Confessions of a Bench Warmer

My husband and I used to have an 1893 Schubert upright cabinet grand piano, which we were given for free. It was gorgeous, nice wood carvings and overlays. It didn't keep in tune very well, but you could still play it without wincing overly much. At some point in its existence before it made its way to us, though, someone had dropped the sucker and busted the feet off the front. Inexplicably, no one had ever replaced them, so the keys and woodwork on the front were just sort of...hanging...off the piano.

Over time and subsequent moves before we got it, gravity caused the front to drop even further, and this started to push out the sides of the piano. Once in our possession, Z and I were interested in restoring it, so we contacted several people about doing just that. We were advised by a man who does business refinishing and restoring old pianos not to even invest in the thing, unless it had some sort of sentimental family value. It would cost far too much to bring it back to its former glory, and we could buy a new piano for less than it would take to fix everything wrong with this one. We appreciated his candor, and enjoyed the piano "as-was" for several years.

The thing was monstrously heavy; it was made of solid thick slabs of oak, and weighed somewhere between 650 and 1000 pounds, we never did find out for sure. It took six full grown men with skids and wheels to move the piano into the house; the day it suddenly gave a little more and my infant daughter was sitting right under the keyboard was the day that my husband and I, with my bum hip, moved it out to the porch by ourselves. We didn't want it to squash our kids. That was the death knell for the instrument -- one side had nearly completely separated by that point.

Being the industrious wench that I am, I set to it with screwdrivers -- on my back porch, in January, in Maryland -- and harvested some parts before it was dragged to the elephant graveyard. Bear in mind that this piano was built in the days before Phillips head screws, and over 100 years of aging had cemented those flathead screws in place. My drill did not work, the torque was breaking off the screws in the wood if I set it high enough to actually move the old screws. I had to do it all by hand so I could feel the breaking point. I actually broke a couple of screwdrivers!

We sold the ivory and ebony keys on E-Bay, and kept the wood from the top and front of the cabinet for a future project. I wanted to build a bench out of it, I just thought that would be really neat. Two years passed....

And, spurred by the prospect of 7 extra people in our house for over a week this year, decided we needed some extra seating. So it got built on Thanksgiving day, prior to our family's arrival two days later on Saturday. Here's the finished project:





It fits absolutely perfectly as a window seat -- no cutting required! We did have to do some adjustments for the sides, though, because of the existing windowsill and a non-working electric baseboard heater that runs along the wall. The top is hinged, so we can store toys, blankets, whatever in the narrow space between the wall and the front of the bench. The back half of the bench is over the windowsill, and screwed down using the existing screwholes in the top of the piano.

The kids absolutely LOVE it -- they actually fight over who gets to sit in the windowseat, although in truth they can both fit in there at the same time just fine. A loves to climb up with a blanket, and just lay there and look at the cars going by, or the cows across the street.

I'm not a big floral-y person normally, but this fabric actually works with the walls, curtains, and other furniture in the living room -- and the red hallway that connects to the living room. It suits the look of the old wood, too.

But here's where the "confession" comes into play: I am a horrid seamstress. It takes me hours to do the simplest tasks, sewing is just not one of my talents -- with a machine or by hand. Knowing that family was arriving the next day, by the time I bought the foam and fabric -- I had less than a day. And this would probably take me at least a week to complete properly, allowing time to swear (internally) and rip out seams as necessary. (Since the bench was built on Thanksgiving, I bought the cushion materials on Black Friday. Yikes. I actually crossed myself before leaving the house and heading to JoAnn Fabrics. Having worked retail this time of year, I usually try to avoid shopping the two days after Thanksgiving at all costs, I just do not enjoy being shoved, elbowed, etc.)

So here's what I came up with:



I wrapped the foam up like a present and safety-pinned the bottom all the way down, and the ends, and then put that side down against the wood. It worked out just fine, and there were no bad words involved at all! And no one ever suspected. : )

Festive Home

This year, we're still learning our new house. And we have also learned about the apparent wind problems that knocked over my pot of poinsettias (fake) and ripped the wreath off the front door, depositing it rather rudely on the frozen flowerbed. So no outdoor shots, for now. I may post something later, but with my hectic schedule I'd hedge my bets on "no" rather than "yes".

We are going with simple this year. For a variety of reasons, one of which is that the season tends to get so hectic I like to come home to a little serenity.

We love going for a drive to look at Christmas decorations most years. Inflatable lawn decorations and enough lights on your roof to signal the astronauts are all very nice, and we do enjoy looking at them -- right across the street, actually -- but we're not personally going that route this year. If the kids make noise in subsequent years, I'll probably get out there, freeze my buns off, and mutter angrily at the frozen ground while I'm fighting the ever-present wind, trying desparately to stake something down -- but this is not that year.

The fireplace, with (edited) stockings -- names changed to protect the innocent and all that:



I love just piling some ornaments into a festive container, letting them fall as they may:



Tree, with dog. Don't you just love our "office" ceiling?



And without dog (or ambient lights):



My glass reindeer I acquired somewhere along the line. I never know where to put him. This year he's by the front door:



Doesn't every toilet need a reindeer to stand watch while you do your business?



More Christmas balls, on the counter. We have a tropical fish shower curtain (for the kids, who are into "Finding Nemo" and fish in general), and it's mostly blues and greens with some very vibrant-colored fish in the mix. Next year I think I'll look for some orange and blue ornaments to add, just because.



Santa's watching from the medicine cabinet to make sure you really wash your hands:



And finally, the kitchen, crowded countertop and all. I figured since the pasta container was empty anyway, it would be a perfect place for, yup, more ornaments. And the kids can't reach these:



And lastly, but not leastly, my kitchen windowsill was looking a bit bland, so I shoved some florist's tingting in a pot. It works. Wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas!

Today We...

Today we got some measurable snow, although it's still not much.




K was soooo excited! She had been watching the snow since about 9 this morning, and was walking around the house wearing her stocking hat and her mittens. She would sit in our big picture window and talk about it, saying how pretty it was, and that it was falling from the sky outside her window, yada yada. Finally, she looks at me, exasperated, and says, "Mommy, I want to touch it!"

Unfortunately, the snow didn't start to stick until after we took A up to the bus stop at 11. We went out to play a couple of hours later, after it had time to pile up for a little bit -- and boy, was she happy! It started to come down as freezing rain shortly after we ventured outdoors (even though it was 30 degrees), so we hightailed it back inside. Daddy taught Miss K how to make snowballs. It didn't take her long to get the hang of it!

December? Already?

OHM'GOSH is it really December 13th? Already?

My youngest brother is getting married today. Across the country, in California. They are going to have the big ceremony in June, but decided to go ahead and get married now for a myriad of reasons (and no, she's not pregnant). His fiancee has no health insurance, and this way she can be covered. Apparently she had a sinus infection last month and her doctor's bills were nearly $400 by the time they ran all the tests and she got her medications.

So we will be listening by cell phone to the ceremony that's on the west coast, here on the East Coast. And we plan to be out there in June for the big to-do.

We have been absolutely slammed since Z's surgery, with guests in the house, holiday things with friends, church activities and projects, and life in general.

Of course, the activities and general pandemonium are nowhere close to being finished, our last guests that are staying with us arrive in a week and will leave just after the New Year (with another one arriving and leaving in the middle). Every single day we have had someone at the house, sometimes two different sets of people -- one in the morning and one in the evening. And they aren't always planned for ~ one of my other projects, painting the deer, bunnies, and stars in the church nursery has been delayed for a couple of weeks now because every time I start to head up there, someone else shows up at the house! But at least the bear, lamb, and duck pond are finished. Z's sister came up to help and she did the duck pond. It is absolutely fantastic, and all the babies want to try to pet the duckies on the wall.

Today is the first "breathing day" I've had since the beginning of November -- and it's only because my husband is out playing music with another guy this afternoon at a concert. I don't have a car, so I'm not going anywhere, and so far no one has knocked on our door. I probably shouldn't jinx myself, eh?

Don't get me wrong; I love having people over -- and somehow the house has managed to stay pretty straight even with all the unexpected guests, which really is a small miracle for me because I'm nowhere close to attaining my domestic goddess status -- but today's little break is also nice. We had some of Z's family come up and stay with us -- 7 extra people, for 8 days. There were 5 kids total, ages 5,4,3,2, and 1, so noise was a huge factor in the week. It was pure chaos, but we loved every minute of having mothers and sisters and cousins and dads all mixed in our little house. Luckily, we survived with only two chairs and a table that broke, and an air mattress with a slow leak. The picture window, aquariums, and glass front to the fireplace miraculously survived intact.

Let's see; what has happened since, well October, really? A is doing very well. He is in a "normal" pre-school class that has 21 kids in it. A still has difficulties in the areas of communication and fine motor skills. But academically, A is ahead of all the other kids! He can read, knows his letters, numbers, colors, shapes, what the weather is, etc. The biggest problem we have is that he doesn't always want to sit down and do what the other kids are doing. We just have to figure out if it's because of boredom, or because he's sitting down for too long at a time and needs to get up and move around. It is a delight to see the teacher realize our son isn't an idiot, he's actually a pretty smart guy -- he just has a hard time expressing himself.

A is also doing very well with all the upheaval in the house. He took some time off by himself when all of Z's family came up, for a couple of days, but by the end of the week was OK with it and actually trying to engage the other kids to play with him! Z had the brilliant idea of putting up the Christmas tree the day his family left, to take advantage of the already altered routine in the house. It worked! Last year when we put up the tree, A was in a funk for over a week because we moved a desk, thus changing his set routine and "normal" surroundings. This year, since everything was out of whack anyway, he seemed to just take it in stride.

Likewise with all of the friends stopping in unexpectedly -- A does still occasionally need some time off to himself, in the quiet, but he's getting used to it. Excessive noise still bothers him, but Z tried taking A to the mall with one of his cousins and Z's dad while they were up here. A did fine, he loved the huge train they had set up around the holiday decorations, and didn't seem to freak over all the people. Granted, it was the middle of the day on a weekday, so there weren't so many people about anyway, but this is still progress!

Having so many people his size (and K's size) in the house was also beneficial in the potty-training arena. K stayed dry most of yesterday, with only one accident, so we're getting there! Yay! And A has actually gone in the bathroom, taken off his dirty pants, and put on clean ones. By himself.

I'll have to post some pictures of the house soon. When I have a moment....

The Gander

I recently found out I have some Jewish family, way (way) back in the branches of my family tree on both my maternal grandparents' sides; perhaps that explains the family tendency to use everything as a "teaching/moral lesson", not unlike my friend's 100% Jewish grandmother does. It's genetic! That, and it might explain my grandfather's nose, and my thriftiness...although my husband prefers the term "cheapskate", and has insisted since we've known each other that I must be part-Jewish because I'm just too practical as far as gift-giving goes (socks, anyone?) and tend to pinch pennies. Incidentally, before anyone cries "foul!" or "anti-Semite", it is said in jest and not intended as an insult in any way ~ my husband is proud that I can feed my family of 4 for under $200 a month, including training pants for the as-yet-unpotty-trained offspring. He is actually rather amused at this recent turn of events, saying, "I told you so!" It is kind of interesting, from a genealogical standpoint, but it's not going to change my liking for bacon and grilled pork chops.

You know that old saying, "What's good for the goose is good for the gander?" OK, like I said, my relatives enjoy using didactic phrases, but this is one that I grew up with. The phrase usually delivers some sort of pointed message (of course), but in this instance the saying works equally well:

My husband recently decided to join in on the surgical fun (hence the three week lapse in posting).

A back history: He is very young (late 20's) but due to the rigors of being in the service has been living with 5 slipped disks and 3 ruptured ones in his back for a while now, and has some rather unusual issues that his doctors have never seen in someone so young. He has the back of a 70-yr-old man. They're not doing surgery right now because that will actually cause more problems for him rather than solve anything. Due to his degeneration, he has already been told that once he starts having back surgery, he will have to have more procedures done every 5 to 7 years thereafter for the rest of his life to keep ahead of the problem. Not exactly music to anyone's ears, to hear that bit of news.

The current procedure for his problem involves removing the ruptured disks and fusing the spine, but there is a wonderful new possibility that is undergoing some testing and showing fabulous results. Basically, they put in prosthetic disks in place of the ones that have blown, and the patients are supposed to be in even better condition than they were before they had back problems -- and they don't have the problems that would warrant continued future surgical interventions. His doctors are holding out hope that Z can get this new surgery instead of the current standard, but it has to get through the testing phase before insurance will cover it.

So, in the meantime, Z is trying to do things as "normally" as possible, even if it causes him some pain. His thing is, he's going to pick up his 2-yr-old daughter, and tickle our son, and take out the garbage -- pain or no pain. He does have some rather powerful narcotics so he can at least sleep at night. BUT, because his back is messed up, he's been using other muscles and overcompensating for his lack of strength in his back. What he initially thought was a pulled muscle from lifting our 50-lb dog into the bathtub (I know, right?) turned out to be an inguinal hernia.

Researching online, the illustrations look like it hurts, but they're a bit discreet and very mild. Z's looked nothing like the online pictures -- it was much larger and had painfully made its way into places it really shouldn't (inguinal hernias are in the groin area ~ I leave you to your imagination). The doctors could instantly tell what the problem was when we walked in, before they ran some tests.

We bounced in and out of the hospital starting Sunday, November 2 with Z. His hernia grew larger and faster than most the surgeon had ever seen between Sunday and Tuesday, and it was becoming life-threatening. Most hernias aren't in this category, but with this particular kind it can pinch off the intestine and cause a nasty infection and death within a day in some cases ~ and Z's was on the brink of doing just that. So Z was rushed into surgery on Thursday in the local hospital, after dickering with the regulations and red tape on the military side to try and get it done Mon., Tues., and Weds. We were having issues because Z was taken to the local emergency room and evaluated by three different civilian doctors, but he hadn't been evaluated by a military doctor yet. And the military clinic was booked solid for two weeks, could he come in then? Thank God someone in our insurance office had a brain and referred him on the spot Weds. afternoon, once it reached her desk.

Because of the extent of the problem, the surgeon could not perform the laproscopic surgery that is commonplace nowadays, but had to do the old-fashioned open-em-up with one big incision kind of deal ~ 5 inches. So I joke with Z ~ he now has half of a "C-section", but without the benefit of losing 10+ pounds at once. : ) He also has a mesh screen in place, but I don't know what it's made out of. If it's metal, then we are going to have some fun going to the airport!

Here's the thing most people don't realize. The normal way things go where we are, with the military, is a microcosm of socialized medicine: make an appointment to be evaluated (10 minutes) at one of their sites. If they decide you need something, you make another appointment in their system for any tests, x-rays, etc ~ usually within 2 weeks of the initial consult -- but sometimes longer. THEN, after the results of whatever come back, they put in a request and you have to wait a month for a slot at the official hospital -- in our case, near our nation's capital (two hours away). If there are no slots available one month out from the request, THEN you can see a civilian doctor.

We've dealt with this before, Z had a tumor removed from his arm one MAY that was discovered in the previous FEBRUARY ~ and it was starting to turn bad by the time they got around to removing it. Sadly, while there are a few good military doctors out there, there seems to be a much larger group who just don't care. They don't have to! Most are just there, eking out their existence until their time in service is up and they can get out to make big bucks. They can't get fired, after all, and their pay is a set amount ~ it doesn't matter how many people they see or how good a job they do. And of course, we've all heard the horror stories about our Walter Reed system and injured soldiers here in the last year or so. Lovely, isn't it? If that's the "best health care in the world", then we're all in trouble.

But, at least the insurance covers most things, so that is a blessing. I know that some people have no coverage whatsoever. I think that's what disturbs me the most about some of the politician's suggestions for a national health care system. A lot of people are really gung-ho about this universal health care idea, but I don't think they understand all of the implications, and that the costs will be more than monetary. There's a reason people from England and Canada (who have national health systems in place) flock to our country for health care!

OK....and that's my soapbox for this month. I seem to have a monthly quota of at least one. : )

Two Steps Forward...

Two steps forward, one step back; that's the potty training shuffle! Yeah! I feel pretty strongly that "jazz hands" would finish off the dance nicely.

Further news from the Toilet Bowl playoffs:

Winning game for the home team (Mom): both kids did "number two" in the potty on the same day, and the youngest added some beautiful "number one" plays, staying dry most of the day.

Winning games for the other team (A and K): neither did anything in the potty for three consecutive days after the fabulousness listed above.

It's been a while, but I have to say, again, that the recording of the potty training process is probably not typical blogging material, but it is a challenge we are facing with A's autism. So I duly record some of the triumphs and setbacks we encounter along the journey, if for nothing else than to give someone else the reassurance that another family has been through/is going through the same thing, and to give a small glimpse into our personal struggles, and hopes, and fears for those who have no experience with special needs whatsoever. Including other members of our immediate family, this is a first for both my and Z's sides.

I have tried to maintain a sense of humor about it, but admit that as time passes...and passes...frustration creeps in much more easily now than it used to at the onset of the process. A will be 5 in a couple of weeks, and it is gross to have to clean the rear end of someone who passes excrement with the full-bodied, ah, aroma of a bigger kid/adult. We are praying that he "gets it" one day (preferably sooner than later!), but we also know that some kids never do, and there are adults that have their toiletry needs taken care of by another individual. And we are willing to deal with that, too, if it comes to that.

But for now, we are still going to keep trying to instill proper toilet etiquette, we still hope for a fully potty-trained A. I'm sure there is a point beyond which continuing the toilet training would be folly, when it is apparent that it's just not going to happen (again, realizing there are adults that still need help), but we are not to that point and pray we don't reach it.

Aside from the daily "to pee, or not to pee?" battle, it would appear that old man winter has engaged in its own playoffs with its preceding season, and kicked fall's colorful butt for a couple of days. We've had rain/snow and freezing rain mix, combined with 30 mph winds (with gusts up to 44 mph) yesterday and lows in the 20's. Let's say it all together, folks: Brrrr! Fall is supposed to rally, though: we are supposed to get back up into the upper 50's, and dare I say even 60 degrees one day next week, all starting on Friday. (So today and tomorrow will still be a bit unseasonable). We live on a hilltop that receives a direct wind out of the mountains from the north and west, so we are a bit more unseasonable than people further east on the plateau. This being our first fall in this house, we are learning about our new micro climate that we live in, which is always different than the weatherman prophesies (given, he's pretty accurate as weathermen go for the in town folks, considering the terribly fickle nature of the weather in the first place).

I enjoy gradual cooling down, my body just can't handle the up and down of normal fall/spring weather, let alone when it goes more berserk than usual for a couple of days. I get sick for about a week every fall and spring, whether I do nothing or mainline copious amounts of sinus medications and extra vitamin C, and it would appear that my children are following in mommy's footsteps. They've both been sniffly and miserable for the last week and a half. First A, then Miss K. Poor dears!

The Toilet Bowl

Throughout life, there is instilled in (most of) us a challenge to be the best that one can. Abject perfectionists need not apply, I'm referring to each person's innate pride on a job well done, on whatever terms they think that is. (Not to be confused with haughty, puffed-up pride, which benefits no one). It feels good to do something right. Admittedly, for some the personal bar of "excellence" is set rather low in comparison to mainstream society ~ but, then again, that is not necessarily a bad thing depending on exactly what the situation is.

*soapbox* If "excellence" for one means never applying one's self and apathy to consistently cranking out a crappy job, then that's not an area to low-ball in. Part of (only part of) the driving factor in this economic problem in the U.S. is a percentage of the workforce is demanding larger paychecks, but they don't actually do the work that would warrant the salary. This idea that "the big guys" can afford it pervades nearly every large company on some level (sometimes quite close to the top), and when people take pens, merchandise, printer paper, etc., and don't do their work they're getting paid to do ~ yeah it seems like small potatoes but it adds up. And if the work isn't getting done correctly, whatever services or products the company provides likewise are going to decline in quality or sometimes literally in amount. This inevitably leads to lay-offs so the company can try to stay afloat. During which the same people who are robbing the company, both of quality work and literally in materials, are the first people who will complain about it. *end soapbox* Now, on the flip side, if "excellence" means the dismissal of religious ideas in favor of whatever the current scientific paradigm is, then count me in with the "slacker", low-baller crowd.

This quest for excellence can be on a personal level, whether it involves churchwork, classwork, artwork, jobwork, or housework. It can come in the form of sporting events, in which teams or individuals vie to get a place in the ultimate reward for a great season: the championship event. The best of the best are supposed to compete head to head to determine, once and for all (for that year, anyway) who is truly the champion.

I have decided that the epic ongoing battle of the potty-trainees vs. the potty-trained falls in this category somewhere ~ it is, after all, an internationally recognized, time-honored event ~ and therefore must have a name fitting of its place alongside other famous, often grueling events such as "The World Cup", or "The Presidential Election". Therefore I present you with the latest installment of what is coming to simply be known as: The Toilet Bowl.

In today's skirmish:

The potty-trained, "home" team: Mom!

And, the opposing potty-trainee team: A and K! Represented in today's play-offs by A.

This morning's colossal matchup was destined to test the patience of both teams. The home team had studied up on the various plays commonly made by the potty-trainees, and Mom's eagle eye had caught the unique posturing and grunting generally associated with what is commonly known as "number two". The first play was ugly: A absolutely refused to even sit on the toilet until he was physically picked up and put there by the home team. Out of defiance, he stood up and peed all over the floor. There was some controversy over the call; the refs threw yellow flags, but the home team was most definitely seeing red.

Thus began a long and sordid battle, but, hey, aren't they all in this exhausting series? Following the urination foul, A lowered his eyebrows and glared up at the home team in a move favored by the potty-trainees. In a rare show of pique, the home team arched one eyebrow, pinched her lips together, and put the recalcitrant rear end back on the toilet ~ in all honesty, perhaps with a little more force than was really necessary, although A did fight the play by Mom. Much moaning, crying, and strange howls interspersed with still more grunts and posturing soon emanated from the opposing team ~ but the home team recognized the tactic and refused to give into A's desire to get down off of the toilet with the obviously impending discharge. Today's game saw several more rear-end replacement maneuvers by the home team.

In the end, it was a draw: nothing went into the toilet, but A sat on it for twenty minutes until he had to go catch the bus for school ~ and Mom is sporting a couple of minor injuries. Potty training is indeed a full-contact sport.... Stay tuned; we might be in for a "double-header" if sister K decides to tag-team today.

Two out of Three

So ~ A can read, at least at a beginner's level. Which, since he's not even 5 yet, I'd say he's doing pretty good.

And now, he can (sort of) write.

His OT has been working with him aggressively on this achievement, and on Tuesday he voluntarily wrote his "A" followed by an identifiable next letter, and something very close to the third one ~ but then he either lost interest, or his hand was tired so he totally flaked on the rest of his name. He can tell you how to spell it verbally, though, first and last.

So ~ woo hoo! We're getting there! Reading and writing...arithmetic is going to have to wait a bit, though. Two out of three ain't bad.

Yesterday I took advantage of the nice weather and worked outside for about 6 hours, planting and transplanting new things, and ripping the grass out of part of the front yard to extend my flower garden for next year. I didn't finish removing the sod just yet, my innards are still just a wee bit tender after having surgery a month ago ~ but the fact that I was out there is testament to the fact that I'm feeling much, much better.

K helped me while A was at school ~ she had to help me dig the holes for the mums, iris, peonies, black-eyed susans, and hostas, and put dirt back into the holes over whatever needed covering, and watering the plants in their new homes. At least, she helped me until one of those big, fuzzy, brown and black caterpillars caught her attention. She then proceeded to play with it for an hour ~ much to the caterpillar's chagrin, I'm sure. It stayed rolled up in a ball for most of the "playtime", but to her credit she was (mostly) gentle with it. All of a sudden, I realized that she was up and heading towards me, and I asked her where the caterpillar was, and she told me it was "in caterpillar's house". It took me a minute to get what she was saying. You see, we have a gravel/rock driveway, and apparently K thought Mr. (Ms?) Caterpillar needed a nice cozy home, so she built it one. I tried, but couldn't figure out exactly where it was so I could free the sucker. I'm hoping it was able to get out...

When A returned from school, Miss K went down for a much, much needed nap and A stayed outside with me. He had absolutely no interest in what I was doing, and much preferred to sit in the sandbox in the dog pen, and then go inside and watch a movie instead. Nature boy, he isn't, I guess, unless it pertains to fishing. And then, it's only with Daddy, so I suspect it's more "Daddy oriented" than an actual love of fishing.

Hello, Fall!

Here's one of the trees in our backyard. Yes, that's our garage/barn in the background ~ metal roof and all. We's country now, didn't you know?



After enjoying the last few days of our Indian Summer and upper 70's and low 80's, our weather is supposed to drop off starting this evening following some rain. We're supposed to be right at the freezing mark overnight, with highs in the upper 50's and possibly 61 one day in the next week. I figured I'd better get a couple of shots before the rain made all the leaves fall!

It's too bad you can't see these trees in person. My wimpy camera (it's one of the first digital cameras made) just can't capture the vibrancy of the colors out there, in every red, orange, yellow, and brown hue and shade possible ~ plus it's overcast today, in preparation for the coming showers. I must admit a personal fondness of the oranges and reds, as evidenced by the shots I took!

As I type this, I am looking out the back window at the lazy downward drifting of hundreds of leaves along the treeline. It looks like a moving rainbow, like some sort of surreal ballet set to strains of music that one can almost, but not quite, hear. Every time a gentle breeze comes up, still more leaves succumb to gravity, and it is literally a shower of leaves ~ almost as a portent of the imminent rain.



Every morning in the fall, fog covers part or all of the mountains that lie across the street (and about 3 miles away). I thought it looked especially interesting this morning against the now leafless branches of my neighbor's tree stretching to meet the gray sky. It looks like fall! Views like this promise future days of crisp nights, apple cider, sweaters (finally!), and snuggling in front of the fireplace.

Time Warp

I am having difficulty keeping current at the moment. I lost a couple of weeks in September, so to my brain it feels like it should only be the end of September, not nearly a third of the way through October. Time certainly flies, whether you're having fun or not!

I get a jolt every time I walk outside and see the leaves starting to change on the maples in my yard. I get a jolt when I walk through my back yard that hasn't been mowed in over a month now and the grass is up to my knees in some places. I got a jolt on Tuesday when it was 37 degrees in the morning (with a windchill of 34) before the sun came up. It's taking me some time to re-adjust, in little ways. Definitely not something I ever considered, this feels completely random.

A is doing well in school (a whole month of "green lights" for September!), and has proven to us that he can actually read. He read the first part of "The Cat In The Hat" to me, and part of "One Fish Two Fish, Red Fish Blue Fish". He also read the back of a library book to me that we'd checked out earlier in the day. Some things may be recognition, but he was also doing phonics work with his OT and spelled out "hat", "pat", "mat", and the like. (His fabulous OT has a game where you have to use bi-lateral motion to take letters from one side using a magnet on a stick and line them up to form words ~ and she pulled it out after I told her we thought he could read. Yup, he sure can!). Super exciting stuff!

A is also trying to say more things, and ask for more things. The only difficulties we have sometimes with his increased verbiage is that he'll get stuck on a phrase if our answer is "No." It's part typical kid -- repeated begging for something, hoping mom or dad will give in -- and part echololic tendency that his brain still locks into sometimes. After he gets stuck like that, then for a while ANYTHING we say he just repeats the last word or words until he can snap out of it.

Miss K is overly dramatic, exuberant, and active. Good grief! For whatever reason, her new emotion to practice is "crying". She'll walk in, with her bottom lip stuck out, and then (very exaggeratedly) collapse on the bed, couch, chair, whatever and bury her face in her hands while sounding like she's crying. When you ask her what's wrong, she picks up her head and very solemnly replies, "I'm upset. I'm crying." And then she'll bury her face again and start making sobbing sounds again. When you ask her why, you never know what her answer will be. Yesterday, she said, "I need some food to eat right now." Like she just hadn't had a snack an hour beforehand, but whatever. When she decides she's done, she just turns it off, beams happily and skips off to play. Can I get an eye roll, please?

Num Yummy!

With the proliferation of tomatoes we've been given, I have been looking for some new ways to use them, other than making spaghetti sauce, making stuffed tomatoes, or using them for bruschetta, salads or on homemade pizza. Here's a winner!

Sweet Tomato Pie ~ uses a store-bought pie crust, a whole head of garlic, fresh basil, and Havarti cheese. Num num!

I'm still pulling tomatoes off every 2 or 3 days, 5 or 6 at a time. And there's plenty left to ripen. We're supposed to get up into the 70's again during the days towards the end of the week and starting off the next week, so we'll have plenty of time to ripen up even more.

I also found my first tomato horn worm of the year this morning, my plants have been remarkably free of pests the whole season. I have only lost two tomatoes to something eating them, and I think one was due to the groundhog that resides under the deck. Mr. (fat! enormous!) Caterpillar has gone to that great plant in the sky, and if he has any relatives lurking they are about to receive the brunt of my latent mercenary skills too. I have been well trained in the "way of the shoe". : )

Down the Rabbit Hole

Forgive me, bloggers; it has been three weeks since my last session.

My surgery on the 10th went really well. While my surgeon was poking around in there, he noted that I have a lot of adhesions from my prior surgeries, most likely from the monumental screw-up that was my first C-section. He was afraid that he would do more harm than good to try to take out some of the scar tissue, though, because I might just make more scar tissue in the healing process than is already in there now. So that may cause problems down the road because my internal organs are sticking to each other; lovely. My surgeon is a veritable Pollyanna, spewing rainbows and unicorns, eh? We'll just take the stance that it will not be a problem, and move on from there.

My holes are healing nicely, although they did have to make them a little larger to get my very diseased and chock-full of rocks gallbladder out, and to check the liver for something.

My post-surgical pain meds, alas, were the source of some adventuring of the Alice In Wonderland variety. Codeine, morphine, and their derivative make me rather violently ill. So after this surgery, instead of prescribing me Oxycontin or any meds of that ilk, they decided to give me an opiate-based painkiller instead. I did not realize what it was, I was pretty out of it after the surgery. I was instructed to take one to two pills, every four to six hours. Since I am rather sensitive to most medications, I took one pill about every eight hours instead, always with food, starting Wednesday evening before sleeping in the living room recliner. My Friday (two days later) 11 p.m. dose was my last, by choice.

Shortly following the ingestion of that dose, I had both an allergic reaction and what can only be described as a "trip", a la LSD or acid. For four hours I thrashed around trying to escape the flashing blue, white, and black lights, static, voices. I felt like I was on fire, but when I touched my arms and legs they were ice cold. I also itched all over and broke out in a sweat. I had to have been hallucinating to see the dark translucent figure standing near the chair. And, I was convinced I had to keep moving my arms and legs to prevent a blood clot ~ which apparently were the nurses' last instructions when they sent me home from the hospital, I just don't remember that part. The weird thing was, I could see my husband sleeping on the couch but couldn't get his attention until about 4 a.m. when I came out of it enough to call for him.

I described what had been going on, and that I had a killer headache, and that I wasn't taking any more. I had a nasty, musty/dirty taste in my mouth, too. I went back to sleep and had a smaller, similar episode.

When I woke up on Saturday, I felt like I was moving underwater. Everything felt like it was moving at about a fourth of its normal speed, and my head was throbbing. I was very nauseous. It felt like I was being compressed somehow, like I was shorter than I should have been. It also felt like I was touching someone else when I rubbed my forehead. Definitely odd. I also was itching like crazy, shaking all over, and paranoid about everything. When I slept I had bizarre dreams, one of which apparently involved harvesting cheeseburgers from the living room wall ~ don't forget the ketchup dripping down! And I couldn't sleep that night, because when I laid down I became short of breath and started getting chest pains.

After two days of feeling this way, we found out what was going on: I was going through withdrawal symptoms. The drug I was prescribed in similar in composition to heroin and methadone, and even though I didn't take it nearly as often as I was told to, my body still managed to reach its threshold. So when I quit taking it, cold turkey, the withdrawal started. Normally you gradually come off the medicine (which I was also never told), but because of the allergic reaction I couldn't start back up on it or any of its cousins. I just had to deal with it.

The shortness of breath only happened when I laid down, so I dealt with that by sleeping in the chair for a few days. On Tuesday, however, the chest pains and shortness of breath continued throughout the morning when I was up and about, so after a quick visit to my surgeon's office I was sent pronto to the emergency room and I was back in the hospital for most of the day. My calcium levels are way up, which can attribute to some of the symptoms, but they didn't find anything else. They figured it was just more of the withdrawal symptoms I was having to go through.

So, for nine days I went through what one typically imagines a junkie would go through, complete with nausea, feeling like bugs crawling around in my skin, violent headaches, dizziness, lightheadedness, and paranoia and anxiety attacks. I had the shakes so bad, my husband complained of me drumming on the bed with my arms and legs (but I didn't realize I was even moving). I felt like I was going out of my mind. I was remarkably lucid for large chunks of time, and I can remember what was going on and thinking that it made no sense and that whatever was just crazy ~ and then, down the rabbit hole again and I was completely out of it. Those times when my mental acuity slipped, I don't remember anything at all. I can certainly understand why people stay hooked to their drug of choice, if it means they can avoid the living hell that is withdrawal. It took until Monday of this week (the 23rd!) to feel more like myself again. I still have some issues sleeping, even now, with vivid dreaming and breathing issues, but when I'm up and around during the day I feel much more "with it".

My calcium levels are still elevated, so I have to go back in another week to get more blood work done. And my doc had initially said I couldn't do any heavy lifting for three weeks, and he extended that an extra week to make it four total. My incisions were healing fine, but all the thrashing about due to the meds has prolonged the internal healing process and he wanted to make sure I finished healing before I start vacuuming and hauling children again. I am allowed to drive again now, though.

I am having to rethink some things. Up to now, every time I heard a story about some Hollywood type getting addicted to painkillers, I assumed they were really closet junkies anyway. I am now thinking that this may or may not be the case with a lot of people. I have never done any drugs, ever. (With the exception of alcohol, which I developed a little problem with and had to sober up from ~ almost 7 years straight now!) I followed my doctor's instructions, and even took extra precautions of taking as little as possible at larger time intervals than prescribed, and here I am in the same boat. I have not taken any more since Friday the 12th, but I also know that I can never take that particular medication ever again ~ both because of the allergic reaction and the whole addiction thing.

More updates on A soon ~ he is doing so well!

~ the Accidental Junkie

Green Lights

A is doing extremely well in school! The first couple of days he kind of wandered around and observed, but he's been doing very well all week this week. They use a "stoplight" system at school as an easy visual behavior tracking system. If you have a green light at the end of the day, you were very good indeed. Yellow means a warning for something was issued. And a red light means trouble. A sheet of paper is sent home every day, which has the date and whichever color a child earned that day; the parent must sign it and send it back. Every day. Which is a hassle, but it does ensure the parent actually sees the paper.

A has gotten a green light every day so far! Even with his initial awkwardness.

I am searching for some phonics software for A...this afternoon, he went up to the refrigerator letters and spelled "BOOK", and said the word. I looked at him for a second, and replaced the "K" with an "M", and he read that too. Then I took the "M" off and added a "T", and he said "BOOT". And then he was bored with it and opened the fridge for something. Go, A, go!

Potty training still not happening easily. Or, at all, really. It's still a work in progress, for BOTH of them. K sees A still wearing pull-ups, so she doesn't get why she doesn't need to wear them too. Very frustrating.

K gets the honor of being unintentionally hilarious. My husband bought her one of those (freaky, in my opinion) cats that have motion sensors in them, so they turn their heads, blink, and "meow!" at you whereever you move to ~ and purr when you pet them. This thing was purchased as a kind of preparation for when we bring the real cat home in a few weeks, to teach her not to poke it in the eyes, and how to hold it, etc. (We had a delay picking the real cat up, because he got ringworm from one of the breeder's cats who was at a catshow, and apparently brought it back to the breeder's home. She was duly horrified, of course, but at least it's treatable and not uncommon for kittens to develop).

So anyway, K picks up this stuffed cat by the tail and is waltzing around the house with it -- still by its' tail (we're still in training mode on how to pick up kitties) -- and then she stops, sniffs the cat's nether regions, and declares in her little chipmunk-style voice, "PU, stinky! Cat's butt stinks! He needs a diaper!". Z and I about fell out we were laughing so hard. It's a stuffed cat, there's nothing to stink; but she understands that butts tend to have an odor, I guess.

I also got a green light this week: I had my consultation with the surgeon yesterday, and he poked, prodded, listened and told me I was having surgery next week. On Wednesday. So, less than a week to get all the requisite duckies in a row. It is laproscopic, same day in and out apparently, and he said if I had an office job I could return to work in 4 days. A day out for each hole, I suppose. I don't have an office job, I have two small whirling dervishes -- ah, children, that is -- and a large hairy dog that seems to lose brain cells as he sheds, so this ought to be interesting.

At least Z has a few days off during the initial "julienne" period; technically it's a week, but it won't work out that way in reality. He will be switching back to his lovely mids schedule a couple of days before he starts working all night, just to be safe and awake on that schedule. Falling asleep at work or in the car during the commute just won't do, you know? Through the end of this month, he needs to sleep all day and is awake all night, so I need to keep the kiddies happy and quiet. But if I could be able to go to an office job after 4 days, then I can park in the recliner armed with the TV and DVD player remotes and make the TV be the babysitter for a couple of days...

S-sss-sssst-stutter

Our youngest, K, all of a sudden has started stuttering (or stammering, for those of you that know it by that name).

We first noticed it over the weekend, we're not entirely sure where it's coming from. It seems to happen when she's worked up over something ~ whether she's excited, upset, or whatever. Which is most of the time! It also happens when she's searching for a word.

Right now it's limited to the very first syllable in her phrase ~ once she gets rolling with the words, she's OK. But it doesn't seem to matter if it's a consonant or a vowel starting the first word ~ she hangs up on them equally. She screws up her face trying to force the word out, I guess. It has seemed to increase every day since Sunday, though.

Being a paranoid mommy, I surfed the internet today and found out that it's not an uncommon thing for some kids aged 2 - 5 to go through a stuttering phase as they are developing their language and oral skills, but to keep an eye on it and if it lasts more than 6 months to go have it checked out. Plus, I used to (infrequently) get hung up on words when I was younger (and actually still do occasionally), and I learned last night that my dad has some issues with it sometimes too. I never knew that! So, anyway, there is a possible genetic component in there too.

So we're watching it.....closely.

Book Smarts, Etc

A few bits:

A started school today. His bus driver had called to tell us she'd be at the top of the hill around 11:15. Imagine my dismay when I saw the bus shoot past at 11:05 ~ and I had to run with my son up the hill. And A didn't want to go, so I pretty much had to drag him up the hill. It's not part of his routine any more to get on a bus, so it should be interesting for the next couple of weeks until he gets settled in.

He is in a typical pre-school classroom, so it should be interesting for the teacher and his classmates, too. Here's hoping everything goes smoothly ~ cross your fingers, toes, eyes, or anything else you're able to cross.

We've also confirmed that A can, in fact, read some things. At his OT appointment on Tuesday, she was getting ready to work on his fine motor skills by using some crayon bits. She pulled out a white sheet of paper with crayon outlines and the names of the colors printed in black on each one ~ but before she could pull out the box of real crayons and ask him what they were, A pointed to each one on the paper and read them off. And she hasn't used that color page with him before, so he hadn't memorized the sheet or anything. He's been reading off words I've been putting up on the fridge with those colorful magnetic letters, too, like "book" and "toy". Very, very exciting stuff ~ and it proves that even though he can't speak well and has some unusual tics, A is not stupid.

This perception (that our son is stupid) is still a challenge for us. We still meet some people that notice he's a little "different" or have heard that he is challenged with autism, and they talk to him really slowly and loudly, with a big exaggerated smile and wide eyes ~ and A will look at them, then look at me or Z with this, "What's wrong with them?" expression. We know he's a smart guy, it just takes some interaction and treating him like a typical kid to discover that. He is retarded (by definition ~ a little slow or behind) in his social skills and has some motor issues, but as far as other things go A is pretty astute.

Anyway ~ we'll see how it goes. In other news: my surgical consult is on Sept 4th, and they'll set a date sometime after that for the actual procedure. So it's hurry up and wait. And the longer I wait, the antsier I am getting.

K surprises us in new ways every day. Last night she started singing "Where Is Thumbkin" (with the correct lyrics). Then she segued into the song again, this time singing it in Spanish. Yes, Spanish.

I have to admit this threw me for a loop and I asked her to sing it again for me, and wouldn't you know, she did! They had just done the English and Spanish version on Sesame Street yesterday morning, so I guess that's where she got it from. K did it well enough for me to recognize it ~ although she is two, and still has some speech issues typical of very young children. For example "snuggle" is "sung-gull" to her right now, and a papaya is a "pa-pa-pa-ya-ya". She did it again for her daddy when he got home from work this morning. Booger.

La Cuisine

My kids love food. (Actually, me too, which would explain a lot...but I digress). They enjoy watching the movie Ratatouille and yell out the names of the foods, and both A and K like to help me in the kitchen when I'm preparing various things.

On Saturday, I had a cooking marathon: I pulled some of my best recipes and made (after 6 p.m.) three batches of scones, a batch of biscotti, an Italian cream cake (from Polly's recipe, yum!), and a batch of zucchini lasagna. All for Sunday afternoon. K helped me somewhat, and watched me until she went to bed.

She's been carrying around her plastic food for days now, and she and A both have been pretending to eat it and put it on plates, and in pans. I should have known what was coming.

So ~ while I ran out of the kitchen last night to get to the phone, my daughter decided that she was going to help me make dinner. With real food. But, being the creative little tyke that she is, she must have decided that food prep in the kitchen was too mundane and decided to hone her blossoming culinary skills elsewhere.



She hasn't completely learned the rules of real food vs. plastic food as they pertain to the living room floor, but I don't think she'll make the same mistake with eggs again. And no, egg does not come completely out of the carpet. Today it's mildly crunchy if you're barefoot. Eschk.

I almost hated to swat her booty because she was so darned cute. "Oh no! Eggs on the floor, oh my! Eww yucky!" But K knows the rule about pulling eggs out of the refrigerator, so she did get swatted for it anyway. A remembers from his egg-loving stint of a couple of years ago what the ramifications were and apparently hid when he saw his sister getting the eggs. He came out after she had her post-spanking meltdown. I guess he wanted to make sure he was in no way associated with the egg incident.

Both kids are also fascinated by the veggies I have grown in the backyard. Nothing much, just 5 tomato plants, 5 bell pepper plants, and 4 celeries. No chemical pesticides, herbicides, or fertilizers; the only fertilizer is filling a newly emptied milk jug with water, shaking it up a bit, and pouring it out at ground level around the plants. I read somewhere that tomatoes need calcium but sometimes have issues absorbing it ~ which can lead to a problem called "blossom end rot". Your fruits grow beautifully, and just when you think they might be getting ready they rot from the base up. I figure there's enough traces of calcium and other minerals left coating the milk jugs that it gave them a boost or something. I plan to try it again next year to see if this year's tomato patch is a fluke or not.

They survived the spring bug invasion and have grown like crazy, with huge beautiful fruit that is (so far) bug-free. The first tomatoes finally decided to ripen, I picked these beauties a couple of days ago:



Since then I've picked four more, and I see a few others that are nearly there. My plants are covered in green tomatoes, so I forsee a lot of spaghetti sauce in my future. : ) I can also freeze them whole, and use them in any recipe calling for fresh tomatoes (except for salads). Good to know, I have a bunch coming!

Once those first tomatoes started to ripen, it must have sent the signal to the other fruit on the...trees? Three of the plants are huge, way beyond bushes ~ they came down from the house gutters and started growing back towards the ground at the 6-ft fence mark ~ meaning that the plants are 6 ft high, and have reached back down to the ground again where they're starting to turn back up. They should keep producing until it frosts, which is fantastic. K especially is fascinated by the "tornados" and makes a beeline to inspect the plants whenever we venture out back. A likes the plants, but I'm not sure if he knows what's on them. He hates eating tomatoes and peppers, whereas his sister adores both.

I am so going to enjoy cooking with these! I haven't grown veggies for years and am extremely pleased with this year's experiment.

Countdown

We're counting down the days.

A starts back to school at the end of next week (either Thursday or Friday, our school hasn't notified us which day the pre-school will start for A). This will be a very good thing, for both A and the rest of us. His chewing and hand flapping seem to increase exponentially every day if he's bored. And he gets bored a lot, if mommy is doing dishes or mowing the lawn (which takes a while ~ over a half acre with an old fashioned reel mower! But it's great exercise and I've lost 43 pounds since Christmas). A likes cups, too, but we're trying to limit him to two a day.



Z has less than 8 months left in his current job, and then he can go and do whatever he wants to do (most likely with a hefty salary increase). He can't wait to be done, every time another inane thing happens he repeats it: "Only _ more weeks".

I am most likely going to have some minor outpatient surgery soon, in the next couple of weeks, so there is some amount of dread and nervous anticipation of that too. It would seem that I am one of those lucky females that develop kidney stones with their pregnancies (every one of them), and I had the joy (?) of developing their formative relatives, gallstones, with Miss K. Apparently it's the same mechanism that can cause both, just in different places in the body? The doctor at the time said they may never bother me, or one day they just might start flaring up for whatever reason. Anyway, K is two now, and the stones are making their presence quite known, so after a consultation with a surgeon later this week we'll know what to expect. To quote my ultrasound technician this morning, "Honey, you are just FULL of rocks!" I guess I'm relieved that the nausea and pain (and lack of sleeping) has a fairly simple fix, although I suppose surgery isn't exactly a "simple fix" ~ even if it is an outpatient procedure.

We are counting down the days left of an uncomfortable upstairs level of the house. We quickly discovered that office-style acoustical tile ceilings do great for sound insulation, but not so much for temperature insulation. It was always freezing upstairs when we moved in, and it's been blazing hot up there as summer arrived (we're talking at least a 15 degree difference between upstairs and downstairs despite central air conditioning and oil heat), and we discovered why: when whoever it was put in the upstairs (which was apparently added after the house was built), they never insulated the roof, or above the ceiling grid. Brilliant. If you move a ceiling tile upstairs, you can look straight up and see the roof planking. And our gables are open with louvered vents at either end, you can see outside. So all the cold or hot air just comes rushing into the "attic space" and then seeps down through the ceiling tiles, which have an R-value ranging from 2 to 4. Yippee. So when the church handyman mentioned he had a bunch of R-19 batting left over from an office building project he could give us, we jumped on it. For $20 to pay for gas, we had enough to put a layer over the entire upstairs. We wound up putting it directly on the ceiling tile grid because the gables are open. It wouldn't have done us any good to shove it between the rafters, because the air from outside would still be rolling into the house and down through our ceiling. And he's bringing us more next week, so we'll have a double layer in place for winter ~ houses in this region are suggested to have R-35 at the roof. We are unbelievably blessed! And this ought to also help out tremendously with the oil bill for this winter, too. There is already a tremendous difference since we put up the first bit on Friday ~ so long yucky indoor temperatures!

And, finally, I get to pick up my kitten on the 29th. I still don't have a name for him.

Gone Fishin'

Z rediscovered his love of fishing a couple of years ago, and has made a point to brainwash, uh, I mean, expose his children to the joys of fishing. A and K each have their own fishing poles, both kids like to look at the lures and the bait (especially K, who loves to flip through the Bass Pro shop catalogs of her own initiative. No, really), and K also loves to touch the fishies that daddy catches. Both kids beg to go fishing for a week after we take them out, and this week was no exception.

We do bring home and eat what is caught, but my rule is that Z has to clean it before I'll cook it. Fair enough. He has always cleaned them, and I have cooked whatever the catch of the day is in one way or another. You really can't beat truly fresh fish, whether it's bass, trout, catfish, or carp. I do have to admit I'm not the biggest fan of panfish, which seem to have more bones than meat and are a pain to eat ~ but if that's what we have, we still eat it.

There is a spot on a tributary of the Potomac not far from the house where the river is very shallow (it's maybe 3 feet deep at its deepest point there) and the current is negligible. Perfect for bringing the kids to, although I do take the precaution of floaty suits for both of them since neither can swim. Z has been going out there for a while now, but the first time we took the kids was a week ago. We've been there three times total since last Sunday! I really enjoy the beautiful scenery, the way the sun plays off the water and how the trees seem to bend over to kiss the river, and the blue heron that lazily meanders about just upriver from "our spot". I also love the architectural elements of both the oldest stone bridge in the county (built 1819) and the newer bridge built in the 1940's just beyond it.

I'll share part of our Sunday evening (yesterday) with you ~ click on the pictures for a bigger view:

Crossing the old stone bridge:


K started out with a preference of throwing rocks over fishing:


A takes a french fry break:


The Bridges of Washington County (well, two of them):


A keeps getting rocks in his shoes:


K finally decides she'd like to fish:


Gratuitous shot of Z:


Fishing with daddy:


Another view:


Going to the rock:


K is frustrated that all A seems to be catching is a weighted plastic tire:


"Mom, are you done yet?"


Apparently the water is a tad chilly:


Wishing you and yours much enjoyment of the remaining days of summer!

Bounty Hunters

It's been a busy couple of weeks!

First, my tomatoes that I've been babying are now up to the gutters (!) on my house (they are draping over my 6-ft tall fence where they have overgrown the cages) and are covered in (still green) tomatoes, but I think I may see a faint blush of red on one of the first ones that formed. Soon! Last night's storm was enough to blow them all over, despite the supports, but they seem to be doing OK this morning...I propped them all back up, and time will tell. I have a Jet Star, an Early Girl, and a Big Boy by the house, and two more Big Boys growing out by the defunct deck. My peppers and celery are doing well, after recovering from the onslaught of the little red and black bugs this spring, so I'm looking forward to a nice harvest of those here in the next few weeks.

My black raspberries have finally played out ~ I gathered the last few on Saturday, and have been risking life and limb clearing out the old, fruited canes and leaving this year's new canes for next year's crop. There are a lot of older canes still in the mess that were never cleared out from previous years, so I'm dealing with lots of sharp, pokey brambles. It's an easy job to find them all, because the black raspberries don't send up suckers, the new canes just come up from the crown each year. But I've lost some blood, and have come eyeball to eyeball with more spiders than I care to.

I do have one actual blackberry patch at the other end of the yard, and they're just starting to color up now. They are under the black mulberry tree that overhangs our yard in the back, so it's an interesting effect seeing the dark purple fruits on the tree and on the bramble below it. I know I'm going to have to keep the blackberries in check, or they'll overtake everything ~ they're already sending suckers up into the grass where I mow. But the two ripe fruits I just pulled off were yummy, and the bramble is absolutely loaded, so I'm hoping to get enough to make some jam out of them, too. They are so much larger than my raspberries, so I don't think it will take nearly as many to get the requisite 5 cups.

And the grapes are all over the mess that has grown up, but I'm not sure how I'm going to get the ones that are about 12 feet off the ground. And of course, that's where most of the grapes are located....

Indoors, the children have discovered that when you play with bubbles indoors you can make the floor really slippery and then slide things across it (including yourself and mommy, who didn't expect a soapy floor). Other fun things to do are finger paint with melted ice cream on the wall, pour the water out of the bathtub, and practice pouring juice from one cup into another ~ on the living room carpet, of course. So we've done plenty of Bounty hunting indoors, too ~ of the paper towel variety.

New Trends

Our son, A, has been benefiting from the brushing technique; he is not hand flapping, spinning, or running back and forth nearly as often (although it does still occur), and is able to focus better on the task at hand. He even takes the brush and tries to do it to himself!

Another trend, not so desirable, is A's tendency to play with himself. He will shove his hands down his pants no matter where we are and just go at it. We were in the grocery store after one of his appointments on Tuesday, and I was in the process of paying the cashier when I looked over and noticed that A had slid in between the end of the check-out conveyor belt and a large stand of fabric grocery bags and he had both hands down the front of his shorts. He was watching me out of the corner of his eye, so when I made eye contact he stopped. Then he tried to slide between the movie rental and one of those claw games where you can "catch" a stuffed toy, and he started to do it again. The frustrating part is, he knows he's not supposed to do things like that in public. He knows. He keeps an eye out for when I notice and will stop every time, most often without my having to say anything. I ignored the distasteful looks of the other patrons, dragged him out to the car, and we went on with our lives.

I know it is somewhat typical for boys to discover their, ahem, toys, but most kids don't have the compulsory issues that A deals with. And it's a compulsion.

Initially, I was like, fine, he's a boy, whatever. If he wants to do that in the bathtub or in his bedroom when he gets up in the morning, whatever. I am regretting that decision, as he does not understand the concept of "appropriate", nor does he understand that he is rubbing himself raw and going to injure himself. It has become one of his favorite stims. He plays with himself whenever the mood strikes (which is multiple times a day). He will even stand in front of our huge picture window that faces the highway with his hands down his pants, working. He would mess around down there 24/7 if he could. (Actually, that may be more typical than I'd like to admit!)

Another more infrequent problem is fecal smearing. He had not engaged in that activity for a couple of years, but that all changed this weekend. A had deposited an exceptionally nasty bowel movement in his pants, but rather than let us know, he hid from us. While we were in the kitchen and mudroom areas, he was in the living room decorating the recliner, the couch, the picture window, the windowsill, the television, the carpet. Ordinarily, I'll let him do what he wants for an hour or so; he had just gotten up from a nap and was clean. He is generally very well behaved, and doesn't destroy anything but paper products (which he ingests), although he does love to empty the soap dispenser in the bathroom. Leaving him to his own devices, alas, was not the choice we should have made in this instance.

Thank God for slipcovers and antibacterial cleaners.

Even Better!

I was out picking more of my blackberries today, and noted that they didn't look like normal blackberries. The leaves were different, although there is quite the prolific amount of thorns, arching canes, etc. The fruit actually looks like raspberries, but they are the wrong color. Everyone I know here in Maryland calls them blackberries, though, so I assumed that's what they were. I figured it was just a local wild variant.

I decided to look up blackberries on the internet, because although these were growing wild, they are forming a mass of arched thorny branches down the length of my wooded area and I want to keep that moderately cleared out to keep snakes, mice, and other pests down as much as possible. I have huge loops between plants, where apparently the arches landed on the ground and started forming more plants. I also wanted to see if I needed to do anything to help the plants set fruit better, by pruning. (I know very little about growing fruit, but nearly every fruit I hear about has to be pruned at some point to increase fruit set so I figured it was the case with these, too, even though they're "wild").

The berries and plants I kept finding on the blackberry sites weren't matching what I have, though, until I stumbled on a site that encouraged people to Grow Native!, and saw what looks like my plants: I have black raspberries! The black raspberries are native to North America, while the red ones are from Europe and Asia. There are apparently two different types, one western and one eastern variety. The black raspberries fell from popularity in the U.S. because the red ones were considered a luxury (shipped in from Europe) and that's what everyone started growing for themselves. There are still some black raspberries that are commercially grown, but it is primarily the western variety in the Pacific Northwest. And they are expensive. Who knew?

The fruit and fruit set of my bramble is identical to the pictures I found on the site, down to the separation of the fruit from the plant, leaving a little hollow in the middle. The fruits are also not overly shiny, and have the tiny hairs I have seen on the red raspberries. Real blackberries, on the other hand, do not leave a hollow in the middle when you pick them and break off flush with the top of the berry; they also tend to be larger and more shiny than black raspberries.

Black raspberry fruit set:



My plant:



Black raspberry fruit:



My fruit:



Blackberry:



The pictures I found of the leaves (with whitish undersides) and the canes (greyish/whitish green) match in color, size, and leaf type to my plants, too. Blackberry leaves are also have much sharper ridges along the leaf veins, whereas black raspberry leaves have a sawed edge but smoother leaves. I checked a few other sites, and sure enough ~ that's what I've got.

Black raspberry leaves:



My plant:



Curiously, though, these do not get a whole lot of sun but seem to be thriving nonetheless. Each website I checked about growing black raspberries suggests putting them in partial to full sun, depending on how hot the summers are. Mine get a couple of hours in the morning, and then get about an hour in the evening, that's it. Maybe if I pulled one of the plants out and planted it in the sun, it would produce more fruit? Hmmm. An experiment for next year...

Anyway: Fabulous! I now know what I have back there, and how to care for it. I'm supposed to clear out the canes that bore fruit this year and leave the others. Raspberries bear fruit on the previous year's vegetative non-fruiting canes. Black raspberries are also not overly invasive, they only produce canes from their crown, so suckering off the roots isn't a problem. Whereever a cane arches over and touches the ground, though, it will root and form a new plant ~ which I'd noted when I was scrambling around through there getting scratched up this morning. If I want to thin it out, I can, realizing that the more canes I get rid of the less fruit I'll have next year.

I have a lot of pruning work to do this fall and winter, between the raspberry brambles and the still-unknown species of grapevine that has run amok over its trellis. I'm just letting it grow, there are a lot of grapes on it. I do know that it is not a wild grape variety. Whatever it is, it was deliberately planted and properly trained at one point, I can see where the single trunk was selected and it was trained laterally over the framework. I have no idea if the previous owners ever pruned that thing or not, but it is at least 10 feet tall, about twice as wide, and is reaching for some of my trees. I discovered what it was too late in the spring to prune it; if I'd tried it at that time, it would have "bled" (run sap) for a long time and possibly invite diseases in. So, I am waiting until fall to find out what they are ~ whether they are "table grapes" or "wine grapes". Because of the vigorous undergrowth of a couple of very large honeysuckles shrubs (trees!), I don't know if the grapes will get the sunlight needed to ripen or not, but we'll see.

The blob o' foilage:



(Unripe)Grapes:



In the meantime, I'll just keep on picking my black raspberries every few days or so as they continue to ripen. I have now picked enough to fill one of those plastic 1-lb strawberry containers, with more berries freezing on a cookie sheet. There's lots more out there, so I might actually get enough to make jam out of them! (It takes 5 cups of smashed berries to make jam). This is such an unexpected blessing! I had wanted to plant some raspberries in my garden anyway; I guess God knew that and had them waiting for me here at our new house! I may still plant some red raspberries, but I know I have to keep them far away from the black ones. For one thing, they'll cross-pollinate (with sometimes not nice results), and for seconds, apparently black raspberries can carry all sorts of viruses that will get into the red ones, the red ones being less able to fend off the diseases.