Prepping for Round II

We made sure Grandma had plenty of wood upstairs and non-perishable food to eat, in case she loses power again. The boys got to give her lots of hugs and kisses. They got to do some sledding there, and then some more on the hill at home. We replentished supplies of sweet yumminess for home. We're ready for KillStorm 2010 Part II.

Bring it on.

Snow snow snow snow snow

We have a saying here: if there is a high over New England and a Low in Atlanta, it is time to go to the Grocery Store. A Big Storm around here is six inches of snow. Twelve inches is Snowmageddon. KillStorm 2010 was about 15 inches here, about 20 down by my mom. So normally, tomorrow's storm would have caused raging panic. But on the heels of the Snowpocalypse, a prediction of 6-12 inches is now laughable.

All the same, after having my mom just survive 53 hours without power and spotty heat through the coldest temperatures of the winter, I'm a bit on the nervous side about tomorrow. We've had a bit of a roller-coaster here, and here comes our second time around in a week. All fine if you don't have to go anywhere and have your power. Not so great if either of those things are nixxed.

What a year to lose our Jeep.

No power yet at mom's

33 Hours. No power yet. I managed to get out to her to get wood upstairs and stuff, but no power really, really sucks. Especially when the "estimate" was an hour ago, and there isn't even a truck in sight.

Update: They are now scheduling her for 10pm February 9. That's right- tomorrow.

Update: The trucks showed up at one, and the power was restored at 4. HALLELUJAH!!!! Really makes us wonder about getting her a generator, but then that could be just another bundle of troubles. :P

Snowpocalypse: Final Assessment

The snow lifted off about 5pm. Here's some pics from about 6pm. Waiting on word about my mom's power situation.

KillStorm 2010: The Snowapocalypse

8 am of Saturday. We have 4-5 inches of very very very wet snow. It appears to be snowing more right now than all of yesterday.

EDIT: WE've had 8 more inches of the fluffier stuff. Made me glad I went out and got the heavy stuff shoveled up. But now mom's without power, and that' s bad.

Adventures in Grocery Shopping: Snowpocalypse, or KillStorm 2010, Edition

The DeathSnow is coming! AAAAAAAAA!!! We're all gonna DIE!!!!!!!!

I had to go to the grocery store. It's going to snow pretty heavily here this weekend, and I am going to run out of my meds, so I had to have them refilled.*** Also, they called school pre-emptively, and I didn't want to take the guys into a crowded grocery store the day of a Snowtastrophe, so off I went to grab a few things in case we lose power, like marshmallows. Oh, and some stuff for mom to make a lasagne and some soup, in case she gets snowed in for a few days, which is far more likely than me being snowed in for a few days, as I live on a main drag downtown.

The scene at the grocery was incredible. Insane. There was no produce. I got my hands on the last head of cabbage. There were no bananas, no grapes, no pears, no berries, no broccoli, no carrots, no onions... I grabbed a head of lettuce, which the poor produce manager had brought out trying to stock something. People were taking it faster than she could stock it, right out of the box beside her.

There was no bread, no cheese, no sausage, no hamburger. The deli should have closed before I got there, but were so busy, there wasn't time to close. I did manage to get some cold cuts. There were no roasts, except sirloin. They were restocking the chicken, it had been cleared. There were some expensive cuts of things, but anything reasonable was gone. Oh, and there was plenty of stew meat at $3 a pound. Who pays $3 a pound for stew meat?

Eggs, milk, orange juice, toilet paper, pasta, soda, chips, all ravaged. No velveeta. No cottage cheese. No yogurt.

I have never seen anything like it.

Someone tried to sneak my head of cabbage from my basket while I was perusing the eggs. I saw a person pick up the last package of hamburger, and get accosted by three other shoppers who wanted it. I wasn't the only one who found the whole thing absolutely ridiculous, and so there was a group of us who just burst out laughing every time we passed each other, with comments of, "We're all gonna DIE!!!" High adventure in aisle five!

Fortunately, I have another little grocery store I like very much, but they haven't even tried to compete with Wegman's prices. However, desperate days, my friends, desperate days. I went there and paid a little more for my stuff, but they actually had the stuff. Because when they are calling for two feet of snow in this part of the world, it is indeed Snowpocalypse. It might take me a couple days to get out of my driveway, and I have two boys to entertain for those two or three days. And they are home from school tomorrow. Let the party begin!!!


***And on top of that, I have to go back tomorrow. My meds didn't get filled before the pharmacy closed.

Start From Here

There's been a lot of negativity blowing in the wind this week. Lots of little drops of water that converge into a massive waterfall. Or that last little flake that starts the avalanche is tossing about on the breeze. Soap operas and novellas here that I usually leave in the shadows of my life instead of pasting into the public view of the internet. The ravages of hypotheticals and the ire they raise, the what-ifs, the should-bes, the thoughts of things gone awry. The accusations of blowing roses (I think that will now be a permanent part of my image vocabulary) which get me thinking about life, and the way we thought it would be. All of which gets exasperated by exhaustion, stress, drama, and of course, depression. One of the joys of clinical depression is that all the negativity can get magnified. Oh, fun. Well, that's what the Wellbutrin is for, right?

I've done my weighing-in on the cure non-issue. The semantics of it all seems to get mired in the problems of parenting, existing, and expectations. It's as sticky as it gets, all the stickier because its completely moot. All it does is aggravate the negativity.

No, this isn't the way we planned life to be. Heck, last fall I had all these plans for cleaning and cooking and sewing and working and... life happened instead. All those dreams and thoughts and hopes and fears for my life I had before Joey? All moot. That's not what happened. Life happened instead. Funny thing, life. It has a funny way of rolling aside into little eddies instead of sticking to the main current. Lots of little droplets, running downhill together to the sea. If we separate the droplets out and look at them, which can we blame for sending us into the eddy?

Perhaps it is more my way of coping with stress to try to start from here. I suppose it is an attitude that got emphasized in studying Buddhism, where questions of origins are often considered "not edifying", and so left unanswered. How we got here? Only important to avoid getting here again, if this isn't where we want to be. So often, we can't avoid it, so mulling on it now isn't helping. Here we are. Where to now? I would much prefer resources going into educational strategies and support systems for autistic people, because Joey is autistic, and he had needs, right now. How he got to be autistic is a mystery, and not one I'm so sure would be that useful to solve. "Would you cure him?" is not an edifying question. I have no time for that right now. I have to start from the right here and right now, not some hypothetical possible starting point.

Oh, sure, we have to think of possibilities. At the same time, we end up with chicken-and-egg logic loops and angels-on-pinheads academic games that just aren't that useful right now. It just gets mired in negativity.

And as for the roses thing? I'm not going to tell anybody they don't have the right to feel angry, bitter, resentful, sad, depressed, despondent, stressed, tired, desperate, frustrated. When your life isn't going as planned, when you watch people you love lost in frustration, in depression, struggling, hurting, trying so hard, unhappy, isolated, stressed, it gets to you. And I'm not just talking about our autistic loved ones, either. The morass is laid out before you, and to get mired in it like Brer Rabbit in the Tar Baby. You have the right to get lost in the morass. That's being human. Some might say it is weak to do so, but I disagree- even the strongest have the right to feel all of these things, and we all get a little wandery sometimes. But is that useful? Are you feeling any better? Are you a better person for getting lost in your own resentment, your own anger, your own grief? Isn't there a difference between feeling these things, and getting lost or mired in them? You know why you should make lemonade when life hands you lemons? Because lemonade is constructive, sweet, and even fun. Citrus gone soft and moldy isn't only not useful, it gets a little smelly. And makes the other lemons go bad quicker. But hey, they're your lemons. Sometimes you can just enjoy looking at the lemons. There isn't always a rush for lemonade. Not everyone even likes lemonade. Maybe we should squeeze them a use a little zest, and make lemoncake instead. Or they might make a nice wreath...

Once caught in our eddy, it can be hard to escape the pull of that swirl. Once you find yourself drowning in lemons, you might not exactly be thinking "hmmm, what I really need now is a nice, cold glass of this stuff." And as I've said before, dump a little clinical depression on top, and you find you're really being pulled down into the vortex. One thing I do when I feel that pull, is I come here, and write about Joey and Andy. I write about things that happened. Sometimes its good to share the pitfalls, the hard stuff, the things that I wonder if its happening out there to other folks. More times its better to write about things going right, partly to keep them in the fore. There is little more one can do to counter darkness than to drown it in light- open the door, turn on the light, light the candle, raise the blinds and draw back the drapes. Air out the bad stuff, emphasize the good stuff, and start from here. Now take a step forward. One foot in front of the other sounds so easy, but we all know how much of a challenge it can really be. We are special needs parents, after all.

Magic Invisible Friends

Most kids have imaginary friends. It is part of being a child, to explore the world and see the magic there, and to provide onesself company when it is needed. This is part of the blur between reality and fantasy that makes childhood so fascinating to adults, and so fun for kids.

You may recall that Andy has an imaginary friend, T-Rex Dinosaur. We have added to the menagerie of imaginary friends, but none is so prominent, and only one other leaves the house (that would be Piggie... long story).

You may also recall that I didn't know if Joey had an imaginary friend. I am now proud and pleased to report that we know, without a doubt. Joey has imaginary friends. Note the plural.

In fact, he has an imaginary class. They are named Aaron, Eric, and Sophia. Joey is the teacher, and these three are his students. They do math problems. They have reading assignments. When they misbehave, Joey corrects them and tells them how to behave correctly, and why what they were doing was wrong. If he's a little harsh with them, they get upset and he has to apologize and comfort them.

Lots of insights to be had into his world, I think. I'm paying close attention, never fear.

Snowy Snow Day

Henri Cam: Groovin' Snail Edition

Or in HD...

Locks of Love

So about every, oh, two, maybe three, years I manage to get to the beauty shop. When I get there, the first thing I do is chop off my hair. See, I have hair that grows like wisteria up a pine tree. So over once in a while, I cut it off and send it to Locks of Love. This organization helps disadvantaged children by providing them with prosthetics for hair loss (for example, when children are going through chemotherapy, or when they have alopecia areata).

Once upon a time, one of the children attending therapies at the practice Joey had for OT had alopecia areata. She was a darling of a child, and I always remember her mom finally had to pull her out of public school because she was being teased so badly. The child was seven years old. And though I will not invade her privacy by giving you her name, I donate my hair to Locks of Love in her honor. She was a strong, hard-working, sweet child who was a pleasure to know, and I am sure brings joy, intelligence, wit, and all other great things to all who know her. Those kids in the public school who gave her so hard a time that her mother felt compelled to take her out? They are definitely paying a price, even if they don't know it.

As we all try to learn and teach tolerance, we need to really emphasize empathy, and emphasize it from a young age at every opportunity. We are all unique- that is what makes living such a special, wonderful, fabulous adventure every single day of our lives, and beyond.

Locks of Love take all hair donations. With donations of ten inches or more, they can make the actual prosthetics they provide to the children. With shorter donations, they sell the hair and use the proceeds to support the organization and pay for the production of the hair pieces. The next time you head over to the beauty salon, please consider donating. Put your hair in a ponytail holder to keep it neat, place it in a plastic bag, and mail it to:

Locks of Love
234 Southern Blvd
West Palm Beach, FL 33405

(They just moved, so be sure to use the correct address!)
They also gratefully accept financial contributions.

Time for Prizes

The boys earned their trip to Chuck E Cheese! Woo-hoo!

We have a regular routine when we go to Chuck E. Cheese. We come in, and I have a couple of coins left over from last time to distribute while I purchase the new round of pizza and fun. Boys romp off to remove shoes and get playing. I order and find a table to act as Home Base, where I set up shop (including going and finding the removed shoes).

The boys then play until the pizza comes. Then Joey comes and eats pizza, while Andy flits from table to games and back taking fleeting bites of sausage and cheese. When the pizza is gone, we play a little longer, usually about 25 tokens' worth.

Then it is Prize Time. The boys put on their shoes and coats, we clean up, and we take our tickets and ticket slips to the counter. We pick out prizes, and go home.

It works really, really well. It is still a little odd to me to sit and read or write and not know exactly where both boys are at every single moment, but we'll all live through it. I do tend to sit in one of a select group of tables to make it easier for Joey to find me, and easier for me to play air hockey with him without having our coats stolen. It also happens to have the best and widest view of the floor, so I can look up at any given moment and make a good sweep to see where they both are. But anyway...

It was really crowded yesterday. Sunday afternoons are normally a good time, nice and quiet, but yesterday the place was loaded up with four birthday parties, and every seat in the house occupied. Madhouse. I ran out of spare coins before I got more, because the registers were down. People were everywhere. I had a ten-minute wait to snatch up a table (which, fortunately, appeared in my select group, yay!), so here came the pizza just as I got set up. Finding boys? Aye-yai-yai. Did I mention there were people everywhere?

When there are lots of people in a Chuck E. Cheese, one thing that mysteriously happens is the skee ball balls disappear. I don't know why. However, it is highly annoying to try to play skee ball without the full number of balls. The more tired Joey got, the more frustrated he became with the lost balls. And did I mention how many people were there? Crowds are not a good thing.

So Joey plops down across from me, his eyes starting to look a little teary and ready to melt, and he says, "Time for prizes!"

Yep, time to go, little man. Good call.

One Week Later

Um- hi! Remember me? I know, I have been remiss in my posting this week. We had a lot of unexpecteds, but nothing totally insane. Here I am. We live! We still have one fish, one snail, two cats, two kids, and an intact house. All is right in the world.

Currently, I have two little guys working hard to earn their last few stars, because they wan to go to Chuck E. Cheese something frantic. It is scheduled to rain this afternoon, so I am hoping they earn those stars sooner rather than later. Crowds are still titchy things for us.

Yesterday, we were at the park. One of Joey's classmates showed up, a very nice girl, we had seen her and her mom here and there all last summer, but never really gotten to speak with them. Joey and his friend juggled through playing, making concessions for each other so that Joey could call "Bonnogoes!"* as he liked, and she got to maintain her personal space. The mom was interesting. The friend isn't vaccinated, and they go to a pediatrician who offers "holistic practices" alongside regular medicine. She was surprised that I urged vaccination. She was surprised that I didn't think autism was caused by mercury and heavy metal poisoning. She was surprised that I thought Joey was autistic from birth. In other words, she thought I was crazy as the proverbial loon. But she remained pleasant (why get titchy with a lunatic?), then JoeyAndyDad and I took the two very tired boys home.

Andy has taken to hopping up first thing in the morning, running downstairs, and making sure the fish is still alive. Every. Day.

But otherwise, life goes on. I hope to spend this coming Friday working on the basement. It is kind of odd not have to write lectures from scratch every week, but I'll be doing some tweaking. I need to make some corrections in the online classes- typos and stuff. Looks like our Fearless Leader has finally figured it out, and I might have my summer and fall schedules this week (wow! I'll be able to plan stuff!). So we're chucking right along here. I'll try to do better with the posting and stuff.


*This is the soundification of "barnacles!" Joey has settled on, since he doesn't know much about Spongebob Squarepants- though apparently one of his classmates does.

Happy Birthday, MLK!

My boys, on the subject of Martin Luther King, Jr. and what they learned at school:

Joey: Monday is Martin Luther King Jr's birthday, he was born in 1929. And he grew up fast!
Andy: And we get to eat his cake. And blow out his candles because he died. And eat his cake. He had a dream.
Joey and Andy: And we don't have to go to school!


One of the truly wonderful things about my kids is their acceptance of difference. It partly comes with the territory of being one of the "different", but it also is something about just growing up with all sorts of people. Much of the school lesson about Martin Luther King, Jr. emphasizes the racial problems this country experienced. Last year's summary from Joey was that "Brown people and apricot people didn't get along."

I think this is a mistake. The emphasis of early education about Martin Luther King should be an appreciate of others, respect for other people, and acceptance of people for who they are. There should be a lot of lessons about self-worth, dignity, and friendship. We should be entrenching that respect and acceptance. Like so many other cultural norms, the idea of people are who they are should simply be. The idea of judging another person by their skin color should be a completely foreign concept to these kids.

After all, that is the dream of Reverend King: that we should be judged by the content of our character, rather than the color of our skin. When children are older and more able to grapple with abstract concepts, they can learn the issues of the historical moment, the reasons why this was a dream, and not a reality, when those words were spoken. For the little ones, let's try just having that dream be the reality they live. Let's focus on diversity, not difference.

Fish update

We are down to one fish. We believe the fish we got at PetSmart had something wrong with them. This is not uncommon for minnows, as they are used as feeders, and stores consequently do not properly care for them. The ones we got from Walmart were healthier. However, we seem to have an issue that looks like a swim bladder infection. Caught from the diseased fish? Just happens? No way to know. I have removed the little guy from the tank to his own little bowl, but he doesn't look good. The healthy one, and the snail, are looking OK. We'll see.

Update to the update: I may have spoken too soon. Our little guy in the holding bowl is looking better, and swimming better. Hmmm.

Update to the update of the update: Nope. We lost him. The other fish looks really good today, so keep your fins crossed.

Haiti

My great-uncle Watson did field work in Haiti in 1929 and 1930, learning abut taxidermy for the Smithsonian and collecting specimens (including live specimens for the zoo).

Hearing about the devastation of the earthquake there, I wonder what he would have done.

As for what we can do, the best thing in such disasters is to give money. The Red Cross and SAlvation Army can get supplies, equipment, and personnel there faster and more cost-effectively than we can, and they don't have to pay retail prices.

The Salvation Army

The American Red Cross

Wordless Wednesday: How Far We've Come

My Small Corner of the Interwebz

I've been sharing our lives with you all for 3 1/2 years now. Potentially, I have let the entire world in on my life, my thoughts, my adventures, my ups and downs, for the last 3 1/2 years. Life is very different. In May of 2006, Joey was still in preschool. He speech was so limited, I actually blogged about even the hints of conversation, though Joey was still using single-word responses. We went crazy with joy at signs of pretend play. The huge, dramatic meltdowns of a frustrated child were far more common. I remember that first comment from Maddy, that first hint that I wasn't just talking to myself out here. We were in the midst of IEP Hell, trying to get footing, trying to get a master's in special education practice and law in the few short months we had to master the system and the skills for getting Joey was he needed. We needed to know what he actually needed. At the same time, we had Andy to raise and learn about, and his needs to understand and master.

Yeah, we've come a long way. In that time, I have seen other folks with wider-read blogs, blogs that started and took off. OUr little corner has remained a comfy corner with my squishy-comfy couch, hot chocolate on the stove, and plenty of cozy quilts to snuggle under. I don't do the things that make a blog expand and take on life of its own. I don't advertise, I don't label and tag, and don't do a lot of jumping up and down and making noise elsewhere. I don't do reviews, unless I feel like something out to be brought to your attention because I think it would be helpful and awesome. I have never been to BlogHer. If I get 100 hits in a day, that's a big deal, and I check out what I talked about to cause the spike.

I started out trying to help folks. That was the idea behind this blog- to offer what we were learning, knowing others needed to know, and fast. Being a quiet little corner can help that, because you don't get the tramping of unwelcome feet, you don't see a lot of the venom from having huge numbers of people with vast diversity of opinions battling it out in your comments. I can share experiences here that might not normally be put on a huge blog, more pictures, more little vignettes of life with children generally, and with an autistic child, a very beautiful autistic child, specifically. I can provide those little reminders that life is good, you can do this, and we're all in it together. After all, that's what life is- we're all in this together. The Earth is really quite small, you know. A little comfy corner of the cosmos.

Perhaps being a bigger blog (and a better-written blog), along the lines of Whitterer or Stimeyland or Maternal Instincts, I might reach more people. Or maybe not. One thing you learn as a teacher, just because you give the lecture and answer the questions doesn't mean everybody learns. Yet somehow I find being that comfy corner of the web with the squishy couches and ice cream to be something else the community needs. Maybe that's just the way I am.

Introducing: The New Residents

If these die, we're getting gerbils. I can deal with small fuzzy things that breathe air.

Zakh Price: Sleepless Nights

There are stories out there that keep me up at night, wallowing in thought. The story of Zakh Price is one of them.

For those of you not aware of this ongoing epic, Zakh Price is eleven years old and just started at a new school in Arkansas this past fall. Unfortunately for Zakh, the school's ignorance about special education practice, law, and purpose now has this disabled child facing felony charges and institutionalization. Needless to say, his grandmother, who is his guardian, is beside herself- and out of money. Lawyers ain't cheap, and going head-to-head with a school like this requires lawyers.

If that's not enough to make for sleepless nights, get this: one of the school personnel involved in the escalation of the situation and pressing charges against this child is the school principal.

I am currently working to start the transition process for my son. Our district has gotten on the trendy bandwagon of separating elementary grades into upper and lower elementary. Now, I know there are lots of really good reasons for doing this, particularly with regular-ed kids. After all, there is a huge difference between a kindergardener and a fifth grader. On the other hand, it makes for a pain in the butt for special-ed kids. We lose consistency in staff and philosophy. You just start getting the kinks out of IEP implementation, and you have to basically start from scratch with a whole new set of people who don't know you, don't know your kid, and may have a completely different idea of what educating your kid even means.

I have emailed the school principal three times. Only two of those emails have apparently gotten through to his office. One, I was told he would call, and he never did. The next was only acknowledged after I pointed out this issue to the director of student services, was again told I would be called, and... never have been. This man clearly doesn't understand why I am concerned and want to get this ball rolling now. I have been told balls started rolling among the school personnel, but the relationship with me? Not batting 1000, that's for sure. I find that frightening, especially in light of stories like that of Zakh Price. If the principal is not on board, not trained, not educated, then it clearly is not a priority to that principal- and how can we expect the teachers and staff to be appropriately trained, if such training and understanding are not considered a priority by the principal of the school?

Fortunately- and unfortunately- I have seen some of the special ed staff at this school in action. I have seen excellent teachers. I have seen fair-to-mediocre administrators. I have seen representatives of the school inappropriately railroad a parent in a public forum, and steer a public forum inappropriately to a specific case instead of considering the broader issues involved in that case. Overall, I'm really not comfortable with sending Joey to this new school based on my current observations and conversations with parents in that school. The best teacher on the planet can be railroaded by a mediocre administrator- I've seen it happen first-hand. I know for a fact they have not yet hired the personnel they will need to appropriately understand my son and appropriately support him in regular-ed classrooms. We are not looking forward to the step back we are likely to see if that doesn't change in the next few months.

Yes, the story of Zakh Price keeps me up at night. I fervently believe that we will not have such a dramatic and ugly experience as the Price family is experiencing, but it doesn't need to be so dramatic to still be disastrous.

Plans and works

I had to tell Joey this morning that Quille was gone. When we told Andy about Chris, we got the expected heart-wrenching wailing of loss. With Joey, grief is not so obvious (unless, of course, you know him). I had prepared him, telling him last night how sick Quille was, and that we did not expect him to live, but we were doing everything we could do. I think he knew when he toddled in to the bedroom and saw my face. His own dropped.

He didn't cry or wail. He had questions for me. Was his fish moving? Was he in the box with Chris and Godot? Would a cat eat him? Can we get a new fish? What will Andy name his new fish?

Then the processing: Quille isn't moving any more. Quille was alive yesterday. Andy's fish is dead. It isn't moving anymore. Quille isn't moving anymore. We will get new fish. I'm sorry about the fish. I hate that my fish is dead. My fish died.

I explained our plan to get rosy reds instead of goldfish this time. Rosy reds are minnows, so they are more social and not as dirty as goldfish. They don't get as big, either. Both boys seem to have latched onto the new minnows. I have checked out the water and gotten some bacteria and stuff for it to get it to recover its cycle, and having less dirty fish in our tank should be a help. I scouted out the fish in town, and I have our source pegged out. I spent a long time in front of the snail tanks.

A long time.

Fish Catastrophe

I'm sorry to announce that we have had a catastrophe with the fish. I use filtered drinking water to change the tank water every other day. I bought the water at a different-than-usual place yesterday, and changed the water this morning. We believe that there was something in that water that has resulted in... well, we have lost Chris and Godot, and Quille is very, very weak.

I have pulled the tank apart and cleaned and rinsed everything, refilled it with the proper water, and changed all filters. We will see how many fish we are buying tomorrow.

Edit: Quille did not survive the night. I am going to let the tank settle and clear, and then the current plan is to try some rosy reds to help the tank cycle again.

Taking Christmas Down

So Joey turns to me Monday afternoon and says, "Mommy, let's take the Christmas tree down." Yep, it's time. Christmas is over. For Joey's world view, Christmas came, Christmas went, it is time to move on. So today, the tree came down. Happy Twelfth Night.

I started while the boys were in school, stripping the tree of ornaments that might require special packing or sorting of any kind. The gold chains, the paper Santas, the toys, etc. all go in their own particular boxes, leaving the plastic to be tossed into one big tub together. In a couple more years, I'll be able to get my real decorations out. Then the boys rolled in. Andy took a few decorations off, then got distracted by the arrival of our neighbor. Joey came off the bus without his backpack, and he nearly melted down he was so upset about forgetting it on the bus. He didn't really recover enough to be interested until I was taking the lights off. Those still need to be boxed. So I ended up doing the vast majority of tree-disassembly myself.

And like most years, as I take the decorations down, I realize that the vast majority of you, once again, never even saw them.

If that strikes you as odd, just keep in mind that as I am putting them up, I am thinking things like, "wow, Stimey would really like this," or "Niksmom would think this was totally cute," or "I wonder what Maddy's kids would think of this." Yes, I love my Christmas decorations, and the solid majority of them I am thinking, "I'm glad Mom this this is pretty" or "JoeyAndyDad enjoys this" or "Joey and Andy are gonna go bonkers over this." And of course, "Hey, this is nice. Let me see how it would look if I did this." And there is an awful lot of things I wish I had gotten around to doing, planned to do, even bought what I needed to get it done, and didn't. But it just seems really weird and surreal to me that most of you guys never see them. In fact, very few folks ever see them. The boys. JoeyAndyDad, My Mom. Evan. This year, my Dad and his wife saw them. Ms. A and Mr. Wesley happened in to see them mostly, but not fully, set up. The neighbor saw them briefly.

And that's it.

I know, last year I put up the video of the decorations, and I hope you guys liked it. I love putting them up and seeing the world all pretty-sparkly Christmasy wonderland in my house. I will miss my lighted garlands of glass ornaments, even if I've been mostly too tired to spend a lot of time in the evening downstairs.

But somehow, that realization that you guys don't see them, it is just one of those things. Something about wishing you were here.

Godot Cam: Happy Snail Edition

Insanity: Again.

Many of you might recall that my father and I have an odd non-relationship. You might also recall that he insists on coming to see us around January/Christmas, and that I'm too much of a freakin' chicken to do anything about it. After last year, you'd think I'd get the hint. But no.

He was arriving at 3:30. There were murmurings of picking up the kids from school and hiding out at Chuck E. Cheese, but I didn't. I should have. But I didn't. There was no way to clean the house in time. I hadn't really bought them any presents. My plan had been to see them at the family Christmas and hope to hide for another year. However, my father had made something for the boys, and it was "too big". Just what we needed, something big.

Every year, my father makes something for the boys. It is a nice gesture, I suppose. One year he made them a rocking chair (meaning he painted one green and put a little "John Deere" faux logo on it). Another year it was rocking horse (not sure if he actually put that one together or not). He glued little wood animals to some peg strips he got as the craft store one year. Last year it was a Tic Tac Toe board, which worked out nicely, as the boys were very into Tic Tac Toe. This year? This very large board, painted in strips, with a hole, and legs on one side. You set up the board so it is angled, and toss bean bags at the hole. He had some fancy name for it, and much time was spent informing me of the official rules, and the fact that this was an official-sized board, but the hole was a little bigger than "regulation" because the boys were still little.

Do you have somebody that does things like this to make themselves feel better, and have you ever wondered how you are supposed to take it? I'll put it against another example of gift-giving. My Uncle Lou made the boys a game a couple of summers ago. He took PVC piping, made a three-bar frame, then drilled into tennis balls and connected two with a rope. You throw the balls-on-rope at the frame, and score points if you get them to wrap around one of the bars. The boys love it. It comes apart to be stored, and it is an outside game. He made it for them because he had made one for his own grandsons (the Cousins), and they had really liked it. During a visit, they surprised us with it.

Somehow, it feels so very different. My uncle has no obligation to my children. He saw they really enjoyed something, and he made it happen. Am I the only person who sees the difference?

My husband has assured me more support next year. As in, when we get (if we get) warning, we are hauling butt to Chuck E. Cheese. It's less stressful.

Happy New Year!

Welcome to 2010! Here's hoping this year is happy, healthy, and tons of fun!

Wordless Wednesday: Team Stimey Rocks

Godot Cam

As Far As it Gets

We're as far from Christmas as we can ever be. Hope you had a good holiday, we certainly did.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I will be spending the day avoiding the Birthday Bird- a story I shall one day share with you guys. Let's just say, this is my Bad Luck Day. Yay, me.

Out Into the World

Well, folks, we emerged from the Snowpocalypse today, little worse for the wear. we were not amused to find our town sucks at clearing roads, while just across the bridge, the arteries are clear and beautiful. We had speech this morning at 9; I left plenty of time, and we did so well, we got to stop and have Second Breakfast before the appointment.

Then, since were out of my driveway and actually in the world, we decided to kick butt and take names with errands.

We did some stuff for my mom at her office. We got folks paid who needed to be paid. We got the holiday cards in the mail (will yours reach you by Christmas? No idea. But Merry Christmas anyway. I feel fortunate I got to write them at all this year). We picked up a few things at the grocery. I even took the boys to lunch!

And what a lunch it was! It is our favorite little place to take the boys, so we had a lovely time. The boys actually got up, got plates, served themselves food, and sat down. By themselves. Without any peeps for help from a mom. It was kinda weird, actually. And when they wanted more food? They got up and got it.

My babies are all growed up.

After such success, we went home and made snowmen and watched movies and ate popcorn and drank hot chocolate and stuff. because that's what you do when it's day 3 of the Snowpocalypse: you just sit back and enjoy the snow.

The semester is officially done.

Yes! Yes! I have turned in the grades, and Hell Semester is officially over! Now I can get back to the good stuff: Christmas and blogging. Where has the time gone?

This will probably be another thin posting week, but you never know with me. Hopefully I'll be really, really back to everything after the guys go back to school. But then, I have three classes to revamp (especially in light of Hell Semester 2009).

Hey, Look! It Snowed!

Hmmmm. I think it snowed this weekend. This was our Saturday Morning Jaunt into the snow. We lasted about half an hour, because the snow kept blowing into our faces- and coats, boots, mittens, hoods...


This is still the morning venture. By the time we went out for the afternoon, Joey was in snow above his knees to go down the sidewalk. He got snow in his boots, which made him very unhappy. But the morning for him was OK.


Boys exploring a winter wonderland like they have never seen.

We got about 18 inches, maybe 20. It hasn't snowed like this here in a while. It was the fluffy stuff, too cold to pack- maybe tomorrow the sun will hit it enough to be able to make snowmen. Or something. Virginia usually gets wetter snow, so the depth is a little deceptive. Rule of thumb is that wet snow is half as deep as dry snow for the same about of water. So this storm would have been 9-10 inches or normal Virginia snow. That would still have been major (in my opinion, more major, as wet snow is heavier to shovel and doesn't blow or sweep as well as dry snow). This was an awesome storm. Think the whole winter will be like this? Spring semester will be a disaster!

It's snowing.

Joey pops his little head down the stairs. He's supposed to be in bed, but hey, its officially Christmas Break! There's a big, lit tree in the front hall, ornaments everywhere, excitement abounds! And now we're being hit with a lovely snowstorm!

"It's snowing!" he announces gleefully. He hops down the stairs.
"Whatcha doin', Buddy?" we inquire, the cue to tell us if something is wrong.
"I want kisses!" he informs us. "Two!"

Happy Snow Day.

Why I Love the Child Across the Street

Coming off the bus, his first question is always, "Can I play with Joey and Andy today?"
"Sure," I usually reply. Andy gets off the another bus, because the friend is slightly older, but he and Andy are quite compatible in terms of energy. Andy likes having someone to run off energy with. We wander over to our house together.
"Where's Joey?" He stops, then says, "oh, I forgot, he's on another bus." That is all there is to that, a statement of fact; his friend is missing, he misses him, he wishes Joey present, but will be patient.

"Let's go outside," he announces; the weather is nice, and he wants to be out in it rather than playing with Andy inside. Besides, my glass is up, so he can't bounce in here. Joey wants to watch the Disney Santa laugh, so he doesn't move. Andy tosses on shoes and coat. "Aren't you coming, Joey?" Joey doesn't respond right away, so the child says, "OK, then," and out he goes; as he reaches the door, Joey finally gets the words out, "I want to watch Santa laugh first. When this is over." The child looks slightly disappointed, but responds with another version of "ok, then."

Andy and the child race up and down the sidewalk with trucks, they are actually playing two different games, but the games mesh nicely. Andy then races off forward, is fussing with a tree; the child glances at our van. He has seen it dozens of times before, but suddenly notices my bumper stickers. He reads them aloud.
"What's autism?" he asks.
"Autism is a different way of thinking, having your brain wired a little differently. It causes kids to have different strengths and weaknesses than people expect. Autistic people often have trouble talking or having a conversation, for example."
"Oh."
"Joey is autistic."
"Yeah." He reads another one. "Autism is not a tragedy, ignorance is a tragedy. What does that mean?"
"It means people often don't understand people with autism, or what autism is, and they think it is a bad thing, or they think autistic people are stupid."
"Joey isn't stupid."
"No, he isn't..."
"He's one of the nicest kids I know!" the tone is one of offense; he is upset that anyone would think badly of Joey. I have seen him struggle with trying to include Joey, trying very hard to play with him, talk with him. I have often wondered what this child thinks of my son, since he has seen Joey react in unexpected ways, answer in unexpected ways, or not react or answer at all. Now there is no doubt, the fierce look, the sharp tone, the grim brow tell me everything. This child finds the idea of JOey being "different" to be perfectly acceptable, and people who think less of Joey as being ignorant.

And he's quite right.

I do love that child. He can bounce through my house anytime he pleases.

Pre-holiday Grabbag

The holidays are upon us.

Santa is working hard to find a large dinosaur, hopefully plastic, articulated, and with a roar, and somewhere in the range of $30. Decorations are going up. Tomorrow's plan: clean the kitchen so I can spent the majority of Tuesday. Wednesday, and Thursday baking. Oh, wait, that would be today's plan. Yes, tis the season for insomnia, too.

Also its the end of the semester. It is much like the huge deadlines faced by folks with real jobs. We all call it Hell Week- no, its not the finals that are the problem. Grading is no problem. The student whining, however, is enough to make your head explode. And this is the time of year when the whining is loudest, and the most useless. It is too late. This year, they went whining not just to me, but to my department chair. There is nothing that feels like a punch of stomach like having the students you have spent the entire semester supporting, giving breaks, coaxing, pleading, pulling out all the stops trying to get them to understand material and perform at the college level complain to your boss that you are "unprofessional." No, wait, how about an email from said boss asking you to "do some soul searching"? It sure makes you feel sorry you have standards. Life would be so much easier if you didn't. Students who get As rarely complain ("getting" and "earning" are two entirely different things).

No, wait, what about realizing you've dropped a ball? I've called the school Joey will be in next year- no, more accurately, I have emailed, as I was told to do that rather than call- three times. The first time I actually got a response from the principal's secretary saying he would call. He never did. The other two messages? No response at all. I should have already been in to see classes, meet teachers, and get the transition process rolling. I should be planning spring IEP now. Instead, I have done nothing, gotten nowhere, and been summarily and consequently ignored. I run the risk of Joey suffering as further consequence. One of those days I planned for baking will likely be swallowed by trying to stand in the office in protest until someone deigns to speak with me. It's a little more important than cookies, don't you think?

I still have holiday cards to send. I haven't even taken a good photo of the boys yet this year. With my computer crash, I lost a bunch of addresses and am still trying to track them down. I pulled out last year's cards, but of course the address I want most is the envelope that is missing.

I need to put together teacher presents. These folks have worked their butts off. Joey's teachers have really done gangbusters for him this year, now that the schedule is settled. This is likely to be the last year to give a present to Mrs. H and Ms. Macy, so I want to have something super-spectacular for them. Joey's speech therapist has been a godsend. Andy's teacher has been nothing short of a miracle.

I ordered some books last month from scholastic. I wonder why I haven't gotten them yet.

The boys have been so good, and got such good report cards, I took them to Charles d'Fromage for dinner. Two ecstatic boys. I signed up for coupons, which made it even better. Andy likes to go up in the tubes, there is a lion cage above where I set up basecamp. It roars when you go in. He can also sit up there and call down to me, and to his brother. Oh, and know when the pizza arrives. It must be a fabulous view. Joey won a bunch of tickets at skeeball, he was so pleased with himself. Yes, nothing like an evening of listening to Chuck and his pals singing classic Christmas carols, like "Big Band Santa" and "The Twelve Days of Chuck E's" .

Two more final exams tomorrow. I already have two who have called in sick. But I got their number. I put up an online version. They can do it nicely from home- where they claim to be as they send me email.

I gotta get these grades done. This semester desperately needs to be over.

Happy holidays!

Introducing: Godot

Our newest family member, and tankmate: a golden mystery snail. I don't care what the kids decide to name him. To me, he shall be Godot.

Wordless Wednesday: Decorating the Cookies

(note that my guys are running about the background of the pic)

Is Your Refrigerator Running?

We will know Joey is really on the way to independence when he can really tell a joke. Not the zinger kind (he does that already), but the staged kind, the kind you rehearse and know the lines and deliver. Like a knock-knock joke. Or, as JoeyAndyDad has been working on, the Fridge Joke.

What? Don't know the Fridge Joke? It should go like this:

First Person: RING RING RING!
Second Person: Hello?
First Person: Hello, this is Bob from Bob's appliance repair! Is your refrigerator running?
Second Person: Well, yes, it is.
First Person: Then you'd better catch it!

Hahaha.

This is what it sounds like in our house:

Joey: RING RING! Hello!
JoeyAndyDad: I'm supposed to say hello. Hello!
Joey: Do you have a refrigerator?
JoeyAndyDad: Um... Yeah.
Joey: HAHAHA!

Andy: RING RING RING!
JoeyAndyDad: Hello?
Andy: Do you have some cash?
JoeyAndyDad: Um... I could use some. Do you have some?
Andy: Yes! And a refrigerator! I will buy you one!
JoeyAndyDad: Cash and a free refrigerator! I'm all about that!

JoeyAndyDad: RING RING RING!
Joey: Hello, Daddy!
JoeyAndyDad: This is Al from Al's appliance repair. Is your refrigerator running?
Joey: HAHAHAHA!


But it's coming along. At least they get the idea that something funny is supposed to be happening, and we can all laugh. Laughing is good. We'll take plenty of laughing.

For My Mom

Was it last year, or the year before? It must have been last year, Andy was in school. Mom called me, all excited- she was driving down the road, when she saw the Budweiser truck parked at a local farm. And lo and behold, there were the Clydesdales!

And the next day, they were still there, so we were driving down the road and Mom says, "There they are! There they are!" and we stopped. All I had with me was my cell phone, and I had no idea how to take pictures with it. So I poked buttons until it looked like I was taking pictures.

It was amazing how many folks were just driving by. We were the only ones who stopped. I hope they don't mind us taking pictures, but they are just so gorgeous.

And then, I had no idea how to get the pictures off me phone, or what quality they would be. But now, I have persevered, and present to you: the Budweiser Clydesdales, resting on a farm in Virginia.

Wordless Wednesday: Gingerbread House!

Happy Holidays Are Here!

Hello, Santa! Let the fun begin!

Overheard at our house II

"Andy, stop! You're scaring my skeleton!"

"Once upon a time, there was a dinosaur and a ghost. And the ghost sneaked up on the dinosaur. So the dinosaur ate him."

"I'm going to let Daddy sleep for EIGHTy HOUrs!" (We wish)

"I’m made of yucky stuff."
"No, you’re made of snips and snails and puppy-dog tails- that’s what little boys are made of!"
"NO! Half of mommy and half of daddy! That’s what boys are made of!"

"Clams do not have heads."

"Ok, Joe!"
"His name isn't 'Joe.' It's Joe-Y."
"Yes, but I call him 'Joe', too. Maybe should ask what Joey likes to be called. Joey, dear, do you prefer 'Joe', or 'Joey', or 'Joseph' best?"
"Urmmm...I like them all."
"Oh, good. What about you, Andy? Do you prefer 'Andy' or 'Andrew'?"
"Panda!"

The Holidays Have Begun

We had a nice, quiet Thanksgiving at Grandma's. The boys got to eat lots of food, and Grandma had a big chocolate turkey for them. We watched the parade and Santa coming to town. Ah, tradition!

We also had some new books to read while we waited for dinner to cook. Andy liked one about drawing dinosaurs. He spent a good part of the afternoon both before and after dinner drawing dinosaurs. But I think the chocolate turkey was the big hit of the day!

The boys did really well, even with their schedules being up in the air and our guest (yay, Evan!) Both guys have been doing so well lately, I hate to put them in upheaval for the month, with all the decorating and celebrating and excitement. But then... there's so much decorating! and celebrating! and excitement!

Ah, the yumminess! Now it's time to take down the fall decorations and get moving on Christmas. Right now, it looks like I'll have some spare days to get the decorating done, including some things I haven't had time to do in the past, re-wiring some of the garlands and fluffing out some of the decorations that haven't been used in a while.

Yes, it is official! the holidays are here!

Secrets, secrets

"Andy is going to go to Grandma's and make something special for Thanksgiving."
"Really? What?"
"Apparently it's a secret."
"It starts with P!"
"Oooo... umm... parsnips?"
*giggle* "No!"
"Peppers?"
"No!"
"Potatoes? Parsley?"
*giggle* "Nooooo! It's pie!"
"Pie?"
"Yeth! A P pie! Pie that starts with p!"
"Oh. Pumpkin? Are you making pumpkin pie?"
"Aaaa! You guessed it! Daddy, don't tell, its a secret! You're not supposed to guess!"
"Oh. I forgot already what kind of pie..."
"Pumpkin! Pumpkin pie!"

Goldfish Lessons

So we have our goldfish, Chris and Quille. And they are still alive, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, goldfish was not what I was planing to have. I was thinking of some smaller, less territorial fish. But goldfish is what we have. And goldfish get big, they are highly territorial, and if they get pissed off at each other, they tend to chew each other's fins off. So I woke up one morning to discover Quille basically had no tail fin, and his dorsal fin severely munched.

I made some changes. I don't have a second tank. I have been keeping the water superlatively clean, and I re-arranged the stuff in it so that Quille can hide in the fake plats and get away from Chris. However, the damage is done. Quille's tail and fin are healing, but I doubt they will ever fully recover. Also, the injuries were severe enough that he was a pretty sick fish, and so Chris has now well outstripped him in size. Quille is looking better, but he's smaller than Chris. Hence Quille's ability to hide in the plants and avoid his nemesis.

Yesterday, Joey noticed.

We were watching the fish, when Joey started insisting that Chris was Quille. With the kind of odd, since he knows the two fish and can tell them apart, or at least he always had before. When corrected, he frowned.

"My fish is small. Quille is the smallest fish ever. He is small, small, smaller." We began a spiral into the depths, and just before school is not a good time. So I put on my mommypants and tried to talk about it while we put ourselves together, while we walked to the bus, while we waited.

Yes, Quille was smaller. He had been sick, but now he was better.
Nope, that wouldn't do.
I reminded him that fish do not live long. We talked about acceptance of others as they are, about Nemo and Gil and their fin issues, and what it meant to love a pet or anybody- just as they are, not as we wish they were.
But Quille was still small, small, small and Joey was still upset, upset, upset.

And then I remembered watching the fish darting around the tank that morning. You would think a bigger fish with a bigger tail would win that race, but our little Quille is a tough little fish.

"Well, because Quille is smaller, he is faster than Chris. And he hides better."
"My fish is faster?"
"Yes. Quille is faster, because he is smaller."
"My fish is the fastest!"

On to the bus he went, quite happy.

Entrance, Exit

This time of year, I am often holed up on the weekends working, scoring essays for the GRE. One of the perks of the work is that occasionally boys saunter in for kisses.

Andy pops in. He is bearing a number of small pieces of paper he has colored for me. "I'll put them here, mom," he assure me as he gingerly tucks them into frames of pictures in the room. "There! Now don't lose them!" He pops out.

Joey wanders in. He looks sad, and he sprawls on the bed. "Are you OK?" I prompt. "Daddy says I have to stay in my room one hundred years." "Wow, thats a long time. What happened?" "Andy sat on my arm. I am Buzz Lightyear." That may not tell you much, but for me, it conjures up a scene where Joey is annoying Andy by pretending to be Buzz Lightyear falling down the stairwell, complete with slow-mo and shocked face. At the end of the sequence, Joey pulls off a glove to pretend his arm has come off (or he hides an arm in his shirt, pulling it out of his sleeve- but the "sat on my arm" indicates glove). Andy then sits on the glove, probably purposely, but you never know. Joey proceeds to take action to recover said glove. Result: the crying I hear downstairs and a Joey in my bedroom.

Andy comes wailing in, tears down his face, and into my arms as I swiftly move the computer aside. All attempts at conversation are repulsed; I hug him, kiss him, and he darts away. I haven't a clue.

Joey bounces in. "Hi Mommy!" he calls loudly, probably letting his Dad know that he has not gone to his room as he was told to do. "Hey, little Buddy! Whatcha up to?" "Mud is brown!" "Yes it is." "Ducks are blue!" "Are they?" "I'm a green caterpillar!" "I see!" He hugs me and leaves without another word.

Andy comes in, with a big bag and a soda- lunch! Yum! "Hi Mommy!" he chimes as he gives me the bag. "Do I get a kiss, too?" He giggles and lets me smooch him. "I miss you, Mommy!" "I miss you, too, sweetie." "I'm not a sweetie! I'm a Andy!" I guess he doesn't have the concept of "synonym" down yet.

Joey appears, grinning. He has small pieces of blue painter's tape all over his face. He comes over, and puts one on me. "I'm sick," he says, drawing an exaggeratedly sad face. "Oh dear," I respond helpfully. "Do you have the polka-dot pox?" He doesn't respond to this, but moves the tape from my arm to my face. "Your face is broken. I fixed it." "Thank you," I respond, hoping it is the correct response. You never know. "I'm so cute!" he announces, snatches the tape from my face, and bounces out.