Post 100

Wow! Post number 100. Not bad for only posting about once a week, on average. Sometimes twice a week, sometimes not at all.

Yesterday was a great day! Not only was it Sunday, complete with nice worship service, gorgeous weather and unusually well-behaved children, but it was also my birthday.

As a special treat, we went out to eat so I didn't have to worry about cooking or doing dishes. We don't generally eat out very often, so this was a big deal for the kids. We went to Pizza Hut, which A and K absolutely loved; it's been a while since we had a made-to-order pizza. We live too far out of town for any sort of delivery, and the frozen pizzas you get at the grocery store just can't compare to a freshly made pie.

Among the day's activities:

We returned home after lunch to discover a 2-Liter of Dr. Pepper and a birthday card by the front door. Absolutely lovely! That is my absolute favorite soft drink (and my one true vice), which some dear friends knew of course. The pop was duly shared amongst the members of the H-- family throughout the rest of the day.



Another friend dropped by with a bundle of freshly picked flowers from a farm that lies 2 miles up the road from my house. I adore flowers of nearly any type, and I don't have too many in my flowerbeds just yet, so I am really enjoying seeing these cheery blooms in their vase. Now that I know what perennials are in place in the beds, I can actually dig around in there and plant other things. Being unfamiliar with the previous tenants' gardening habits, I didn't want to uproot something I was interested in keeping. I have daffodils, hyacinths, tulips, and lily leeks, all in a straight line, so there's plenty of room for other things. I have scads of the burgundy and yellow bearded iris that someone else had ripped out of their flowerbeds and left for me by our house, so some of those are going in the front beds. Others are destined for the backyard, and a few made it up along the fence that borders the highway.



I also discovered that the brambles growing along the forest-line on the back of the property are blackberries! I took a basket out there and picked some of the ripe ones. I'll have to get back out there every day or so this week to get more as they continue to ripen. I've got about 100 feet or so of forest edge, so after the squirrels and whatever else get their fill, there's still plenty for me. : ) I'm going to freeze them on a cookie sheet, then deposit them in a freezer bag for future use. I don't know if I'll use them as-is in muffins or something, or if I'll save up enough to make some jam.



And this is my new baby.




I get to bring home sometime mid-August, when he is old enough. He is a blue and white patch purebred Maine Coon. My parents used to have one, and Xerxes was a huge 26 pounds of snugglebunny, plus long hair that made him look even larger. These cats are known for being gentle giants, and for their playful personalities. I haven't had a cat since I left home to go to college, so this is going to be great! Also, given the recent mouse discovery, I think the timing is brilliant.

A nice day, indeed.

And Another New Thing

Remember a few posts back when I mentioned that I have to check out whatever my daughter is trying to show me, just in case it's something that needs to be dispatched?

About a half hour ago, she wanted to show me her "cute". This is her "cute" in the bathroom, under a glass bowl:



I did not freak out, no screaming or standing on chairs or anything like that (I reserve that maneuver for huge spiders that have enough hair to be spokesmodels for a shampoo company). I mean, it's a mouse. It has fur, adorable little ears, and was actually pretty cute (K was right on that one). But it most assuredly did not belong in my house, where it could wreak havoc in my pantry.

The mouse was remarkably calm, too. It was completely unfazed by K's curiosity, in that she kept getting down on eye-level with it to look at it. I first saw it in the hallway, and it very calmly ambled into our bathroom, where I put a glass bowl over it. It never did run away from us, it just kind of accepted us and unconcernedly moved on. Even under the glass, it didn't really freak out, although it did start shaking a little bit once it figured out it had some boundaries under the bowl. Then I had to figure out what in the heck I was going to do with it; I don't think that a mouse under glass would be the best decorative accessory for an ocean-themed bathroom.

After a few minutes of forcibly keeping my daughter from removing the glass bowl that was safely containing the fuzzy little vermin, I called my mother to see if she had any ideas on how to humanely and safely dispose of it without my having to actually dispatch the thing myself. I didn't want to just let it go, because I have a feeling it will be back, but I just am squeamish about dispatching anything other than bugs and spiders with a shoe, which is the weapon of choice around here. She suggested letting it loose in my neighbor's yard, where at least 5 adult cats and multiple kittens live.

Then I called my husband, not because he could do anything about it but because I figured he'd like to know that we apparently have a way for mice to get into the house. He wanted me to kill it, but I just couldn't. So then he suggested taking it to the back of the property and letting it go in the woods. That, I could handle.

So I took my daughter out of the bathroom, where she was still cooing over the mouse (and still trying to take the bowl off of it), shut the bathroom door, and threatened her butt with a spanking if she opened it again. I went upstairs to snag a cardboard frozen pizza insert that I'd earmarked for another project, went back down to the bathroom, slowly shoved it under the bowl (being careful not to damage the little toes or the tail), and walked outside to the backyard. I actually went behind our back fence and let him out at the edge of the woods.

He still wasn't frightened of me, after all that! I set the bowl and cardboard down, and removed the bowl. He just sat up and looked at me, and twitched his whiskers. Weird. I actually had to dump him off of the cardboard and shoo him into the woods, he started to follow me. Even weirder.

So, this is a first for me, at least in this house. I have lived in other older houses that had an occasional mouse, so it's no biggie. But I'd just commented the other day on how great it was that, even though we live out in the country, I had yet to see a mouse in our house. I guess that'll teach me!

New Things

New Things that I have discovered this week:

1) Kayaking

I used to love going canoeing down various rivers when I was in high school and college, but haven't been on a river in 10 years. When a friend offered to let me go kayaking last evening, I took her up on it. I was a little apprehensive at first, mostly because I didn't know the river, I had never been in a kayak before, and my diabolical mind started replaying every film clip off of the National Geographic channel that involved kayakers being violently ejected from their boats in the middle of boiling rapids. That, and I'd always heard that it was extremely easy to tip those suckers over even in calm waters.

My fears were unfounded, I made the whole two-hour trip without falling in, even when climbing in or out of the kayak. The water was very low in the river, so the current wasn't bad. But, those pesky rocks had to be avoided or I was going in the drink, and I scraped the bottom a couple of times (and got stuck once or twice too). I had such a great time! I had forgotten just how much I love being on the water in a small craft ~ I do enjoy being on larger boats, but I especially love being in a canoe. And now, a kayak. The biting bugs were minimal, we saw 3 or 4 blue herons, a bald eagle, and too many ducks and geese to count. Oh, and a baby turtle sunning itself on a partially-submerged log.

I have found a new love. Now I just have to work a deal with Z to watch the kids for me so I can go again. I figure if he gets to go out and spend a whole day fishing, then my spending two or three hours kayaking shouldn't be too much of a big deal.



2) Crocs

I have never succumbed to the allure of the candy-colored plastic shoes sported by nearly every demographic in American culture. Mostly because they started out being outrageously over-priced for a molded plastic shoe, and I had other things to spend my money on. Like diapers, to keep my kids' butts upholstered. And food, so they could make their deposits in the aforementioned diapers. Even when we had the extra money, Crocs generally weren't on my radar. I have running shoes for running, and a pair of trashed ones for working in the garden. I didn't do anything water-related. Until yesterday. I had ransacked my closet looking for some shoes that would stay on my feet and were waterproof, but could come off if I needed them to if I fell out of the kayak, and possibly float. I found a pair of foam flip-flops that came the closest to filling those requirements, since I don't own any actual water shoes.

When I showed up to Mel's house, where the kayaks were, lo and behold she had gotten me a pair of Crocs for my birthday! She knew I didn't have any water shoes, and surprised me with these bright baby blue ones. I don't know what my previous hang-ups about the shoes were. Are they kind of ugly? Yes. But they are also kind of cheery with their nice, vibrant color, and they are insanely comfortable, which really surprised me. Do they make my feet look zaftig? Yes, they make each foot look like a huge baby blue marshmallow. That just means if I was unfortunate enough to be unintentionally separated from my kayak, the search and rescue team would be able to find my feet bobbing down the river, and know the rest of me was in the near vicinity.

Other benefits: I can chuck these suckers in the dishwasher to clean them. They also: a) stayed on my feet the duration of the kayak trek thanks to a handy strap that goes behind my heel; and b) had some surprisingly good traction, which came in handy when I had to scramble up an embankment at the terminal end of our journey. Especially because the two guys that were fishing didn't offer us any help, but stood there staring at us as we climbed out of our boats and hauled them up to the flat part, which was a good 6 or 7 feet up.



3) Anne Taintor

Anne Taintor is a collage artist with a wicked, subversive wit. Doesn't everyone need a little cynical humor in their life? I read through her book "I'm becoming my mother" and couldn't do anything but laugh at the irony of it all. Anne takes vintage advertisements and illustrations and removes any original copy (text) from the image, leaving her free to create her own commentary about what's really going on. Love her. Here's a couple of favorites:





4) Brushing

This is not for your hair or your teeth. This is a new (to us) technique for helping A to calm down and focus. We take what looks like the baby hairbrush you get from the hospital and firmly rub it up and down A's arms and legs, avoiding certain areas, and also on his back. It doesn't take long, maybe 10 strokes on each part. Then we do a few joint compressions on shoulders, elbows, wrists, hands, hips, knees, and ankles, to give him the tactile input he needs, and (ta da!) he's remarkably calm for the next hour or so. To be the most effective, his OT said it needed to be done every 90 minutes or so that A is awake, every single day. I just kind of stared at her, and she laughed and said that unfortunately that isn't really possible with most people, so if we just do it when he wakes up, mid-morning sometime, at lunchtime, mid-afternoon, and then again at bedtime we should be good. A loves it! He'll take the brush and try to do it to himself sometimes. Since we just started with this technique, I have no idea how it will work out in the long run. For now, it seems to be doing something, though, so we're going to keep it up.

Count Your Blessings, Name Them One By One

Today was a very interesting day.

First, A peed in the toilet at church during class!

I'll say that again, my 4 and a half year old son who still wears training pants actually urinated in the appropriate receptacle.

And there was great rejoicing in the land.

I realize this would ordinarily be a little bit of a strange thing to be bragging about, but after all we've been through with A this is most definitely progress. We are moving into complete sentence territory now, too ~ he routinely says, "I want [whatever it is] please." Even to his Sunday School teachers, so it's something he's comfortable with.

Of course, then he went and peed on the carpet in the classroom a little while later.

You win some, you lose some.

We had a rather lovely day today after all that, too. Our church had a baptism service down at the river, followed by a church picnic back up at our building. We haven't had a churchwide picnic in ages, so it was really nice to eat and visit outside in the gorgeous weather. Z had to work again today...so it was just me and the kiddos. Our friend Melody helped tremendously with her expert kid wrangling and plate balancing skills, otherwise things might have been just a bit more stressful than they were. Thanks Melody, I owe you one. Or is it seven thousand by now? : ) And their honorary Aunt Ruth and Uncle Mac kept them safely at the church and away from the river so I could actually enjoy the service. They are such a blessing to our family.

We have a lot of blessings, actually. I get so caught up in the busyness of everything that I fail to remember just how much there is to be thankful for. So here's a friendly reminder for you, too: have you thought about what you're thankful for lately?

Quiet

Today is Thursday, and it is the first day this week I haven't been out of the house by about 7:45 at the latest. It is just after 9 a.m. and I have been relishing this lazy morning. Although, that is about to change; I have to run up to the church to finish planting one of the front flowerbeds. The weeding and moving of established plants has taken a bit longer than I'd imagined (almost a week!), made all the more time-consuming because the people who had offered to help weren't able to materialize. But, oddly enough, I have still enjoyed being out there even if it's just by myself. It gives me quiet time, especially if the kids are cooped up somewhere else, and quiet time is a rare commodity these days.


My days are generally jammed with A's various appointments, house stuff, church projects, etc, and I do enjoy staying busy. The flip side of that is a distinct lack of the aforementioned "quiet time". So if I can get some of that in while I'm doing something I need to do anyway, all the better. I know, some might argue that's missing the point, but I am one of those people who have the most peaceful be-ing and reflection time when I'm outdoors surrounded by nature ~ whether I'm just sitting there, or I'm up to my elbows in dirt and foilage. I also realize that there is an inherent difference between "being quiet" and "being still", too, and I need to fit in some of the latter as well. One step at a time, that is a work in progress.

I have enjoyed the unexpected quiet time this week because things are far from quiet at our house. K is a chatterbox, describing everything she sees and pointing out various objects with, well, child-like glee. She is usually a very happy child, and exclaims as exuberantly over a red #6 magnet on the fridge as she does over a new bug she's discovered by the front door. I always have to check whatever she's trying to show me, because one day she found a poisonous spider that needed to be dispatched to that great web in the sky. I also already have to check her pockets, because rocks and bugs do funny things to the washing machine. K is already developing her ninja skills: she catches flies one-handed, in mid-air, runs up to show us, and when she opens her hand up they will fly away.

A is also starting to vocalize more, although we still don't get too many words. He tries very hard, though, and you can tell he's pleased with himself when he gets it right. We're still working on going beyond simple labeling, and are trying to get into adding some sort of adjective to the labeled object, whether it's numerical, color, or shape related.

A's spitting has dramatically decreased as well, although we have seen an inversely proportionate rise in the whining and crying responses to things that frustrate him. This is driving Z (and me) nuts, and if A starts his whining process (which is a long, drawn-out process indeed), daddy will send him up to his room until he can compose himself. Z's reasoning is that he doesn't mind A expressing himself, but he needs to learn how to do so in positive ways. And until that time comes, if he's in his room at least the howling is somewhat muted by the walls and ceiling. I have to admit, as much as it bothers me somewhat to do this, I enjoy the break from the whining too.

We're hoping that sending him up to his room will do the trick; lately he's preferred to be in the same room as mommy or daddy and will follow us around the house as we perform our various duties or play with A and K. By separating him when he's doing undesirable behaviour, and bringing him back down when he stops doing that behaviour, we are praying that that connection is made, and fast!

A's summer ESY services will continue to be itenerant services. Now they aren't planning on putting him in a classroom until the fall, so we still have to drive him everywhere. But the last piece fell into place on Wednesday this week, so at least we're good through the summer.

In other news, K loves to express herself in a variety of artistic ways. I think this is either: 1) a response to the urban jungle, depicting K's interpretation of camouflage, forced cultural assimilation, and our baser need for survival; 2) she wanted mommy to feel better about her sunburn; or, 3) she's just naughty and keeps getting into mommy's purse to play with the lipstick.

Baked, Not Fried

There is a four-letter word that is near and dear to my heart at the moment.

No, not one of those. (Although I'm sure some could possibly apply).

It's OUCH.

Silly, silly me. I was outside working on some landscaping yesterday from about 9:30 a.m. until after 4:30...with one 15 minute break indoors to eat something...and it would seem that the sunblock that was applied early on just couldn't compete with Mr. Soleil's nice warm rays.

So, OUCH. I'm not burned everywhere, just on my face, the back of my neck, and on my arms between where the shirt sleeves ended and the work gloves began. It's a really interesting effect, especially if I wear a sleeveless shirt. : ) Luckily I was wearing long pants instead of shorts, or my striped pattern would be much more obvious.

I actually could have used that to my advantage, though: it would have enabled me to blend in next to the deck where all the watermelon juice drained down the side. I could hide, and jump out and scare the enormous groundhog that lives under there, hopefully either giving it a heart attack or convincing it that it didn't want to live where a crazy pink striped lady was lurking. Can you imagine the conversation that might go on?

Woodchuck, in hole, to wife: "Madge, you won't believe this, but that crazy lady that lives in the big house up there has dyed herself pink and she just jumped out from behind our house and screamed."

Madge: "There goes the neighborhood."

My husband and I were debating on how to classify this type of sunburn, since I didn't actually fry (and I've done that, and I looked like a tomato with hair) but I have definite sections of bakage going on. We came up with "Half Baked", and I figure that'll do. It's better than "The Red-Banded Idiot Burn", or "The Pink Zebra", since I am sporting some terrific stripes. But I have a feeling one of those less flattering terms will be the one that's remembered and used for years to come...isn't that the way it usually goes, though?

Note to self: reapply sunblock like the dickens if you're out more than a couple of hours to avoid looking like part of our nation's flag.

No Resolve

This morning I was hanging our wet laundry on the rack out in our unfinished, unconditioned mudroom. I figure if it's going to be beastly hot outside, then I'll let the outdoor oven do me the favor of drying my clothes. It beats letting the electric dryer heat up the whole house, and it's cheaper too (no electricity). I was out there for about 5 minutes, and the kids were ensconced in the living room watching Sesame Street.

When I came back in the house, K ran from the living room to the side door shrieking, "Mommy! Pretty mommy!" I assumed it was something on the television, so I said, "Pretty? OK, show me!" and let her lead me into the living room.

Apparently Sesame Street did not, in fact, capture my daughter's attention for the 5 or so minutes it took me to hang the laundry up to dry. She had instead gone into the pantry, pulled out a box of macaroni and cheese, discarded the noodles on the couch, and then decided to open the cheese packet and dump it all over our newly cleaned and vacuumed cream colored carpet and her brother's chair in the living room. Actually, she didn't just "dump it"; she had arranged the neon orange contents rather carefully on the carpet and her brother's chair, and was proudly showing me how she could grind the cheese into the fibers, now that I was in there to see her "pretty". Her brother had wisely gone upstairs to hide when she did this, and didn't come down until I was dealing with the situation.

I quashed my first impulse, mostly because it involved some violence and blood is a ***** to clean out of anything ~ and also because it was partially my fault for leaving a very curious and industrious 2-yr-old unattended for a few minutes. So I picked up my cheesy-handed daughter (with more tenderness than I thought I had in me at that point) and deposited her in her bedroom for a few minutes. Then I headed downstairs and gathered the noodles, and turned the vacuum on the cheese powder that was arranged on about a quarter of the living room floor (and her brother's chair). The vacuum got most of the powder up, but there was a faint neon orange glow still emanating from the carpet. "Ha HA!" I thought, in my best superhero voice. "I have some Resolve carpet stain remover in the cubby with the cleaners."

Here's a tip for all you parents, babysitters, and grandparents out there:

Never use Resolve carpet cleaner on the cheese powder from a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese when it's on your carpet.

The liquid in the stain remover interacts with whatever trace amounts of cheese powder that is left and forms an orange paste that resembles newly-mixed grout for the tile in your bathroom (only more orange). And then when you go to wipe it up, it spreads. It will come up rather nicely once it's dried, though, and I do believe my carpet is stain-and-cheese free, at least as far as I can tell. We'll know for certain tonight when we turn the lights off ~ if the carpet starts glowing, I've missed some.

Not Just For Llamas

Spitting ~ it's not just for llamas.

My son, A, has started spitting and blowing quick raspberries when he gets upset, while fiercely glaring at whoever has prevented him from getting his way. While it's a change from the usual screech and subsequent tears and howling, the spitting brings the rather unpleasant "germ-spreading" problem to the mix. Z and I had no clue why he started doing this.

Until.

We were watching "Surf's Up", that cute surfing penguin movie ~ and in the movie, Cody (the main character) spits at his brother out of anger and frustration. If memory serves, A started his propensity to spit about the same time the movie came out of the box it was packed in. So, we're pretty sure that is where it came from.

Efforts continue to discourage this sort of behaviour. Since the spitting is the new equivalent of throwing a tantrum (to A, anyway), he gets the same disciplinary measures as he does when he used to screech and howl.

I have actually been called to task by another mother for putting A in time out after he threw a tantrum in the lobby of one of his therapists. She informed me that he can't help it, they don't understand, he needs to be able to express his emotions, and how can you possibly be so mean to your child? This is the same mother whose son routinely has LOUD (!) fits during which he destroys the waiting room, tears up books, kicks, hits, etc. And this same mom has also commented on how well-behaved both of my children are. Sheesh.

We're sorting all of this out and discovering what works for us, and it so happens that our A needs structure, and does better when he knows his parameters. His fits are not frequent, generally, although we have been getting more in the last few weeks since he's been out of school for a longer period of time. So we'll continue with the status quo.

On the verbal front, we have been trying to make A tell us what he needs instead of walking up to us, flinging his hand up, and making a single grunt. Since that is so very vague (and we never know if that means he's thirsty, tired, or wants to visit Rhode Island), we've been making him slow down, stop flapping his hands (which he will do if we make him concentrate sometimes), and think about it for a minute. Persistence pays off, A has started telling us "I Want... [whatever it is] please" several times a day for the last couple of weeks, for everything from a snack, a particular breakfast food (which he has volunteered twice now before I could even ask him what he wanted! Yay!), to movies or toys.

The hand flapping increases when he's trying to concentrate sometimes, but then it is all too easy for him to slip into whatever world he goes to if he does it for more than a few seconds. We've been telling him, "Quiet hands!", and he'll generally snap out of it and put his hands together in front of him for us. Then he'll go play with something. I also think it may be a sign of boredom, but I don't really know how to combat that.

It's already taking all I have to tote him to all his appointments; play and read with him and his little sister, who can be rather demanding too ~ it's like she's two or something :) ; work on some OT-type things at home using a big ball, pens, play-doh, or whatever; and do a really awful job at keeping the house from getting too cluttered. (It's clean, but mail does have a tendency to pile up on the front table until it's falling off ~ at which point I'm forced to do something with it...and the dishwasher seldom leaves its post in front of the sink, it takes too much to roll it across the room sometimes. There are always cookbooks and utensils on the top of it, too). He's got toys, art supplies, books, and a dog ~ plus movies to watch. I introduce new activities as often as I dare, just to keep it fresh without completely throwing A off because his routine has changed.

I know, I know ~ common challenges of motherhood, but with a unique twist.

What complicates matters is Z's new work schedule, in which he now works 5 or 6 12-to-15 hour days a week ~ it depends on the day. Plus an hour's driving time to and from. So some of A's issues may also be because daddy's schedule changed, and he's not seeing him very often any more. (Some of mommy's issues may be due to the same thing, and I know Z ain't lovin' the changes either). But there's not a whole lot we can do about that; we can't exactly tell Uncle Sam to "take a hike". Less than a year left, but who's counting? (Hint: we are!)

* Edited to Add: They are reducing Z's (and everyone else's) workdays to 4 on, 2 off, 5 on, 3 off effective July 1. Same hours apply, though.