Around the House

Christmas Eve:




The obligatory Christmas cinnamon roll munch-fest:




Before:



After:



Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas!

Pitters and No-men

Even though she's tiny, (she'll be 21 months on Saturday and still fits in 12-18 months clothing. Comfortably.) our K is still getting to be quite the big girl.

She identifies everything she sees, and if we don't repeat the name of the object and say, "Yes! That's a (insert object here)!" she will keep saying it over and over and over until we do. As Z so aptly says, we couldn't wait for her to start talking; now we can't wait for her to shut up!

She has a tendency to say only the last part of multi-syllabic words. For example, "caterpillar" becomes "pitter"; "butterfly" is "fwy"; "grasshopper" is "hopper", and so on. But, oddly, she says "bumblebee" in its entirety, and correctly.

She also has a hysterical term for a classic holiday movie at our house: "Farty the No-Man". I guess "Frosty" is just a bit too hard to say....

We also have enough hair for (drum roll, please) Hair Goodies!

To You and Yours

I Wish You Great



This Season!

Got Snow?

The last week, true to form, has been crazybusy (aren't they always?).

First of all, A had his annual review for his IEP (Individualized Education Plan) on Wednesday, the 5th. He was approved for the extended school year program (over the summer), and more attention is going to be paid to engaging with other students rather than just the teacher or one of the aides. The board had to make a bunch of changes, because of the advancements he's made in the last year. This is a good thing!

The bad thing was, this meeting was on the first snow day of the year. What was supposed to be rain, according to the weatherman, then freezing rain, then maybe a possibility of a dusting of snow, turned into this:



The official depth was just over 5" for where we live, but we're on a ridge top, so this is what we got. A's meeting was in the morning, and they cancelled school while we were still there, so no afternoon session for him. He also had no school on Thursday, so everyone could dig out. Then it rained on Friday and all the pretty snow went bye-bye. But while it was here, this is what the kids did with it:




A decided he wanted to take off his mittens to play basketball. A kid after his dad's own heart. He opened up the shed and dug for the ball!



And then he was cold, so he decided to head inside.



After the play in the snow, we changed into jammies and watched, appropriately enough, Frosty the Snowman before going to bed.



In other news, our attempts to be normal have put A into a funk, and it's just today (Thursday the 13th) that he's acting his usual self again. The infractions? We had 3 people over at our house to eat dinner on Saturday, and we moved the desk in the living room and put up the Christmas tree. It doesn't sound like much, but any variance in his routine sends him into tantrum and hand-flapping grand central.

In positive news, though, while we were at the grocery store on Tuesday and were walking by a holiday display of Hershey's kisses and the like, A turned to me and said very clearly, "I love candy." And he kept walking.

!

This morning, while we were watching Clifford the Big Red Dog, he turned to me and said, "Chocolate chips are yummy." This was completely unrelated to the show we were watching. I'm noticing a trend....hmmmm....my son may just be a chocoholic! :)

Entire, coherent sentences; what a great Christmas present!

La Dolce Vita

The Sweet Life.

This weekend, although unenviably busy (psychotically so), reminded me of how truly blessed I am.

First, Friday evening I had to attend a wedding rehearsal for some friends from church. I was singing a song for the ceremony, so I was there to make sure the CD would work, and the microphone was balanced with the sound coming through the speakers. The mic isn't used with an accompaniment CD at our church (unless there's a wedding), so it took a minute to get it all balanced the right way. The rehearsal went well, and it always blesses me to be a part of a wedding ceremony. I really love it, no matter what area I'm helping with. I really enjoy sharing what is (or should be) one of the happiest days of peoples' lives with them. Being involved in various weddings also makes my mind stray to my own, and how blessed I am to be with my husband. I have to drive for an hour to get to and from church, so it gave me plenty of time for more reflection on that topic as I made my way home.

Fast forward to my arrival back home after the rehearsal: my husband had already put the kids down (I didn't get home until 8 p.m.), had a bouquet of roses on the table, and had cooked a gourmet meal for us to share consisting of a buffalo filet, jumbo shrimp, and portobello mushrooms on a bed of steamed asparagus, a mediterranean spinach salad, fresh artisan Italian bread, and a wild berry pie for dessert. Just randomly, out of the blue, to surprise me. He surprised me! He started cooking a nice meal like this a couple of years ago, around the 1st of December, and has done it every year since. You'd figure I'd catch on, but I guess I'm a little slow. ;) He likes to do this in between Thanksgiving and the hecticness that most of December brings, just as a special evening just for us, just because. Awwwww.

OK, ok, enough gratuitous bragging about my better half.

Saturday morning was the wedding, and again my husband surprised (shocked) me by wearing a tie! I think he wears one, on average, about 3 times a year. Including Easter and Christmas. So I was pleasantly surprised (shocked) and made sure to tell him how fabulous he looked. The ceremony was beautiful, as was the bride (of course), and it was quick. 20 minutes, the best kind. My husband surprised me again by taking me out to lunch before we picked up the urchins, ah, I mean, our beautiful children, and came home. OK, so I'm still bragging after I said I would stop.

Sunday morning we had church as usual; we both wore what we did to the wedding, because it was already out and reasonably clean. Afterwards we attended a reception for the head of our children's ministry's daughter, who just turned one. Holy cow, I have NEVER seen a party like that for a one-year-old. It was lovely, but all the people made my son start shaking and crying, and start zoning and hand-flapping like crazy. We had to make an early departure, but it was still nice to spend time with church people, celebrate Michaela Grace's first birthday ~ and eat food, isn't that the point of any extra church functions outside of the worship services? :)

We didn't get home until nearly 3 in the afternoon. And we had to turn around and leave the house again at 3:30 to go to a different church for the 6:00 service ~ because some friends' two older children were getting baptized! Joe is the new associate pastor at a church in another town (he left us, *sniff*, but it's really great for the whole family), so we went with them for this event. Most of our small group drove up to see Connor and Grace's baptism, and it was really nice to see everyone come together. We didn't get home until after 10:00 p.m., because we all ate together afterwards...Even though we attend different churches now, our small group still gets together every week, still encourages and supports each other, studies, and goofs off together. And eats together...interesting how food keeps working its way in there!

It's easy for me to get caught up in the busy-ness of everything and the GO!GO!GO! mindset, the numbness that can set in with routine (however insanely busy that routine may be). That is what made this weekend all the more relevant for me, because in the midst of the happy chaos, I had time for reflection, and was reminded once again just how wonderfully Rich! Full! Blessed! my life truly is, with friends, family, joy. Makes me want to just glow sometimes. The sweet life, indeed.

Blessings

From our house to yours ~ Happy Belated Thanksgiving.

We have much to be thankful for, here. For still having each other and no accidents this year. For our son's therapies and special ed going so very well. For our daughter's precociousness and goofiness. That we still have all of our parents and siblings.

That we ate entirely too much food on Thursday.

That we could share a special day, complete with celebratory feast, with others who had no where else to go, and a few guys who had to work all day. (We took them food).

That I have a bed to fall into after two full days of non-stop cooking.

That it's been exactly one year since I could walk without a cane.

Because we were sharing with others who had different traditions than our families did growing up, I made a lot of extras:

homemade whole-berry cranberry sauce
green congealed salad (lime jello, cream cheese, and canned pears. Yum)
green bean casserole
broccoli casserole
sweet potato souffle
mashed red potatoes
vat 'o' dressing, with homemade cornbread and biscuits therein
2 batches of homemade hot rolls
ham
turkey
gravy (no giblets this year)
pumpkin pie
coconut pie (great-great-aunt's recipe)

homemade cinnamon rolls that taste like cinnabon rolls (no kidding, the recipe title is "clone of a cinnabon". They take three hours to make, but are soooo worth it).

shrimp dip
spinach artichoke dip ~ both served with triscuits, wheat thins, and tortilla chips

a gallon of sweet tea

...and, there's not much leftover, after sending our guests home with some and taking food to the guys who were working.

Urination Consternation

Potty training. Anyone want to guess how much time is spent in our bathrooms right now? I actually moved a portable DVD player into the downstairs bathroom, just to pass the time. And hopefully some other things, from my son.

We've been experiencing some difficulty regarding this not-so-favorite but oh-so-time-consuming pastime. My son, who is now four, still has no idea when he has to go, or when he's actually doing it. Seriously. There are no indicators prior to, during, or following either type of potty event. Zip. Observations have been recorded on paper and mentally catalogued for months, but there's nothing verbal or non-verbal that could remotely resemble a cue. We tried yet another tactic, this one pulled off an autism advocacy website, involving spending all day in the bathroom, with off-potty nakie time for ten minutes following a "success". He had some successes, but he had no idea he'd peed. And he also had three accidents on the floor during the nakie time.

There was absolutely no reaction the times he whizzed on the floor. He didn't blink, he didn't look down, he didn't even move when it was running down his legs. He just stood there, engrossed with whatever he was thinking about. He had to clean up his mess, but seemed to have no clue how it got there and why mommy was helping him (hand over hand) wash the floor. After expressing some parental frustration (I know he can't help it right now, but we're still making a valiant effort), I have received or read the following gems of advice:

"Every kid learns on their own timetable."
"It's a simple process they should pick up in a day, if all the waking hours in that day are devoted to training."
"Sometimes it can take an entire week before they're fully trained!"
"Sometimes it can take an entire month before they're fully trained!"
"My daughter was 2 and a half before she finally would use the potty. They just have to be ready, and their bladders able to hold it or release on demand."
"My son was potty trained at 14 months, and his sister was at 12 months."
"Use stickers as rewards."
"Use M&Ms as rewards."
"Use pennies as rewards, to put in their piggy bank."
"Use stars on a chart, and when they get 15 they get a reward."
"Don't use rewards, it will just confuse them."
"Just let your child run naked through your house."
"Use cotton underwear, they don't like it being soggy."
"Use pull-up training pants, they can see and feel when they're wet."
"It's a spiritual experience, being in tune with one's body. Mmmmmmmm. They have to learn to channel their inner self fully before they can recognize and release on cue."
"It's all routine, and if they do it enough, they'll learn the routine."
"Don't worry, I don't know any kids who are in kindergarten and still in diapers, ha ha!"

Now, for the really great part. I'm going to participate in transference (focusing and expressing my frustrations on an unrelated thing) for some wholesome, snarky fun. Let's dissect. Scalpels ready? Let the viscera fly.

"Every kid learns on their own timetable." ~ True. That is what the problem is. My son can't tell time. Or multiply.

"It's a simple process they should pick up in a day, if all the waking hours in that day are devoted to training." ~ So, after spending three straight days in our bathroom and having no clean laundry or dishes and a bunch of empty take-out containers in our garbage cans, I can't tell if perhaps by "day", they really meant some kind of allegorical theoretical "day", akin to the Biblical "a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years is like a day" or a literal, 24-hour kind of day. I'm betting on the former.

"Sometimes it can take an entire week before they're fully trained!" ~ Again, I'm thinking this length of time must be measured using an alternate-universe's standards.

"Sometimes it can take an entire month before they're fully trained!" ~ Infinity is a defined amount of time, right? There's that time problem again. Note to self: teach son about all possible calendars (Julian, lunar, etc) and have him pick the one he'd like to use.


"My daughter was 2 and a half before she finally would use the potty. They just have to be ready, and their bladders able to hold it or release on demand." ~ OK. I'll buy that. However, when my son's first accident on the floor resembled those glorious videos of the falls in Yosemite (only yellow), with about as much volume, I'm thinking the holding or releasing part isn't the problem. I also think my son's bladder runs the length of his body and has lobes down both legs.


"My son was potty trained at 14 months, and his sister was at 12 months." ~ of course this was delivered in a smug, self-righteous tone. The temptation to feed her children ex-lax and sit back and enjoy the fun very nearly overwhelmed me. Never fear, the kiddies are safe. For now. I might put some of the chocolate chunks in mama's cookies though.... La dee frickin da. So your kids are some kind of genius mutants. I wouldn't worry about the genius, but I would about that mutant part.

"Use stickers as rewards." ~ I would, but I have instituted a strict "only three stickers ingested per diem" rule, and if he's sitting on the potty when he goes he might violate that quota (he has on those all-day bathroom events).

"Use M&Ms as rewards." ~ tried it. Since my son has no clue when he's gone (even on the potty), my effusive praising and giving him M&Ms caused him to give me the "my mom is on crack" look, followed by the "oh, hey, M&Ms!" look.

"Use pennies as rewards, to put in their piggy bank." ~ not a good idea with a kid that likes to 1) lick metal, or 2) throw the bank down the stairs, and then eat the change that falls out. But thanks for playing.

"Use stars on a chart, and when they get 15 they get a reward." ~ Again, there's that darned sticker quota problem. He could care less about a line of stars on a chart, and hasn't as of yet gotten the reward idea, let alone building up to a reward. Unless I completely misunderstood and this individual meant to use an ACTUAL star chart. Like, where the location of the Big Dipper is in the July sky for the northern hemisphere. In which case, we might have to try that, he does like to eat paper. After 15 stars he might supernova.

"Don't use rewards, it will just confuse them." ~ OK, great advice.

"Just let your child run naked through your house." ~ OK. We rent our current abode, do not have grass or mud floors (but do have some carpet), nor am I a fan of vinyl furniture covers. Also, we don't have wall protectors. No.

"Use cotton underwear, they don't like it being soggy." ~ You'd figure this would work, since my son refuses to eat, touch, or do anything else to or with a soggy texture. Except apparently his bum isn't so discriminating and cotton pants (even with the vinyl over-pants) are no match for A-- Falls.

"Use pull-up training pants, they can see and feel when they're wet." ~ Same result with less mess. The visual part only works if the kid actually looks down at the pants and notices.

"It's a spiritual experience, being in tune with one's body. Mmmmmmmm. They have to learn to channel their inner self fully before they can recognize and release on cue." ~ What. The. H. Smoke a little less pot and keep your energy crystals to yourself.

"It's all routine, and if they do it enough, they'll learn the routine." ~ You want routine? The allures of singing songs, reading books, counting, and watching movies while stranded on the toilet have all faded into the grey routine of getting up in the morning, sitting on the potty, getting up to eat breakfast, sitting on the potty until lunch time, eating lunch, getting dressed and getting on the bus for school. Waiting five hours. Getting off the bus, sitting on the potty until dinner. Eating dinner. Sitting on potty until bedtime. Going to bed. Practicing this routine is starting to give me physical tics, and make my son scream, "NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO". He's learning to hate the bathroom is what he's learning. I have decided that establishing this routine is psychotic and we're not doing it that way any more. That is not the route to take.

"Don't worry, I don't know any kids who are in kindergarten and still in diapers, ha ha!" ~ I do. There are actually a lot of special needs kids who are still in diapers. Ha ha. And the parents survive by sharing poop stories, or spewing vitreol on the web.

OK. All done. That was fun. We might have to play again another day! ;)

What Is It?

I went to a friend's house to watch the premiere of Season 4 of Project Runway last night. I really enjoyed getting to see all 15 designers come up with a garment or outfit that captured the essence of their personal design philosophies. The final results ranged from simple elegance to edgier, more punk-inspired clothing but overall each outfit was interesting in its own way. I was a little surprised at how "safe" a lot of it was, over-all, but the season HAS just started.



What is it about Project Runway that I enjoy so much?

I don't know that it's any one thing. I love seeing the creative process in action, finding out what makes people tick. I'm amazed at how varied the results are from some of the wackiest challenges, under the time constraints the designers have. (Make an outfit from recycled trash, in a day, without looking like an elementary school art project gone horribly awry? It's been done.) Even if it's not my personal style, I still appreciate the outfits that are well-designed and well-executed, or have exquisite detailing. I'm not a fashionista (not by a long shot ~ I'm a jeans and t-shirt girl), so most of the clothing isn't something I'd run out and buy, but it's still interesting to see. Of course, there are also the outfits that bomb abysmally, and those are fascinating to see too ~ in the same way a horrible traffic accident is fascinating.

I don't watch for the personalities that are on the show, although I have stared in disbelief at some of the divas (male and female) whose actual talent levels lag far behind their flamboyance levels. But then, I stare at the divas who have the talent to back up their obnoxiousness, too. I do wish the Bravo channel would cut the crap and focus more on the actual design process, and less on the interpersonal drama. And gratuitous pictures of buff contestants should probably go, too, although a reasonable argument could probably be made about enjoying God's creations...

Yes, it's reality TV. Which I swore I'd never get into. And I know that there are disparaging remarks made about this program and its design challenges and processes. But I still love to watch it.

Maybe it's the fact that there's a group of chicks who are able to get together and just be chicks ~ and not worry about tending runny noses or changing diapers. Maybe it's the omnipresent bowls of nacho Doritos, popcorn, and m&ms, and the fact that we can make snarky comments while we're watching, without being judged by each other.

Maybe it just is what it is.

But I, for one, thoroughly enjoy it. Looking forward to next Wednesday! :)

Four Years Old

A had his fourth birthday yesterday. I made cupcakes for his class at school (chocolate, with chocolate frosting of course) and a yellow cake for us to celebrate with at home.

This is the first year he's really GOTTEN what a birthday is. At all prior birthdays (his and others) he really enjoyed the cake part, but never got unwrapping presents or the song, or anything else. Likewise with blowing out the candles. This year is different.

Thanks to the VeggieTales video "The Ballad of Little Joe", A knows that for your birthday, you have cake, blow out candles, get a song and a present, and wear party hats. I searched for a very long time for a party hat; November must be a big time for birthdays, because most places were out. I FINALLY found some at the Hallmark store ~ they're a little small, they're supposed to be tie-ons for presents. But I re-ribboned those suckers so he'd have hats, like he asked for.

He got pizza, Dr. Pepper (which he was really excited about, he normally has one sip and that's all ~ he got his OWN CUP this time. Woo hoo!), and cake.

Diplomacy

I've discovered my true calling: diplomat.

My resume is impeccable; why, just this morning I've utilized the following skills:

1. overcoming the language barrier. When your 19 and a half month old sidles up to you first thing in the morning and says, "Buttface," she is not insulting your appearance or mental abilities. This is how she says "breakfast". When your almost 4-yr-old (next Tuesday!) says, "tu ta mommy chicken know", this means "I'm not your mommy, you're a chicken you know!" and to put on the movie Milo and Otis.

2. easing tensions between two warring factions. The two junior members of this society were both keen on possessing the same plot of Fisher Price farm ~ and all the animals ~ at the same time. Turn taking was instituted, although this was trumped by the youngest after about 15 minutes due to emission of an extremely high pitched shriek (almost, but not quite, out of the range of hearing ~ unfortunately) that caused big brother to clap his hands over his ears and run for the hills, thus leaving the farm wholly intact and all for Miss Ma'am. I'd like to think this moment of working it out for themselves was due to my influence, but I can't emit anything close to that frequency.




3. displaying environmentally friendly policies. I was able to teach my daughter that socks do not go in the toilet, nor are they flushed. I was also able to teach her that we don't put plastic key rings in the aquarium. Or forks. Or toy giraffes. (What is it about that poor giraffe? This thing seems to receive a significantly higher level of abuse than other toys.) I also proudly wait outside every morning for my dog to do his business, and pick it up in a baggie so it's not left in the yard. [Cheesy segment: This latest action may cause some buzz from the fly union, but I can withstand their lobbying tactics. They can beat against my windows from the outside as long as they want to. And if they get in the house, I also have many connections due to my diplomat status and can have them conveniently disposed of.]



4. cultural appreciation. In this society, we do not stand on toy keyboards. Or toy drums. There is a penalty for flagrant disregard of these rules. But if the junior members want to hit the "demo" button on the keyboard and try to sing along with "we wish you a merry christmas" 50,000 times in a row, I will not try to stop them until the 50,001 time ~ all to promote the other arts, of course. Likewise, I am teaching both junior members of my society that we don't eat crayons, markers, paper, playdoh, or chalk. (I'm a charter member of the ASPCAS ~ American Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Art Supplies). I have been successful with the elder of the two; still working on the youngest. A green crayon is the latest victim. There is ongoing training in this area, and I am learning other methods to employ that are much more effective.




5. providing food for those that don't have it. I made the ultimate sacrifice this morning and pulled leftover pancakes out of the ziploc in the fridge to feed the starving masses. Obviously they hadn't eaten for at least a week, and it felt good knowing they were finally sated. And quiet.

6. implementing basic hygiene education classes. I have instituted a program to teach washing of hands following bathroom trips and before meals, and that we don't eat our boogers no matter how appetizing they may look. We're still working on hair washing, as the elder one still hates it and I have to do "hand over hand" to get him to wash his hair. Brushing of teeth is usually twice a day for my son and once daily for the younger one. Both are learning not to eat the toothbrush.

7. providing effective communication and understanding to neighbors. When I was out with the dog this morning, my dear son was standing at the back door (which is glass) with his shirt up twisting his nipples, and his sister was standing right next to him, stripping out of her clothing and diaper. Of course that is the very moment my neighbor comes out their back door to walk their puppy. After an awkward silence, I cheerily said, "Good morning!" as I dragged my enormous hairball back to the porch and into the house. The neighbor, looking dazed, said, "Have a nice day!". This shows obvious people skills, as I actually got a verbal response other than the usual stare of disbelief.



I'm sure the fact that I was wearing a down coat, pajama pants, and huge, fluffy, leopard-print bedroom slippers at the time had absolutely nothing to do with the situation.



I'm sure I will have other opportunities to exercise these skills (and others) as the day progresses. But for now, I have to go implement some more of those hygiene skills. My daughter just walked past me with sagging pants, and she is rather odoriferous.

Joy, In Sequence

Holland (Not Italy)

This is an article written by Emily Perl Kingsley, describing the experience of parenting a special needs child. She uses simple but evocative phrasing and tries to capture the essence of the parental journey. This particular article has been circulating for a while, so no doubt many of you have read this before, but I think it's worth a review before I offer an additional viewpoint:

Parenting a Special Needs Child
By Emily Perl Kingsley


I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this:

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful plans: the Coliseum, Michelangelo's David, the gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills – and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy ... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away, because the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss.

But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you many never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

*******
While I appreciated the sentiments expressed, this essay still left me a bit frustrated because I was not, in fact, seeing any tulips (except the ones ripped out of the neighbor's flowerbeds while my son said, "flower, flower"), but was seeing a lot of spinning in circles, garbled phrases in an alien language, and screaming in public if we tried to put a winter coat on our son. There are some joys in the different pace we have, but here's another response that I think also expresses the challenges of parenting a special needs child (pulled off another blog but with her name clearly showing authorship):

Holland Schmolland
by Laura Kreuger Crawford

If you have a special needs child, which I do, and if you troll the Internet for information, which I have done, you will come across a certain inspirational analogy. It goes like this:

"Imagine that you are planning a trip to Italy. You read all the latest travel books, you consult with friends about what to pack, and you develop an elaborate itinerary for your glorious trip. The day arrives.

You board the plane and settle in with your in-flight magazine, dreaming of trattorias, gondola rides, and gelato. However when the plane lands you discover, much to your surprise, you are not in Italy -- you are in Holland. You are greatly dismayed at this abrupt and unexpected change in plans.

You rant and rave to the travel agency, but it does no good. You are stuck. After awhile, you tire of fighting and begin to look at what Holland has to offer. You notice the beautiful tulips, the kindly people in the wooden shoes, the french fries with mayonnaise, and you think, "This isn't exactly what I had planned, but it's not so bad. It's just different."

Having a child with special needs is supposed to be like this -- not any worse than having a typical child -- just different.

When I read this my son was almost 3, completely non-verbal and was hitting me over 100 times a day. While I appreciated the intention of the story, I couldn't help but think, "Are they kidding? We're not in some peaceful country dotted with windmills. We are in a country under siege -- dodging bombs, boarding overloaded helicopters, bribing officials -- all the while thinking, "What happened to our beautiful life?"

That was five years ago.

My son is now 8 and though we have come to accept that he will always have autism, we no longer feel like citizens of a battle-torn nation. With the help of countless dedicated therapists and teachers, biological interventions, and an enormously supportive family, my son has become a fun-loving, affectionate boy with many endearing qualities and skills. In the process we've created . . . well . . . our own country, with its own unique traditions and customs.

It's not a war zone, but it's still not Holland. Let's call it Schmolland. In Schmolland, it's perfectly customary to lick walls, rub cold pieces of metal across your mouth and line up all your toys end-to-end. You can show affection by giving a "pointy chin." A "pointy chin" is when you act like you are going to hug someone and just when you are really close, you jam your chin into the other person's shoulder. For the person giving the "pointy chin" this feels really good, for the receiver, not so much -- but you get used to it.

For citizens of Schmolland, it is quite normal to repeat lines from videos to express emotion. If you are sad, you can look downcast and say, "Oh, Pongo." When mad or anxious, you might shout, "Snow can't stop me!" or "Duchess, kittens, come on!" Sometimes, "And now our feature presentation" says it all.

In Schmolland, there's not a lot to do, so our citizens find amusement wherever they can. Bouncing on the couch for hours, methodically pulling feathers out of down pillows, and laughing hysterically in bed at 4:00 a.m. are all traditional Schmutch pastimes.

The hard part of living in our country is dealing with people from other countries. We try to assimilate ourselves and mimic their customs, but we aren't always successful. It's perfectly understandable that an 8 year-old from Schmolland would steal a train from a toddler at the Thomas the Tank Engine Train Table at Barnes and Noble. But this is clearly not understandable or acceptable in other countries, and so we must drag our 8 year-old out of the store kicking and screaming, all the customers looking on with stark, pitying stares. But we ignore these looks and focus on the exit sign because we are a proud people.

Where we live it is not surprising when an 8 year-old boy reaches for the fleshy part of a woman's upper torso and says, "Do we touch boodoo?" We simply say, "No, we do not touch boodoo," and go on about our business. It's a bit more startling in other countries, however, and can cause all sorts of cross-cultural misunderstandings.

And, though most foreigners can get a drop of water on their pants and still carry on, this is intolerable to certain citizens in Schmolland, who insist that the pants must come off no matter where they are and regardless of whether another pair of pants is present.

Other families who have special needs children are familiar and comforting to us, yet are still separate entities. Together we make up a federation of countries, kind of like Scandinavia. Like a person from Denmark talking to a person from Norway (or in our case, someone from Schmenmark talking to someone from Schmorway.), we share enough similarities in our language and customs to understand each other, but conversations inevitably highlight the diversity of our traditions. "My child eats paper. Yesterday he ate a whole video box." "My daughter only eats four foods, all of them white." "We finally had to lock up the VCR because my child was obsessed with the rewind button." "My son wants to blow on everyone."

There is one thing we all agree on. We are a growing population. Ten years ago, 1 in 10,000 children had autism. Today the rate is approximately 1 in 250. Something is dreadfully wrong. Though the causes of the increase are still being hotly debated, a number of parents and professionals believe genetic predisposition has collided with too many environmental insults -- toxins, chemicals, antibiotics, vaccines -- to create immunological chaos in the nervous system of developing children. One medical journalist speculated these children are the proverbial "canary in the coal mine", here to alert us to the growing dangers in our environment.

While this is certainly not a view shared by all in the autism community, it feels true to me.

I hope that researchers discover the magic bullet we all so desperately crave. And I will never stop investigating new treatments and therapies that might help my son. But more and more my priorities are shifting from what "could be" to "what is." I look around this country my family has created, with all its unique customs, and it feels like home. For us, any time spent "nation building" is time well spent.

-- The End --

Consider Your Words

One interesting observation my husband and I have had with my son is that he will only respond in the desired way to certain phrases, but a similar phrase has no effect whatsoever. It's like we haven't even talked to him, he keeps doing whatever he's currently engaged in ~ whether that's hand flapping, coloring, eating, or whatever. We also have to be extremely specific sometimes, as issuing vague or general directions don't always work either.

My parents came to visit for a couple of days last week, and they know that A is not supposed to be up close to the television if it's on. We always say "get back" or "back up".

My dad was trying to say, "Move," but wasn't being specific enough. Mom mentioned that we had to tell A exactly what we wanted him to do, so dad tried "Move son, move away from the TV. Stay away from the TV," and then got frustrated because A didn't even act like he'd heard him. It took saying "get back" for him to instantly turn and sit on the couch. That blew my dad's mind; he's still not entirely sure what to do with A, or how to play with him. I get the sense that my dad is a little uncomfortable and a little overwhelmed sometimes. But then, due to being stationed overseas, he and mom have only seen A twice since he was diagnosed, and only a couple of times before that. In four years. I know that will just take some time on my dad's part to get used to little things like using the "magic phrase", whatever that is, or trying a variety of phrases to get compliance.

This morning, when my son came in and jumped on me in bed, I asked him which cereal he wanted today. I asked him to choose Kix or Cheerios, and he repeated the phrase. I said, "No, sweetie, I mean which one do you want to eat? Choose one or the other." I forgot and didn't use the normal phrase, and he wasn't getting it. He looked blankly at me, totally lost, then finally asked, "um, what? want....pick one?" I said, "yes, pick one." Then he promptly said, "OK, I pick Cheerios." We had the right phrasing.

It's a strange dance, one that keeps me mentally on my toes. I have to think about what I'm asking him to do and choose the words he will respond to. Z and I have started combining similar phrases, saying them at the same request so A will get that they mean the same thing. Like, the TV thing we noticed with my dad. Now I'll tell A to move away, get back, stay away all at the same time, and when he complies I thank him for moving away, getting back from the TV.

It takes a little extra energy, all the time, but it is so worth it to see how he starts making those connections.

Delay

Delay. That little word that strikes annoyance and trepidation into the hearts of holiday travelers at airports nationwide (will I make the connecting flight?) has now traipsed, unwelcomed, into our affairs in the H-- household.

As of Wednesday, we are not moving until further notice; at this point, it may be after Christmas ~ or even later.

Due to falling market prices, and rising interest rates, our mortgage bank that had all our paperwork and pre-approved us, appraised and inspected the house, etc, decided not to sign that all-important final piece of paper "at this time". I didn't realize I had such a visceral reaction to those simple words "at this time", delivered in a lofty, breezy manner. Kind of the same way most people deliver information about the weather in Cancun when they aren't going there and no one they know is there. It's mildly interesting, but doesn't really affect you, so it doesn't matter much to the speaker.

Bottom line is, it's their money, so they can do whatever they want with it. My first impulse was to suggest a place they could store it (*ahem*) but figured it's better not to burn bridges. Our adjustor has us on file, and when things settle down in the area, we may very well be fine in just a few months.

We're just waiting on the right timing; apparently this isn't it after all. The owner is still holding our contract and holding the house for us, because she said she knows that we're supposed to get it.

So, we wait. (Quit praying for patience, whoever is doing it!)

Snippets

Things are overall going well. Quickie updates on a few things:

As I pack up more of our things into boxes, A has started stimming a whole lot more often and for longer periods, because his routine has been disrupted (even how the room is arranged is a routine to him, so if we change the room around it screws him up for a few days). His Occupational Therapist suggested a few more vigorous activities for him to refocus a bit. This means a lot of jumping and running in the house and outside over the next few weeks, but I can always use the extra exercise.

Speaking of exercise, I haven't been able to do any for the last two weeks due to an injury to the tendons on the inside of my lower leg. I'd been going out five or six days a week for some time now, until this. All I know is that I was running (and doing quite well for an out-of-shape lady, making a mile in just under 9 minutes one day, the second mile took me almost 12 though) and then I felt a burny tearing sensation, and that was all she wrote. Yes, I stretched first (always), I get that question a lot. I can walk fairly normally, although stairs have been a challenge. By the end of the week, we'll give it a whirl with some walking to see how it does; I think I'll wait on running again until next week. I managed to wear heels to church on Sunday, so I definitely think I'm nearly mended.

K has discovered she can not only strip out of her own clothing, but she can put on mommy's stuff. Unfortunately, she has a penchant for mommy's unmentionables and her shoes, so we've had some REALLY interesting combinations and subsequent photos. Which will not be posted, even though they really are quite hilarious, sorry. I think my favorite is the one where she's wearing my bottoms as a unitard (under the legs in the right place, but the sides are up over her shoulders). Oh, the photos we have to show her future intended. Heh.

The house....well....we have had several appointments as far as requirements for closing go, and they have gone well. The only small thing niggling at me is we don't have that all important piece of paper from our mortgage company yet. We were pre-approved, and received all the disclosure statements from the backer on Saturday, but we don't actually have that piece of paper in our possession just yet. And we are supposed to close on the 23rd.....that is being backed up to at least the 31st I think.

Plus, we still have to give 30 days notice here in the place we are currently renting. Wisely, Z has not done so yet. These houses maintain quite the lengthy waiting list, and if we give notice, we absolutely have to get out in the allotted time regardless of whether we already have a place to live or not, there are no extensions given. This means we are going to have nearly a month's overlap to pay rent in two places, instead of 7 days. Eschk.

What are those John Lennon lyrics? "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans?", from .... oh, shoot. Beautiful Boy? I have a brain fart and can't remember if that's the title or not, but that's part of the words. "Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy...."

*sigh*

Happy Tuesday!

Normalcy

We are getting tidbits of "normalcy" with A lately. For starters, A is all boy. Despite the communication barriers, there are apparently some things that transcend all barriers. This includes an appreciation of the opposite sex.

My son is in love with Alicia Keys. Yes, the singer. Everywhere he sees her, he has to stop and watch, whether we're out in a store or at home watching TV. He actually gets mad if we keep walking or turn the channel to something else. She was on Sesame Street this morning, and K walked up to the TV to dance and sing along, and A got very irate and pushed her out of the way. I don't advocate pushing, of course, but it was interesting to see him out of sorts because he was watching a chick. A beautiful one, granted, but still. He's not even four! ;)
***
Yesterday, he walked up to me with the DVD case to Milo and Otis. He smiled, said, "Cat!" I said, "Yes, that is a cat. What else is there?" A promptly said, "Dog. I want to watch foofie." "You want to watch this movie?" "Yeah" "Ok, you had a really good day at school today, so we can watch it." A then grabbed my arm, saying, "Come on! Come on!" and pulled me over to the DVD player.

He also cracked his head on the table, and informed me that "It hurts." I don't think he's ever told me anything hurt before, so this is a big deal. That will help tremendously when he's sick, so he can tell us if his head or tummy hurts.

Each day gives us a new tidbit. For those moms struggling with potty training, here's our situation: A has pooped in the potty three times for us this week, but won't pee. That's backwards from how it usually goes (I understand most kids will pee but won't poop when they're potty training), but I'll take it. It's a lot easier to change a pee-filled training pant than it is the other!

You know, there was a time in the past when I wouldn't be quite so frank, but one purpose of this blog is to describe our challenges and our successes, and this is a big challenge right now. We are desperately trying to get him trained because he's so big, it's getting hard to find pants to fit him. As it is, the 4T-5T sized pull-ups are extremely snug (even though he's not 4 until November). The sooner we can wear "big boy underwear" the better. And cheaper. Goodnites actually fit him well, but they are an expensive way to go when that's your sole comfortable "upholstery" source. We've had to put him in generic pull-ups during the day, even though they aren't fitting so well, just for cost efficiency.

A is doing well in school, although we do have a brand new teacher, fresh out of college this year. Things aren't quite as smooth as last year, but I'm certain that is simply due to her lack of experience. No amount of training and classroom time can ever replace real live actual field experience, and that can only come with time. Frustrating to read some of her questions in the communication book, but she'll get that much needed experience some day.

Another area that he is actually showing some initiative in is getting food when he's hungry. The bad thing is, he doesn't ask, and leaves the refrigerator open, drops eggs on the floor, and chews through the plastic cheese wrappers, or pulls a chair over to the pantry and eats half of a large container of raisins. He only does this while I'm in the bathroom, or changing his sister's diaper, etc. (otherwise occupied) and he is FAST. I have been scolding him, telling him to ask first, and then mommy will let him get something, but it's not connecting. I really think he waits until I'm sidetracked before he goes for stuff because he knows he's not supposed to get into it. Today he REALLY got into trouble, because he ate through most of two pieces of cheese (still in the wrapper), pulled the extra pancakes out of the bag and crumbled them everywhere, and left the refrigerator door open while I was standing on the back porch so the dog can go do his business. That doesn't take so long, so he was MOVING to get all that accomplished before I came back in. He didn't ask, again.

I am having difficulty getting through to him that he's not in trouble for getting his own snacks, but he's in trouble for not asking first and getting into things he doesn't need to.

Houses, Words, and Monkeys

Things are going well with the pursuit of homeownership; we have our appraisal on Monday morning at the new place. We can move in on the 23rd of October.

A has become quite verbal lately. On Sunday, I was trying to help him get his shirt on before church and he kept sticking his arm through the neck hole. After a couple of minutes of this, I told him that if he would quit fighting me and let me help him, it would go a lot faster. He looked at me with a wounded expression and said, "I wasn't!" He has also told his sister and the church secretary, ah, administrative assistant to "wait a minute" this week, and he actually thought out loud after school one day, too. If he's a good boy on the school bus, the driver hands out dumdums lollipops, one for him, and one for K who's bouncing off the ground when she sees her brother's bus. She happened to be napping, so we came inside and A dropped his backpack in the hallway (typical kid), held up the two suckers, and said, "Hmmmm.....red or green?.....Green!", handed me the red one, took the wrapper off the green one, and ate it. He also let me read a book to him yesterday morning, for the first time in I can't remember when. The whole thing! Exciting stuff. He's also getting better fine motor skills ~ Ruth from church noticed that he is coloring in the lines (by and large) instead of just fisting the marker and scribbling with abandon all over the page. He's trying to draw bonafide shapes, like circles and squares too. It's funny; I wouldn't usually be an advocate of strict, 'coloring in the lines, all "i"s dotted, etc" mentality (hey, it's art), but for A this is actually a good thing. It shows more fine motor control, and awareness of how things are shaded (he chooses what part of the picture is green, and what should be orange, etc to provide contrast). Go, A, go!

K is also quite the chatterbox now. Despite only turning 18 months on Saturday, she identifies LOTS of things, and uses simple phrases like, "there's a car", "want milk/juice (please)", "pretty flower", "love you", etc. I really think that as she increases her word usage, it's pushing A to do the same.

In monkey news, K happens to be quite a good one. It's official; she met me at her bedroom door yesterday morning, and as I stood there in shock, she turned around and climbed back into her crib. The crib was down an hour later, and A's toddler bed was moved into K's room. It's Thomas the Train, so it's not overtly girly and doesn't exactly match the antique white French provincial dressers and night-table...but you know, it works. She was soooo excited to have her big girl bed, she didn't want to nap yesterday. Last night went a lot easier, she dropped right off to sleep.

Ours

The house is ours. We have a verbal contract with the lawyer on the phone, and we sign the papers after church on Sunday.

It's official.

We close in 30 days.

(Boing boing boing boing boing boing boing boing...)

Home and Kids

First, the house news. The seller called us last night, and she is selling us the house for sure. She said that she was selling us the house, even if someone else showed up and offered her more money, and she was willing to wait as long as we needed to get everything covered and closed. So if we wind up having to wait for the settlement to come in, she's fine with that.

In kid news: A is doing well in school, and is offering an occasional 2-word phrase now. It's still pretty garbled most of the time, and we don't always understand him the first few times, but he's trying. He is also stuck on repeating phrases from movies. Right now it's a quote from Milo and Otis: "Mommy mommy mommy mommy." "I'm not your mommy! You're a chicken you know!" ~ which comes out as "mommy mommy mommy mommy tu ta mommy chicken know." Over....and over....and over....he really likes that part of the movie, where the chick hatches and thinks Otis the dog is his mommy. A has also started a rather interesting self-stim: he raises up his shirt and twists his nipples.

Yes, you read that right.

Over the summer, when it was hovering around the 100 degree mark for the weeks upon weeks that it did, we let him run around in his shorts and no shirt. One day, he discovered "buttons?" on his chest. We told him, "No, those are your nipples." And ever since, he will go for them multiple times a day. Doesn't matter where we are; church, home, grocery store, school, wherever. We tell him, "no, put your shirt down," which he grudgingly does, then he'll reach in the top of his shirt (stretching out the collar) to do it some more.

He has a new teacher at school this year, fresh out of college, and she left us a query about it in our communication notebook we pass back and forth. Her suggestion was to tie his shirt down with a weighted vest to prohibit that behaviour. Since he freaks whenever we put a jacket on him, I advised her against that option. I think this is just a phase that will end, like his incessant chewing finally ceased, and that the vest will cause more problems and disruptions in the short term outweighing any possible benefit. I'm not embarrassed by it, but it is interesting trying to explain what he's doing to other people who don't know him and ask. It's just a part of his stim right now, that we're trying to reduce by distracting him with other activities. That works best for him right now.

He is not currently involved in ABA therapy, because his therapist is having complications with a pregnancy and is in a local hospital until at least the end of October, hopefully November sometime so she can give birth to a healthy baby boy. So if you guys want to pray for Miss Jenny, she'll take all the prayers she can get.

K is fine; she is a wild child. The more people around, the more flirty and show-off-y (and LOUD) she becomes. She loves to dance and is trying to learn how to jump. In the words of the receptionist at the hospital in D.C., "she is BUSY. Oh my goodness! You have your hands full!" (Incidentally, the hospital visit was not for her, but for her daddy who just had corrective eye surgery). She climbs with abandon, and I have recently found her on top of the dining room table several times, all the way up on brother's double bed (which is on a frame), and trying to climb onto the window sill while the window was open on the second floor (heart attack time). She is greased lightning, it only takes her a couple of seconds while I help A go potty to get up there. She has shoved a dining room chair into the kitchen and started to get up on the counters a couple of times, but I rather emphatically deterred her both times.

Her vocabulary is tremendous, increasing daily, and she is already showing signs of being very generous and empathetic. The other day, A had a cold and was at the doctor's office (which he hates). They were attempting to take his blood pressure and look in his ears, and I had to pin him down to the table so they could get their readings. He was screaming, "NO NO NO NO NO" the entire time, and K started to cry because A was upset, she kept saying, "A--, oh, no" and looking very sadly at him. Also, yesterday morning we gave her a cup of juice. She took a sip, then went over and opened up the dishwasher, pulled out one of A's cups, and took it to her daddy asking, "A-- milk?" This surprised the snot out of Z and me, she did this out of her own initiative.

Another day, another unexpected joy.

Faith and Patience

All right; let's clear the air first. To whoever has been praying for us to have more patience: KNOCK IT OFF! We keep getting things to practice on.

We talked with the homeowner last night (Monday), and her lawyer friend who is doing the settlement for the home sale had been on vacation, and would be out of town Monday and Tuesday working on another case.

She (the lawyer) is supposed to talk to our mortgage company on Thursday. Let's hope the rates either remain unchanged or drop further, or we can't cover the closing costs any more. Somehow, though, with everything else, I think we're already taken care of. God has been three steps ahead of everything so far, so no worries. The homeowner never did say we "got the house" in so many words, but it does look promising. It is just taking longer than us excited people would like. Z and I are both planners; this is driving us nuts!

**

Then. We got another call from the homeowner this afternoon at lunch time. She was getting our information for the contract (!!), and finding out what the closing window was for our mortgage company (ours is 30 to 45 days). The reason being, she is, and I quote, "slurping out the septic tank for [us] so it's like new". There is always an inspection within 30 days after a cleaning to make sure that the septic tank isn't leaking into the yard, and the homeowner didn't want to "sign a contract with [us] next week, have the septic guys clean it, have it inspected, and then have the closing drag on longer than the closing window so [she]'d have to pay for another inspection"; she only wants to do it once.

!! I've been doing a happy dance every so often for the last two hours.

Guess this means I've got to start packing...we're probably moving by November. :)

Here is the house. You can see the mountains in the background.

Waiting on Monday

OK. So Z was awakened by our mortgage broker yesterday afternoon. Apparently the Fed lowered interest rates yesterday afternoon, so they can offer us $5,000 more in a mortgage, but our payments will stay the same. (They'll increase by 2 bucks a month; doable!).

We contacted the lady who owns the house last night. She is talking with her lawyer friend, but seems like she's very agreeable to our most recent offer, where we pay the closing costs out of the mortgage loan. She will still get the original amount she was OK with on Wednesday. And her whole demeanor was changed in a positive way, and she said something very interesting just before we got off the phone...."God knows the desires of your heart, and the Lord moves in mysterious ways sometimes."

!

We'll know for sure on Monday evening, her lawyer is on vacation ending on Sunday....

Really, now, how often does a bank call you and tell you they want less money? (Which if we hadn't altered our amount by 5K, with the lower interest rate they would have received almost 10,000 less).

The urge to start jumping up and down for joy is becoming more and more difficult to tamp down...but still ~ we wait for Monday.

:)

The Waiting Game

Well.

We saw the house and yard.

Everything is in excellent condition and beautiful. It's less than 5 minutes to the Interstate, and when it snows the guy who plows for the county is the nearest neighbor, and he plows his way out to get to the other roads. (So our roads are done before the snow emergency route. Sweet!).

She was willing to accept $12K less than her asking price, but no more, and she isn't willing to pay the closing costs.

So now we wait, because we don't have enough to cover closing costs if she takes our full amount available.

Either she waits until our settlement comes in from the car accident (May 2006), which should be in sometime the next 2-3 months, or she reconsiders and just accepts it the way we offered it. (Preferable for us).

We're not worried about it; we got this far. If God wants us in this house, it's already taken care of. And if He doesn't, then He's got something better somewhere else. Now we just have to be patient. :) That's the hard part!

House Hunters ~ Maryland

Z and I have been wanting to move out to the community where our church is located. It will make it so much easier to be involved with the projects and activities we have going, plus it's an excellent school district for the kids. Plus, he is out of the military soon and we need our own place in just over a year regardless. With A's issues about changes in his routine, it may be easier to go ahead and move out there now, and then keep coming to his regular therapists, and then when Z changes jobs and insurance carriers, switch providers (if we have to) then instead of everything all at once.

On a lark, Sunday we drove around the area looking at different things for sale and we happened upon a For Sale By Owner. It has everything we needed (3 bedrooms), plus some of the stuff we wanted (2 full bathrooms and an additional bedroom for a guest room/office, on just over an acre of land so the kids have room to play and I have room to garden). PLUS, there are additional things that we just love: the house is gorgeous and only 5 years old, and we have a view of the mountains. Off one of the two decks!) ~ the only thing is, the asking price is 12K more expensive than what we have been approved for. With the way the market is here, though, she may just jump on it. The house has been up for sale for several months. What we can offer is still $100K more than she paid for it five years ago, so she's making quite the hefty return, nearly doubling her initial investment.

That's the other crazy thing: with Z's credit being bruised after his divorce almost six years ago, we didn't figure we'd qualify for such a large amount, nor for a fixed rate (we counted on an adjustable one, even though we would have preferred the other kind), and figured our interest rate would be pretty high.

Lo and behold, we have 3 different mortgage companies fighting over him, and the best offer so far is a 30-yr, fixed rate of 6.25%. Which is fantastic for here, the lowest most banks will go is 6.50, most are up around 6.98. And that's for perfect credit people, which we most definitely aren't (we aren't that bad, either, but it's not tickling 800 by any stretch).

And we have an appointment at the house tonight to see more and talk turkey.

!

We figured that doors wouldn't even be opened for such a venture, and they're not only open, they're slammed wide open. We have been praying that if this isn't the right one, everything would be shut hard...and so far things just keep getting better and better. We have our approval letter in hand. Z applied on Monday and got it back yesterday (Tuesday). There is absolutely no way we should have made it this far in the process, so we know it has to be God. So we're excited, but trying not to be TOO excited. We'll see where this takes us!

Will post more later, including pictures if we get it. :)

Back from Vacation

Greetings to all! Long time, no typing. I didn't figure that summer would be this hectic with two small children, neither of whom are in any type of sports or other extra-curriculars (save A's therapies). Alas, I was sadly mistaken. We've been busy, busy, busy!

Between church activities, potty training adventures, keeping my daughter off the dining room table and counters, and going on vacation, I haven't had time to check my own e-mail more than a couple of times in the last month. (As a side note, it is disgusting the amount of pure junk mail that accumulates during that time, and you have to fight the urge to just delete the whole mess instead of weeding through and sifting out the important missives from the detritus).

We went to Florida to see Z's family, then up to Georgia where my parents are currently stationed, spending about a week at each location. It was exhausting, great to see family, and wonderful to be back at our home when it was all over. Driving nearly a thousand miles one way ~ and all at once ~ can really try one's mental state, especially when you have a teething 16-month old in the back seat. We left at 3 a.m. with the intention of stopping after we went through Atlanta. A friend of ours graciously let us borrow her portable DVD player for the trip. We saved it for the afternoon, after lunch and naps and after the books, singing Itsy Bitsy Spider ad nauseum, and playing with toys had all lost their appeal; however, at 2:30 in the afternoon when we switched it on it DIDN'T WORK. We fiddled with it for a half hour; still nothing. I called the owner to see if there was something special you had to do to it to get it to work, but apparently not. The thing was just old. Apparently the last person who tried to use it had had some problems, too. (Hindsight is 20/20; we should have checked it out BEFORE we left...). It was at this point that Z decided to just press on and drive the last five hours instead of stopping. There was no way we were going to get the kids in the car again for another long day of driving, not with K already screaming her head off. So we grimly pressed on. A was superb; he was an angel, not one fit the entire trip. In contrast, K's voice was pretty much gone the next day.

The kids enjoyed running around like maniacs with their 6 others cousins. I loved that my kids could play with all their cousins from the H-- side (in contrast, they're the only grand kids on my side). Six of the eight cousins are A's age and younger. Ad-- is two years older, and S-- is Z's brother's wife's daughter from a previous relationship (say that ten times fast!); she's eight. The kids had the best time, and literally fell into bed every night after a day of very hard play. A actually did very well with all the mayhem, he only sought a quiet place a couple of times the entire week. His cousin Ad-- (who is five) didn't understand why A did some of the things he did and why he still needed to be in diapers when her own younger brother who was two was already potty trained. We explained that he needed some help with some things and that he didn't talk much, but he could understand you (her). That was all she needed; the rest of the time, she was grabbing his hand to go play somewhere, or trying to help him go potty (we did stop the last activity early in the game).

K had such a huge grin most of the Florida week, Z and I thought her little head would just split in half if it got any bigger. She is such a social creature; the more people around, the better. She's also a fast learner. Two of her cousins have the art of the temper tantrum and getting their way down pat. K has since tried to do the same with us and has been disappointed with the results. Tantrums are not tolerated at our house, and they most certainly don't get what they want if they throw one. She has stopped throwing them after a week or so. Did I mention she was a fast learner? :)

They had a great time at my parents' too, even though there weren't any other kids running around. My parents got one of those big inflatable pools that's 6x10 feet for the kids to splash in, and that was a blessing. The temperatures were over 100 degrees the entire two weeks we were down in the South, and the heat index hovered between 112 and 117. Yuck. We'd been having temps right at 100 degrees most of the summer here with some humidity, but we lack the intensity of the humidity rising off the Gulf. It's amazing what a difference that makes! A is a little fish, he was swooping down in the water and pushing himself along. The only thing he won't do is put his face in the water, though. He freaks. We still have to be careful when we wash his hair so we don't get water in his face.

Oh, and I have to tell the fire ant story.

We were in my parents' back yard, and the house they're renting has this nice, plush Bermuda grass. It's tall, even after the lawn service cuts it. This is bad, because it makes it harder to see the fire ant hills unless they are really tall. We don't have such things in Maryland, so K had no idea they weren't normal ants, and I haven't lived down there in so long I didn't even think about fire ants. All of a sudden K comes tearing across the yard, screaming, and we thought it was because A took her ball away. Until we saw the ant on her face. And the ones on her arm. And her legs. She had apparently stepped right on a mound, and the ants were mad. We stripped her right there in the yard, diaper and all, and turned the hose on her (which she absolutely hated). She had bites on her face, back, chest, arms, and legs, and they all blistered up. For those unacquainted with the joys of getting a fire ant bite, I will tell you quite frankly that they suck. Fire ants have some sort of acid (sulphuric, I believe) in their saliva that causes their bites to feel like, well, you're on fire. I actually had to drain some of K's bites, because they were getting infected. She also ran a fever for a couple of days, but we couldn't tell if that was from teething (which it very well could have been) or from the sheer number of ant bites she had received. The bites all healed up once we got the acid out, but I think she may have a couple of scars on her arms where they were the worst. I bear a few scars on my feet from my own childhood encounters with these pests, and they're not super obvious unless you look for them, so I don't think she's going to be horribly disfigured or anything like that. They'll be little.

All in all, we had a great time, and we're also really glad to be home. A got excited when we got into our town because he knew where he was and that we were almost back to our house. Our parents blessed us with a car DVD player to take with us on the return trip, so that helped tremendously as a distraction once the kids were done with books and toys (and that Itsy Bitsy Spider) again. What a great invention; I remember car trips when I was a kid, and we were all crammed (and I mean crammed) into a Pontiac station wagon with that nasty plastic "leatherette" seating your legs got sweat-glued to. We played the alphabet game, read books, and sang songs, too, but I think my parents would have killed for a portable movie player on more than one occasion. A total frivolity, but man ain't they great for the driver's sanity.

We're home, we're home, and we've already hit the ground running. Z and I did a four hour concert on Saturday, but we were gone all day (left at 9 a.m. and returned twelve hours later). Then of course Sunday is busy with church, although our small group Bible study was cancelled for the evening. And Z left this morning for a few days; he'll be back at the end of the week. He gets to go crawl around in the mud and shoot at things; oh, goody. We've had steady rain here since Sunday, and it's not supposed to let up until Thursday. Heh. He's going to look like the Swamp Thing when he gets home. He hates this stuff; 18 months and he's out!!! He is NOT re-enlisting.

Pass With Care

We were driving down one of the roads in Pennsylvania recently (it's literally a half hour north of us) when I saw one of these common road signs: Pass With Care.

It really struck me, because K is rapidly passing her brother in a lot of key areas, even though she's only 15 months old. But she still tries to help him with his language, getting dressed, or sitting on the potty. She has a little potty to sit on too (completely diapered, though, we're not doing anything with her yet) right next to her brother. She gets a concerned look on her face while she watches him and yells, "NO!" very loudly when he tries to get up before he's finished his duties. Bossy little thing.

She uses phrases regularly now, like "want to get down", "want juice", "milk please thank you", etc. And we are amazed by it because it's a first for all of us. A had some language, but I can't remember if it was ever this much.

Her motor skills surpass her brother's, too. While he was a climber, he lost a lot of his physical abilities apparently when he lost some of his communication skills. His OT is working on a variety of strengthening exercises for his gross motor skills. Running and jumping constantly has only strengthened certain muscles a certain way, and he lacks in big ways in other areas, especially hand strength and core abdominal strength. He has just started climbing into his car seat by himself in the last 6 months or so, and still needs help sometimes. K, on the other hand, has mastered stairs, climbs up on the couch and on chairs regularly, and can make it all the way up into her high chair and try to buckle herself in while you go to the bathroom. And then she'll cheerily holler "HEY!" when you come out and start looking for her (because it's far too quiet).

At least I haven't found her on top of the refrigerator. Yet.

She's working on climbing out of her crib; I am going to have to move the dresser that's beside her crib, because she can grab the top of her rail and put her feet on the top of the dresser. She hasn't hoisted herself out yet, but I suspect this is because as soon as I hear her wake up I'm in there to get her. I've caught her in the act, but haven't seen her go over. Again, I'm assuming this is a (very short) matter of time, so we're about to get creative. She already scales baby gates with ease. We had to put her playpen in front of the stairs with 70 pounds of dogfood in the bottom (in the bags of course) so she can't move it out of the way like she did the chairs and boxes. She can't quite make it over the mesh from the outside, it's JUST BARELY too tall for her. From the inside, the floor of the thing is higher up the side so she can scramble out with a little effort.

As she makes her new discoveries, she somehow senses that her brother needs help with some things, so she tries to do so. It really is funny when she tries to dress him (something he's still needing assistance with, but she is almost better at it than he is right now) because he gets this long-suffering look on his face that's about the same intensity as the determination on hers.

A is doing well with paying attention now, much better than ever before. He will wait for his ABA therapist or his OT to give him directions if they're sitting at the table. If it's free play, he knows that too and will do whatever he wants. He actually engaged in some nice pretend play yesterday ~ a rarity for him ~ so that was really neat to see. Miss Jenny, his ABA therapist, has a huge Clifford the Big Red Dog puppet that she uses to eat, sleep, drink, kiss, etc. as a visual aid. A took it and started repeating some of the targets they were working on, but came up with his own scenarios. Most excellent.

We're working on adjectives still. He's got colors down (red car, purple flower, etc) but now we're working on big and small, short, tall, and so on. It's a process, but he is a very smart kid and generally only has to be shown something once or twice before he's got it. At least, now that he's got some forward momentum. There was a long time where the communication gap between him and everyone else was great enough, he tuned everything out and didn't seem to get much of anything.

We're excited to see where the next few months take us! And even as his sister passes him, she still does it with care.

Carpe Carp

Our goldfish, Wakko and Dot, have decided that nearly a full year of rooming together was too much tension for them to bear, so they had to lay eggs. Lots of 'em.

Goldfish are a type of domesticated river carp, so the babies would like algae or river plants to hide in. Unfortunately, real plants don't last long in our small tank, so we did what any technologically savvy modern American would do: we set up a small net box called an aquarium breeder in one corner. This way Mommy and Daddy don't cannibalize the entire lot (although with the number of eggs they've laid -- twice -- this perhaps isn't such a bad thing. Our fish have laid eggs twice in three weeks.).

The next step is catching the fry (baby fish). (Hence the title, Carpe Carp. Seize the Fish.) They are so small, they fit through the holes in the fishnet. I had to put a knee-high stocking over the net portion so they wouldn't fall through. They are also lightweight enough to swirl crazily around the tank if you move the net too fast ~ even though the water displacement is extremely minimal, it's still enough to toss them around like ships on stormy waters.

So after about a half hour of giving the babies concussions, we managed to scoop five or six into the breeder box. The rest will just have to fend for themselves in true Survivor:Fish Aquarium style. The lucky few have recovered from their recent shock and are darting about normally.

We'll see what they look like. Should be interesting, because although both are fantail goldfish, Wakko is white with very long fins, and Dot is a calico with shorter fins. They're still pretty much clear right now and extremely tiny. They won't get their normal color for weeks yet.