tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-192824262024-03-13T03:39:12.556-07:00This Is What I DoI'm a hausfrau in the suburbs on the Eastside of Seattle.I have a husband, two sons, two dogs, two cats, a really nice espresso machine, and time to blog, but not enough time to finish all the half-sewn projects littering my dining room table, the scrapbooks, the knitting, the search for the meaning of life, as well as the cure for Autism, which affects my older son....I'll let you know when I complete any of my journeys!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.comBlogger362125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-37448162987302357382009-04-12T10:50:00.000-07:002009-04-12T11:52:48.572-07:00Disappointing DisappointmentsToday is Easter. The Christian day of rebirth. Here, in Washington state, it is gray. The morning started with rain. I can see my cherry tree blooming from my seat on the couch, though. However, it is a weeping cherry, so the variety name is enough to bring you back down in case the pretty white flowers boost your spirits too much.<br /><br />Yes, it's one of those posts. Depression Lite from Laura.<br /><br />This week started well. It was Spring Break. It was warm and sunny on Monday, and the boys and I met some classmates of Hutton's at the nearby park for a picnic lunch and some play time. That evening, I stopped by the grocery store to pick up some food, and while there, I got something else -- a pregnancy test. <br /><br />It was positive, but so faint I wondered if it were just an evaporation mark. The next day, the boys and I went to my best friend's house. They played with her son while my friend baked cookies and I sat and watched and talked to her. She heard my possible news, and I told her about my nervousness, surprise, and excitement. On the way home, I stopped at the drug store to get another, more reliable test.<br /><br />Soon after the boys and I got home, I started rearranging the living room into Spring mode. I took the wintery slipcovers off the couch and loveseat, switched around the pillows, and was happy in the knowledge that it was Spring again. Hubby came home as I was moving pillows.<br /><br />He broke the news right away: his sister had called, and her baby-to-be's due date was moved up, and she needed her mother. The back story: a few months ago, Hubby found out he was to attend a week-long conference in Las Vegas for work at the end of April. He would only have a few events he was required to attend, but his company was putting him up in a hotel for the whole week, and did I want to go, too? Damn straight I wanted to go to a sunny, warm place for a week. The problem: his mother, the reliable go-to sitter who'd be willing to watch two children for a week for free, because they are her grandchildren (plus take care of granddogs and grandcats), was going to be in Charlotte with her daughter, because her fourth grandchild was due at the end of April. Hubby called his sister, and she said she was fine if their mother came out here for the week. She could have her in-laws come to help with her daughter, and her mother could fly to Charlotte from Washington. Great. Problem solved. MIL would get to see her grandsons, then fly straight on to meet her newest grandson. <br /><br /><br />I started to get excited about Vegas. I bought some cute spring dresses and a new bathing suit. The fact that my foot was still in a cast from my broken ankle dampened the spirit a bit, but I was looking forward to sitting by the pool, whether my calf muscle on my right leg were there or not. When I got the cast off, and it was replaced by an even uglier walking boot, I was a bit disappointed -- I would not be quite as cute in the dresses and sandals, as I'd still be hobbling around with a big black velcro contraption, but still: sun. Pool. Look at the big picture. Totally worth it.<br /><br />So, the news that I would not be going to Vegas with Hubby after all was a disappointment. However, I felt stupid and selfish for feeling disappointed. After all, my sister-in-law was about to have a baby. She deserved to have her mother there for the birth. I was trying to get away from my children! No comparison. Still, even though my disappointment wasn't righteous, it was there.<br /><br />But, there were other more important things to move on to: the new digital pregnancy test was still hiding in the shopping bag. I took it upstairs, too impatient to wait for the next morning. The three minutes wait were among the longest of my life. Then, the readout appeared: PREGNANT. I was shocked. Elated. There was no doubt now. A definite positive. I crutched out of the bathroom with it, and ran into Hubby on the stairs.<br /><br />"I was going to save this, but might as well..." I started, then showed him the test.<br /><br />He was confused, "What, is this old? Or new?" <br /><br />"Oh, I meant, I was going to wait to show you when we went to Vegas, but now figured I might as well just tell you right away." <br /><br />He was surprised. And happy. "I'm happy about your news." He told me a few minutes later, after processing it.<br /><br />The next day, he brought home a big bouquet of spring flowers. Vegas was becoming less important by the minute. The news was sinking in that we were going to have our third child. We had not been trying, but we had discussed a third child, and though I felt ambivalent before, seeing the positive test made me realize I definitely wanted this baby. I was happy with my secret. Hubby and my best friend knew, but I wanted to wait a few more weeks to tell everyone else. <br /><br />And then, Saturday morning, the biggest disappointment yet: the telltale drops of blood. I was miscarrying. If I hadn't taken the tests earlier in the week, I probably would have never known I was pregnant, just thought my period was a few weeks late. But I knew. And I was sad. And terribly disappointed. Saturday morning I had been thinking about the Christmas card for this year: the boys with their new sister (of course I had pictured a girl!) as the due date calculator said December 6. What a wonderful Christmas gift for everyone!<br /><br />I knew that this wasn't meant to be. A chemical pregnancy, or there was probably a problem. In between moments of elation at my pregnancy, I'd had the fears that something would be wrong. I had had my ankle x-rayed last week, and even though I'd had the lead apron, I worried. The supplements I took before I found out. With Harrison's pregnancy, I was already well-along before Hutton was diagnosed with autism, so I didn't second-guess everything. This time, everything I'd done in March ran through my head. But now, it was over. No reason to obsess over the possible things that could go wrong, or right. Just another of life's disappointments.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-87946889313514466562009-03-09T09:15:00.000-07:002009-03-09T10:50:32.809-07:00The Other Dreaded "A"Recently, I heard from a close friend of mine from college that her mother is in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. I'm not sure how old her mother is, but I think she's right around 65 -- retirement age. My friend, who has a baby daughter, has been visiting her mother and stepfather, who live a state away, as often as possible. Her mother is doing OK still, but is definitely changing. She still recognizes her family, and my friend really enjoyed seeing her mother enjoying playing with her daughter on a recent visit. However, her mother has a hard time in restaurants; she can't figure out what to order. She repeats the same things, just minutes after she said it the first time. That part reminded me a bit of echolalia, which affects so many of our kids with autism.<br /><br />I found <a href="http://health.nytimes.com/ref/health/healthguide/esn-alzheimers-ess.html">this article </a>in <em>The New York Times</em>, and was struck by the "In Brief" bullet points at the top:<br /><br /><blockquote>The number of Alzheimer's patients is expected to increase dramatically in coming years, straining the health care system.<br /><br />Scientists have not discovered the cause nor devised effective treatments. Even diagnosis is difficult.<br /><br />In the absence of therapies, attention has turned to teaching the skills necessary to cope with demented patients.<br /><br />Increasingly caregivers are encouraged to validate the feelings and perceptions of the person with Alzheimer's.</blockquote><br /><br />The first two points, especially, struck me in their similarity to Autism. <br /><strong>The number of Alzheimer's patients is expected to increase dramatically in coming years, straining the health care system.</strong><br />I hope Autism will <em>not</em> continue to increase dramatically in coming years, but it <em>already has</em> increased dramatically in the past fifteen years. Imagining the "unexplained" dramatic increase in Alzheimer's is heartbreaking, considering it already affects "1 in 10 over 65 and nearly half of those over 85." The straining of the health care system is already a threat with Autism, as well, especially as our children become adults and the parents can't take care of them anymore.<br /><br /><strong>Scientists have not discovered the cause nor devised effective treatments. Even diagnosis is difficult.</strong><br />With Autism, too, there is no known cause or "effective treatments" according to main-stream science, though many of us parents have our theories as to what caused Autism in our children, and have been trying many treatments, many of which have helped recover our children. Considering how hard mainstream medicine talking heads work to convince us that vaccines do not have a link to Autism ("We don't know what causes Autism, but we know it's not vaccines!" they repeat over and over, though they haven't actually proven this to anyone; in fact the exact opposite seems to be the case in certain children), it seems they will do the same for Alzheimer's -- "We don't know what causes Alzheimer's, but we KNOW it's not that flu vaccine we push so hard in senior populations." Sigh. They'll keep developing and trying new drugs, but if (and that's a big if -- I have no idea if toxins and heavy metals build-up in the brain are responsible for Alzheimer's; I haven't been reading about it for the past six years, as I have with Autism!) flu shots have anything to do with Alzheimer's, are doctors going to be willing to admit that in order to recover patients and prevent new cases? Like Autism, it's a wait and see approach, when those currently suffering can't afford to wait and see.<br /><br /><strong>In the absence of therapies, attention has turned to teaching the skills necessary to cope with demented patients.</strong> In the Autism community, there are behavioral therapies for the children, to help them cope and learn life skills. The adults and parents, though, may need therapies themselves, to learn to cope with life if their child isn't high functioning enough to live on his or her own as an adult. Coping with parents with Alzheimer's, when they have reached the stage when they are incontinent and unable to communicate, doesn't seem that far from the Autism world that many live in. This quote from the article struck me, as well: "how to deal with the anger, the wandering, the sleeping all day and staying up all night, the person who asks the same question 15 times in 15 minutes, wants to wear the same blouse every day and no longer recognizes her own children or knows what a toilet is for." Apart from the recognizing her own children part, the rest were eerily familiar. I and my friends with children with autism have dealt with at least some of these! Anger, wandering, and asking the same question over and over were big issues here, though fortunately these problems have faded over the years. Well, the repetitive questions still happen, but two out of three ain't bad!<br /><br />This quote also hit home: "People with Alzheimer’s and their families are so desperate that they will buy any drug that offers even a shred of hope, and many will keep using the drug even if the symptoms don’t get better, because they can easily be convinced that the patient would be even worse off without it." When my child was diagnosed with Autism, I and my husband probably would have done anything and tried anything to help him. Over the years, we have lost our fervor to try any new thing, and we have avoided pharmaceuticals for the most part, sticking to various supplements, though we have spent money on things we can't afford, as when we rented a hyperbaric chamber for a month of treatment. Hutton's verbal skills and his drawing and writing increased in the month following, but we can't afford to continue to see if there are further improvements. Often it is difficult to tell if anything we do actually helps, or if it's just Hutton growing up and developing new skills on his own or from school. Unfortunately, our child is not a controlled experiment. Then again, fortunately, our child is not a controlled experiment. Being able to tell, right off the bat, if a new treatment is working or not would be great, versus waiting months or years, and watching for subtle signs, but we do the best we can with what we have!<br /><br />In the ideal world, no one would have to deal with Autism or Alzheimer's. In this one, the big "A"s hit hard and often, attacking at either end of the life cycle. The young are faced with Autism; the old with Alzheimer's. However, those of us in between may have to cope with both.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-78598469285598083422009-02-23T09:23:00.000-08:002009-02-23T10:45:30.990-08:00Wading in Self-PityI've decided that monthly blogging is the future! Or at least, that's how it's going to be as long as I'm addicted to facebook, and it keeps me away.<br /><br />So, as this week starts, I'm wading in self-pity. Not wallowing. Not yet. Today, in fact, it's quite mild -- more guilt associated with the feelings of uselessness and helplessness. Yesterday was worse, in which I almost cried.<br /><br />Why the drama? Last Tuesday night, I injured my ankle playing soccer. I knew instantly that it was worse than when I sprained my other ankle last February. (Which begs the question, why do I keep playing soccer when I injure myself once a year? Do I believe I'll suddenly become skilled and lose my innate klutziness?) Two of my teammates took me to the ER, where an x-ray revealed a fracture. For some reason, this made me feel a bit better. That my intense pain was from a "real" injury perhaps, not just another sprain. However, this feeling of almost relief was short-lived. Pretty much as soon as the fiberglass splint hardened on my leg. The Vicodin helped me feel a bit calmer, though. <br /><br />Pulling out the old crutches didn't help. I've had them for twelve years now; I got them when I tore my ACL in my left knee skiing in 1997. A year and two surgeries later, I put them away. But they came out again last February, and again on Wednesday morning, when I returned home from the ER. <br /><br />I was doing OK, though. The boys and Hubby were helping me around the house. It was mid-winter break, so the boys were out of school, and we didn't have anything we needed to do. Of course, I might have done more exciting things than hang out around the house had I not injured myself, but whatever. And then, Friday I went to the orthopedist. I was fitted with a cast. No weight-bearing on my right leg. For six weeks. It finally hit me. This was not going to be fun. Not that I thought I'd be having fun, but still. <br /><br />And yesterday the impact of not being able to use my right leg for six weeks really hit home when Harrison mentioned his soccer class on Wednesday. Hubby and I were discussing what we were going to do about Harrison's preschool, since I can't drive. (I don't know if driving with my left leg instead of my right is: a. doable b. legal c. a good idea or d. none of the above. I decided to err and the side of caution.) Hubby said he's just work from home on the mornings of preschool days so he could drive Harrison and pick him up. Then Harrison piped in with, "And soccer on Wednesday morning!" I told Harrison soccer class was going to have to wait for a month, since Daddy couldn't take that much time off of work to take him to soccer. I think he took it better than I did. No soccer for Hutton on Monday afternoons, either. No chiropractor for me. I am already feeling completely out of alignment from walking on crutches and lying on my left side so much. Wah.<br /><br />What snaps me out of the pity and back to reality is when I get annoyed by others not doing things up to my high expectations. OK, I'm not really that much of a perfectionist, but the house is slowly falling apart into chaotic mess, and I am not able to stop it. I had Hubby bring down a wheeled office chair from upstairs so I could do things in the kitchen -- most importantly, making my coffee. Coffee is so, so important. Imperative. Of course, getting the coffee into the living room so I can enjoy it while lounging on the couch still involves someone's help. <br /><br />The thing that does not get done at all: pooper scooping. Hubby has been great, helping with the laundry, cooking most of the food, doing the dishes...but he doesn't do pooper scooping. And when the boys are outside playing, they don't notice the mine field of dog poops. Thus, they step in it, and I have to clean their shoes. My philosophy has always been to clean the poop up before you step in it. Better to have an unsoiled shoe from the beginning than to have to scrub poop off of it later because you couldn't take the five minutes to clean up before. I'd much rather deal with poop outside, at the end of a two foot long scoop, than inches from my fingers in the laundry room. But, apparently, Hubby doesn't see this. And did I mention we have a new doggy soiling our yard?<br /><br />Yes, with my perfect timing, we adopted our new dog, Ruffy, on Monday, and a day later, I was unable to walk this giant, energetic dog. We have an invisible fence, which works fine with Sally our older dog who knows the boundaries, but the fence is broken, so Ruffy can't learn the boundaries until it's fixed. Hubby attempted to fix it Saturday, but gave up; the fence people come out on Wednesday to fix it, I hope. Fortunately, Tuesday, before the dreaded soccer game, I took the dogs to the dog park and they ran around for an hour, and Hutton has been running around with Ruffy in the yard (though I imagine him running into dog poop every time he goes outside). <br /><br />We got Ruffy from one of Hutton's classmates. His family was worried they weren't giving Ruffy enough time, attention, and most importantly, exercise. He's a tall, leggy, goldendoodle (the lame name for Golden Retriever/Poodle mixes - someone out there come up with a better name for these kick-ass dogs!) who is not quite two years old, so very energetic. "Oh, no problem!" thinks Laura, "I can walk Ruffy daily! I'll start jogging again and take him on long runs on the trail at the end of our street." Or, I'll break my leg the very next night and not be able to walk him for six weeks. So, I feel a bit guilty about that, too. <br /><br />Ruffy is a sweetheart of a dog, and I hope when our invisible fence is repaired, he'll learn the boundaries quickly (his first owners had an invisible fence, too) and I can at least throw a ball around for him in the yard, if not walk him daily. The few times I've been out on my crutches with him, with Hutton holding his leash, I've been deathly afraid of being clotheslined - having the leash wrap around my crutches and pull me down. I fell inside the other day, landing on my butt and smacking my cast on the floor, which was painful, and not something I want to repeat.<br /><br />Blah blah blah. Whine whine whine. Time to go reheat my coffee and use the bathroom. Easy things to do without crutches.<br /><br />I'll leave you with some pictures.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SaLuBAtQ6_I/AAAAAAAABRY/gRDwEunhLRw/s1600-h/2009+026.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SaLuBAtQ6_I/AAAAAAAABRY/gRDwEunhLRw/s320/2009+026.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306065012132998130" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SaLuBF8TavI/AAAAAAAABRQ/QuAEqLxPQuQ/s1600-h/2009+029.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SaLuBF8TavI/AAAAAAAABRQ/QuAEqLxPQuQ/s320/2009+029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306065013538253554" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SaLuAq7T4BI/AAAAAAAABRI/OMO_BETLy24/s1600-h/2009+031.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SaLuAq7T4BI/AAAAAAAABRI/OMO_BETLy24/s320/2009+031.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306065006286331922" /></a>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-77395917131480976082009-01-28T15:15:00.000-08:002009-01-28T18:12:35.518-08:00Mercury, Vaccines and SIDS, Oh My!This post relates to three articles I read on Monday, but didn't have the energy to blog about Monday. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">First: Mercury. </span> My favorite Roman god and neurotoxic heavy metal. <a href="http://www.usnews.com/blogs/fresh-greens/2009/01/28/mercury-found-in-high-fructose-corn-syrup.html">Mercury has been found in high fructose corn syrup. </a><br /><br />Let's see, I was already not a fan of HFCS before this story, and did my best to keep it out of the boys' diets, but am not so good with my own diet. After reading this, I'm tossing the Hershey's syrup I was adding to my lattes every now and then. I think I've got some AhLaska in the fridge to use instead. <br /><br />Also HFCS related, the Corn Refiners Association, the ones responsible for that corn syrup propaganda you may have seen in print and TV ads, is probably not very happy about this news. I just went to "Sweet Surprise," their website. Yes, really. The name makes me want to barf. The "sweet surprise," (apart from the way corn syrup messes with your metabolism and isn't processed by the body the way natural sweeteners are, instead having to go through the liver like other toxins and not allowing the body to be satiated the way it would with natural foods) may be the potent neurotoxin! However those corn folks want us to know: "This study appears to be based on outdated information of dubious significance." Appears? Dubious? My, get all scientific on us, why don't you! Do you have anything to say to back up your, er, opinions? OK. Well, I'll "appear" to keep far away from your toxic crap. I will have to get over my Dr Pepper thing at restaurants, and if I want a soda, stick to the Mexican Coke at home. (It's at Costco in glass bottles - the Coca Cola made with sugar, the way it used to be before subsidized corn took over the country.)<br /><br />Check out <a href="http://www.usnews.com/blogs/fresh-greens/2009/01/28/mercury-found-in-high-fructose-corn-syrup.html">this parody</a> of those horrible corn syrup ads. Really funny, and even more pertinent with this mercury news. There are a lot more that are equally funny on youtube, as well.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Second: Vaccines.</span> <a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090126/ap_on_he_me/med_vaccine_safety">This study</a> claims that the mercury-based thimerosal used in vaccines isn't harmful. Oh wait, according to this article, "once used in many vaccines". Yeah, it's still in many vaccines. Try again. The first thing I thought about when reading about this study, was why did the US CDC fund a study of vaccines in children in Italy? How about studying children in say, oh, the United States? Then I thought, giving them the benefit of the doubt, well, if the Italians had already done the first part of the study in the 90s, the CDC was trying to save doing the work again, plus there's that ten years head start the Italians had. <br /><br />But, I thought more about it, and more issues came to mind. Do you think Italy's children have a similar genetic background to children in the US? Don't you think the children of the "Great American Melting Pot" might have a bit more diversity? Also, were children in the US being given the same vaccines, on the same schedules, as Italian children? Or, were say, the money-making pharmaceutical companies in the US already pushing more vaccines, more frequently in the US than Italy? I don't know, but I bet US children got more vaccines (and thimerosal) than they're Italian counterparts. Also, were the children who would be more likely to have adverse effects from thimerosal excluded from this study? For instance, sick children or those with weak immune systems? Let's see: "thousands of <span style="font-weight:bold;">healthy </span>Italian babies". I guess that's a yes.<br /><br />While looking for a link to this study, I found this fascinating blog post.<br />Read <a href="http://childhealthsafety.wordpress.com/2009/01/28/cdc-fraud-tax-dollars-and-italian-vaccine-mercury-study/">this link.</a> I have to read it more carefully, but so far it only reinforced my initial feelings that this study was specially designed so the results could be twisted around to good effect by the CDC. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Third: SIDS</span> <a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/news/fullstory_74356.html">This article</a> from Monday is about the number of infant suffocation deaths rising. Apparently there's a difference between suffocation and SIDS, though they are both placed under the heading of SUIDs, or sudden unexpected infant deaths. A bit confusing. What's odd is that suffocation deaths are "most common among black boy babies younger than 4 months". That really doesn't make sense to me. Why would black boy babies be more likely to die accidentally from suffocation? And though suffocation is not the same as SIDS, it seems the two were used interchangeably for many years. The article itself didn't really get me too worked up, it was the "discussion" of the article I found, that involved lots of bashing of co-sleeping as being the dangerous cause of infant deaths, versus the many parents who co-slept with their babies, as the majority of the world has done since the dawn of man. If you couldn't guess, I co-slept with Hutton and Harrison. I don't think it's dangerous, as I wasn't drinking or taking drugs, legal or illegal, while doing so. I didn't put pillows or blankets near them. Often, they would start in my bed, then I'd move them to a bassinet beside the bed. I still can wake up from a deep sleep if I hear one of the boys cough in their bedroom downstairs, and when Fergus, my dog baby, was alive I often had a sixth sense, and would jump out of bed in the middle of the night to find him circling around, about to pee on the floor (which is why he moved downstairs to sleep in his final months, so he'd be closer to the door, and make accident cleanup easier). Anyway, I think it's important to distinguish between accidental suffocation and SIDS, though I don't think anyone is willing to study the "real" cause of SIDS. Is there a relation between SIDS and vaccination? How about toxic crib mattresses and children's flame-retardant doused pajamas? Oh, for more on that, <a href="http://www.palmbeachpost.com/health/content/health/epaper//a1a_boca_pants_0111.html">read this.</a> I will leave antimony for another day (though it was very high on my and Hutton's hair tests).Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-16485980989147547552009-01-26T21:41:00.000-08:002009-01-26T22:43:02.183-08:00I'm Here! Really!Has it really been over a month since my last post? Why, yes! Yes, it has! Oops.<br /><br />In that month, we celebrated Christmas at home with the boys for the first time. It was wonderful! We normally are in Nashville or Pensacola for Christmas, but not this year. On Christmas Eve, we tracked Santa on the computer. Christmas morning, we heard the boys get up early and I heard Harrison excitedly yelling about his "Doc Ock" Spiderman action figure left by Santa. He and Hutton were both very excited by their gifts. It snowed Christmas day, and was simply beautiful. Hubby and the boys put together a Lego robot, I cooked traditional Christmasy foods, and Hubby grilled our turkey. Family bliss.<br /><br />The next weekend, the boys and I flew to Nashville to visit my family. Hubby stayed home to avoid the dysfunction of the season. Well, it's not normally so dysfuctional, but this year my mother divorced my stepfather, whom she married 20 years ago. Stepdad isn't my all-time favorite person, but I've grown to love and accept him for who he is over the years, and the divorce was hard on me and my siblings, and Stepdad. My mother, on the other hand, seemed to be fine with it, and in fact went on to marry an old highschool friend in Las Vegas about 10 days after her divorce. Moving on, huh? The boys and I visited with Stepdad on our trip, but it was a bit weird, and it's sad that we won't be able to spend time with him in their beautiful house the way we used to. The house is on market now.<br /><br />My mother and new "dad" - ha! - came up to visit us at my brother's house, where the boys and I stayed, since my mother's former house wasn't an option. The new man is...well, I guess he makes Mom happy. Mom is now living in a camper an hour and a half away from the school where she teaches. As I said, whatever makes Mom happy. She kept saying, "Next Christmas will be more settled!" We shall see! However, I have felt so much more distance from my mother in the past six months, which is very sad. I love my mother, but she seems to have changed, but thinks everything will go back to being "normal" in the blink of an eye. I don't know. We used to call each other every few days, but that dropped off considerably when her new man joined the picture, and I miss those chats with my mom. I suppose it's my fault, too. The phones work both ways, after all.<br /><br />Last week, my in-laws came out for a week's visit. It was nice to see them, but as it is with in-laws, I was happy to see them go. They are exceedingly nice people, but I have an in-law problem, in that most things they do annoy me, for no good reason. If a friend did the same things, I would have no problem at all, but if an in-law does it, my eyes start rolling. Maybe there's a pill for that? The boys had great visits with their grandparents, though, and we had a nice sledding trip one day, and spent the day in Seattle another day, when it was beautiful and sunny. We had lunch at the top of the Space Needle, then shopped at the Pike Place Market, which is always a great thing to do, and doesn't happen often without the "out of town visitors" unfortunately.<br /><br />This week, I am recovering from my stressful last month. I am vowing to start exercising faithfully again, and so far have done some exercise two days in a row. I am counting the 20 minutes of high-energy dancing to the Wiggles CD I did with Harrison yesterday as exercise. I did break a sweat, and had to remove my sweater. I also did some situps and pushups during the slower songs. Today I did a pilates workout, and tomorrow I have a soccer game. After that, I'll have to keep it going through the end of the week, at least one of the days on Wednesday, Thursday or Friday, if not more. I canceled the horseback riding lessons I was taking on Thursdays. It was great exercise, as my inner thighs were sore for days after, but I decided I couldn't handle the instructor anymore. I talked about it with my best friend and Hubby on several occasions, and finally made the decision to stop. I'll try to find another place for lessons later in the spring. As I told my friend and Hubby, I don't like paying someone to make me miserable. If I had to work with someone I hated, it would be one thing, as I'd be getting paid for it. To actually pay for the misery, uh, no thanks!<br /><br />Here starts my ranting about the horseback riding instructor, so feel free to skip the next few paragraphs. I'm only writing it so when I forget how much I couldn't stand this woman, I can come back and read this and remember. The instructor, on her website, wrote that clients should arrive early for lessons, so there was plenty of time to groom and tack the horse. I arrived early in the beginning, until I figured out that she would never be in the barn when I arrived, or if she was, she would be doing a million other things before she could get the horse for me. I don't have enough experience to get a horse tacked up on my own yet, plus, I couldn't access the tack room without this woman. A few weeks ago, I knew I was really ready to quit (though it's been nagging at me since the very first lesson that the situation wasn't good) when I showed up at 10:00 a.m., and waited 15 minutes for her to arrive, as she was chatting with a woman at her house right next to the barn. She could see my car, but my time isn't important, I suppose. I'm only paying about $50 for it. <br /><br />The time issue was one big part of it, but the real reason was I couldn't stand the woman personally. She had an abrasive, negative attitude, and that does not make a good instructor in anything. For some reason, out of a barn full of horses (I think she owned five of them) she put me on the most unresponsive horse possible. Maybe her thinking was that if I could get him to follow my directions, I'd be ready for anything. However, this just caused my first few lessons, no, it was the whole damn string of lessons, to be very frustrating. You ask a horse to trot. It doesn't. You ask again and again, trying to maintain your beginner's balance while kicking repeatedly with your beginner's legs, and the horse still doesn't respond. Meanwhile, you have the "expert" yelling at you and the horse, "Kick him! Kick him!" This would go on for half the lesson, with a few moments of trotting, before the instructor would put the horse on the lunge line, and he would respond. Eventually, I was able to get the horse to trot for longer stretches, but it was still very frustrating, and the instructor yelling at me did not help. She gave me a riding crop to use. I didn't really like using it, especially when she'd say, "Tell him to trot with your legs. Give him a chance to respond. If he doesn't, hit him." I'd give him the leg signal, and most of the time, after a few moments of faster walking, he'd trot. However, one second after I'd kick him into a trot, the instructor would start yelling, "Hit him! Hit him!" Uh, what was that part about giving him a chance to follow through? Grr. She'd then give me this spiel, every time: "You have kids, right? It's the same with kids! You tell them what you want, and tell them the consequences if they don't do it, and you have to follow through with the discipline!" I'm 99% sure this woman doesn't have kids. If she does, they're grown or have been taken away from her by CPS. Either way, I won't be taking her advice, which seems to be, "Tell your kids to do something, and start 'disciplining' them immediately if they don't break into a sweat jumping into action."<br /><br />She'd repeat the same stories all the time. Complain, complain, bitch, bitch, yell, yell. Last week, after my lesson, she said the magic words: "This is the last session you've paid for." Hallelujah! I did my best "thinking hard" look, and said, "Aren't you going out of town next month?" Then I mumbled something about my schedule getting more hectic. The next client was there, and I figured I'd sneak out without further discussion. I started to walk to my car, trying not to run. She caught me as I was close to the barn door: "Can you go ahead and pay me today for the next session?" Hmm. How about a good old-fashioned lie? "Oh, actually, I don't have my checkbook with me." It's always in my purse. She doesn't need to know that my purse is in my car. Today, I made what I hope will be the final contact. The break-up phone call, where I left her a message (thank God she didn't pick up!) about having a discussion with Hubby about our finances, and yadda yadda yadda, I might check back with her later in the year, but I wouldn't be coming on Thursday. I hope I didn't jinx our finances with my lie (come on, Karma! I was just trying to protect her feelings! She doesn't need to know I quit because I can't stand her OR her unresponsive horse!).<br /><br />Sigh. Relax. No more toxic horse lady. I will not answer the phone if she calls. I'll look into group lessons at the local park for the spring. It will be cheaper and warmer, and hopefully with nice instructors! The kids' class instructors were great, so maybe they teach the adult classes, too.<br /><br />Time for bed.<br /><br />I'll have some autism rants later, I'm sure. I've had lots to write about, but no time. Hopefully that will change! (Meaning the time to write.)Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-76607154677240670842008-12-20T11:21:00.000-08:002008-12-20T11:40:09.456-08:00Weather WoesThis is a rarity -- two posts in one day! <br /><br />Hubby just came down and sat down next to me on the couch. He said, "I just checked the weather report. They're saying we're going to have 50 - 100 mph winds and ice pellets this evening or tonight." We already have about 8 inches of snow on the ground. <br /><br />I replied, "So, are you saying you want to go camping?"<br /><br />----------------------<br /><br />Yesterday Hubby went out to get more fuel for our generator and make sure his 4wd truck is gassed up, and to check our chainsaw so we'll be somewhat prepared if one of the giant fir trees around our house decides to lose some limbs. After telling me the latest weather report, he announced that we should go out to lunch as it may be a while before it happens again. <br /><br />I'm already feeling a bit stir crazy from spending so much time inside, so I really hope the weather report isn't accurate!<br /><br />Oh, and Hutton needs to have a tooth filled, but the dentist canceled the appointment Thursday because of the snow. This is the tooth the the dentist told us two weeks ago needed to be filled as soon as possible, as it may require a root canal if we wait too long. I made an appointment the Tuesday after that Saturday pronouncement, and they filled the smaller cavity and put sealants on his other molars, but didn't get to the big cavity because they were overbooked. That was highly annoying, because they took a long time and didn't finish the job, and were making Hutton wait a long time. Fortunately, he was a trooper and did fine with all the waiting, as well as the dental work. Wow, they just called. Coincidence? Hutton is scheduled to have his big filling on Tuesday. Oh, and he had a resin filling put in, and the second filling will be resin as well. There's not a snowball's (Ha!) chance in hell I'd ever let them put amalgam (read: MERCURY) fillings in his mouth. Unfortunately for Hutton, he received Mommy's predilection for cavities, instead of Daddy's perfect, cavity-free teeth.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-47217325150214629482008-12-20T10:37:00.000-08:002008-12-20T11:05:41.286-08:00Happy Holidays!This month has been a bad one for blogging, but a good one otherwise. I am enjoying a mellow morning on the couch watching, "A Very Brady Christmas" on tv. Yes, it's pretty lame, but I've got Sally the dog at my feet, the Christmas tree lit up, and several inches of snow on the ground outside looking pretty.<br /><br />School was out for the past three days because of the snow, so we got an early start on our Christmas vacation, though unfortunately Hutton and Harrison's teachers will be receiving "New Year" cards and gifts, as I wasn't expecting school to be canceled on Wednesday, since it didn't even start snowing until Wednesday evening.<br /><br />The snow is beautiful, as I said, and the boys have enjoyed it, though they only last an hour or so before they get too cold. Thursday they made snow angels and half a snowman (and a snowdog). Friday they went sledding with their Dad, though our sled is very lame -- just a sheet of plastic with handles, one of which broke -- and we need to get a couple of good sleds. I went out yesterday to look, but they were all sold out, and I didn't want to drive around too much, as the streets are still very snowy. <br /><br />We're going to be in town for Christmas this year, for the first time in several years. A few days after Christmas, the boys and I will fly to Nashville to see my family, while Hubby stays here with the animals.<br /><br />I'll try to post more in the coming days, as we have no school or other things to do, other than enjoy the snow and eat too much. Which reminds me, I have some gluten free cookie dough I made the other day, so that will be a good project for this afternoon.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-68348203229499282812008-12-09T15:08:00.001-08:002008-12-09T16:14:30.061-08:00HBOTKajoli had asked about how the HBOT was going in her last comment (thanks for reading, by the way, Kajoli!) so I wanted to touch base on that quickly before going to get Hutton at the bus stop.<br /><br />We did two sessions daily for a little under a month in the mild chamber we rented, and returned the chamber the Friday before Thanksgiving. So, it's been two weeks since we stopped, and now we're in the "watch and see what happens" phase, which is always a bit hard, as there's not a black and white answer to "does this help or not?" I'm going to keep watching over the next month and hope we see more improvements, but we won't be renting the hyperbaric chamber again for a while, even if we do see wows, because we don't have the money right now! Isn't that the case with most people? Sigh.<br /><br />So, the positives I have seen so far: Hutton has been talking in longer sentences. This is always a tricky one, though, because couldn't it just be something he'd do anyway? Who knows? A new thing he started on our trip -- writing labels for various rooms and doors. At my sister-in-law's house, Hutton was given a pad of paper and some crayons. He wrote an "EXIT" sign and taped it to the door! Next, he asked about the spelling of "outside" and put that up below the exit sign. He proceeded to make signs for every room (kitchen, living room, office, bathroom, bedrooms, etc.) and make signs with "EXIT" for all doors and "outside" for doors that led outside. That was a crazy new thing, but I think it's a positive. He was writing, and learning how to spell new words. He made some signs for various rooms and doors when he got home, as well. <br /><br />Another thing I noticed, also on our trip, was that his drawing has improved. He drew a picture of the motel we stayed at overnight the first night in NC, and it had three floors, stairs, and windows and doors. It was clear what the drawing was of, and Hutton has not really been interested in drawing before. <br /><br />Other than those two things, I haven't noticed anything dramatically new or different, but again, I'm hoping for more developments! On our trip, cousins who hadn't really seen Hutton before all commented that they couldn't really tell he has autism. That's always good to hear, even if they're just being polite!<br /><br />Oh, and we discovered that Hutton likes to play basketball, which I hadn't seen before, since we don't have a basketball hoop at home. I don't know if he's played at school or recess. My mother-in-law will probably be doing something about our lack of basketball hoop for Christmas!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-91202578778028086312008-12-07T21:40:00.000-08:002008-12-07T22:12:05.428-08:00It's Been a WhileI'm a poor blogger. Yeah, I'm sorry. You're not really reading this regularly anyway, right?<br /><br />So, we went away for a week for Thanksgiving. We flew to Raleigh, NC, then drove to Charlotte the next morning to stay with my SIL and her family for a few days, then we all drove to Wilmington for Thanksgiving, and stayed with Hubby's great-aunt and uncle at their very nice house on the water for several days. I didn't need to cook for over a week, and my MIL was there to help with the boys. We all enjoyed ourselves, though Hutton was very sad to leave, as happens whenever we leave town -- he doesn't want to go home. Can't say I blame him!<br /><br />We came home Tuesday afternoon and I got the Christmas decorations out Wednesday. Just in time, as Thursday I woke up feeling dizzy and light-headed. I muddled through for an hour before I called Hubby at work and he came home. By noon, I wasn't dizzy anymore, but had moved on to a headache and vomiting. I heard Hubby tell my mother on the phone that I had the flu, and thought, "Oh crap!" But, after going to bed early Thursday, I woke up feeling fine Friday. Phew! <br /><br />Saturday, the boys and I went to the dentist in the morning. The last visit did not go well, as Harrison refused to even open his mouth, and then Hutton did the same. Fortunately, this time, both boys were great. Unfortunately, Hutton has two cavities that need to be filled Tuesday. I spent Saturday afternoon researching and agonizing, but I think some composite fillings will be the best bet. As I told Hubby, Hutton is a little young for gold teeth, and there's no way in hell I'm letting the dentist put "amalgam" AKA mercury in his mouth. I'll be watching the dentist like a hawk Tuesday, though to make sure.<br /><br />Saturday afternoon, we went to the local tree farm and cut down a Christmas tree. It's hanging out across the room from me now, and looks quite festive, even though it doesn't have any pretty (read: glass) ornaments on it. It started with one fragile ornament -- the first ornament hung. Harrison very carefully placed a small snow globe ornament and was so proud to have put the first ornament up. Moments later, Hutton put on the second ornament, and knocked the first ornament off the tree in the process. Whoops. After that, I skipped further fragile ornaments and went for the more rugged ones that can withstand falls. The fragile ones will have to wait a bit longer!<br /><br />Today, I went to a yearly Christmas tea a friend of mine co-hosts. The co-host of the party lives in a mansion, where the tea is held. After touring her gorgeous home and seeing the beautiful Christmas decorations, it is always slightly depressing to return to reality. Hey, at least the boys cleaned up the playroom while I was gone! <br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />I have more interesting stories to post (well, for me), and I will eventually write more about my sweet, sweet Fergus, but I'd rather take a bath right now! I'll try to be a better blogger. Maybe that will be a new year's resolution? Heh. Sure.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-38391893451039198862008-11-15T10:06:00.000-08:002008-11-15T10:50:26.782-08:00Another Day, Another Dollar......Or thousands, to be spent. <br /><br />This fall, the money issues are coming up. Fortunately, my husband's job seems to be secure, and he makes enough for us to live on and have a little set aside for emergencies. However, we have been spending too much lately. And not just on unnecessary luxuries like new TVs (though Hubby did buy one of those, and now it's annoying me because the thing is too big for the stand it's on, and isn't centered on the wall, so from my regular seat -- the one I always sit in on the couch -- the end of the TV overlaps the doorway according to my angle of view, plus the cables and plugs to the TV are all visible on the wall. It's very upsetting to my sense of decor. Hubby doesn't see the point in that, but feng shui, or my Americanized version of it, is important to me!). <br /><br />Where was I? Oh yes, we're spending too much money. In October, we had the hyperbaric chamber rental. That has been going well so far, in that Hutton enjoys going in the chamber twice a day, and his sentences are getting longer and sound more "typical". We'll see how he does in the weeks to come if he continues to improve. The chamber goes back next week, and if he shows improvement during the "down time" we'll probably want to rent it again, or look into buying one. Did you say that will cost still more money? Oh yeah. Money. So, if the hyperbaric protocol works for Hutton, that's great, but means more money spent. If it doesn't work for Hutton, that just means we wasted thousands of dollars. Hmm. And time. Time is money, right? Well, not if you're a seven-year-old boy or a housewife, I suppose.<br /><br />I bought tickets to fly home to Nashville for the week between Christmas and New Year's. Originally, we were all going to go for two weeks, and drive down to Pensacola to visit Hubby's family, too, but when that got into the $2500 range (AKA the price of renting a hyperbaric chamber for a month) Hubby balked. So, now the boys and I are going to Nashville for a week, not driving to Pensacola (we'll see the inlaws in North Carolina for Thanksgiving, when we visit my sister-in-law and her family) and we'll save on Hubby's ticket, plus car rental costs, plus Hubby can stay and take care of the pets, so no petsitter costs for that. Phew. But, still, another $1700 to visit family for Christmas.<br /><br />Then there's the Christmas gifts to be bought for friends and family. I've bought things for a few people already, but still have more to buy, and I'm sure that will quickly add up.<br /><br />And then, today, I took our sweet Sally to the vet for her annual checkup. She has two fatty tumors that are growing -- one on her leg, the other on the side of her abdomen, and the vet wrote up an estimate for having them removed. She's had these tumors for years, and when they biopsied them, they were benign, but the one on her leg started getting bigger this fall. So, it's possible there's something underneath all the fat. But, do we want to subject our 13-year-old dog to surgery and the two weeks of downtime to follow? Not to mention the $1100 or so for surgery? Sally's a great dog, but as Hubby and I discussed two years ago when she needed surgery for a herniated disk in her neck, it's a lot of money. So, we're going to wait on the tumors for a while, since they aren't bothering her.<br /><br />I won't type anything else, or I'm sure to jinx us into having more money issues come up.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-14734238345341075292008-11-11T14:01:00.000-08:002008-11-11T14:35:46.984-08:00Goodbye, FergusThis is going to take a while to write, so I'm going to do installments. Here's the first one. Oh yeah, this is about my dog, Fergus, who died Sunday morning, at the age of 15.<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />Once upon a time there was a girl. Well, she was really a young lady, as she was 18, soon to be 19, years old. She was a rising junior in college, enjoying her summer vacation at home with her mother and stepfather. She worked during the week at a day camp, as the ropes course counselor, although she much preferred to sit and do beading, or to go on creek walks. She worked with some friends from high school, and she hung out with these friends and her best girl friend from high school in the evenings and on weekends. They went to movies, or rented movies or played pool and video games at the arcade, and were generally carefree, staying up too late on work nights, but it didn't matter so much as it was only a summer job. <br /><br />The girl was going to be moving into a house off campus with her college friends when she returned to college in a few months, and they had spoken about getting a dog, since they could finally get one, as they weren't in dorms anymore. Everyone was excited to be living together, though technically this constituted a brothel in the town, since it was more than three unrelated women living together in a house. (Only three were listed on their lease, though, so they could get away with it.) So, over the summer, the girl thought about dogs, and started reading about puppies, and decided on which kind she wanted, though she'd had a chosen breed in her head for a long time. She looked in the local paper, and one day saw in ad for the type of dog she wanted. Her two best friends went with her to get the puppy. They drove to a town about thirty miles away, where the puppies lived. The man who was selling them owned a Brittany as a hunting dog, and this was the mother of the litter of puppies. <br /><br />The girl wanted to get a liver and white dog, as she liked the color, and the fact that she and her dog would have the same color hair. (Yes, she was a bit odd.) There were three liver and white dogs in the litter, and the breeder wanted to keep the female of the three, so that left two dogs to choose from. The girl, of course, chose the feistiest of the two, a little puppy the breeder called "Ace" though of course, the girl had no intention of keeping that name. She already had a perfect name picked out for her dog: Fergus. She'd found several names she liked in a baby name book, and once she picked her puppy, Fergus seemed to suit him best. <br /><br />The girl took Fergus home to her mother and stepfather's home, where he had many accidents while becoming house-trained, though he was cute enough that even her neat-freak stepfather didn't mind. In the afternoons after work, the girl would play with Fergus, and many times they would nap together on the floor, though soon Fergus would graduate to sleeping on the bed with her. <br /><br />Then, the summer drew to a close, and the girl packed up her car to return to college, with Fergus riding shotgun as they drove the eight hours to the college town, stopping at every rest stop along the way.<br /><br />When they pulled into the house, the girl's housemates were very excited to meet Fergus, their new pet. Everyone loved him almost instantly, and who could blame them? Look at how cute he was!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SRoH5_eTuLI/AAAAAAAABPQ/3z4j0Nh6HyE/s1600-h/fergus1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SRoH5_eTuLI/AAAAAAAABPQ/3z4j0Nh6HyE/s320/fergus1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267531407035709618" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SRoH5TjgSiI/AAAAAAAABPI/KM367CCt-PI/s1600-h/ferguscoll3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SRoH5TjgSiI/AAAAAAAABPI/KM367CCt-PI/s320/ferguscoll3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267531395246344738" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SRoH4-E__tI/AAAAAAAABPA/yHs1X57SX6I/s1600-h/ferguscoll2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SRoH4-E__tI/AAAAAAAABPA/yHs1X57SX6I/s320/ferguscoll2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267531389481254610" /></a>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-36798158399068568302008-11-05T09:16:00.000-08:002008-11-05T10:30:20.651-08:00Historic DayToday is the day after the big election. Being in the west, I knew the results in the early evening last night, and the boys were awake to watch the Obama acceptance speech with me. I clapped, I laughed (the puppy line), I cried (Jesse Jackson and I have that in common). I had to watch it on my laptop, instead of the fancy new TV, because I can't get the TV to work. It's one of those things that Hubby's computer controls, and I tried to reset his computer, but it didn't work. Oh well! Just gave me incentive to not stay up all night watching returns on my laptop. <br /><br />Harrison went with me to vote yesterday. He wasn't into it, even though it was such a special moment for me. I had a good feeling about Obama's chances of winning, (I was wearing some "Blue State" blue underwear as a good luck charm) and this was the last time I would vote at the polls in Washington state. The state's elections are going to be all mail-in ballots from the next election on, and I will miss voting in person, though Harrison won't miss going to the polls with me, I guess. Hutton asked about voting after school, so I think I took the wrong son with me to vote!<br /><br />As I watched the results come in and got excited about Obama's wins, Harrison told me he didn't want Obama to win. He wanted McCain to win. WHAT?! I didn't even know Harrison knew the names of the candidates, let alone that he'd already made up his mind as a four-year-old non-voter. Harrison told me again this morning that he didn't want Obama to win, that he liked McCain. He may just be doing this in the classic four-year-old, I'm going to do the opposite of what Mommy does to annoy her an assert my independence. I tried to convince him of the superiority of Democrats over Republicans, but I didn't delve into it too deeply, and I tried not to taunt him with too many Obama happy dances, although he laughed when Sally our dog danced around with me, so there's hope.<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />North Carolina is interesting right now. I am very pleased that the beautiful state where I learned a great deal about life, met some of my very best friends, and voted for the first time (I went to college there) is "purple", and not red. I'm even more pleased that Kay Hagan beat Elizabeth Dole. Dole's nasty campaigning appears to have back-fired. Thank God! (That coming from someone who would consider herself a godless American.) I was excited to hear Hagan's name a few months ago, as that is my maiden name, and learn that she was Democrat.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-65418199450794503792008-11-01T18:03:00.000-07:002008-11-01T18:48:36.965-07:00Melancholy MamaToday is one of those melancholy days around here. It's the first day of November, the leaves are on the far side of pretty -- the trees are either half-leaved or have lost them, so they look bare and cold. Just a few days ago, when I went with Hutton's class on a field trip, the trees still looked very pretty, with lots of red, yellow and orange leaves. Once the leaves go, and the rain starts, the late fall blues are not far behind! Considering tomorrow daylight saving ends, too, I know on Monday we'll be walking to the school bus in the dark. <br /><br />Today, I dropped Hubby off at the airport, which is another reason for melancholia. He's going to Barcelona for a week; he'll be giving several talks at some conference. We'd talked about everyone going at one point, but after our summer of vacation spending (Disney World and California) and the fact that Hutton will already be missing several days of school so we can go out of town for Thanksgiving (another expenditure, as well), we decided against it. I do feel sad to be left behind, though, and although a few days here and there of solo parenting are fine, a whole week is hard, especially when it's fall.<br /><br />Another thing, is that Hutton and I (and Harrison a few times) have been spending time in the hyperbaric chamber, which is where I am now! This is great, in that I have high hopes it will have positive results for Hutton, but also tiring, as on school days, I have to get up at 6 a.m. so we'll have enough time to get a session in before school. The protocol calls for two 90 minute sessions a day, with at least 6 hours between sessions, and the 6 a.m. session, and one after school, works best with keeping our schedule as close to normal as possible. After waking up at 6 a.m. since Monday, though, I'm getting worn down. Although Hutton and I sleep during the morning sessions in the chamber, it's cramped and not exactly restful when we're both trying to share a pillow, and Hutton is a wriggly sleeper. So snoozing is more of a description of what goes on. This weekend I plan to do a lot more sitting on my butt and sleeping in to recover.<br /><br />The past week was tiring in that it was the build to Halloween, as well. Thursday, Hutton's class had a field trip to a local farm, where there's a pumpkin patch, hay maze, corn maze, and petting zoo. I chaperoned, along with several other parents, which was fun, as I missed the trip with Harrison's preschool. Friday, Hutton had two Halloween parties I helped with. The first was the mainstream first grade class Hutton eats lunch with. They had a cute art project, but otherwise, I preferred Hutton's "real" class party. I know the teachers and other parents and kids in there. <br /><br />Oh yeah: Crush alert! There's a father of a fellow student in Hutton's class I've seen several times over the years. His daughter was in Hutton's kindergarten class a few years back, and I've seen him at various class functions, including the field trip on Thursday. But yesterday was different. Why? you may ask. Well...he was in uniform! The man is a cop. I never thought I was into that, but seeing a normal looking guy suddenly transformed into crush material in just a day was pretty impressive. I don't know if it was the gun and clips in the holster, the badge, the tight pants.... Anyway, his wife was there, too, and she's very nice, as is the husband (I mean, he's at an elementary school Halloween party, for god's sake!), and I did my best not to stare. I did make a stupid joke to him about liking his Halloween costume. Duh. Hey, another mom in the class said the same thing later on, so I guess I'm not the only one.<br /><br />Friday night, Hubby and I took the boys trick or treating at the outdoor mall. We joked about how it was just like when we were kids. (No, not really. I had a great trick or treating neighborhood growing up, and we'd spend hours trick or treating on Halloween.) Our neighborhood now isn't good for trick or treating (no street lights, a few houses spread too far apart), and the boys had a great time at the mall (Harrison pronounced it the best day ever -- hey, he's only 4!) even though some of the stores gave out lame candy, or worse, stickers. The boys didn't seem to mind, and Hutton did a great job of saying "Trick or treat!" and following up with "Thank you!" after getting candy. (Though I was reminding him often.) After trick or treating, we went out to dinner at a Thai restaurant. Plus, one of the mall restaurants gave us a $20 gift card with the boys' candy, so Hubby and I will have to go back on a date. <br /><br />After the boys went to bed, we watched The Fifth Element on BluRay. Hubby got it from Netflix, as he's been trying to rent good BluRay type films since he just got the fancy new equipment (he bought a new, bigger TV as well, that we don't really need and can't really afford right now. Hey, we're doing our part to help stimulate the economy!) About halfway in, I leaned over and said to him, "You know this movie is visually stunning, but seriously sucks." Hubby agreed, and we laughed about that as the movie continued and got weirder and suckier. <br /><br />So, that's what's been going on this week. Man, I have to pee, and have 15 more minutes of HBOT time. Can I make it? I gave myself a UTI by waiting too long/running to many errands without stops last week, so I'm pressing my luck.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-36884483077062830532008-10-22T10:35:00.000-07:002008-10-22T15:56:34.403-07:00It's Finally Here!The hyperbaric chamber, that is. I have three big boxes in the garage, where the FedEx guy put them for me. I managed to move the smallest box to Hutton's room, where we going to set it up, since he sleeps in Harrison's room. I'll need Hubby's help to move the rest of them. <br /><br />Of course, our power went out shortly afterward, and I have that, "Crap! What do I do now?" feeling. Not that I could have moved the boxes by myself anyway, but now I can't even make phone calls (there's a regular phone somewhere upstairs on Hubby's desk; the rest are digital and don't work when the power's out) but I'll just wait and catch up on my calls during Harrison's soccer practice in an hour. All the chores I have around the house need power. I just loaded the dishwasher this morning, and was going to start it after breakfast. Hmm. Maybe later. Laundry? Same deal. It really puts things in perspective. How much I depend on electricity in my life. (Sing School House Rock! Electricity song here). We have a generator we set up to run a few things when the power goes out in storms, but hopefully this is just a temporary thing. They're running power lines under the main road down the street from our house, so I hope that that's why the power went out, and it will be back up this evening. The reason the power lines are being buried? To prevent future storm-driven power outages, caused when the giant fir tree branches smack into the power lines. So, it seems the power is out to prevent the power from going out. Ironic, no?<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />Last night, as I was preparing to go to soccer, I was using some apple cider vinegar to tone my face (yeah, I'm weird) and the smell of vinegar made me think of fish n' chips. Which caused me to say aloud, "Fish and chips won't do." And then I had to try to figure out what song that line was from. Do you know? Give up? It's from the Michael Thomas classic, "Fish and Chips." What do you mean, you don't know that song? Philip, better known as Tubbs, of Crockett and Tubbs from Miami Vice had a musical career, too, you know! Don Johnson's "Heartbeat" wasn't the only musical gold from Miami Vice actors! So, I had to google the song, and try to find it. Strangely enough, I couldn't find it on youtube, nor could I find the lyrics. I'm going to have to search through the mix tapes I kept from the eighties and nineties. My brother's friend taped the song for him, and I in turn taped it from my brother, because the song is one of the most unintentionally cheezy and funny songs you'll ever hear. A lyric I remember well: "Open up your kitchen, girl!/And feed me till I'm satisfied." No, Phillip ain't talking about eating fish and chips! He wants a main course, baby, and he's got his eye on you! Or something like that. I may have to pay money to download the song if I can find it. If I do, I'll post it for your listening pleasure!<br /><br />I called my brother today to reminisce about the song. I love my brother. He's 4 1/2 years older than me, and taught me all I needed to know about sarcasm when I was a preteen. I love him even though he's a Republican. Wait, he claims to be a Libertarian. Yeah, we'll see who he votes for!<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />I started this post this morning, then the battery power on my laptop died. Fortunately, by the time I returned this afternoon at 3, the power was on again. Better late than never!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-38418894078235838282008-10-13T10:43:00.000-07:002008-10-13T11:28:05.842-07:00Another Exciting Week! SnoreAs you may have guessed, not much going on here. Which is good, I suppose! I just had my "yearly" exam, though it's been two years since my last checkup. Whoops! That's one reason I just switched doctors. Maybe going to a new doctor with fewer patients, instead of the busy OB/Gyn practice, will mean the office will actually want to see me every year! Everything looked fine, and I had some blood drawn to check out all that good stuff. I also get to schedule a screening mammogram now that I'm 35! Lucky me. It is supposed to take about three months to get an appointment, since it's only a screening, baseline mammogram. Hey, still better than most autism services wait lists! So, right now I have the form on my desk to remind me, with a lovely picture of breasts -- the nipples are like eyes, boring into me saying, "We're watching you! Pick up the phone and schedule it already!" That is, if either eyes or nipples could talk.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SPORnlb3mPI/AAAAAAAABO4/TJIE0xfcRlU/s1600-h/boobs.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SPORnlb3mPI/AAAAAAAABO4/TJIE0xfcRlU/s320/boobs.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256705299321428210" /></a><br /><br />See? Can't you feel them staring at you? Stop staring, boobs!<br /><br />This weekend the weather was nice (unlike today - raining) and we got some fall cleanup done. Saturday, Hubby mowed the lawn for the last time of the year and cleaned the gutters. The boys "helped" and Harrison got some gutter crud dumped on him. Note to boys: don't stand directly under Daddy's ladder when he's cleaning out the gutters. Sunday, I swept up all the gutter crud and Harrison helped me rake some leaves. <br /><br />When I was in the garage getting the rakes, however, I smelled the second of two Horrendous Smells of the Day. The first occurred when I was sweeping off the back deck. Fergus, bless him, was sniffing around by the grill, and found the "drippings bucket" hanging under the grill that apparently hadn't been cleaned after it's last use. (That's one of the "not my job" things that Hubby is in charge of.) Fergus dumped the bucket on the deck, and by the time I discovered what he'd done, he'd eaten some of the nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty (did I mention nasty?) slop that had come out. Think rancid grease and fat. Yes, nasty. I took the nasty bucket inside to clean, and grabbed some paper towels to pick up the rest of the nasty fat, then dumped some hot water on the remaining slime on the deck. That was smell number one. I revisited it a few hours later when I was pooper-scooping the yard prior to raking, and found some piles of vomited up rancid grease and fat. Yeah, Fergus, that's why you shouldn't have eaten that. That's why it had that horrific smell. I guess dogs don't really see things that way, though. <br /><br />Smell number two was similar to the first, and I thought it was more rancid fat vomit, thanks to Fergus. Nope. It was... Hey, what's that smelly thing in the pile of outdoor toys in the garage? It smells like something putrescent, oh hey, it's a dead rat! I moved the soccer ball and stomp rocket out to the driveway to hose down and grabbed the pooper scooper to dispose of the nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty-smelling carcass. How long had that been there? Why am I the only human with a sense of smell who notices these things? Where are these rats coming from, and can they please stay away? (That's why we have cats - vermin patrol. However, I would prefer they keep the vermin outside.) I hosed down the garage floor and now need to buy some more Nature's Miracle. I wonder if they have a "dead stuff/putrescence" formula, or if the cat pee version will do the trick. <br /><br />This weekend the boys and I also went to see if there were any more salmon, but didn't see any. Last weekend we heard them, but didn't get to see them. You could just hear them splashing around upstream from our viewing spot. <br /><br />I also worked on Halloween costumes for me and Hubby. The boys both decided yesterday they want to be Spiderman. Yes, both of them. Hubby and I discussed other Spiderman friends and foes to see if one of them wanted to be someone else, but right now, they both still want Spiderman. I'm not going to attempt to make two Spiderman (and typing that out, I always think of it pronounced like a surname -- Spidermun) costumes, so I'll have to try to buy those. Maybe one will be the black costumed Spiderman? They've been playing the Spiderman Xbox game, hence both wanting to be him. A few weeks ago, Harrison wanted to be EVE (from Wall-E) so I suppose Spiderman is a much-easier costume choice, provided I'm not attempting to sew it myself. (My sewing skills are very basic and do not involve spandex.) Plus there was the whole realization on Harrison's part that EVE was a girl, and I could see the first struggle about gender identity taking place in his four-year-old mind: "Maybe EVE can be a boy, too?" I was just beginning to figure out how to make an EVE costume (and assuming Hutton would be Wall-E, which would involve a cardboard box - not exactly easy-to-wear at parties) when Harrison changed his mind to the definitely male SpiderMAN. Hmm. So, I think Harrison and I will go costume shopping today when I pick him up from school.<br /><br />After I make that mammogram appointment, that is!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-52505071818139062002008-10-04T18:49:00.000-07:002008-10-07T09:54:05.789-07:00Last WeekendLast Saturday at this time, I was listening to <a href="http://jerobison.blogspot.com/">John Elder Robison </a>speak at Third Place Books. He was great, with funny and uplifting stories, and his fascinating talk about TMS (you'll have to read about that on his blog). I had him sign my hardcover I bought last year when it came out, and I bought two paperback copies for him to sign, as well.<br /><br />Here's the proof:<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOge7rphJ8I/AAAAAAAABOI/DCJHn69IP3I/s1600-h/DSC01588.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOge7rphJ8I/AAAAAAAABOI/DCJHn69IP3I/s200/DSC01588.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253482976005662658" /></a><br /><br />On Sunday, the boys and I walked to the creek at the end of the street to see if the salmon were here yet. (The salmon come upstream to spawn every fall about this time.) There was only one, and he/she was hanging in the shadows, so I didn't get a good picture, but I did get lots of pictures of the boys being silly.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOghQreRwxI/AAAAAAAABOo/C3As58E89s0/s1600-h/hanging+Medium+Web+view.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOghQreRwxI/AAAAAAAABOo/C3As58E89s0/s320/hanging+Medium+Web+view.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253485535759024914" /></a> <br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOggkhQTteI/AAAAAAAABOQ/e56L1RvqF-U/s1600-h/balance2+Medium+Web+view.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOggkhQTteI/AAAAAAAABOQ/e56L1RvqF-U/s320/balance2+Medium+Web+view.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253484777101833698" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOgg0KOgyRI/AAAAAAAABOY/eMiHFDUJA1Y/s1600-h/blur+Medium+Web+view.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOgg0KOgyRI/AAAAAAAABOY/eMiHFDUJA1Y/s320/blur+Medium+Web+view.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253485045798193426" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOghnj1kRzI/AAAAAAAABOw/l7vViQsa3ks/s1600-h/salmonrun+Medium+Web+view.jpg"><img style="float:center; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yahpIFELQRg/SOghnj1kRzI/AAAAAAAABOw/l7vViQsa3ks/s320/salmonrun+Medium+Web+view.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253485928846214962" /></a>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-74888346507456582562008-10-04T18:22:00.000-07:002008-10-07T09:25:05.560-07:00Please Ignore That AdThe one about flu shots. Uggh! Well, it's gone now (for some reason, I get ads on one computer, but not my laptop.)<br /><br />Speaking of flu shots, yesterday I went to Safeway [the closest grocery store to my house] and I had to avoid the line of people there getting flu shots in the pharamcy area, and hope they weren't giving flumist, as well, or Harrison and I were both exposed to it. As I was leaving, a sign on the door made me do a double-take. No, it really did say, "Get your flu shot today and get 10% off your next Safeway in-store grocery purchase!" Really. I wonder how much money Safeway gets from the drug companies for that little kickback?Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-77067960219427364652008-10-03T10:31:00.000-07:002008-10-03T11:06:17.210-07:00Busy/Boring WeekIs that possible to be busy and bored simultaneously? Well, I guess I've been alternating between the two.<br /><br />Hutton still has a lingering cough, but his faux chickenpox seems to have passed. I think it was some other kind of virus, but will see if Harrison comes down with anything in the coming days.<br /><br />I have lots of knitting to complete -- a baby shower in a few weeks, another friend's baby is due soon -- and I'm not getting it done quickly enough. I also have a big book club book to finish for next week. So, you see my projects aren't exactly "exciting" are they? And I'm not doing either one right now. I'm sitting on the couch with one hefty cat on one thigh, my laptop on the other.<br /><br />Harrison's school has changed the date of a field trip to a farm three times in the past four days, and I'm not going to drive as a result. No, I'm not just being a bitter bitch, trying to "show them." I rearranged my schedule last week in order for them to switch Harrison's preschool days around -- I switched my weekly riding lessons from Wednesday to Thursday, and switched Harrison's soccer class from Friday to Wednesday, and had been all set to drive/volunteer when they told me on Tuesday that the trip would be on a Tuesday (a free day for me and Harrison). Then, I found out yesterday that it will actually be on a Thursday (the morning of my riding lesson, which I missed last week due to Hutton's sickness, so I really don't want to miss another one!). I'm just annoyed because I would have liked to go, and if they don't have enough parents to drive, they'll have to cancel. Oh well! <br /><br />Other than that, I'm trying not to yell at poor old Fergus when he pees on the floor, though I did not succeed in that Wednesday morning. (Cue flashback sequence). I came downstairs to get Hutton ready for school, and in the 20 seconds before I could get to the front door to let him out, Fergus peed. The cursing ensued, as I scrambled to get the pee cleaned up as it rushed across the floor to various rugs, and spilled down a step into the family room. I had about ten minutes to clean pee, get Harrison ready to go to the bus stop (he'd just come out in his pajamas), get Hutton to finish breakfast and take his gazillion capsules of various supplements, and I was not doing well. Into this mess steps Hubby. As he looked down at me, cursing the )(*&%(*&!)*&% dog and his !@(*&#%)(*&#% pee as I wiped up the mess with towels, he offered the following help: "Laura, you do not need to talk that way! If the boys say any of those words, I'm going to be very upset and disappointed!" He then steps out to go to work. <br /><br />Deep breath. Harrison has wandered over, half dressed, and I tell him in my most sugary sweet voice, though my throat is closing up in anxiety, that he'll have to wait to eat breakfast until we get back from the bus stop, and then start singing the praises of my oh-so-helpful husband in heavy sarcasm. I tell no one in particular how great it was to return home from my soccer game the night before at 7:30, to have to take out the trash and recycling, fix dinner, clean up and put the boys to bed while Hubby was "busy" upstairs. I literally started to gasp for breath, though, so I had to stop talking and get Hutton hustled out the door to the bus.<br /><br />Fortunately, Hubby seemed to understand that I wasn't coping well (hence the cursing banshee bitch routine) and after talking to me about how I had to learn to handle my anger without yelling on Wednesday night, he actually got the boys put to bed and fed the dogs the next morning. Thank God, because Wednesday morning the "D" word wasn't too far from my mind.<br /><br />Speaking of which, I heard from both of my siblings that my mother is divorcing my stepfather after 20 years of marriage. I'll have a long, angsty blog post about that later when I get it together. Of course, I only know this from my siblings, because my mother hasn't mentioned it to me. Yeah, isn't that great?<br /><br />I actually have a positive post about last weekend as well. I'll try to get that together, as well!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-38239371111516948322008-09-26T12:45:00.000-07:002008-09-26T12:54:46.776-07:00I Need to Leave My HouseWell, for longer than ten minutes, that is. The good news: Hutton looks like he doesn't have chicken pox after all. His rash never developed into anything, and has pretty much faded. The sniffles he had have intensified into a lovely productive cough and head cold, though. Hutton hasn't been to school since Monday, and I have only left the house to take Harrison to school and pick him up. <br /><br />I am very, very happy that Hutton doesn't have chicken pox, because if he did, I'd probably be stuck in the house with him for next week, too. Just four days of this makes me feel like I'm becoming ingrown into the couch.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-56323711135930165772008-09-24T13:40:00.000-07:002008-09-24T14:02:25.946-07:00Day TwoWell today, Hutton is still sick with a cough, but his "pox" really looks so very minor I feel like it's an insult to real chickenpox. He only has about 8 spots, and they look like mosquito bites or small pimples. I think he may just have some viral rash that's not chickenpox, but since I can't be certain, I don't want to expose him to classmates (and he still has a virus of some sort), plus he still has that cough. He could get more spots, too, though I hope not!<br /><br />Harrison is fine, and I will be taking him to school tomorrow with no qualms unless he comes down with a sniffly cough later tonight (which is what Hutton had before he broke out in his rash). Since he isn't vaccinated for chickenpox, I'll be watching carefully to see if he comes down with anything. According to my mother (the expert I call first when these things happen!), my sister and I got chickenpox exactly two weeks after my brother got them, so it could be two weeks from now. Though, if he doesn't get it, I'll never know if Hutton really had chickenpox. Then again, if he does get it, then he'll have chickenpox. I suppose I'd rather he get it now than later. <br /><br />If Hutton does have "real" chickenpox, then I must say the vaccine actually did make it a milder case. (See, I'm not anti-vaccine! I just wish Hutton hadn't had so many given to him when he was sick with two ear infections and eczema). Or this could be a sign that his immune system is recovering enough that he's actually able to have a proper immune response to a virus! Wow! I hope so. <br /><br />I am a bit annoyed that we don't have our hyperbaric rental yet, as it would have helped heal the rash so much faster. Oh well! My timing is always off. <br /><br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />Go get <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mother-Warriors-Parents-Healing-Against/dp/0525950699">Jenny's new book! </a> It's amazing! I bought it last night after my soccer game, and read most of it in one sitting, alternating between crying and smiling, feeling angry and hopeful. I can't wait to see her on Oprah later today!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-33950222608558674322008-09-23T15:15:00.000-07:002008-09-23T15:39:27.248-07:00A Pox on Our HouseLast night, as I got Hutton out of the bath, I noticed some red bumps, about the size of mosquito bites on his back. There were about four of them. There was another, larger bump where the waistband of his underwear hits. My mother radar started beeping, but I needed reinforcement, so called for backup.<br /><br />Hubby came down and looked at the bumps. "I don't think that's anything. The one by his waistband looks like a diaper rash." Off Hubby trotted, happily done with me for the evening.<br /><br />Hutton was very tired at bedtime, and had been sniffling a bit that day and Sunday. After I put the boys to bed, I went to my laptop, where I've logged hours of google autism research, and googled "rash". After extensive research, I concluded that Hutton had chickenpox, which seems more likely today, as he has a few more bumps on his chest, stomach, neck and scalp. And they itch, according to Hutton. Don't scratch, sweetie, you'll get scars and ruin your modeling career! <br /><br />The spots still look pimply, rather than the almost beautiful-sounding "dewdrops on rose petals" stage. <br /><br />Of course, Hutton was in the contagious but not yet rashy stage on Saturday when we visited my friend's kids, then went to the McDonald's play area, then to a party Saturday night. Sorry, folks! And he was contagious but not yet rashy when he went to school Monday, followed by soccer class and the grocery store. Sorry, even more folks! Pox-oid Hutton may or may not have infected his brother. It's too soon to tell, which is very annoying, because Thursday is picture day at Harrison's school, and I really don't want to miss having Harrison's picture in the class photo or his individual shots. Drat!<br /><br />Hutton had his first chickepox vaccine at 15 months, so we'll say that this is "breakthrough" chickenpox, you know, because he didn't get that booster shot at 4 years. Harrison has not had the vaccine, so I'll have to see if he gets a worse case. <br /><br />Either way, I'm annoyed that this didn't happen last month, you know, when I had nothing on my calendar. I just rescheduled a doctor's appointment, and will have to miss Harrison's soccer class tomorrow, my horseback riding lesson Friday morning, and the boys' riding lessons Friday afternoon. No telling when and how long Harrison's pox fest will last, when and if it occurs. <br /><br />Oh, and according to Hubby, he never had chickenpox, though his younger sister had it. So, either Hubby is one of the few people who got the virus, but not the rash, or he's going to be getting adult chickenpox soon. <br /><br />I'm already feeling stir crazy and cabin feverish. I'm going to play soccer tonight, and will have to go shopping after the game. I need to buy <a href="http://www.ourkidsasd.com/products/featured/980">Jenny's book</a>, and I'm trapped in a house o' pox!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-54827622244442790102008-09-17T21:15:00.000-07:002008-09-17T21:19:53.479-07:00Where's My Soap?This afternoon, the bus driver told me that Hutton had said a bad word twice on the bus ride home. The word? Bullshit. <br /><br />My cheeks instantly flamed up in embarrassment as I admonished Hutton not to say such things, and as we walked home, I threatened to take away the Wall-E xbox game if he ever said it again. <br /><br />Anyone want to guess where he heard that? No, not from his mother. No way! I never curse!<br /><br />Er, yeah, that's bullshit.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-18284697488488554332008-09-16T10:48:00.001-07:002008-09-16T10:49:40.271-07:00Out of the Mouths of PreschoolersLaura: Do you want to go run errands in a few minutes, Harrison?<br /><br />Harrison: No. That's not good for my image.<br /><br />~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br /><br />And, no, Kim, I wasn't even going to make him go to the gynecologist with me!Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-15215845311150663662008-09-11T12:58:00.000-07:002008-09-11T13:03:59.100-07:00September 11It's here again. I will always remember that day. Hutton was almost 3 weeks old. I was lounging around in my bedroom with him, still in pajamas. Hubby had gone back to work, and I was figuring out the whole "new mom" thing. I happened to turn on the TV, and was watching the Today show or something similar when there was a news alert about a plane accident. Or what we thought was an accident. Time passed, many phone calls were made as family members checked in to make sure Hubby wasn't traveling to NY by any chance, and Hutton slept, nursed, cried, and pooped as newborns do.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19282426.post-6687108551969397742008-09-07T11:50:00.000-07:002008-09-07T12:12:31.144-07:00Everyday is Like SundayI just heard that line from the title Morrissey song on TV, though in a version sung by someone else. It was on a commercial for the NFL. Er. OK.<br /><br />I guess the NFL's target audience are not big Smiths/Morrissey fans. Or else, they'd know that the song is really not an upbeat, "Let's go watch the big game!" kinda song. On the contrary, they'd just feel mildly depressed, as I do know. Come, Armageddon! Come! Yes, that's a line from the song, though the ad agency wisely decided to leave that out of the commercial. Here's the rest of the song:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1IbJQ4YAPRo&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1IbJQ4YAPRo&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15397166252681075107noreply@blogger.com4