get my nails done. Not so that I can actually get any sort of house work or yard work or parenting accomplished successfully. Not for any reason like that.

What I mean is, if someone took my DNA and created another human that is biologically me, I don't think I care.

My DNA is on file at Columbia University, as is my husband's. This is because we have severely autistic fraternal twins. Apparently them being fraternal and BOTH autistic is the ace card genetically - they shouldn't BOTH be autistic. There are a lot of studies now leaning toward it being genetic but no one really knows. But my DNA is on file because when we had Julia and had to do genetic screening - the coordinator nearly salivated to learn this was in our family, and asked permission to put us in a genetic study.

We said yes. If for no other reason then maybe they CAN figure out why this happens.

It was pointed out to me that "THEY CAN DO ANYTHING" with your DNA. That's true. They can. I gave it to them.

I'd prefer if they didn't grow humans to harvest organs from. Unless those organs were for me, maybe. I don't know. That seems ethically wrong too, so scratch that. So OK no growing clones of me for terrible medical experiments.

But, using my DNA to create another biological creature that's me? To seed planets? To repopulate the Earth after a holocaust? Just to see if you could?

I don't know. It's not me. I am more than my twisting double helix. Am I responsible for this clone if someone makes one? Do I have to raise it? That'd be weird. I mean I probably WOULD consider it like my baby if you handed it to me but it'd be odd just the same. I also think though, I might not feel any great need to have that clone in my life if it were raised elsewhere.

Cloning me so other people can have children? Like,  manufacturing babies? That could happen.

I don't know what I think about that. I guess I'm OK with it. I was a pretty good kid, I think they'd like me. I get sick a lot as a kid, someone should let them know I have a sinus cavity deformity. They will want to get that fixed.

I am not sure why this train of thought got stuck in my head this morning, perhaps it was the little autistic boy stealing my coffee that reminded me of the genetic counselor. That is probably how my mind wandered here.

There are a lot of bio-ethical issues with cloning humans and I guess that's why we don't do it.

But as for me?

Clone away.

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